Stuyvesant Part 6

Beechnut had previously given Stuyvesant a small paper containing a number of matches.

"How shall I light it?" asked Stuyvesant.

"Rub it upon a stone," said Beechnut. "Find one that has been lying in the sun," continued Beechnut, "and then the match will catch quicker, because the stone will be warm and dry."

So Stuyvesant lighted a match by rubbing it upon a smooth stone which was lying upon the ground near by. He then cautiously approached the end of the train and set it on fire.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE HORNET'S NEST.]

Beechnut then came up immediately with the hay that he had in his hands, and placed it over and around the hornet's nest, so as to envelop it entirely. He and Stuyvesant then retreated together to a safe distance, and there stood to watch the result.

A very dense white smoke immediately began to come up through the hay. Presently the flame burst out, and in a few minutes the whole ma.s.s of the hay was in a bright blaze. Stuyvesant looked very earnestly to see if he could see any hornets, but he could not. At last, however, when the fire was burnt nearly down, he saw two. They were flying about the stump, apparently in great perplexity and distress. Stuyvesant pitied them, but as he did not see what he could do to help them, he told them that he thought they had better go and find some more hornets and build another nest somewhere. Then he and Beechnut went back to the plow.

Stuyvesant had quite a desire to try and hold the plow, after he had been driving the team about an hour, but he thought it was best not to ask. In fact he knew himself that it was best for him to learn one thing at a time. So he went on with his driving.

When it was about a quarter before twelve, Beechnut said that it was time to go in. So he unhooked the chain from the yoke, and leaving the plow, the drag, the axe and the chain in the field, he let the oxen go. They immediately ran off into a copse of trees and bushes, which bordered the road on one side.

"Why, Beechnut!" said Stuyvesant, "the oxen are running away."

"No," said Beechnut, "they are only going down to drink. There is a brook down there where they go to drink when they are at work in this field."

Oxen appear to possess mental qualifications of a certain kind in a very high degree. They are especially remarkable for their sagacity in finding good places to drink in the fields and pastures where they feed or are employed at work, and for their good memory in recollecting where they are. An ox may be kept away from a particular field or pasture quite a long time, and yet know exactly where to go to find water to drink when he is admitted to it again.

Stuyvesant looked at the oxen as they went down the path, and then proposed to follow them.

"Let us go and see," said he.

[Ill.u.s.tration: OXEN DRINKING.]

So he and Beechnut walked along after the oxen. They found a narrow, but very pretty road, or rather path, overhung with trees and bushes, which led down to the water. The road terminated at a broad and shallow place in the stream, where the sand was yellow and the water very clear. The oxen went out into the water, and then put their heads down to drink. Presently they stopped, first one and then the other, and stood a moment considering whether they wanted any more. Finding that they did not, they turned round in the water, and then came slowly out to the land. They walked up the bank, and finally emerging from the wood at the place where they had entered it, they went toward home.

When they reached the house the cattle went straight through the yard, toward the barn. Beechnut and Stuyvesant followed them. Beechnut was going to get them some hay. Stuyvesant went in with Beechnut and stood below on the barn floor, while Beechnut went up the ladder to pitch the hay down.

During all the time that Beechnut and Stuyvesant had been coming up from the field, conversation had been going on between them, about various subjects connected with farming. Stuyvesant asked Beechnut if Phonny could drive oxen pretty well.

"_Pretty_ well," said Beechnut.

"Does he like to drive?" asked Stuyvesant.

"He likes to begin to drive," said Beechnut.

"What do you mean by that?" asked Stuyvesant.

"Why, when there is any driving to be done," replied Beechnut, "he thinks that he shall like it, and he wants to take a goad stick and begin. But he very soon gets tired of it, and goes away. You seem to have more perseverance. In fact, you seem to have a great deal of perseverance, which I think is very strange, considering that you are a city boy."

Stuyvesant laughed.

"City boys," continued Beechnut, "I have always heard said, are good for nothing at all."

"But you said, a little while ago," replied Stuyvesant, "that city boys had a great deal of skill."

"Yes," said Beechnut, "they are bright enough, but they have generally no steadiness or perseverance. They go from one thing to another, following the whim of the moment. The reason of that is, that living in cities, they are brought up without having any thing to do."

"They can go of errands," said Stuyvesant.

"Yes," said Beechnut, "they can go of errands, but there are not many errands to be done, so they are brought up in idleness. Country boys, on the other hand, generally have a great deal to do. They have to go for the cows, and catch the horses, and drive oxen, and a thousand other things, and so they are brought up in industry."

"Is Phonny brought up in industry?" asked Stuyvesant.

"Hardly," said Beechnut. "In fact he is scarcely old enough yet to do much work."

"He is as old as I am," said Stuyvesant.

"True," said Beechnut, "but he does not seem to have as much discretion. Do you see that long shed out there, projecting from the barn?"

This was said just at the time when Beechnut and Stuyvesant were pa.s.sing through the gate which led into the yard, and the barns and sheds were just coming into view.

"The one with that square hole by the side of the door?" asked Stuyvesant.

"Yes," said Beechnut, "that was Phonny's hen house. He bought some hens, and was going to be a great poulterer. He was going to have I don't know how many eggs and chickens,--but finally he got tired of his brood, and neglected them, and at last wanted to sell them to me.

I bought them day before yesterday."

"How many hens are there?" asked Stuyvesant.

"About a dozen," said Beechnut. "I gave him a dollar and a half for the whole stock. I looked into his hen-house when I bought him out, and found it all in sad condition. I have not had time to put it in order yet."

"I will put it in order," said Stuyvesant.

"Will you?" said Beechnut.

"Yes," said Stuyvesant, "and I should like to buy the hens of you, if I were only going to stay here long enough."

"I don't think it is worth while for you to buy them," said Beechnut, "but I should like to have you take charge of them. I would pay you by giving you a share of the eggs."

"What could I do with the eggs?" asked Stuyvesant.

"Why you could sell them, or give them away, just as you pleased. You might give them to Mrs. Henry, or sell them to her, or sell them to me. If you will take the whole care of them while you are here, I will give you one third of the eggs, after all expenses are paid."

"What do you mean by that?" asked Stuyvesant.

"Why, if we have to buy any grain, for instance, to give the hens, we must sell eggs enough first to pay for the grain, and after that, you shall have one third of the eggs that are left."

Stuyvesant was much pleased with this proposal, and was just about to say that he accepted it, when his attention was suddenly turned away from the subject, by hearing a loud call from Phonny, who just then came running round a corner, with a box-trap under his arm, shouting out,

"Stuyvesant! Stuyvesant! Look here! I've got a gray squirrel;--a beautiful, large gray squirrel."