CHAPTER XXIV
THE SWISS FAMILY ROBERTSON
The fact as was learned early in the morning, that there must elapse onemore day before relief came, was, it must be feared, absolutely a reliefto Colonel Livingstone. When Stafford told him the situation he beamed.He was certainly at his best. He called upon the Man From Nowhere.
The title of The Man From Nowhere had been bestowed upon a quiet anddignified gentleman who but smiled and listened all the time, but hadsaid very little. During the first stress of the imprisonment, he hadbeen one of the most energetic and helpful among those of the passengerswho had shown the quality of facing a situation. He had exerted himselfto some purpose from the beginning and had assisted in making more orless comfortable those who did not seem capable of taking care ofthemselves. He had been given the title of "The Man From Nowhere,"because he had declared that he really had no home but was a wandererfor pleasure, with no fixed place of abode. He was a man of about sixtyyears of age, grey-mustached and affable. Now, as he came forward, withan apparent degree of awakened interest in what was going on, he wasreceived with applause. It was the Colonel, as usual, who expressedhimself:
"Glad to see you aroused, sir. Are you, too, going to favor us with astory?"
The Man From Nowhere laughed: "It's hardly a story," he said, "but, inlistening to the brief discussion as to the degree in which we areappreciated in this world, I was involuntarily reminded of the bitterexperience of a young friend or rather of five young friends of mine.They were not appreciated, and took steps accordingly. What they did wasmerely to segregate themselves. You will readily perceive that bysegregating yourself you may avoid all the annoyance ofnon-appreciation. That the experiment did not, in this instance, resultat once in a permanent remedy for all oppressive circumstances was, Ithink, due, not to any lack of proper conception in the minds of myyoung friends, but rather to their inexperience in certain matters ofdetail. In some of its aspects it was a sad affair, but I will relatethe whole thing to you just as it was told me by the principal actor. Itis but the simple story of
THE SWISS FAMILY ROBERTSON
When I look back across the years--I am nearly thirteen now--the visionwhich arises of trying adventure with my sister and three brothers seemslike what I have seen somewhere alluded to as the baseless fabric of adream, or, if not that, at least some freak of the waking imagination.Yet certain it is that the five of us, John, Mary, Francis, Herbert andElwyn Robertson, aged respectively eleven, nine, eight and sixyears--Herbert and Elwyn being twins--had such strange experiences in astrange land as can never be forgotten by any of us. Hard indeed toundergo were some of our vicissitudes, and always thankful am I, whenthe memory of that time returns, that my greater age and possiblygreater force of character enabled me to become guide and mentor whencertainly a counselor was needed.
Strangely enough, all our adventures were the indirect result of anearnest perusal of a most fascinating volume entitled The Swiss FamilyRobinson, in which was related the story of a family named Robinson,cast away upon a lone island in the Pacific Ocean. The family was aremarkable one, and the character of the father I admired especially.Not only was he a man of extended general information, but one whoregarded thoughtfully the circumstance that almost any condition may beimproved by the diligent, and who was truly grateful for something inevery chapter of the book. The mother and children each displayed traitsalmost as admirable. The island, too, was as remarkable as the family,since, though it was but a small place, the castaways were fortunateenough to discover almost every useful plant, bird and beast known tothe torrid, temperate or frigid zones. Taken altogether, the tale wassuch as to arouse a spirit of something nearly akin to envy in the mindsof all of us save the twins, who were, of course, too young tounderstand. It was no wonder, since our great-great-grandfather on ourmother's side was said to have come from Switzerland, that the threeoldest of us called ourselves the Swiss Family Robertson and imaginedmany things. There came a time when the fancy became a grave reality,even to the twins.
It is with no little feeling and hesitation that I approach anyallusion to the causes which led to the practical expatriation of fivepeople--in the prime of youth, it is true, but inexperienced--and theirsubjection to a manner of existence such as they had never imaginedcould be real. Even now the matter so affects me that I must be pardonedby the reader for not relating the unpleasant details. Suffice it to saythat occasions arose when the views of our parents unhappily failed tocoincide with those of Mary, Francis and myself, and that our conductwas held, by those who had the power, to merit corporal punishment, apunishment which, it has always seemed to me, was inflicted with farmore vehemence than any possible occasion could demand. Our spiritsrevolted at what occurred, and the three of us, who, as explained, hadjust finished reading The Swiss Family Robinson, held inflamed butdeliberate counsel together and determined resolutely upon a coursewhich should give us liberty of conscience and of action. I admitfrankly that, being of a self-respecting disposition, and it may be toan extent a natural leader, I was foremost in these councils and mappedout the general plan of action. Increasing years have given me morephilosophy and taken from my impulsiveness, but at that time I did nothesitate. In short, under my inspiration we resolved to seek a morecongenial clime, where, if we did not luxuriate in all the so-calledadvantages of a super-refined civilization, we should at least have themore quiet and assured happiness which obtains where Nature is primeval.Our resolution became fixed. That Herbert and Elwyn, the twins, becameof the emigrating party was but an incident, they having discovered ourplans for departure and insisting upon accompanying us. Their wish wasreluctantly granted lest the clamor they would inevitably raise in theevent of a refusal should reveal our plans.
* * * * *
Not only were we determined upon the new life, but we resolved toisolate ourselves so completely from the unpleasant recent past as evento change our names, it being decided that each should select a new onefor himself or herself. As for me, having lately read a story of theNorsemen, I selected the name of Wolfgang; Mary chose that of Abyssinia,and Francis, for what reason I cannot imagine, adopted that of Chickum.The naming of Herbert and Elwyn was left to Abyssinia, who, afterlooking over a newspaper, called one Krag and the other Joergensen. Thenbegan in earnest our preparations for departure.
It was, of course, necessary, as I endeavored to impress upon myfellows--if Abyssinia may be included in such a term--to observe theutmost secrecy and discretion in all our movements. This injunction wasobserved faithfully by all save Krag and Joergensen, whose course wasfrequently such as might, I feared, attract the attention of ourparents. Fortunately they appeared all unknowing of our designs.
* * * * *
The first thing to be accomplished was the getting together and bestowalin a safe place of such stores as we could carry away and as would bemost serviceable to us in an uninhabited and possibly barren region. Inthis difficult task Abyssinia, Chickum and I shared about equally. Theplace of concealment finally decided upon was a small shed which hadformerly been a henhouse, and which stood against a board fence on theeastern side of the kitchen garden. Here, beneath a heap of straw, weconcealed our accumulations. I pondered deeply over what the nature ofour stores should be, and I trust I may say, with a pride notaltogether unbecoming, that my selections were justified by the result.Slowly but surely the material accumulated until there came a time whenwe felt that we were fairly equipped for our departure. It was justafter the beginning of July, and the weather was sultry, but, with aneye for the future, Abyssinia secured from the extra household suppliesfour quilts, five large sheets and six jars of raspberry and strawberryjam. She contributed also a bag of salt, pepper, some old knives andforks, half a dozen tin plates and as many tin cups, a breadpan, afrying-pan with a broken handle, and two tin pails. I added a light butexcellent ax, several boxes of matches, a great ball of stout cord, anenormous slab of dried beef, two boxes of crac
kers, a box of candles,some large potatoes, an old carving-knife, some fishhooks, a steel trap,and at least half a barrel of flour in bags not too large to be carriedby Chickum or me. Chickum brought two jars of butter, another ax, andhis bow and arrow. Of course we had our pocket-knives, and Abyssinia hadneedles and strong thread. The hour came when we only awaited anauspicious occasion for departure.
It had become apparent that not a third of our stores could be removedin a single journey, and, after considering the matter mostthoughtfully, I resolved that the only wise course was to determine uponthe site for our new home, complete it, and to it carry our goods fromtime to time. Upon Chickum and me must necessarily fall the burden ofthis initial labor, and we set about it at once. Our homestead slopedfrom the roadway to the north and was bounded in that direction by agrassy expanse through which flowed a small creek, crossed by a plank.The creek separated this green area from a wild and comparativelydeserted region known as the Wooded Pasture. Some hundreds of yardsdistant from the creek rose an extremely wide and dense growth ofwillows, and in the midst of this miniature forest, as we had at onetime discovered, was a small open space, dry and bare of growth. Here,after new exploration in company with Chickum, I decided should beestablished our tranquil home. The site was not discernible from thehome of our parents, nor indeed from any part of the place we wereleaving except from an elevated point in a meadow to the west, and evenfrom this station the view was indistinct.
We bided our time impatiently now; but we did not have long to wait. Aday came when our parents were away upon a visit, the hired girl wasoccupied in-doors, and the hired man busy in the cornfield where thedense growth of the valued cereal prevented him from seeing us or beingseen. Quietly Chickum and I departed, burdened with the quilts, sheets,our axes, and the ball of twine. Our journey to the willows wasuneventful and our labors there were unmolested.
* * * * *
The plan of our shelter had already been designed by me, and we lost notime in trivial debating over details, Chickum submitting withoutquestion to each suggestion of the stronger mind. Under my direction wecut down eight small willows as straight as we could find, and cut fromeach a length of nearly six feet, four of which we sharpened at one end.These, one of us standing upon a dead uprooted stump which we rolledabout, we drove into the earth at distances of six feet apart, thestakes, rising some five feet, forming the four corners of a square. Theremaining four poles we tied firmly so that they extended from the topof one stake to another, and upon the frame so constructed we stretchedone of the sheets, cutting holes close to the hems and through themtying the sheet to the cross-pieces. Our dwelling was now roofed. Thefour remaining sheets, similarly tied, made the four sides of thestructure, one being left partly unattached so that it might be lifted,thus serving for a door. Upon the grassy floor of the house one of thequilts was spread, and there was our Tented Home! Chickum was wild withdelight and capered about hilariously, but I reminded him that the timefor an exhibition of such exuberance of spirit had not arrived. Much yetremained to be accomplished. Days passed before all our stores were,with exercise of the greatest caution, safely bestowed within the tent.
It was six o'clock one pleasant evening, when we had just finisheddinner, that our parents again absented themselves to make a call upon aneighbor. Our time had come. Quietly all of us, including Abyssinia andthe twins, slipped down through the kitchen garden, across the creek,across a part of the Wooded Pasture and into the Willow Grove. There waswhat I may call a certain tremulousness, but no faltering. We reachedour place of refuge. "Welcome to this sylvan grove!" shoutedChickum--quoting, I firmly believe, something he had read in a story,for Chickum's ordinary mode of expression was not such as I could inmany respects desire--and all entered the tent and made themselves athome. Here were peace and happiness at last! We chatted and planneduntil darkness fell, and then, digging a hole with my knife into apotato, I inserted one of the candles we had brought and found the placeilluminated finely. But we did not remain long awake. It had been aseason of labor and excitement, and a sense of drowsiness soon overcameus all.
* * * * *
It was nearly midnight when I was aroused by an exclamation fromAbyssinia and the sobbing of the twins. "What is it?" whisperedAbyssinia, and as she spoke there came a strange, gulping cry from amarshy strip beside the creek, and then, nearer us, one more musical butquite as mournful. The creatures of the night were calling. From mywider experience I recognized their harmlessness; I knew the voices ofthe bullfrog and the whippoorwill, but with the others it was different.Though my rest had been disturbed, I could not but explain allgraciously, and soon the three were sleeping again, though fitfully. Asfor Chickum, he had not awakened. When we awoke, morning had come andthe birds were chirping all about us. We ate heartily of jam andcrackers, and felt the blood coursing in our respective veins as it hadnever done before. How glorious the sense of freedom!
How unstable, too, are sometimes the happiest of conditions! Little didI imagine that bright morning as I noted idly the performance of ared-hooded woodpecker, _Melanerpes erythrocephalus_, who was eating along white grub in sections, little, I reiterate, did I imagine thatbefore nightfall all our hopeful plans would be disarranged, and that,like some weakling tribe compelled ever to flee before an encroachingpower, we must decide, in self-protection, to risk all the dangers of awilder home.
It was noon when, looking to the southwest, I perceived far in thedistance our hired man working about a stump on the elevated spot in themeadow from which could be obtained the only glimpse of our white homeamid the greenery. I have not, I hope, one of those minds ever open tosuspicion, but I may say that it is one somewhat more than ordinarilykeen in the formation of deductions. Why was the hired man there,chopping about a huge stump which he could not possibly remove unaided?Were we discovered? Could the man have been placed there to exercise adistant surveillance over us? The idea grew upon me, and an apprehensionI could scarce explain--an apprehension shared by Abyssinia and Chickum,with whom I at once consulted. Under the circumstances, with me to thinkwas but to act. "Come," I said to Chickum, "there is but one course topursue. We must face the issue as courageously as we can. Abyssinia andthe twins will remain here while you and I must venture farther insearch of a place where, no matter what may surround us, our isolationwill be complete." To this even the sometimes thoughtless Chickumassented promptly. "I am ready, brother," was his answer. "Let us startat once."
Little preparation was required. We provided ourselves with crackers anddried beef and set forth immediately, I carrying one of the axes andChickum arming himself with the carving knife.
The country for quite a distance, as we found, was partly bare, thoughthere were occasional small oaks and tangles of hazel and blackberrybushes. As we advanced, though, the trees became taller and grew moreclosely together, and finally, as we ascended a gradually sloping ridge,we found ourselves in what must have been almost the forest primeval. Weknew not what we should discover. The shadows were deep, and the windmade a constant sighing overhead. Descending the ridge upon the otherside, and pursuing our course far to the northwest, we emerged at lastupon a small open glade through which tumbled a noisy creek and near thecentre of which grew a few small elms, four of them, as I noted, formingthe angles of a square. We advanced and looked about us. From the gladethere was an opening in but one direction, to the northeast, throughwhich could be seen far away part of a hillside field. My heart beatfast. I recognized the advantages of the site at a single glance."Here," I said, "shall be our home!"
Chickum assented gladly and we took up our long homeward march, reachingthe tent in time for the evening meal. We were informed by Abyssiniathat the day had been uneventful save that Krag had stooped too closelyin examination of a bumblebee upon a clover blossom. One of his eyes wasclosed, but he appeared in his usual spirits. I have ever admired thewonderful recuperative powers of youth. Abyssinia told us, also, thatthe twins had devoured
one entire pot of our limited supply of jam.
* * * * *
For two days Chickum and I labored in the distant forest upon theerection of our new and more substantial home. Sheets would no longersuffice for roof and walls. We cut strong cross-poles and tied them fromtree to tree, and, finding great heaps of hemlock bark cut for thetanneries in a small abandoned clearing some distance from our glade, webrought all that we required of the great slabs and, leaning themagainst our cross-poles, made sides to the dwelling which promised to bewind and rain proof. The roof was constructed of the same material. Wenow had a home solid and roomy and offering pleasant contrast to thefrail tent amid the willows. Laboriously our stores were carried inrepeated journeys over the long route, and three days later all of ourlittle company were contentedly at home in Hemlock Castle, a namesuggested by Abyssinia, who declared that, like the people on thePacific island, we should certainly have names for the objects andlocalities about us. The open space in the forest was christened HavenGlade, the creek received the title of Skelter Walter, and the deep,wooded land about us was known as Darkland.
We were now most happily established. Our only possible anxiety, andthat as yet a light one, related to our food supply, which was graduallydiminishing. But we had plenty of flour, and Abyssinia now began makingbread.
Thoughtful and far-seeing as I had proved myself in the earlierpreparations for our flight, I had forgotten one thing. I shall nevercease to reproach myself with not having requested Abyssinia, while wewere still under the dominion of our parents, to ingratiate herself withthe hired girl and acquire at least some rudimentary idea of the art ofbreadmaking. As it now appeared, she was, though hopeful, absolutelyunacquainted with the manner of preparation of this so generally populararticle of food. We elders held a council on the subject and eachexpressed an idea. Abyssinia thought that to merely mix some of theflour with water and then put the dough in the frying-pan was all thatwas required for bread. Chickum asserted that he had seen the hired girlmix a little salt in the dough. I, personally, was confident that butterwas added. It was resolved to experiment on a small scale, andAbyssinia took up her household duties, I must admit, with bravery.
Some of the flour was mixed with water and salt and a little butter andput into the hot frying-pan. It soon browned upon one side and was thenturned over with some difficulty because of its extraordinaryadhesiveness. When finally extracted it resembled nothing I had everseen before, but was certainly baked. It was buttered and we all ate.The food was tenacious in quality and its flavor proved exceedinglynovel to us. Chickum, later, complained of pain. But we had no otherbread, and after I had reasoned calmly with all upon the merit ofresignation, we accepted the situation daily. What a wonderful organ isthe human stomach!
I am not exaggerating when I relate that the days now passed withblitheness. To our food was added an almost unlimited supply of wildgooseberries and blackberries, and the mandrake apples were ripening.There were deep pools in Skelter Water, and there, with the hooks myforesight had provided, we caught many of the fish known as the commonbull-head, which we wrapped in clay and cast into the open fire. Whenthe clay appeared well hardened, we drew it from the fire, cracked itopen, and therein found the fish, cooked to a turn, and even a delicacywhen eaten with butter and pepper and salt. How inevitably doesintelligence, when in stress, arise to the demands of circumstance!
One day Abyssinia came running in, jubilantly crying: "Bees! Bees! I'vefound a hive of wild bees! Let us tame them, as the people did on theisland, and so have all the honey we can eat!"
This assuredly was glorious news, and we all accompanied Abyssinia tothe scene of her discovery. There were the bees and their home.Suspended from the swaying end of a beech bough, hanging so low that itwas only four or five feet from the ground, appeared a great oval objectwhich looked as made of grayish paper. There were orifices in the bottomabout which the insects were humming in great numbers. They seemedsomewhat longer than domesticated bees, and had yellowish rings aroundtheir bodies, the difference in appearance from the ordinaryhoney-gatherer being, I assumed, due to their environment and differentmode of life. I at once resolved to secure the hive and bring it toHaven Glade, where it would afford a most desirable addition to ourdaily fare. I determined that the only way to accomplish this was tocome at night when the bees were at rest, cut off the limb above thehive, and so carry it to our home. This was easily accomplished. The endof the limb where it had been cut away was inserted in a hole madethrough the bark of our rear wall, and there, on the outside, hung thehive for the honey-making.
Some days passed and the bees appeared to be working industriously, noone going very near the suspended hive lest they be disturbed. Itchanced, however, that we had one morning an exceedingly earlybreakfast, and Chickum, who always had a taste for sweets, suggestedthat, as the bees were not yet astir, he go out, cut a hole in the sideof the hive and secure a lump of comb for our delectation. Impelled bycuriosity, I followed, observing Chickum's operations from a distance.Chickum, using a pocket knife, cut around a piece about six inchessquare from the side of the queer hive, then removed to look within forthe honey. Never shall I forget what then occurred immediately. Howremarkable are some of the traits of the insect world! From the openingthat Chickum had made there burst, fairly in his face, a whirling,venomously buzzing cloud of the great bees. He leaped backward and fledalong the creek. Very fleet of foot has Chickum always been, and I havenever felt it humiliating to be defeated by him in our friendly races,but never before had I seen accomplished, even by him, such an amazingburst of speed. His career, so far as I may infer from pictures I haveseen, resembled that of the antelope of the arid wastes, but the beeskept pace with him. With each leap Chickum gave vent to the remarkablecry of "Hep! Hep!" At first I thought him shouting instinctively forhelp, but it was not that; it was, I have since concluded, but aspasmodic exclamation, the result of his alarm and pain and of hisviolent physical exertion. I followed, first calling to Abyssinia tobring the twins from the house, for I knew the flight must be a briefone. Suddenly, Chickum, in his desperation, plunged into one of thepools of the creek and sank down until only his nose was visible. Thatorgan, as I could see, received at once most violent attention from thehovering pursuers, but by splashing water Chickum finally drove the beesaway and they returned scatteringly to their desecrated home. WhenChickum emerged from the creek his appearance was such that had I notbeen witness to the transformation I could scarcely have identified him.Each eye was closed so that, as he walked, he was compelled to hold thelids of one apart with thumb and finger, and his nose, but for its hue,resembled some monster puff-ball of the fields.
That day our forest home was temporarily abandoned, and when night cameI removed the hive with the utmost care a long distance into the forest.Days later I found it abandoned and, examining it, found breeding cells,but not a trace of honey. I recognized at once and, as is always my way,admitted to myself that I had erred. The hive was not that of the wildhoney bee, _Apis mellifica_, but of the aggressive tree wasp, _Vespidae_.I could not understand why I had been so mistaken. I had been mostcarefully instructed in natural history, and Miss Clitherose, my teacherfor several terms, had been kind enough to speak of my remarkableaptitude in that direction. I had acquired not only the common but manyof the Latin names of the soulless creatures, and, indeed, ratherpreferred the Latin. I well remember the day when I puzzled even MissClitherose, who prided herself somewhat on her acquirements. I asked herto give me the old Latin names for turkey and potato and she failed inthe attempt. Little did she comprehend how I had reasoned that as therehad been no turkeys nor potatoes in the Old World there could have beenno Latin names for them. But I digress.
"A DOZEN OR MORE NESTS WERE FOUND"]
Time passed and all went well until one afternoon, looking through theone small opening to the glade which gave a view of the distant hillsidefield, I saw distinctly the form of a man. He was chopping, andsomething about the figure and it
s movements reminded me irresistibly ofour hired man, Eben Westbrook. What could it mean?
Happy am I to turn to a subject more exhilarating--to a novel incidentin our forest life. One day Chickum and the twins went berrying in thedirection of our former home, venturing--as we rarely did--even as faras the wooded lot. They were in the midst of the hazel and blackberrybushes when there was a sudden cackle and flutter in the undergrowth,and a cry from Joergensen which brought Chickum hurriedly to the scene.What he saw caused the impetuous youth to shout with joy. There, beneatha bush, was the nest of a hen, _Gallina Americana_, and in it were noless than seven eggs. Berrying was suspended promptly, and all the eggssave one were transferred to the pail, and then began a wild search formore. It was well rewarded. A dozen or more nests were found, the spoilof which was added to that already secured. It was a great discovery.
A prouder trio than entered Hemlock Castle that evening, bringing theirburden of eggs, could not be conceived by any sort of person, nor couldany imagine a more enthusiastic reception than was accorded them. Notonly were we now relieved from immediate danger of a food famine, butthe variation in diet was good for all of us. There was a most riotousconsumption of eggs for days, until a startling tendency towardbiliousness, exhibited by little Krag, induced me to counsel greatermoderation. So many eggs, coupled with Abyssinia's bread, werenecessarily trying to the system. It was now that Chickum developed agreat idea. He proposed to capture a number of the fowls, bring them toHaven Glade, and there establish a hennery.
The proposition was received with general approbation, and next day theconstruction of the hennery was begun. It was not a difficult taskwhich faced us. Since the fowls must have gravel and water, it wasdecided that the hennery should extend a little into the creek, andclose beside its sloping bank the structure was erected. There butremained the capture of the fowls, and Chickum was riotous over theprospect. He announced his ability to catch a dozen chickens in a singleday, and with the assistance of Krag and Joergensen he made good hisboast, the three running down into the bushes and bringing home just thenumber of hens he had promised.
Our life continued in its placid way until one night, when a tremendouscommotion in the chicken-house caused both Chickum and me to rush out tothe rescue. Chickum had seized the carving-knife as usual, and I a handybludgeon. As we neared the place some dark-colored animal clamberedhurriedly up the side of the enclosure, and as its head appeared througha hole in the roof I dealt it a heavy blow and it fell stunned. Chickumdescended through an opening in the roof and the animal was put out ofits misery. It resembled a miniature bear, save that its color wasgrayish and that it possessed a long and remarkably ringed tail. I atonce recognized the common raccoon, _Procyon lotor_, and made anaddress to the others upon its many curious traits and habits of life.One of the hens was found killed. A day or two later there entered fromthe water side an enemy which we saw on two or three occasions but couldnot destroy nor capture. It proved to be the fur-producing animal knownas a mink, _Putorius vison_. Within a week we had not a single fowlalive. All had fallen before the rapacity of this bloodthirsty creature.Hunger stared us in the face!
How nearly am I approaching now to the end of this narrative of trialand adventure! How vividly recall themselves to me the scenes of onefateful afternoon! There had not been a storm since before our occupancyof Hemlock Castle, and almost a drought prevailed throughout thecountry. But a change was near at hand. There came an afternoon,airless, close and heavy until near evening. Then white clouds appearedin the west, growing rapidly into woolly mountains. Soon these assumed adarker hue, and a great wind arose before which the sturdiest trees werebent, while an awful roar resounded through the forest. A darkness cameupon everything, and we huddled in the shelter of Hemlock Castle, evenChickum alarmed, Abyssinia crying, and the twins in an agony of terror.The rain began to fall in such torrents as I had never known before. Nowthe wind increased almost to a hurricane, and a sudden blast carriedaway the roof of our house as if it had been a thing of paper. In amoment we were wetted to the skin. The creek became a spreading torrentwhich swept away the ruins of our house just as we had barely escapedfrom it. In the darkness we clambered blindly toward the ridge, when Iheard a loud shout near us and recognized the voice of Eben Westbrook.Never did human voice sound sweeter! "Hurry!" he shouted, "Hurry home!"and came rushing up to seize the hands of Krag and Joergensen and takethe lead. Wet and bedraggled we hurried on, over the ridge, into theopen, across the hazel country, across the Wooded Pasture, across thecreek, up through the kitchen garden, and into the house by way of thekitchen door. A fateful moment had arrived.
I felt something in my throat, but I did not shrink. I had decided whatI would say. I would naught extenuate, but would fall back upon thetheory of the sacredness of human rights. My address was not to receivea hearing.
Our parents were about sitting down to the evening meal, and, to mysurprise, our plates lay all in their accustomed places, as if we hadnot been absent for a day. My father looked up and nodded cheerfully andmother only said: "You'd better all go up and get dry clothes on beforeyou eat." The hired girl peeked in from a side of the kitchen door anddrew her head back suddenly with a gulp. Eben Westbrook maintained whatI have heard called in relation to others an impassive countenance. Wewent up, changed our clothes, and all came downstairs together. What ameal it was! There was not much conversation, though father mentionedsomething about the beginning of the school term. How Krag and Joergensendid eat! But oh, the incomprehensible apathy of Parents!