Part 2

"There isn't any use in tiring ourselves out for nothing," exclaimed Harry. "Boys, we'll make that sand-spit right ahead of us, and wait there till the wind goes down."

"All right," said Joe. "Only it's a pity to go ashore when the tide is helping us along so beautifully. That is, the Commodore said it would help us, and of course he is right."

"No reflections on the Commodore will be allowed," cried Harry. "Bail out your canoes, you two fellows, and Charley and I will wait for you."

Joe was very anxious to go ashore and rest, for he was nearly tired out; but he was not willing to let Harry know that he was tired. The two boys had been disputing while on the Jacques Cartier as to their respective strength, and Harry had boasted that he could endure twice as much fatigue as Joe. This was true enough, for Harry was older and much more muscular, but Joe was determined to paddle as long as he could swing his arms rather than admit that he was the weaker.

The sandy spit where Harry proposed to rest was half a mile farther on, but before it was reached poor Joe managed to sprain the muscles of his left wrist. He was compelled to stop paddling except just hard enough to keep the _Dawn_'s head to the sea, and to call out to the Commodore that he must be allowed to go ashore at once.

Now the north shore of the river, near which the canoes were paddling, was a rocky precipice, rising perpendicularly directly from the water, and at least two hundred feet high. To land on such a shore was of course impossible, and the sandy spit toward which the fleet was paddling was the only possible landing-place within sight, unless the canoes were to turn round and run back to the Jacques Cartier.

In this state of things Harry, after consulting with Charley and Tom, resolved to tow the _Dawn_. Her painter was made fast to the stern-post of the _Sunshine_, and Harry, bracing his feet and setting his teeth tight together, began the task of forcing two heavy canoes through the rough water. He found that he could make progress slowly, but Joe could not steer the _Dawn_ except by paddling, and as he was able to do very little of that, she kept yawing about in a most unpleasant way, which greatly added to Harry's labor.

Suddenly Joe had a happy thought: he set his "dandy" and hauled the sheet taut, so that the boom was parallel with the keel. The effect of this was that whenever the canoe's head fell off, the sail filled and brought her up again. Joe was relieved of the task of steering, and Harry was able to tow the _Dawn_ much more easily than before.

The other canoeists followed Joe's example, and, setting their "dandies," greatly lessened their labor. The canoes kept their heads to the wind of their own accord, and everybody wondered why so obvious a method of fighting a head-wind had not sooner been thought of.

It was eight o'clock when the sandy spit was reached. The tide had been ebbing for some hours, and the sand was warm and dry, except near the edge of the water. The canoes were hauled some distance over the sand to a spot where there was a clump of bushes, and where it was reasonable to suppose that they would be perfectly safe even at high tide. A second breakfast was then cooked and eaten, after which the boys set out to explore their camping-ground.

It was simply a low sand-bank, about a hundred feet wide at widest part, and running out two or three hundred feet into the river. As has been said, the north bank of the river was a perpendicular precipice, but now that the tide was out, there was a path at the foot of the rocks by means of which any one could walk from the sand-spit to a ravine a quarter of a mile away, and thus reach the meadows lying back of the precipice. This path was covered with water at high tide; but as it was sure to be passable for three or four hours, Harry and Tom set out to procure provisions for the day.

The fleet was wind-bound all that day, for neither the wind nor the sea showed the slightest intention of going down. Harry and Tom returned, after an hour's absence, with bread, butter, eggs, milk, and strawberries, and with the cheerful information that, in the opinion of a gloomy farmer, the wind would continue to blow for at least two days more.

After resting and sleeping on the soft sand, the boys began to find the time hang heavily on their hands. They overhauled their sails and rigging, putting them in complete order. Charley mended a pair of trousers belonging to Joe in a really artistic way, and Joe, with his left arm in a sling, played "mumble-te-peg" with Harry. Tom collected fire-wood, and when he had got together more than enough to cook two or three meals, occupied himself by trying to roll a heavy log into a position near the canoes, where it could be used as a seat or a table.

The sand was strewn with logs, big and little, and Harry proposed that as many logs as possible should be got together, so that an enormous camp fire could be started. It was a happy idea, for it gave the boys employment for the greater part of the day. It became a matter of pride with them to bring the biggest and heaviest of the logs up to the fire-place. Some of them could only be stirred with levers, and moved with the help of rollers cut from smaller logs. Whenever a particularly big log was successfully moved, the boys were encouraged to attack a still bigger one. Thus they finally collected an amount of fire-wood sufficient to make a blaze bright enough to be seen a dozen miles at night.

When they were tired of rolling logs, Tom went fishing, but caught nothing, while Charley cooked the dinner and watched the rising tide, half afraid that the water would reach the fire and put it out before he could get dinner ready. The tide rose so high that it came within two or three yards of the fire, and almost as near to the canoes, but it spared the dinner. When the tide was nearly full, only a small part of the sand-spit was out of water, and the path along the foot of the precipice was completely covered, so that the waves broke directly against the rocks.

"It's lucky for us that the tide doesn't cover the whole of this place," remarked Charley, as he placed the dinner on a large log which served as a table, and beat a tattoo on the frying-pan as a signal to Tom to give up fishing and come to dinner. "I should hate to have to take to the canoes again in this wind."

"It's lucky that the tide will ebb again," said Harry, "for we're cut off from the shore as the tide is now, unless we could climb up the rocks, and I don't believe we could."

"It's all right," said Tom, putting his fishing-tackle in his canoe, "provided the tide doesn't come up in the night and float the canoes off."

"Oh, that can't happen," exclaimed Harry. "The tide's turned already, and doesn't reach the canoes."

"I'm going to sleep on the sand," remarked Joe. "It's softer than the bottom of my canoe, and there isn't any sign of rain."

"You don't catch me sleeping anywhere except in my canoe," said Harry. "There isn't any bed more comfortable than the _Sunshine_."

"Can you turn over in her at night?" asked Joe.

"Well, yes; that is, if I do it very slow and easy."

"The bottom board is a nice soft piece of wood, isn't it?" continued Joe.

"It's pine-wood," replied Harry, shortly. "Besides, I sleep on cushions."

"And you like to lie stretched out perfectly straight, don't you?"

"I like it well enough--much better than I like to see a young officer trying to chaff his Commodore," returned Harry, trying to look very stern.

"Oh, I'm not trying to chaff anybody!" exclaimed Joe. "I was only wondering if your canoe was as comfortable as a coffin would be, and I believe it is--every bit as comfortable."

When the time came for "turning in," Joe spread his water-proof blanket on the sand close by the side of his canoe. He had dragged her several yards away from the rest of the fleet, so as to be able to make his bed on the highest and driest part of the sand, and to shelter himself from the wind by lying in the lee of his boat. The other boys preferred to sleep in their canoes, which were placed side by side and close together. The blazing logs made the camp almost as light as if the sun were shining, and the boys lay awake a long while talking together, and hoping that the wind would die out before morning.

Joe, whose sprained wrist pained him a little, was the last to fall asleep. While he had expressed no fears about the tide (for he did not wish to be thought nervous), he was a little uneasy about it. He had noticed that when the tide rose during the day it would have completely covered the sand-spit had it risen only a few inches higher. Long after his comrades had fallen asleep it occurred to Joe that it would have been a wise precaution to make the canoes fast to the bushes, so that they could not be carried away; but he did not venture to wake the boys merely in order to give them advice which they probably would not accept. So he kept silent, and toward ten o'clock fell asleep.

In the course of the night he began to dream. He thought that he was a member of an expedition trying to reach the North Pole in canoes, and that he was sleeping on the ice. He felt that his feet and back were slowly freezing, and that a polar-bear was nudging him in the ribs occasionally, to see if he was alive and ready to be eaten. This was such an uncomfortable situation that Joe woke up, and for a few moments could not understand where he was.

The wind had gone down, the stars had come out, and the tide had come up. Joe was lying in a shallow pool of water, and his canoe, which was almost afloat, was gently rubbing against him. He sprung up and called to his companions. There was no answer. The fire was out, but by the starlight Joe could see that the whole sand-spit was covered with water, and that neither the other boys nor their canoes were in sight. The tide was still rising, and Joe's canoe was beginning to float away, when he seized her, threw his blankets into her, and stepping aboard, sat down, and was gently floated away.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

SOME HINTS ON DOG TEACHING.

BY EDWARD I. STEVENSON.

Any reader of the YOUNG PEOPLE who owns a dog, and who truly appreciates that animal's best qualities, should not suppose that the great end in educating his pet is getting him so familiar with half a dozen "tricks" that he will meekly perform them to the end of his life. Tricks are well enough as far as they go, but the grand object in teaching Towser or Jack should be the development in him of just as much general wide-awakeness and intelligence as is possible. One does not want by his chair in the winter, or on a summer-day's stroll a French performing poodle. He wants an affectionate, obedient, honest comrade--a comrade occasionally a servant, but always a friend.

This platform being adopted by Jack's master, let Jack himself from the first moment that he is taken in hand be made to feel two things. First, that the teaching is thoroughly a business that you and he are together interested in, and that its processes are all good fun and frolic, not work; secondly, that it is an affair of rewards and punishments. Jack's teaching must also be carried on with great regularity from day to day, and during only a few minutes of each day; no more. That Jack's teacher must be patient and good-tempered at his task, and that he must try to bring to it all the tact he possesses, need scarcely be said.

Let us suppose that one of the readers of the YOUNG PEOPLE has bought or has had given him a puppy of any species whatsoever--one need not here go into the much-vexed question of the relative intelligence of different breeds. Any dog, even if it be a "cur of low degree," is capable of high education, provided his schooling is begun early enough. You may begin to teach your puppy just as soon as you notice that he is running about freely and playing either by himself or with his kennel kin. Do not try to teach him earlier. If he be of the Newfoundland, the mastiff, or the St. Bernard species, his thirteenth week should mark the beginning of his education. Before this date you must content yourself with letting your pet see as much of you as possible each day. Permit him to scramble over you; feed him yourself; talk to him all that you can, so that he may early become entirely accustomed to the sound of your voice and his own name. When he is disposed to play, do you play with him.

The first direct step in his education should be to teach him, as a matter of duty, to come to you whenever called. As a matter of liking he has probably acquired this habit already. Take a dozen bits of cracker, stand fifteen or twenty feet distant, and call him by name, as "Come here, Jack." If he comes without delay, give him at once one of the pieces of cracker, pet him very enthusiastically, and make as much ado as possible over his arrival. Next walk off as before and repeat the process. If, however, he refuses to come after you have called him twice or thrice, say very decidedly, "Jack, if you do not come I shall whip you." Go up to him and administer one single cut with your whip. It is well to use one whip throughout all your dog's pupilage, to let him know by sight that particular whip, and also that the words "whip" and "whipping" refer to it.

After you have struck him once, go directly back to where you were standing, and call him as kindly as you can, holding out his reward. Now he may be afraid to come to you, recollecting the incident of a moment earlier. But he must never be whipped twice in succession. Go to him without anger in your face, pet him, play with him (I don't mean romp with him), until you see that his temporary dread of his master is gone, and that his spirits are recovered. Thereupon leave him, and try the cracker persuasion as before. He will probably come readily enough now. If not, you may this time use your whip; but recollect that while he is so young, his punishments should be alternated, as I have suggested, or you may do any high-spirited animal mischief without remedy.

When your dog is grown older, and has had time to develop actual stubbornness, the case is different. Be exceedingly careful not to cow the spirit of a young and high-bred dog when little past puppyhood by harsh words or chastisement. In fact, all dog teaching perfectly illustrates the old phrase that "love is better than lashes."

After being taught to come at call, Jack should be schooled to lie down on command. Stand beside him; put one hand on each side of his head gently but firmly, then say, very quietly and clearly, "Jack, lie down; lie down, Jack," at the same time, pressing steadily downward upon his head. He will perhaps somewhat reluctantly crouch and settle upon the ground. Place his fore-paws out in position before him, his nose lying between them; allow him to remain thus a few seconds, if necessary keeping your hands upon his head; follow this with a decisive "Get up, Jack," which act he will probably perform of his own accord. If not, put your hand gently under him, and raise him on all fours. Do not use your whip in teaching a dog to lie down or rise.

Let us suppose that Jack's fourth acquirement is to be the familiar one called "fetching and carrying." Speak the name of the article employed as distinctly and frequently as possible during the lesson. Show it to him in your hands, if, for example, it be a stick, a hat, or an umbrella, saying several times over, chattily, "That is a stick, Jack; see the stick." Open his mouth, and closing his jaw upon the stick, let him learn how to hold it. After this, walk along a little distance, he accompanying you with the stick. If he drops it, replace it. Be exceedingly patient as to this particular misdemeanor. Then throw the cane, stick, or hat to a point a few yards beyond. Go with Jack to it, telling him what you are about, pick it up, put it in his mouth gently, and return with him to the starting-place. Throw aside the article, reward and encourage. Repeat this process ten times in the morning and ten in the evening. The whip is not to be used in this lesson. When he is older, and exhibits laziness, you may refer to it or get it, and, with discretion, refresh his memory.

None of the foregoing first lessons must be repeated more than ten times of a morning or evening; you will perplex and confuse him otherwise. One must also be on guard for signs of this in the pet while teaching, and give him ever the idea that you are disposed to meet him halfway in such a difficulty.

Leaping over a cane, going to find and close an open door whence a draught assails you, letter-carrying, and all more elaborate acts are to be taught a dog on this same principle of talking about the feat to him, and going and doing it with him in the first instances, then dividing the matter between you, lastly seeing that he does it alone, rewarding and punishing throughout. See to it that punishment be one or two cuts with a whip, not too stinging, and that you drop the whip immediately they are given. Never teach with whip in hand.

"Speaking" is a matter entirely of rewards. The whip is useless. You can also readily get him to use a particular whimper when he is thirsty, with a little tact and pains. Be absolutely truthful with Jack. Never ask him if he wants to walk, to drink, to have his dinner, or anything of the sort, unless you intend gratifying him at once.

Try and keep him at your side as much as possible during the day, and talk to him--I had nearly said _with_ him--all you can. Before long you will get to feeling that if you should happen to remark to any person near you, "What a beautiful day!" you would not fall over in astonishment to hear Jack or Carlo quietly lift up his great head, and reply, "Yes, splendid; and I should like to take a walk with you."

BESSY'S FAIRY GODMOTHER.

BY JULIA K. HILDRETH.

Little Bessy believed in fairies, although her mother smiled and shook her head when she asked, "Did _you_ ever see a fairy?"

At the time my story begins Bessy sat on the window-sill with a great book open on her knee, straining her eyes to catch the last words of the most delightful story she had ever read. It was all about fairy godmothers, shoes filled with gold, and other wonderful things to be found in such books.

As the light died out of the sky, and a soft purple mist settled down upon the hill-tops, she sighed, and closed her book, for the story was finished.

Bessy's father and mother were away from home, and she was alone that evening. The sound of voices and the rattling of dishes came from the kitchen. The crickets had begun their evening song; the lanes were growing dim and mysterious. Bessy could imagine a fairy head peeping from every tall flower by the garden gate, and the Queen of them all seemed to bow to her from the tall white lily in the pansy bed.

Bessy thought if ever fairy appeared to mortal child, it would be on such a night as this. And now, to crown all, just at the end of the lane appeared a light, moving backward and forward. First it would bob down, and then up quite high among the bushes.

At last Bessy could bear it no longer, and made up her mind to solve the mystery. So she stepped out of the window on the porch, and then, softly over the grass, for she was afraid Ann would hear her and call her back. She said to herself, "If it _should_ be a fairy glow-worm lighting the fairies to their dancing ground, Ann would frighten them away, she is so big and heavy."

So down the path she went on tiptoe. Hardly daring to breathe, she pushed open the gate, and looked down the lane.

Bessy thought the light had disappeared. But by-and-by it came again, moving in the same strange manner. Although she trembled a great deal, she went bravely on. It was only a short lane leading to the main road, and shut in on one side by a large clump of trees. It was at the foot of one of these trees that the light seemed to be standing now.

At first Bessy crept softly on, keeping it in sight. How dark it had grown! The light shone from the bushes like a fallen star. When Bessy was within a few feet of the light, she was astonished to see a face peering out of the darkness, its eyes fixed on her with anything but a pleasant expression. The light went out, and Bessy, wishing she was safe at home, turned to scamper back, when a heavy hand was laid on her shoulder, and the light flashed in her face.

She now saw it was a lantern carried by a very small and disagreeable old woman dressed in black, and her head covered with a red handkerchief. In one hand she held the lantern, and under her arm was a crooked stick.

Now when Bessy saw the stick, she was sure it was a fairy godmother, for the old woman was exactly like the description of the fairy in her new book. The ugly black stick was her wand. So she whispered, timidly,

"Are you a fairy godmother?"

"A what?" growled the old woman.

"A fairy godmother," repeated Bessy.

"Oh, yes, yes; to be sure I'm a fairy. If you tell any one you saw me, I'll bring bad luck on your house."

"Please, please don't," sobbed Bessy. "I'll never, never tell any one."

"Well, shut up, then," said the fairy, "and don't make such a noise."

Bessy was not frightened now, for she remembered that fairy godmothers were always cross, and said hateful things just before they granted three wishes. So she said, softly,

"Will you please give me three wishes, madam?"

"I'll give you three slaps if you don't get out right off," grumbled the old fairy.

"Please, please," prayed Bessy. "I'll do anything you tell me if you will give me three wishes."

"I don't believe you. You ain't got spunk enough."

"Oh yes, I have," said Bessy. "Try me."

"Where do you live?" asked the fairy.

"Just down the lane, close by."

"You do, do you? I didn't see no house," said the fairy, in a startled voice.

"That's because mother and father are out, and there's no light in the front room," replied Bessy.

"Are you all alone?" asked the fairy.

"No," replied Bessy; "Ann and Lucy are at home."

"Who's them?"

"Mamma's two servants."

"Any men at the house?"

"Not now," answered Bessy. "Mother took Peter to drive. They'll be back soon, I think."

The old fairy turned out the light and sat down on the ground; then she pulled Bessy down by her, and put her hand on the little girl's shoulder. "Now remember," she began, "you promise never to tell nobody."

"I promise true and sure I never will, if you'll give me three wishes to-night."

But Bessy wondered if all fairies smelled so of tobacco.

"Will you do just what I tell you?" asked the fairy.

"Yes," said Bessy, nodding her head very hard, "I will."

"Let's hear your three wishes, then," growled the fairy.

"First, I want my shoes and papa's and mamma's filled with gold. Then I want an invisible cap for myself, and then--"

"Now stop," interrupted the old fairy; "you've had four a'ready."

"No," answered Bessy, "that's only two. Papa's and mamma's and my shoes filled with gold is one wish, you know."

"Well, go on."

"Let me see," pondered Bessy. "I guess you may give me happiness for the rest of my life, and that's all."

"All right," returned the fairy godmother, "you'll find them waiting for you at three in the morning, if you do what I tell you to."

"I'm ready," said Bessy.

"You just run home, and bring me the big key of the front door."

"But papa said I must not touch that. Besides, he would miss it, for he always locks the door himself, and hangs the key up by the hat stand."

"I sha'n't keep it," said the fairy. "I'll give it right back. You see, if I didn't know the size of the key-hole, I mightn't send a fairy small enough to go through."

"Oh!" said Bessy.

"Is the door fastened any other way?" asked the old fairy.