Forests of Maine

CHAPTER VIII. THE BIVOUACK.

Marco and Forester had an opportunity to encamp for the night, in the woods, in a manner different from what they expected. It happened in this way. In the course of their rambles among the forests which are about the lakes and the upper branches of the Kennebec, they came, one night, to a farm-house, where they had to spend the night. The house was built of logs. It was in a small opening in the woods. This opening was occupied with fields, which were divided from each other by log fences. The fields were full of stumps. The whole opening was bordered on every side by a perpendicular wall of forest,-the tall stems forming a colonnade, which reminded Marco of the palisades on the North river, just above New York.

There was but one room in this log house, and, at first, Marco did not know where he and Forester were to sleep. There was a great blazing fire in the fire-place, which was made of rough stones. The hearth was made of great flat stones. These stones were tolerably smooth on the upper side; but, as they were not square, there were many spaces left between them, and at the corners, which were filled with earth. But, though the fire-place was rough, the great fire blazed merrily in it; and Marco thought that it was pleasanter than his father's marble fire-place, in New York, with a grate in it, filled with a hard coal fire, looking like red-hot stones.

"I wish we had such a fire-place as this in New York," said Marco.

"And wood to burn in it," replied Forester.

"O, we can get wood enough in New York," said Marco. "The carmen bring it along every morning. We might have such a fire-place down in the basement, or in that little room in the stable, and then I would go and build fires in it."

Just then, the farmer's wife came with a spider to the fire, to broil some chickens for their supper. She pulled out the coals with a long-handled iron shovel, which she called a slice. She cooked the young travellers a most excellent supper.

The farmer and his wife were both rather young. They had one child. He was asleep in the cradle. This cradle was only a box, made of boards, and mounted on rockers. Marco asked the farmer if he made the cradle himself, and he said he did.

There was a boy living in this house, named Isaiah. Isaiah was the farmer's brother. He worked hard all day on the farm, and at night he slept in a sort of garret, which they called the loft. The way to get up to the loft was by a ladder on one side of the room.

When bed-time came, Forester and Marco climbed up this ladder, and went to bed. They slept upon a straw bed, which was lying in a corner. They had two clean but very coarse sheets, and a good warm coverlid. Marco crept in well under the eaves of the house, but Forester slept on the outer side of the bed, where the roof was higher.

Marco was awaked in the night by a strange sound, which he heard, directly over his head. He lifted up his head and listened. It was the pattering of rain upon the roof. The roof was, however, very tight, and none of the rain came in. The roof was covered with shingles, which the farmer had made himself, in a little shop near his house.

Marco listened to the rain a few minutes, and then went to sleep again. He was glad to hear it rain, because he wanted to stay at this house the next day, and he thought Forester would not go away in the rain.

The next that he knew was that it was morning. He spoke to Forester, saying,

"It rains, cousin Forester."

"Does it?" said Forester. "Then I don't know what we shall do."

"We must stay here, to-day," said Marco. "Then I can see Isaiah make a shingle. Isaiah can make a shingle. Did you know it?"

"I don't hear it rain," said Forester.

"I mean to get up and see," said Marco.

There was no glass window in this garret, but the light shone through the chinks between the logs. There was a wooden window, as Marco called it; that is, there was an opening in the wall, with a wooden shutter to close it. Marco went to this window and opened it. He looked out upon the wild and solitary scene which was before him with great interest. At length he said,

"No, cousin Forester, it does not rain,-but I wish you would stay here to-day."

"Very well," said Forester. "I will stay here as long as you wish."

Marco was rejoiced to hear this; and he spent two hours, after breakfast, in rambling about the farmer's house and grounds. He went into the little shop, and amused himself for half an hour in seeing Isaiah make shingles. Isaiah let him try to make one himself, and he succeeded pretty well. He carried his shingle in to Forester to show it to him.

Forester said he thought it was a very good shingle.

"I should like to carry it home," said Marco; "but I suppose you would think that that would be a foolish plan."

"No," said Forester, "I do not think it would be foolish. The shingle is flat, and will lie down in the bottom of your trunk; and, after you get tired of it as a shingle, you can have a little box made of it, and keep it all your life, as a memorial of this expedition."

This was a very good plan, for Marco had not shaved his shingle very thin. In fact, it was of about equal thickness at the two ends. This, though a very serious fault in a shingle, made it much more suitable as a material for making a box of.

Marco also amused himself for half an hour in going down to the spring, where the farmer's wife went to get water, and playing there. There was a pleasant little path leading from the house down to the spring. He went down once alone, and brought up a pail half full of water, for the farmer's wife, which seemed to please her very much.

While he was doing these things, Forester remained in the house, writing letters. Before Forester had finished his last letter, however, Marco had got tired of all his amusements, and began to think that they had better resume their journey.

"Very well," said Forester; "whenever you say the word."

"How are you going?" asked Marco.

"I have made a bargain with the farmer," said Forester, "to let us have his wagon to go through the woods about twenty-five miles, and Isaiah is going with us, in order to drive the wagon back."

Marco was much pleased with this arrangement, and Forester asked him what time they should start. "We are under your direction, you know," said he.

"Yes," said Marco, "and I wish you would let me have the direction all day."

"I have a great mind to do it," said Forester.

"Do," said Marco, "and see how well I'll manage."

"Well," said Forester; "I will give up the command to you till I resume it again."

Marco was quite pleased with his new powers. He said they must take a hatchet and a bag of provisions, for he meant to dine in the woods on the way. Isaiah accordingly put a hatchet in the wagon. They also took some bread and cheese, and some other articles of food, in a bag; and also a tin dipper, to drink from. When all was ready, Marco called Forester, and they set off. Their trunk was put into the wagon behind.

They went on very well for ten miles. The road led through thick forests for a large part of the way, and it was very stony and rough. But the wilderness, and even the difficulties of the way, interested Marco very much. He thought that it was much pleasanter travelling through those forest scenes, the wheels of the wagon sometimes jolting over roots, stones, logs, and sometimes sinking in the mire, than riding in a carriage, as he had often done with his mother, over the smooth and broad avenues leading into New York.

After they had gone about ten miles, they were brought to a sudden stop by a tree, which had been blown down, and had fallen directly across the road.

"What is to be done now?" said Marco.

Nobody answered.

"What is to be done now, cousin Forester?" repeated Marco.

"I don't know," said Forester. "I've nothing to do with it. You are commander."

"Oh, very well," said Marco. "Then I'll decide what to do. We'll chop the tree off with our hatchet."

Marco bustled about with an air of great importance, taking the hatchet from the back of the wagon, and advancing towards the tree, as if he expected to sunder it at a single blow. He looked towards Isaiah, and, seeing a lurking smile upon his countenance, he immediately perceived how absurd was the idea of chopping off such an enormous stem with a hatchet.

He accordingly turned suddenly about, saying,

"No; we can't cut it off with the hatchet. It is too big; or, rather, the hatchet is too little. We'll see if we can't find a way to get around it."

So Marco asked Forester to look on one side of the road, while he and Isaiah examined the other side. They found that, by cutting down one or two small trees, they could get around very well. So Marco directed to have these trees cut down, and then they led the horse around without much difficulty, excepting a slight obstruction from the bushes.

Marco was quite pleased with the successful result of his management in this first serious emergency. They rode on five miles farther, and then Marco determined that it would be a good plan to look out for a place for their dinner. He chose a place in a pleasant dell, overshadowed by tall pines and hemlocks, and watered by a brook which meandered through the middle of it.

Marco directed Isaiah to drive the horse out to one side of the road, at a place where there was a pretty broad and level spot, which seemed to Marco a convenient place for the horse to stand. Marco told Forester that he and Isaiah might go and employ themselves in finding a good spot for them to make a fire, and in collecting some dry wood, while he fastened the horse. Isaiah accordingly took the axe, and Marco was to bring the bag of provisions.

Marco drew the horse out of the road, and brought his head up near to the stem of a little tree, which was growing there. He then took out the bag, and made his way through the bushes, in the direction in which Forester and Isaiah had gone, down a little cow path, which descended to the bank of the brook.

He found Forester and Isaiah very readily. Forester was seated upon a flat stone near the water, and Isaiah was gathering dry sticks for a fire. It was a warm and pleasant day, and they wanted a fire, not so much for its warmth, as for the cheerful and pleasant aspect it gave to the place. There was a gentle breeze blowing that day in the open ground. This breeze was not felt among the trees, but it caused a gentle draft of air, which carried all the smoke away from them, and made their seat, on the great flat stone, very pleasant.

"Have you fastened the horse?" said Forester.

"Yes," replied Marco.

"You ought to fasten him pretty strong," said Isaiah, "for he's very apt to get away."

"O, he won't get away," said Marco; "I fastened him to a good stout tree."

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When the fire was burning well, Isaiah and Marco buried some potatoes, which they had brought with them, in the embers under it. They also put some apples down to roast on a flat stone, which they placed near the fire.

"I wish we had some Carolina potatoes," said Marco.

"What kind of potatoes are they?" asked Isaiah.

"They are sweet. They would be excellent to roast in the woods."

"I never heard of a potato being sweet," said Isaiah.

"Yes," said Marco. "They have plenty of them in New York."

"Then why don't they call them New York potatoes?" asked Isaiah.

"Why, I believe they came from Carolina first," said Marco. "And now I want a long stick for a toaster."

So Marco cut a long stick, and, after he had made the end sharp, he put a slice of bread upon it, and placed it before the fire, and thus toasted the bread. It is remarkable that the business of cooking the food, which, in houses and cities, is considered a disagreeable drudgery, which is to be kept as much as possible out of sight, is always in the woods a very important part of the entertainment, in which all the guests are pleased to take a share.