Mass' George - BestLightNovel.com
You’re reading novel Mass' George Part 44 online at BestLightNovel.com. Please use the follow button to get notification about the latest chapter next time when you visit BestLightNovel.com. Use F11 button to read novel in full-screen(PC only). Drop by anytime you want to read free – fast – latest novel. It’s great if you could leave a comment, share your opinion about the new chapters, new novel with others on the internet. We’ll do our best to bring you the finest, latest novel everyday. Enjoy
"Know what?"
"How catch um 'gator?"
"How?"
"Pompey know. Show um a morrow. Good-bye, sah. Bring you 'noder dinner morrow morning."
He made a mock salutation in the direction he believed the reptile to have taken, and then together we began to thread our way through the trees, back toward the clearing, and then after another cautious look round for snakes made for the garden. But before we were within a hundred yards, Pomp stopped.
"Ole ma.s.sa in big garden, Ma.s.s' George?"
"I don't know," I said. "He was going to be back to dinner."
"I go round de oder way. Ma.s.s' say I chop wood, and I was going to chop wood till I hear you say Morgan you go for walk, and I know you go for 'wim."
"Well?"
"Pomp very hurt upon Ma.s.s' George."
"Oh, were you?" I said.
"Ma.s.s' George say cruel fing to Pomp, so um go an' fess de ole 'gator head, and undress umself, an' get in de water firs, an' fright um."
"Ah, well, you'll be flogged one of these days, Master Pomp, without my telling tales of you."
"I 'pose I will," he said, thoughtfully. "No like for Ma.s.s' George tell, dough."
"Why not?"
"Cos dat hurt Pomp more dan de floggum."
"Nonsense!"
"Eh? Dat nonsense, Ma.s.s' George? I don't know. If Ma.s.s' Morgan tell and get Pomp flog, Pomp holler, 'Oh don't, oh don't!' an' fro himself on de ground, an' squiggle an' kick. But soon as done flog um, Pomp rub um back up gen tree, an' nebber mine a bit."
"I suppose so," I said.
"But if Ma.s.s' George tell an' get Pomp flog, dunno why, but no use rub back gen de tree. Hurt Pomp all de same."
So Pomp ran off to get round to the wood-shed, where I heard him as I reached the house chopping away as hard as he could, and making the wood fly; and I need hardly say I did not tell any tales about the boy's trick, though I thought about it a great deal.
My ideas of punishment were not of the flogging kind, but connected with some way of giving Master Pomp t.i.t for tat by means of a scare; but my invention was rather at fault, and idea after idea was dismissed as soon as formed. They were not pleasant ideas, some of them, and they were all wanting in the element I wished to impart.
One of Sarah's wild-plum jam puffs, with a dose of medicine concealed therein, was dismissed at once. So was a snake in his bed, because there were objections to the trick. In all probability the snake would not stop there; and if it did, as it must necessarily be a harmless one, it would not frighten Pomp a bit, and might suggest the idea of playing a similar trick on me.
I could push him into the water first time we were on the river-bank, but he would only laugh and swim out.
I might la.s.so him suddenly some day, and tie him up to a tree, and leave him in the forest without anything to eat for a few hours; but I knew that I couldn't find the heart to torture the poor fellow like that; and if I could, no knots that I contrived would ever hold him very long.
"Bah! It's waste of time!" I said; and I gave it up, not knowing that I should soon have something far more serious to think about. For just as I was deep in my cogitations I heard a step, and my father came into sight, looking very hot and tired.
That evening, as we sat together by the light of a candle, with the forest insects humming round, he said suddenly--
"I'm afraid our troubles with the Spaniards are not over, George. These people are threatening again."
"But that does not matter, does it, father?"
"I don't know yet, my boy. There is a great deal of braggadocio and pride in your Spanish don, and they have plenty of enterprise and fight in them sometimes, as we know by what they have done."
"But will they come and fight against us, father?" I said, eagerly.
"I don't know that they will come and fight against _us_," he replied, dryly.
I felt the blood come up into my temples, and I spoke quickly--
"I know I'm only a boy, father, and not big enough to fight for you, or by your side like a soldier, but I could load."
He smiled and leaned toward me, and patted my shoulder.
"I beg your pardon, George," he said, kindly. "I ought not to have spoken as I did. You are only a boy, and while you are a boy I pray heaven that you may enjoy a boy's happy life, and that we may be free from all the troubles that are threatening. I am a soldier, and I have fought in the service of my country."
"Yes," I said, proudly, "I know. Morgan has often told me."
"Morgan ought to hold his tongue, and not put vain notions into your head."
"But he said it was glorious, father."
He looked at me sadly, and sighed.
"I am a soldier, George," he said; "but I am afraid that I have very little belief in what people call glory. In too many cases the brilliancy of the glory is dulled with blood and horror too terrible to be spoken of without a shudder. It is glorious to fight in defence of your country, its women and children, or to fight here for our homes; and while I have strength to lift a sword, or voice and knowledge to lead and direct others in such a cause, I will, if it is necessary, fight again. But after what I have been through and seen, I am ready to go down on my knees and pray the G.o.d of love and peace and mercy that neither I nor you may ever see sword flashed or shot fired in anger while we live."
He was silent for a few moments, and then he said, cheerfully--
"Come, what did the Latin writer say about a man defending his own country?"
"'_Dulce et decorum est_--'" I said, promptly, and then stopped short.
"I forget the rest, father."
He laughed.
"Our life out here, as the pioneers of a new civilisation, is not conducive to the study of the cla.s.sics, my boy. It's a rough school, where we have to take care to avoid fevers, and meet Indians, and are threatened with Spanish aggression, and have to fight for our lives against a flood. But there, we have drifted into a very serious talk."
"But I like it, father," I said eagerly, "though I am ashamed to have forgotten my Latin."
"Ah, well, you will look that pa.s.sage up in your Horace, and I venture to say that it will be so impressed now upon your memory that it will never slip away. There, I mentioned the flood. Flood suggests boat.
You said you thought the boat might have been carried up the stream into the woods somewhere."
"Yes," I said; "the water did come out of the big river and rush up ours."