Caleb in the Country

CHAPTER IX.

THE FIRE

Raymond let the cattle browse about, while he went to work, cutting down some small, but yet pretty tall and bushy trees. He then brought up the team, and hooked a long chain into the ring which hung down from the middle of the yoke, upon the under side. The end of the chain trailed upon the ground, as the oxen came along, and Caleb was very much interested to see how they would trample along, any where, among the rocks, roots, mire, logs, bushes, stumps, and, in fact, over and through almost any thing, chewing their cud all the time, patient and unconcerned. When they were brought up near to one of the trees that had been cut down, Raymond would hook the chain around the butt end of it, and then, at his command, they would drag it out of its place in the line of the fence. After looking on for some time, Caleb began to think that he would go to work; and he went to a little tree, with a stem about as big round as his arm, and began to saw away upon it. He found that the saw would run very well indeed; and in a short time, he got the tree off, and then undertook to drag it to the fence.

Raymond was always a very silent man; he seldom spoke, unless to answer a question; and while Caleb had been watching him, when he first began to work, instead of talking with Caleb, as Caleb would have desired, he was all the time singing,

“Do, Re, Mi, Fa Sol, La, Si, Do.”

The truth was, that Raymond had just begun to go to a singing school, and he was taking this opportunity to rise and fall the notes, as he called it. When Caleb asked him any question about his work, he would just answer it in a few words, and then, a minute after, begin again with his 'Do, Re, Mi,' and all the rest.

Caleb became tired of this singing; and when, at length, his tree got wedged fast, so that he could not move it any farther, he sat down discouraged upon a log, and looked anxiously towards Raymond, as if he wished that he would come and help him.

Raymond had just hooked his chain to another tree, and taking up his goad stick, called out,

“Ha', Star! ha', Lion!” and then as his oxen started on, he followed them with his—

“Do, Re, Mi, Fa, Sol, La, Si, Do.”

“Dear me!” said Caleb, with a deep sigh.

“Do, Si, La, Sol, Fa, Mi, Re, Do,” sang Raymond, coming down the scale.

Caleb got up, and walked along towards Raymond a little way, and called out,

“Raymond?”

“What?” said Raymond.

“When do you think you shall be done singing that tune?”

Raymond smiled, and asked “Why?”

“Why,” said Caleb, in rather a timid voice, “I don't think it is a very pretty tune.”

“Don't you?” said Raymond. “Well, I don't admire it much myself.”

“Then what do you sing it so much, for, Raymond?”

“O, that's my lesson,” said Raymond, “but how does your saw do, Caleb?”

“Very well; only I can't get my tree along.”

“Where do you want to get it?”

“O, out to the fence,” said Caleb.

“You had better not try to make a fence. You had better build a fire.”

“But I have not got any fire to light it with?”

“Yes,” said Raymond, “I brought a tinder-box, because I thought you would want a fire; and I forgot to give it to you.”

So Raymond pointed to a place among some rocks off at a little distance before him, near the line in which he was coming along with his fence, and advised Caleb to make a fire there. Caleb liked this plan very much. He said he would play “camp out,” and so build a camp, and have a fire before the camp. Raymond told him that so soon as he should get his pile of sticks ready, he would come and strike fire for him.

Caleb went to the place and began to work. He cut down bushes, and placed them up against the rocks, in such a manner as to make a little hut which he should get into. He then collected a pile of sticks in front of it. First, he picked up all the dry sticks he could find near, and then he sawed off branches from the old dead trees which were lying around in the forest.

In an hour, with Raymond's help in lighting his fire, Caleb had a very good camp. His hut was quite a comfortable one, with a blazing fire near it, and three large apples roasting before the fire. By and by, Caleb saw Raymond coming towards him, with the bag over his arm. He opened it, and took out one parcel after another, and then laying the mouth of the bag down upon the ground, he took hold of the bottom of it, and raised it in the air; while Caleb watched to see what was coming out. It proved to be potatoes; and Raymond told Caleb he might roast them in his fire.

“Cover them up well with hot ashes and coals, Caleb, and then build a fire upon the top.”

So Caleb dug out the bottom of his fire with a pole;—for the fire had pretty much burnt down to ashes;—and he put the potatoes in. There were five of them. Raymond helped him to cover them up, and then he put more sticks upon the top. When that was done, and just as he was going back to his work, Raymond said, “See there, Caleb;—there is a fine chimney for you to burn out.”

Caleb looked where Raymond pointed, and saw a very tall and large hollow tree, or rather trunk of a tree,—for the top had long since decayed and dropped away. There it stood, desolate, with a great hole in the side near the bottom, and the bark hanging loosely about it all the way up to the top. The boys always liked to find such hollow trees in the woods, to build fires in; they called it “burning out a chimney.”

“Now,” said Raymond, “all you have got to do is to go to work while your potatoes are roasting, and fill up that old hollow tree at the bottom with sticks and brush, and old pieces of bark. Pack them in close; then, when I come to dinner, I will help you to light it.”

Raymond then went back to the fence, and Caleb began his work as Raymond had directed. He got all the dried branches that he could find, and carried them to the foot of the tree. Others he sawed; and he packed all the pieces in the hollow of the tree as closely as he could.

By this time Caleb saw Raymond coming along towards the camp, and he went there to meet him. They raked open the fire, and took out the potatoes. Raymond turned a stone upon its edge, towards the fire, so as to keep them warm. He also cut some square pieces of birch bark from a neighbouring tree, for plates, and gave one to Caleb, and took one himself, and then they both sat down upon a smooth log which Raymond drew up to the fire, and took their birch bark plates in their lap.

Raymond took a little paper of salt out of his pocket, and poured the salt out upon another square piece of birch bark, which he placed upon a stone between himself and Caleb, so that both could reach it.

“What shall I do for a spoon?” said Caleb.

“O, you don't need a spoon,” said Raymond; and he took up a potatoe himself, broke it in two, sprinkled some salt upon it, and began to eat it as a boy would eat an apple.

“O, I can't eat my potatoes so,” said Caleb.

“Why not,” said Raymond, putting a little more salt upon his own potatoe.

“It is too hot,” said Caleb.

“Then you must wait until it cools.”

“But I want a spoon very much,” said Caleb.

“Well,” said Raymond, “I will make you one.”

So Raymond took out his knife and cut off a piece from a dry pine branch, which lay near him. He split this so as to get a flat piece out of it, which he fashioned into a rude sort of spoon, that answered Caleb's purpose very well. But before Caleb had much more than begun his dinner, Raymond had finished his, and, rising, said that he must go back to his work.

“But, first, I will set your chimney a-fire,” said he.

“No,” said Caleb, “I want you to let me kindle it.”

“You can't.”

“Yes, I can,” said Caleb; “I can get some birch bark.”

“Very well; only if I go away to my work now, you must not come and trouble me to come back again, because you can't get the fire a-going.”

“No,” said Caleb, “I won't.”

So Raymond went back to his work, and Caleb finished his dinner.

At length, however, his potatoes and bread and butter were all gone, and his apple cores he had pretty thoroughly scraped with his wooden spoon, and thrown into the fire. So he got up from his seat, and prepared to light his chimney. He took his plate for a slow match. It was pretty large and stiff, and he thought it would burn long enough for him to carry it from the fire to his chimney. He accordingly took hold of it by one corner, and held the other corner into the flame, which was curling up from a brand by the side of his fire.

But before the birch bark took fire, the flame of the brand went out, and then Caleb looked around for another. The fire had, however, burnt nearly down, so as to leave a great bed of embers, with the brands all around it, the burnt ends pointing inwards, Caleb pushed some of these into the fire, and soon made a blaze again, and then once more attempted to set the corner of his plate on fire.

He succeeded. The corner began to blaze and curl, and Caleb rose and moved along carefully, lest the wind should blow it out. This precaution was, however, scarcely necessary, for the little wind that his motion occasioned, only fanned the flame the more, and the part which was on fire curled round upon that which was not, and thus formed a round and solid mass, which burned fiercely.

Caleb walked along, the bark blazing higher and higher, and curling in upon itself more and more, until, at length, he began to be afraid it would reach his fingers before he could get to his chimney. He walked faster and faster, and presently began to run. This fanned the fire the more, until, just as he came within a few steps of his chimney, the curling bark reached his fingers, and he tripped over a great root at the very instant when he was dropping the piece of bark from his hands. He came down upon all-fours, and the bark which was now a compact roll, rolled down a little slope, crackling and blazing by the way.

Caleb got up and looked at the blazing mass a minute or two, in despair; but finding that it kept on burning, his eye suddenly brightened, and he said aloud,

“I'll poke it up.”

So he looked around for a stick. He readily found one, and began to push the blazing roll up the acclivity; but as fast as he pushed it up, it rolled down again, and all his efforts were consequently vain.

“O dear me!” said Caleb, at length throwing down his stick, “what shall I do?”

In the meantime the roll continued blazing, and Caleb, looking at it steadily, observed that it was hollow.

“Ah,” said he, “I'll stick him.”

So he took up his stick again, and tried to thrust the end of the stick into the roll. After one or two ineffectual attempts, he succeeded, though by this time the bark was pretty well burnt through, and was all ready to fall to pieces. He, however, succeeded in raising it into the air, upon the end of his pole; but before he got it to the hollow tree, it dropped off again in several blazing fragments, which continued to burn a moment upon the ground, and then went out entirely.

Caleb then went to Raymond, and told him that he could not make his fire burn.

“O you must not come to me, youngster; you promised not to trouble me with it,” said Raymond, as he hooked the chain around the butt-end of another tree.

“But I thought I could make it burn.”

“Well, what's the matter with it? But stand back, for I am going to start this tree along.”

“Why the bark all curls up and burns my hand,” said Caleb, retreating at the same time out of the way of the top of Raymond's tree.

The oxen started along, dragging the tree, and Caleb followed, trying to get an opportunity to speak once more to Raymond. Raymond, however, went calling aloud to his oxen, and directing them here and there with his “Gee, Star,” and his “Ha, Lion,” and his “Wo up, Whoa”.

At length, however, he had the tree in its place, and seeing Caleb standing at a little distance patiently, he asked him again,

“What do you say is the matter with your fire, Caleb?”

“Why, the birch bark curls up and burns me: I wish you would come and set it a-fire.”

“No,” said Raymond, walking along by the side of his oxen; “I must not leave my work to help you play; but I will tell you three ways to carry the fire, and you can manage it in one or the other of them.”

So saying, he took out his knife, and cut down a small, slender maple, which was growing near him, and trimmed off the top and the few little branches which were growing near the top. It made a slender pole about five feet long, with smooth but freckled bark, from end to end. He then made a little split in one end.

“There, Caleb,” said he, “take that, and stick a piece of birch bark in the split end; then you can carry it, and let it curl as much as it pleases. Or, if that fails, put a large piece of birch bark directly upon the fire. Then, as soon as it begins to burn, it will begin to curl, and then you must put the end of the stick down to it, in such a manner that the bark will curl over and grasp it, and then you can take it up and carry the roll upon the end of your pole.”

“Very well,” said Caleb, “there are two ways.”

“There are two ways,” repeated Raymond.

“Now, if both these fail, you must put on a good many fresh sticks upon the fire, with one end of each of them out. Then, as soon as the ends which are in the fire have got burnt through, take up two of them by the ends that were out of the fire and lay them down at the foot of the hollow tree, close to the wood you have got together there. Then come back and get two more brands, and lay them down in the same way, and be careful to have the burnt ends all together. So you must keep going back and forth, until you find that the brands are beginning to burn up freely in the new place.”

Caleb took the maple pole and went back to his fire. He tore the salt-cellar in two, and this made two very good small strips of bark. He pulled open the split end of his pole, and carefully inserted one of them, and then, holding it over a little flame which was rising from a burning brand, he set it on fire. The bark was soon in a blaze, and it writhed and curled as if it were struggling to get away; but it only clung to the end of the pole more closely; and Caleb, much pleased at the success of his experiment, waved it in the air, and shouted to Raymond to look and see.

He then walked slowly along, stopping every moment to wave his great flambeau, and shout; and so, when at last he reached the hollow tree, the bark was nearly burnt out, and the fragments were beginning to fall off from the end of the pole. He then thrust it hastily under the heap of fuel, which had been collected in the tree; but it was too late. It flickered and smoked a minute or two, and finally went out altogether.

“I don't care,” said Caleb to himself, “for I have got the other half of the salt-cellar;” and he went back for that. It happened unluckily, however, this time, that, in pulling open the cleft which Raymond had made in his maple pole, he pulled too hard, and split one side off. Here was at once an end to all attempts to communicate fire to his chimney by this method. So, after refitting the split part of his stick to its place, once or twice, and finding that the idea of uniting it again was entirely out of the question, he threw the broken piece away, and said to himself that he must try Raymond's second plan.

He accordingly took the other large piece of bark, which was the one which Raymond had used for his plate, and laid it upon the fire. As soon as it began to curl, he laid the end of the stick close to it, on the side towards which it seemed to be bending,—and in such a way that it curled over upon it, and soon clasped it tight, as Raymond had predicted that it would do. He then raised it in the air, and set out to run with it, so that it should not burn out before he reached the place. But he ought not to have run. It would have been far safer and better to have walked along carefully and slowly; for as he ran on, jumping over logs and stones, and scrambling up and down the hummocks, the top of the pole, with the blazing roll of bark, was jerked violently about in the air, until, at length, as he was wheeling around a tree, he accidentally held the top of the pole so far that it wheeled round through the air very swiftly, and threw the birch bark off by the centrifugal force: and away it went, rolling along upon the ground.

The centrifugal force is that which makes any thing fly off when it is whirled round and round.

Caleb did not understand this very well, but he was surprised to see his roll flying off in that manner. He immediately took two sticks, and tried to take up the roll with them, as one would with a pair of tongs; but he could not hold it with them.

“Well, then,” said he, “I must try the third way.”

So he began to gather sticks, and put the ends of them upon the fire. When they began to burn, he took up one; but as soon as he got it off the fire, it began to go out, and he said that he knew that way to kindle a fire never would do. In fact, he began to get out of patience. He threw down the stick, and went off again after Raymond.

“Raymond,” said he, “I cannot make my fire burn; and I wish you would come and kindle it for me.”

“Have you tried the ways I told you about?”

“Yes,” said Caleb.

“Have you tried all of them faithfully?”

“All but the last,” said Caleb, “and I know that won't do.”

“You must try them all, faithfully, or else I can't come.” So saying, Raymond went on with his work.

Caleb went back a good deal out of humour with himself, and saying that he wished Raymond was not so cross. He took up two of the sticks, which were now pretty well on fire, and carried them along, swinging them by the way, to make fiery rings and serpents in the air. When he reached the chimney, he threw them down carelessly, and stood watching them, to see if they were going to burn. Instead, however, of setting the other wood on fire, they only grew dimmer and dimmer themselves; and he said to himself, “I knew they would not burn.” Then he sat down upon a log, in a sad state of fretfulness and dissatisfaction.

However, after waiting a few minutes, longer, he went back to the fire, determined to bring all the brands there were, and put them down, though he knew, he said, that they would not burn. He was going to do it, so that then he could go and tell Raymond that he had tried all his plans, and that now he must come, and light the fire himself.

So he walked along, back and forth bringing the brands, and laying them down together near the foot of the heap of fuel in the tree. But before he had brought them all, he found that they began to brighten up a little, and at length they broke out into a little flame. He stood and watched it a few minutes. It blazed up higher and higher. He then put on some more wood which was near. The flame crept up between these sticks, and soon began to snap and crackle among the brush in the tree. Caleb stepped back, and watched the flame a moment as it flashed up higher and higher, and then clapped his hands, jumped up on a log, and shouted out,

“Raymond, it's a-burning, its a-burning.”

CHAPTER X.

THE CAPTIVE

When Raymond heard Caleb's voice calling to him so loudly, he paused a moment from his work, and seeing that the fire had actually taken, in earnest, he told Caleb that he must go back a little way, for by-and-bye the tree would fall. So Caleb went back to some distance, and asked Raymond if that was far enough. Raymond said it was, and Raymond then sat down upon a log, with his maple pole in his hand, to watch the progress of the fire.