Driven Back to Eden Part 26

"The winds in the trees are whispering of winter," I said to the children, "and all thrifty creatures--ants, bees, and squirrels--are laying up their stores. So must we."

I had watched our maturing corn with great satisfaction. For a long time Merton had been able to walk through it without his straw hat being seen above the nodding ta.s.sels. One day, about the 20th of the month, Mr. Jones came over with some bundles of long rye straw in his wagon, and said, "Yer can't guess what these are fer."

"Some useful purpose, or you wouldn't have brought them," I replied.

"We'll see. Come with me to the corn patch."

As we started he took a bundle under his arm, and I saw that he had in his hand a tool called a corn-knife. Going through the rows he occasionally stripped down the husks from an ear.

Finally he said: "Yes, it's ready. Don't yer see that the kernels are plump and glazed? Junior and I are going to tackle our corn ter-morrow, and says I to myself, 'If ourn is ready to cut, so is neighbor Durham's,' The sooner it's cut after it's ready, the better. The stalks are worth more for fodder, and you run no risk from an early frost, which would spile it all. You and Merton pitch in as yer allers do, and this is the way ter do it."

With his left hand gathering the stalks of a hill together above the ears, he cut them all olf with one blow of the corn-knife within six inches of the ground, and then leaned them against the stalks of an uncut hill. This he continued to do until he had made what he called a "stout," or a bunch of stalks as large as he could conveniently reach around, the uncut hill of stalks forming a support in the centre. Then he took a wisp of the rye-straw, divided it evenly, and putting the ends together, twisted it speedily into a sort of rope. With this he bound the stout tightly above the ears by a simple method which one showing made plain to me.

"Well, you are a good neighbor!" I exclaimed.

"Pshaw! What does this amount to? If a man can't do a good turn when it costs as little as this, he's a mighty mean feller. You forget that I've sold you a lot of rye-straw, and so have the best of yer after all."

"I don't forget anything, Mr. Jones. As you say, I believe we shall 'make a go' of it here, but we always remember how much we owe to you and Junior. You've taken my money in a way that saved my self-respect, and made me feel that I could go to you as often as I wished; but you have never taken advantage of me, and you have kept smart people from doing it. Do you know, Mr. Jones, that in every country village there are keen, weasel-like people who encourage new-comers by bleeding their pocket-books at every chance? In securing you as a neighbor our battle was half won, for no one needs a good practical friend more than a city man beginning life in the country."

"Jerusalem! how you talk! I'm goin' right home and tell my wife to call me Saint Jones. Then I'll get a tin halo and wear it, for my straw hat is about played out;" and away he went, chuckling over his odd conceits, but pleased, as all men are, when their goodwill is appreciated. If there is one kind of meanness that disgusts average human-nature more than another it is a selfish, unthankful reception of kindness, a swinish return for pearls.

After an early supper I drove to the village with what I had to sell, and returned with two corn-hooks. At dusk of the following day, Bagley and I had the corn cut and tied up, my helper remarking more than once, "Tell you what it is, Mr. Durham, there hain't a better eared-out patch o' corn in Maizeville."

On the following day I helped Bagley sharpen one of the hooks, and we began to cut the fodder-corn which now stood, green and succulent, averaging two feet in height throughout the field.

CHAPTER XLII

AUTUMN WORK AND SPORT

The barn was now up, and the carpenters were roofing it in, while two days more of work would complete the sty and poultry-house. Every stroke of the hammer told rapidly now, and we all exulted over our new and better appliances for carrying out our plan of country life. Since the work was being done by contract, I contented myself with seeing that it was done thoroughly. Meanwhile Merton was busy with the cart, drawing rich earth from the banks of the creek. I determined that the making of great piles of compost should form no small part of my fall and winter labor. The proper use of fertilizers during the present season had given such a marked increase to our crops that it became clear that our best prospect of growing rich was in making the land rich.

During the last week of September the nights were so cool as to suggest frost, and I said to Mousie: "I think we had better take up your geraniums and other window plants, and put them in pots or boxes. We can then stand them under a tree which would shelter them from a slight frost. Should there be serious danger it would take us only a few minutes to bring them into the house. You have taken such good care of them all summer that I do not intend that you shall lose them now. Take your flower book and read what kind of soil they grow best in during the winter, and then Merton can help you get it."

The child was all solicitude about her pets, and after dinner she and Merton, the latter trundling a wheelbarrow, went down to the creek and obtained a lot of fine sand and some leaf-mould from under the trees in the woods. These ingredients we carefully mixed with rich soil from the flower-bed and put the compound in the pots and boxes around the roots of as many plants as there was room for on the table by the sunny kitchen window. Having watered them thoroughly, we stood them under a tree, there to remain until a certain sharpness in the air should warn us to carry them to their winter quarters.

The Lima-beans, as fast as the pods grew dry, or even yellow, were picked and spread in the attic. They could be sh.e.l.led at our leisure on stormy winter days.

Early in September my wife had begun to give Mousie, Winnie, and Bobsey their lessons again. Since we were at some distance from a schoolhouse we decided to continue this arrangement for the winter with the three younger children. I felt that Merton should go to school as soon as possible, but he pleaded hard for a reprieve until the last of October, saying that he did not wish to begin before Junior. As we still had a great deal to do, and as the boy had set his heart on some fall shooting, I yielded, he promising to study all the harder when he began.

I added, however: "The evenings have grown so long that you can write for half an hour after supper, and then we will review your arithmetic together. It will do me good as well as you."

During the ensuing weeks we carried out this plan partially, but after a busy day in the open air we were apt to nod over our tasks. We were both taught the soundness of the principle that brain work should precede physical exercise.

The 1st day of October was bright, clear, and mild, and we welcomed the true beginning of fall in our lat.i.tude most gladly. This month competes with May in its fitness for ideal country life. The children voted it superior to all other months, feeling that a vista of unalloyed delights was opening before them. Already the b.u.t.ternuts were falling from several large trees on the place, and the burrs on the chestnuts were plump with their well-s.h.i.+elded treasures. Winnie and Bobsey began to gather these burrs from the lower limbs of an immense tree, eighteen feet in circ.u.mference, and to stamp out the half-brown nuts within.

"One or two frosts will ripen them and open the burrs," I said, and then the children began to long for the frost which I dreaded.

While I still kept the younger children busy for a few hours every clear morning in the garden, and especially at clipping the runners from the strawberry plants in the field, they were given ample time to gather their winter h.o.a.rds of nuts. This pursuit afforded them endless items for talk, Bobsey modestly a.s.suring us that he alone would gather about a million bushels of b.u.t.ternuts, and almost as many chestnuts and walnuts. "What will the squirrels do then?" I asked.

"They must do as I do," he cried; "pick up and carry off as fast as they can. They'll have a better chance than me, too, for they can work all day long. The little scamps are already taking the nuts off the trees--I've seen 'em, and I wish Merton would shoot 'em all."

"Well, Merton," said I, laughing, "I suppose that squirrels are proper game for you; but I hope that you and Junior won't shoot robins. They are too useful a bird to kill, and I feel grateful for all the music they've given us during the past summer. I know the law permits you to shoot them now, but you and Junior should be more civilized than such a law."

"If we don't get 'em, everybody else will, and we might as well have our share," he replied.

I knew that there was no use in drawing the reins too tight, and so I said: "I have a proposition to make to you and Junior. I'd like you both to promise not to shoot robins except on the wing. That will teach you to be expert and quick-eyed. A true sportsman is not one who tries to kill as much game as possible, but to kill scientifically, skilfully. There is more pleasure in giving your game a chance, and in bringing it down with a fine long shot, than in slaughtering the poor creatures like chickens in a coop. Anybody can shoot a robin, sitting on a bough a few yards off, but to bring one down when in rapid flight is the work of a sportsman. Never allow yourself to be known as a mere 'pot-hunter.' For my part, I had rather live on pork than on robins or any useful birds."

He readily agreed not to fire at robins except when flying, and to induce Junior to do likewise. I was satisfied that not many of my little favorites would suffer.

"Very well," I said, "I'll coax Mr. Jones to let Junior off to-morrow, and you can have the entire day to get your hands in. This evening you can go down to the village and buy a stock of ammunition."

The boy went to his work happy and contented.

"Papa, where can we dry our b.u.t.ternuts?" Winnie asked.

"I'll fix a place on the roof of the shed right away," I said. "Its slope is very gradual, and if I nail some slats on the lower side you can spread the millions of bushels that you and Bobsey will gather."

Now Bobsey had a little wagon, and, having finished his morning stint of work, he, with Mousie and Winnie, started off to the nearest b.u.t.ternut-tree; and during the remainder of the day, with the exception of the time devoted to lessons, loads came often to the shed, against which I had left a ladder. By night they had at least one of the million bushels spread and drying.

As they brought in their last load about five o'clock in the afternoon I said to them, "Come and see what I've got."

I led the way to the sty, and there were grunting three half-grown pigs. Now that the pen was ready I had waited no longer, and, having learned from Rollins that he was willing to sell some of his stock, had bought three sufficiently large to make good pork by the 1st of December.

The children welcomed the new-comers with shouts; but I said: "That won't do. You'll frighten them so that they'll try to jump out of the pen. Run now and pick up a load of apples in your wagon and throw them to the pigs. They'll understand and like such a welcoming better;" and so it proved.

At supper I said: "Children, picking up apples, which was such fun this evening, will hereafter be part of your morning work, for a while. In the room over the sty is a bin which must be filled with the fallen apples before any nuts can be gathered."

Even Bobsey laughed at the idea that this was work; but I knew that it would soon become so. Then Mousie exclaimed, "Papa, do you know that the red squirrels are helping us to gather nuts?"

"If so, certainly without meaning it. How?"

"Well, as we were coming near one of the trees we saw a squirrel among the branches, and we hid behind a bush to watch him. We soon found that he was tumbling down the nuts, for he would go to the end of a limb and bite cl.u.s.ter after cl.u.s.ter. The thought that we would get the nuts so tickled Bobsey that he began to laugh aloud, and then the squirrel ran barking away."

"You needn't crow so loud, Bobsey," I said. "The squirrel will fill many a hole in hollow trees before winter, in spite of you."

"I'll settle his business before he steals many more of our nuts,"

spoke up Merton.

"You know the squirrel wasn't stealing, my boy. The nuts grew for him as truly as for you youngsters. At the same time I suppose he will form part of a pot-pie before long."

"I hate to think that such pretty little creatures should be killed,"

said Mousie.

"I feel much the same," I admitted; "and yet Merton will say we cannot indulge in too much sentiment. You know that we read that red squirrels are mischievous in the main. They tumble little birds out of their nests, carry off corn, and I have seen them gnawing apples for the sake of the seeds. It wouldn't do for them to become too plentiful.