THE LITTLE FORTUNE-SEEKERS.
Young as Alan was, he had heard from his uncle Paul many a story about people seeking their fortune: so, one fine summer day, he set off with his brother Owen and his sister Amy a-fortune-seeking. Alan carried a stick; and Amy had a little basket on her arm.
Alan led the way, telling Owen and Amy to keep close to him, and to fear nothing. As they passed by Lakin's pond, a duck gave a loud quack; when they came to the great ash-tree, a bee buzzed by them: but neither the quacking nor the buzzing frightened the bold Alan; and on he went, holding up his stick.
They had almost reached the sawyer's cottage, when a black animal ran out towards them. Alan asked if he should attack the tiger? Owen would have it that it was only a puppy dog: but Alan said that did not matter; for it had four legs and a head and a tail, and so had a tiger. Owen thought he had better let it alone; and Amy tamed the tiger at once by giving it a bit of bread from her basket.
Suddenly they came to a spot where five or six geese and a few goslings were waddling about. The gander came towards them, stretching out his neck, and hissing loudly. Owen and Amy ran back, followed by Alan, who told them, that, if he had hit the gander with his stick, he would have frightened the goslings.
As there was a stile near, leading into a field, they all got over the stile, and thus passed the geese.
"I wonder how that gander would like it," said Alan, "if I were to turn back, and lay hold of him by his long neck, and shake him?" Amy begged of him by no means to think of such a thing; and so Alan told her that he would not. Little did the gander know of his narrow escape!
Ah, me! what perils await those who go on their travels to seek their fortunes! A little brook was now before them; and Alan said, "This river must be crossed, and I hope that none of us will be carried away by the current. What we shall do if an Indian springs from behind the bushes, or a crocodile comes out of the sedge, I don't know. Here is the narrowest part of the river. I will lay my stick across it; and, if we make believe very much, it will do for a bridge."
"But I can't walk along your stick," said Amy. "Never mind that," said Alan: "a bridge is a bridge, whether we walk along it or not." So Alan laid his stick across the narrow part, and then jumped over the brook, followed by Owen and Amy. No Indian sprang from the bush, no crocodile came out of the sedge; and the river was crossed without one of them being drowned.