Part 5

So he went along a little farther, looking around on all the trees. At last he saw something upon a tree, moving; he thought that must be a bear. So he took his gun down quick off of his shoulder, and he pulled back the flint, and it said _click_, and he pointed the gun up into the tree, and then he pulled the trigger. _Crackle_ went the sparks, _flash_ went the powder in the little touch-hole, _pop_ went the gun, _whiz_ went the bullet through the air, _puff_ went the smoke, and the man looked, expecting to see the bear fall down dead from the tree.

Instead of that, what do you think he saw? Why, it was nothing but a little squirrel, with a long, bushy tail, running away on a limb of the tree, as fast as he could go. What the man saw moving was only the tip of his tail; the rest of him was round behind the tree, and he thought it was a bear round there.

“Ah,” said the man, “I made another little mistake. Bears are black. This squirrel’s tail is gray. I must not fire at any thing again unless it is _black_.”

So he walked along, looking about him carefully, and up into all the trees. By and by he saw something moving. He looked up and saw that it was black. It was the little tip of a black thing; he could only see a little of it. The rest was round behind the tree.

“Now,” says the man, “I _know_ I have found a bear; for it is black, and bears are black.”

So he loaded his gun, and got it all ready. _Click_, said the lock when he cocked it. He pointed up towards the tree. In a minute he pulled the trigger,--_flash_ went the powder in the touch-hole, _pop_ went the gun, _whiz_ went the bullet through the air, and the man looked, expecting to see the bear fall down dead from the tree.

Instead of that, what do you think he saw? Why, it was only a little blackbird, flying off through the branches as fast as he could go. The black thing which the man saw moving was only the blackbird’s tail, _projecting_ out from behind the tree, and he thought it was a black bear round there.

“Ah,” said the man, “I made a mistake again. Bears are _large_, as well as black. This was very _little_. I must not fire at any thing again unless it is large as well as black.”

So he walked along, looking about him carefully, and up into all the trees. By and by he saw something very strange. It was a little way up a tree, clinging to a branch. It was partly hid by the leaves, so that he could not see it very well, but he knew that it was black, and it was large, and it was moving.

“Now,” says the man, “I am certain I have found a bear, for it is large and black, and bears are large and black. Besides, it moves.”

So he loaded his gun, and rammed down the bullet with his ramrod, and pulled back the flint. It said _click_. Then he knew that all was ready. He was sure of his bear this time, and he determined to drag him home by the ears.

He pointed his gun up at the large, black thing, and pulled the trigger. _Flash_, went the powder in the touch-hole, _pop_ went the gun, _whiz_ went the bullet through the air, and the man looked, expecting to see the bear fall down dead from the tree.

Instead of that, a man came rushing out of the bushes, calling out,

“Halloa there,--what are you shooting my coat for?”

The man was at first so astonished that he could hardly speak. Presently he said,

“Who are you, sir?”

“I am a wood-cutter. I came out here to cut wood, and I hung my coat on the tree; now you have shot a hole through it!!”

“Is that your coat?”

“Yes.”

“I thought it was a bear.”

“A bear!!” said the wood-cutter with astonishment.

“Yes, I thought there were bears in the woods, and that they would come out and eat me up; so I came to shoot one.”

“You silly man,” said the wood-cutter. “There are no bears in the woods near such towns as we live in. Besides, if there were, they never would come out of the woods and eat people up. Nobody is afraid of bears but silly little children.”

JACK HILDIGO.

Jonas used to sit down with Rollo very often and amuse him by telling him stories. The story which Rollo liked the best was the story of Jack Hildigo. The story of Jack Hildigo was a very curious one. The reason why I put it in this book is because it is very hard to read right, and you must read it aloud and distinctly, till you learn to read it well.

When Jonas told this story, they called it _playing_ Jack Hildigo. It took several children to play it well. Sometimes when John and Samuel, who lived in another house, came over to play with Rollo, they would all sit down together, on the platform, in the garden-yard, and have a fine time playing Jack Hildigo.

Jonas would begin telling the story thus, the other children sitting all around him:--

“Once there was a boy, and his name was Jack Hildigo. One day he went round behind his father’s house, and found there a great hole leading under the house. So he thought he would go into that hole, and see what was there. He went in under the house, but he found nothing. So he stood there, and began to growl like a bear, so,--

“U-r-r, u-r-r, u-r-r.”

Here Jonas, who was telling the story, said, U-r-r, u-r-r, u-r-r, growling as much as he could like a bear.

“Presently there came along a large turkey, saying, Gobble-gobble-gobble. And the turkey said, ‘I wonder what there is in that great, black hole.’ And the turkey said, ‘Hark! I hear a strange noise in that great, black hole, something growling like a bear. I wonder what that is that is growling like a bear.’

“So the turkey walked along and looked in, and he said, ‘Oh, it is nothing but Jack Hildigo. I am not afraid of Jack Hildigo. I will go in and gobble, while he growls like a bear.’

“So the turkey went in and stood by the side of Jack Hildigo; and the turkey said, Gobble-gobble-gobble, and Jack Hildigo growled like a bear, so.”

Jonas would say, U-r-r, u-r-r, u-r-r, growling like a bear, and Rollo would say, Gobble-gobble-gobble, gobble-gobble-gobble, gobble-gobble-gobble, three times, and no more. This would make Rollo laugh. Then Jonas went on with the story.

“By and by there came along a duck, a waddling, quacking duck. And the duck said, ‘I wonder what there is in that great, black hole.’ And the duck said, ‘Hark! I hear a strange noise in that great, black hole, something growling like a bear. I wonder what that is that is growling like a bear.’

“So the duck walked along and looked in, and he said, ‘Oh, it is nothing but Jack Hildigo and a turkey. I am not afraid of Jack Hildigo.’ So the duck went in and stood by the turkey, and said, Quack-quack-quack, and the turkey said, Gobble-gobble-gobble, and Jack Hildigo growled like a bear, so.”

Here Jonas would say, U-r-r, u-r-r, u-r-r, and Rollo would say, Gobble-gobble-gobble, gobble-gobble-gobble, gobble-gobble-gobble, and John would say, Quack-quack-quack, quack-quack-quack, quack-quack-quack, all together, three times, and no more. Here Jonas would go on with the story.

“By and by there came along a dog, a large dog, a large, black dog, with a bone in his mouth. And the dog said, ‘I wonder what there is in that great, black hole.’ And when he came nearer he heard a noise. And he said, ‘Hark! what noise is that? It is something growling like a bear.’ So he walked along carefully, but when he got near the hole, he said, ‘Oh, it is only Jack Hildigo and a turkey and a duck! I am not afraid of Jack Hildigo, or the turkey, or the duck. I will go in and bow-wow-wow.’ So he went in and stood by the side of the duck. And the dog said, Bow-wow-wow, and the duck said, Quack-quack-quack, and the turkey said, Gobble-gobble-gobble, and Jack Hildigo growled like a bear, so.”

Here Jonas would say, U-r-r, u-r-r, u-r-r, growling like a bear, and Rollo would say, Gobble-gobble-gobble, gobble-gobble-gobble, gobble-gobble-gobble, and John would say, Quack-quack-quack, and Samuel would say, Bow-wow-wow, bow-wow-wow, bow-wow-wow, three times, and no more. This would make them all laugh, and then Jonas would go on with the story.

“In the yard of that house was a pig. He was lying down with his nose in the mud. And after lying there some time, he thought he would get up and take a walk.

“So he walked along till he came round behind the house, and he saw a great hole in the wall. And he said, ‘I wonder what there is in that great, black hole.’ And when he came nearer, he heard a noise, and he said, ‘Hark! what noise is that? It is something growling like a bear.’ So he walked along carefully, but when he got near the hole, he said, ‘Oh, it is only Jack Hildigo. I am not afraid of Jack Hildigo. I will go in and grunt, while he growls like a bear.’”

When Jonas got as far as this, in telling the story one day, he stopped, and said he could not go any farther, for there was nobody to play pig. But he said if he could only get four or five more boys some time, he could tell a good deal further, and they should have a great deal more fun.

This is the end of the story about Jack Hildigo.

HOW TO TREAT A KITTEN.

There was once a boy named James, and one day his father came home and said, “James, I have got something for you.”

“What is it, father?” said James.

“Oh, I will show it to you presently,” said his father.

“Where is it?” said James.

“It is in a little basket, which I left out in the other room.”

So when James’ father had put away his hat and whip, he went out into the other room, and presently came in bringing a basket in his hands, which he was holding carefully by the handle.

“Oh, let me see, let me see,” said James; and he came up to his father, and began to pull down the basket.

This was wrong, for children ought never to attempt to pull any thing away from their father. It was foolish too, as well as wrong, for James could not succeed in pulling it away. The more he pulled, the higher his father held up the basket, until at last his father told him to let go. He obeyed.

Then his father held the basket down low. He put it in a chair, and James stood by the side of it. He saw that there was a cloth spread over the top of it, and tied round the basket. James’ father untied the string, and unwound it, and then carefully lifted up the cloth, and James looked in and saw there a beautiful gray kitten.

The kitten appeared afraid; she curled down into a corner of the basket, and looked up as if she was frightened.

“Oh, father,” said James, “let me take her out.”

“Well,” said his father, “but do it carefully.”

So James put his hands in to take up the kitten; but when she saw them coming, it frightened her more, and she jumped up to the top of the basket, and then leaped out upon the chair, and from the chair to the floor. She ran along the floor. At the same instant, James ran after her, holding out his hands, saying, “Oh, catch her, catch her.” His father only turned round quietly, and shut the door. He was much wiser than James, for James’ bustle and noise only made the kitten more frightened, while his father quietly did what would effectually keep the kitten from running away.

“Now, James,” said his father, “let the kitten stay there under the table a minute or two, while I tell you something. You see how frightened she looks. She is afraid you will hurt her. Now, if you treat her very gently and kindly for a few days, and do not try to catch her at first, she will soon find out that you are her friend, and she will not be afraid of you. She will let you take her, and play with her as much as you please. But if you handle her roughly, or tease her in any way, she will be always wild.”

Then James’ father went away.

James stood a minute or two looking at his kitten, and then he thought he would go and catch her. So he walked along towards the table, and then stooped down to take up the kitten, but she suddenly turned round, and ran under the chairs, and hid behind a basket, in one corner of the room.

James ran after her. He pulled away the basket, and saw the kitten for an instant crouching in a corner of the room, staring wildly at him, and evidently very much terrified. The moment she found that the basket was taken away, and that she was exposed again, she started off, ran directly across the room, towards a large clock which was in the opposite corner, and squeezed under it.

James now did not know what to do. He could not move the great, heavy clock. He put his face close down to the floor, and looked under, and he could just see the kitten’s two shining eyes there, but he could not reach in, to take her.

“Ah,” said he at last, “I know what I can do. I can go and get father’s cane, and then I can _poke_ her out.” So he went out into the entry and got the cane, and came back, and began to thrust it under, and behind the clock. The poor kitten was much more frightened to hear this thumping around her, and to feel the great stick punching her sides; so presently she darted out, ran across the room, and out through the door which James had left open.

James followed her, brandishing* his cane. When he got to the entry, he found that the kitten was half way up stairs. He immediately began to go up as fast as he could, but she could go faster. She leaped up from step to step, then ran along the passage way at the top until she reached the door leading to the garret, which James saw, to his chagrin, was open a very little.

Do you know what chagrin means? It means the feeling James had when he saw that the garret door was open. What sort of a feeling do you think that was?

The kitten squeezed through the opening of the garret door, and disappeared. James opened the door wide, and went up nearly to the top of the garret stairs, and looked into the garret. It was rather dark there, and the boards looked loose on the floor, and there were a great many boxes and barrels there, and James was afraid to go in. So he stood there and called “Kitty, kitty, kitty.” But the kitty knew him by this time too well to come.

Now James began to be sorry that he had not taken his father’s advice, and treated his kitten more gently and kindly. He was afraid she was lost, and that he could never get her again.

That night, at tea time, when his father had heard all about it, he reproved James for his harsh and cruel treatment of his kitten, and told him that he thought he deserved to lose her entirely.

“Do you think I _shall_ lose her entirely?”

“No,” said his father, “not this time. I think I can get her out of the garret.”

“How?” said James.

“Why, by kindness and gentleness. I shall draw her out by doing exactly the opposite to what you did to drive her in. But I do not believe it will do any good. I do not think you will ever treat her kindly enough to make her trust you.”

James promised that he would; but his father knew that he did not always keep his promises.

That evening, James’ father poured a little milk into a saucer, and he and James carried it up garret, and put it upon the floor, and then came directly down again. The next morning they went up to look at it, and found that the milk was gone. They then brought down the saucer, filled it again, and carried it back. They stopped a minute to look round for the kitten, and presently they saw her behind a barrel. James wanted to go and catch her, but his father would not let him. His father said, “Poor pussy, poor pussy,” in a gentle, soothing tone, and put the saucer down where she could see it, and then led James away down stairs. When he went out that morning, he forbid James going to the garret till he came home.

At noon they carried some more milk up, and the kitten came out a little way towards them.

“There,” said James’ father, “do you not see the effect of kindness?”

He then put the saucer down, and went back with James a few steps, and stood still. The kitten came up to the saucer and began to drink the milk.

“_Now_ let us go and catch her,” said James.

“No,” said his father.

After the kitten had drunk all the milk, she ran back behind the barrel, and James and his father came down stairs.

The next time they went up, they stood close by the saucer, and the kitten came up slowly and cautiously. James’ father gently stroked her back while she was feeding, and James thought he was certainly going to catch her then. But he did not; he let her drink the milk and then go back behind the barrels.

“Why, father, are you not _ever_ going to catch her?” said James.

“Yes,” said his father, “when the proper time comes”; and they went down stairs.

The next time they came, the kitten came running out to meet them, and they held the saucer down. When she came near, James’ father reached out his hand, and took her up gently and said, “Now we will carry her down stairs.”

“Let _me_ carry her,” said James.

“Well, you may,” said his father; “but you must hold her very carefully.” So James took the kitten, and his father took the saucer, and they went down stairs. They put the kitten and the saucer under the table, and pretty soon, though she seemed rather frightened at first, she began to drink. James’ father forbid his touching her, or doing any thing to her, all day.

Thus, in a few days, the kitten became considerably tame, and would let James play with her, but he soon began to handle her roughly again. He would pull her by the tail, and carry her around under his arm, and try to make her stand up on her hind legs, and do a great many other things, which he thought was very good fun for him, but which were very terrifying or painful to her. The kitten became very much afraid of him. She would never let him play with her, or catch her, if she could possibly get away, and often in struggling to get away she would scratch his hands. Thus the kitten hated James, and James soon began to hate the kitten.

“She is a cross, ugly, good for nothing old puss,” said he one day.

“Very well,” said his father, “then I will take her out of your way.”

So his father got the basket, and put her gently in it, and he spread the cloth over it, and tied it down; James stood by, looking sorrowfully.

“What are you going to do with her, father?” said he.

“I am going to take her out of your way. She shall never trouble you any more.”

Then James’ father put on his hat, and took the basket and walked away.

* * * * *

Some months afterwards James went to see Rollo. He found Rollo out on the platform, in the garden-yard. You remember the picture of the garden-yard. You can see the platform in the picture if you look back.

When James arrived at the house, and went through to the yard to see Rollo, he found him playing horses. He had a little wooden cart, very small, with a string tied to it, and was trotting about on the platform. And who do you think he had in the cart for a driver? Why, it was a little _gray kitten_! She was lying down in the cart with her fore paws resting on the front of it, and her chin resting on her fore paws, and she seemed to enjoy her ride very much. She looked so funny that James could not help laughing.

“Oh, what a beautiful kitten!” said he. “I wish I had such a kitten. I had one once, but she was not such a tame, good kitten as that,--she was an old, cross, ugly, good for nothing puss. She did nothing but scratch me.”

* * * * *

Now it happened that this was the very kitten which James had, though James did not know it. His father had come and given it to Rollo. Rollo called her Ooty, and he made her gentle and tame by treating her kindly.

* Brandishing it means holding it up as if he were going to strike her.

OVERBOARD.

Do you recollect what you read about Jonas’ raft in another part of this book? One day, when Jonas was going down to the brook with Rollo, there was the following _dialogue_ between Rollo’s father and mother.

_Mother._ I am afraid to have Rollo sail with Jonas on that raft, as he calls it. I am very much afraid he will get in, some day.

_Father._ I presume he _will_ get in.

Rollo’s mother looked surprised. She thought it was strange that his father should let him go on the water, when he thought he probably would fall in.

_Father._ Perhaps I ought rather to say I think it not improbable that he will get in.

_Mother._ Why then do you allow him to go?

_Father._ Because the water is not deep, and with Jonas with him, who is a strong and a faithful boy, I think he cannot be hurt; and if he should grow careless and inattentive, and fall off of the raft, it would do him a great deal of good.

_Mother._ What good would it do him?

_Father._ It would make him more careful in future; and besides, an actual plunge into the water where it is deep enough to frighten a boy, will teach him more of the nature of water, than an hour’s talk to him about its properties. A fall off of Jonas’ raft may, not very improbably, be the means of saving his life, by making him careful, when he shall be exposed to real danger.

Rollo’s father was right; Rollo did fall off. One day, when he and Jonas were sailing up towards the bridge, Jonas was standing behind pushing, and Rollo was sitting on before. Rollo took up a long stick which was on the raft, and thought he would stand up, and push too. Jonas stood with his back to him, and did not see him. Rollo pushed his stick down into the water, but the bottom was farther off than it seemed to be, and leaning over, he lost his balance, and away he went all over into the water. In an instant Jonas plunged in after him, and dragged him out upon the bank. The raft, left to itself, floated down the stream.

Rollo’s mother put on dry clothes, and when Rollo was warm again, she said,

“Perhaps now you think I shall forbid your going down to the brook again, but I shall not. You may go and sail again whenever you please.”

She knew that his experience would make him careful in future, without any censure from her.

OLD THINGS AND NEW THINGS.

Which is the prettiest, an _old_ thing or a _new_ thing? Oh, a _new_ thing to be sure, you say. A beautiful, new book, fresh from the bookstore, is a great deal prettier than an old, worn out, tattered book, that you have had a great while.

Now there is one great mistake that small boys very often make. They think that books and other things become old and worn out, only because they have had them a long time; but that is not the reason. I have seen a great many books, beautiful books too, full of pictures, and they had been kept a great many years, and yet they were not old and worn out. They looked just as well as when they were first bought. Now I am going to explain to you here how you may keep your things so that they shall not become old and worn out.

Suppose your father should bring you home a beautiful book with a red morocco cover, and full of pictures. It looks new and beautiful. Now look at the cover a moment. Do you suppose the cover is red all through? Suppose any body should cut the corner off of the cover, should you expect that it would be red _all through_ where they cut it? It would not. It is only red outside. The red is very thin, very thin indeed, spread all over the outside of the cover. You might take a knife and scrape it off in a little spot, and see that it is very thin, and that it is some other color underneath. Perhaps somebody will take some old book which is not good for much, and show you what I mean. You must not try it upon any good books.