Frank, the Young Naturalist Part 1

Frank, the Young Naturalist.

by Harry Castlemon.

CHAPTER I.

THE HOME OF THE YOUNG NATURALIST.

About one hundred miles north of Augusta, the Capital of Maine, the little village of Lawrence is situated. A range of high hills skirts its western side, and stretches away to the north as far as the eye can reach; while before the village, toward the east, flows the Kennebec River.

Near the base of the hills a beautiful stream, known as Glen's Creek, has its source; and, after winding through the adjacent meadows, and reaching almost around the village, finally empties into the Kennebec.

Its waters are deep and clear, and flow over a rough, gravelly bed, and under high banks, and through many a little nook where the perch and sunfish love to hide. This creek, about half a mile from its mouth, branches off, forming two streams, the smaller of which flows south, parallel with the river for a short distance, and finally empties into it. This stream is known as Ducks' Creek, and it is very appropriately named; for, although it is but a short distance from the village, every autumn, and until late in the spring, its waters are fairly alive with wild ducks, which find secure retreats among the high bushes and reeds which line its banks. The island formed by these two creeks is called Reynard's Island, from the fact that for several years a sly old fox had held possession of it in spite of the efforts of the village boys to capture him. The island contains, perhaps, twenty-five acres, and is thickly covered with hickory-trees; and there is an annual strife between the village boys and the squirrels, to see which can gather the greater quant.i.ty of nuts.

Directly opposite the village, near the middle of the river, is another island, called Strawberry Island, from the great quant.i.ty of that fruit which it produces.

The fis.h.i.+ng-grounds about the village are excellent. The river affords great numbers of perch, black ba.s.s, pike, and muscalonge; and the numberless little streams that intersect the country fairly swarm with trout, and the woods abound in game. This attracts sportsmen from other places; and the _Julia Burton_, the little steamer that plies up and down the river, frequently brings large parties of amateur hunters and fishermen, who sometimes spend months enjoying the rare sport.

It was on the banks of Glen's Creek, about half a mile from the village, in a neat little cottage that stood back from the road, and which was almost concealed by the thick shrubbery and trees that surrounded it, that FRANK NELSON, the young naturalist, lived. His father had been a wealthy merchant in the city of Boston; and, after his death, Mrs. Nelson had removed into the country with her children, and bought the place of which we are speaking. Frank was a handsome, high-spirited boy, about sixteen years of age. He was kind, open-hearted, and generous; and no one in the village had more friends than he. But his most prominent characteristic was perseverance. He was a slow thinker, and some, perhaps, at first sight, would have p.r.o.nounced him "dull;" but the unyielding application with which he devoted himself to his studies, or to any thing else he undertook, overcame all obstacles; and he was further advanced, and his knowledge was more thorough than that of any other boy of the same age in the village. He never gave up any thing he undertook because he found it more difficult than he had expected, or hurried over it in a "slipshod" manner, for his motto was, "Whatever is worth doing at all, is worth doing well."

At the time of which we write Frank was just entering upon what he called a "long vacation." He had attended the high-school of which the village boasted for nearly eight years, with no intermission but the vacations, and during this time he had devoted himself with untiring energy to his studies. He loved his books, and they were his constant companions. By intense application he succeeded in working his way into the highest cla.s.s in school, which was composed of young men much older than himself, and who looked upon him, not as a fellow-student, but as a rival, and used every exertion to prevent him from keeping pace with them. But Frank held his own in spite of their efforts, and not unfrequently paid them back in their own coin by committing his lessons more thoroughly than they.

Things went on so for a considerable time. Frank, whose highest ambition was to be called the best scholar in his cla.s.s, kept steadily gaining ground, and one by one the rival students were overtaken and distanced. But Frank had some smart scholars matched against him, and he knew that the desired reputation was not to be obtained without a fierce struggle; and every moment, both in and out of school, was devoted to study.

He had formerly been pa.s.sionately fond of rural sports, hunting and fis.h.i.+ng, but now his fine double-barrel gun, which he had always taken especial care to keep in the best possible "shooting order," hung in its accustomed place, all covered with dust. His fis.h.i.+ng-rod and basket were in the same condition; and Bravo, his fine hunting-dog, which was very much averse to a life of inactivity, made use of his most eloquent whines in vain.

At last Frank's health began to fail rapidly. His mother was the first to notice it, and at the suggestion of her brother, who lived in Portland, she decided to take Frank out of school for at least one year, and allow him but two hours each day for study. Perhaps some of our young readers would have been very much pleased at the thought of so long a respite from the tiresome duties of school; but it was a severe blow to Frank. A few more months, he was confident, would have carried him ahead of all compet.i.tors. But he always submitted to his mother's requirements, no matter how much at variance with his own wishes, without murmuring; and when the spring term was ended he took his books under his arm, and bade a sorrowful farewell to his much-loved school-room.

It is June, and as Frank has been out of school almost two months, things begin to wear their old, accustomed look again. The young naturalist's home, as his schoolmates were accustomed to say, is a "regular curiosity shop." Perhaps, reader, if we take a stroll about the premises, we can find something to interest us.

Frank's room, which he called his "study," is in the south wing of the cottage. It has two windows, one looking out toward the road, and the other covered with a thick blind of climbing roses, which almost shut out the light. A bookcase stands beside one of the windows, and if you were to judge from the books it contained, you would p.r.o.nounce Frank quite a literary character. The two upper shelves are occupied by miscellaneous books, such as Cooper's novels, Shakspeare's works, and the like. On the next two shelves stand Frank's choicest books--natural histories; there are sixteen large volumes, and he knows them almost by heart. The drawers in the lower part of the case are filled on one side with writing materials, and on the other with old compositions, essays, and orations, some of which exhibit a power of imagination and a knowledge of language hardly to be expected in a boy of Frank's age. On the top of the case, at either end, stand the busts of Clay and Webster, and between them are two relics of Revolutionary times, a sword and musket crossed, with the words "Bunker Hill" printed on a slip of paper fastened to them. On the opposite side of the room stands a bureau, the drawers of which are filled with clothing, and on the top are placed two beautiful specimens of Frank's handiwork. One is a model of a "fore-and-aft"

schooner, with whose rigging or hull the most particular tar could not find fault. The other represents a "scene at sea." It is inclosed in a box about two feet long and a foot and a half in hight. One side of the box is gla.s.s, and through it can be seen two miniature vessels.

The craft in the foreground would be known among sailors as a "Jack."

She is neither a brig nor a bark, but rather a combination of both.

She is armed, and the cannon can be seen protruding from her port-holes. Every sail is set, and she seems to be making great exertion to escape from the other vessel, which is following close in her wake. The flag which floats at her peak, bearing the sign of the "skull and cross-bones," explains it all: the "Jack" is a pirate; and you could easily tell by the long, low, black hull, and tall, raking masts that her pursuer is a revenue cutter. The bottom of the box, to which the little vessels are fastened in such a manner that they appear to "heel" under the pressure of their canvas, is cut out in little hollows, and painted blue, with white caps, to resemble the waves of the ocean; while a thick, black thunder-cloud, which is painted on the sides of the box, and appears to be rising rapidly, with the lightning playing around its ragged edges, adds greatly to the effect of the scene.

At the north end of the room stands a case similar to the one in which Frank keeps his books, only it is nearly twice as large. It is filled with stuffed "specimens"--birds, nearly two hundred in number. There are bald eagles, owls, sparrows, hawks, cranes, crows, a number of different species of ducks, and other water-fowl; in short, almost every variety of the feathered creation that inhabited the woods around Lawrence is here represented.

At the other end of the room stands a bed concealed by curtains.

Before it is a finely carved wash-stand, on which are a pitcher and bowl, and a towel nicely folded lies beside them. In the corner, at the foot of the bed, is what Frank called his "sporting cabinet." A frame has been erected by placing two posts against the wall, about four feet apart; and three braces, pieces of board about six inches wide, and long enough to reach from one post to the other, are fastened securely to them. On the upper brace a fine jointed fish-pole, such as is used in "heavy" fis.h.i.+ng, protected by a neat, strong bag of drilling, rests on hooks which have been driven securely into the frame; and from another hook close by hangs a large fish-basket which Frank, who is a capital fisherman, has often brought in filled with the captured denizens of the river or some favorite trout-stream. On the next lower brace hang a powder-flask and shot-pouch and a double-barrel shot-gun, the latter protected from the damp and dust by a thick, strong covering. On the lower brace hang the clothes the young naturalist always wears when he goes hunting or fis.h.i.+ng--a pair of sheep's-gray pantaloons, which will resist water and dirt to the last extremity, a pair of long boots, a blue flannel-s.h.i.+rt, such as is generally worn by the sailors, and an India-rubber coat and cap for rainy weather. A shelf has been fastened over the frame, and on this stands a tin box, which Frank calls his "fis.h.i.+ng-box." It is divided into apartments, which are filled with fish-hooks, sinkers, bobbers, artificial flies, spoon-hooks, reels, and other tackle, all kept in the nicest order.

Frank had one sister, but no brothers. Her name was Julia. She was ten years of age; and no boy ever had a lovelier sister. Like her brother, she was unyielding in perseverance, but kind and trusting in disposition, willing to be told her faults that she might correct them. Mrs. Nelson was a woman of good, sound sense; always required implicit obedience of her children; never flattered them, nor allowed others to do so if she could prevent it. The only other inmate of the house was Aunt Hannah, as the children called her. She had formerly been a slave in Virginia, and, after years of toil, had succeeded in laying by sufficient money to purchase her freedom. We have already spoken of Frank's dog; but were we to allow the matter to drop here it would be a mortal offense in the eyes of the young naturalist, for Bravo held a very prominent position in his affections. He was a pure-blooded Newfoundland, black as jet, very active and courageous, and there was nothing in the hunting line that he did not understand; and it was a well-established saying among the young Nimrods of the village, that Frank, with Bravo's a.s.sistance, could kill more squirrels in any given time than any three boys in Lawrence.

CHAPTER II.

An Ugly Customer.

Directly behind the cottage stands a long, low, neatly constructed building, which is divided by part.i.tions into three rooms, of which one is used as a wood-shed, another for a carpenter's shop, and the third is what Frank calls his "museum." It contains stuffed birds and animals, souvenirs of many a well-contested fight. Let us go and examine them. About the middle of the building is the door which leads into the museum, and, as you enter, the first object that catches your eye is a large wild-cat, crouched on a stand which is elevated about four feet above the floor, his back arched, every hair in his body sticking toward his head, his mouth open, displaying a frightful array of teeth, his ears laid back close to his head, and his sharp claws spread out, presenting altogether a savage appearance; and you are glad that you see him dead and stuffed, and not alive and running at liberty in the forest in the full possession of strength. But the young naturalist once stood face to face with this ugly customer under very different circ.u.mstances.

About forty miles north of Lawrence lives an old man named Joseph Lewis. He owns about five hundred acres of land, and in summer he "farms it" very industriously; but as soon as the trapping season approaches he leaves his property to the care of his hired men, and spends most of the time in the woods. About two-thirds of his farm is still in its primeval state, and bears, wild-cats, and panthers abound in great numbers. The village boys are never more delighted than when the winter vacation comes, and they can gain the permission of their parents to spend a fortnight with "Uncle Joe," as they call him.

The old man is always glad to see them, and enlivens the long winter evenings with many a thrilling story of his early life. During the winter that had just pa.s.sed, Frank, in company with his cousin Archie Winters, of whom more hereafter, paid a visit to Uncle Joe. One cold, stormy morning, as they sat before a blazing fire, cracking hickory-nuts, the farmer burst suddenly into the house, which was built of logs, and contained but one room, and commenced taking down his rifle.

"What's the matter, Uncle Joe?" inquired Archie.

"Matter!" repeated the farmer; "why, some carnal varmint got into my sheep-pen last night, and walked off with some of my mutton. Come," he continued, as he slung on his bullet-pouch, "let's go and shoot him."

Frank and Archie were ready in a few minutes; and, after dropping a couple of buck-shot into each barrel of their guns, followed the farmer out to the sheep-pen. It was storming violently, and it was with great difficulty that they could find the "varmint's" track.

After half an hour's search, however, with the a.s.sistance of the farmer's dogs, they discovered it, and began to follow it up, the dogs leading the way. But the snow had fallen so deep that it almost covered the scent, and they frequently found themselves at fault.

After following the track for two hours, the dogs suddenly stopped at a pile of hemlock-boughs, and began to whine and scratch as if they had discovered something.

"Wal," said Uncle Joe, dropping his rifle into the hollow of his arm, "the hounds have found some of the mutton, but the varmint has took himself safe off."

The boys quickly threw aside the boughs, and in a few moments the mangled remains of one of the sheep were brought to light. The thief had probably had more than enough for one meal, and had hidden the surplus carefully away, intending, no doubt, to return and make a meal of it when food was not quite so plenty.

"Wal, boys," said the farmer, "no use to try to foller the varmint any further. Put the sheep back where you found it, and this afternoon you can take one of your traps and set it so that you can ketch him when he comes back for what he has left." So saying, he shouldered his rifle and walked off, followed by his hounds.

In a few moments the boys had placed every thing as they had found it as nearly as possible, and hurried on after the farmer.

That afternoon, after disposing of an excellent dinner, Frank and Archie started into the woods to set a trap for the thief. They took with them a large wolf-trap, weighing about thirty pounds. It was a "savage thing," as Uncle Joe said, with a powerful spring on each side, which severely taxed their united strength in setting it; and its thick, stout jaws, which came together with a noise like the report of a gun, were armed with long, sharp teeth; and if a wolf or panther once got his foot between them, he might as well give up without a struggle. Instead of their guns, each shouldered an ax.

Frank took possession of the trap, and Archie carried a piece of heavy chain with which to fasten the "clog" to the trap. Half an hour's walk brought them to the place where the wild-cat had buried his plunder.

After considerable exertion they succeeded in setting the trap, and placed it in such a manner that it would be impossible for any animal to get at the sheep without being caught. The chain was them fastened to the trap, and to this was attached the clog, which was a long, heavy limb. Trappers, when they wish to take such powerful animals as the bear or panther, always make use of the clog. They never fasten the trap to a stationary object. When the animal finds that he is caught, his first impulse is to run. The clog is not heavy enough to hold him still, but as he drags it through the woods, it is continually catching on bushes and frees, and r.e.t.a.r.ding his progress.

But if the animal should find himself unable to move at all, his long, sharp teeth would be put to immediate use, and he would hobble off on three feet, leaving the other in the trap.

After adjusting the clog to their satisfaction, they threw a few handfuls of snow over the trap and chain, and, after bestowing a few finis.h.i.+ng touches, they shouldered their axes and started toward the house. The next morning, at the first peep of day, Frank and Archie started for the woods, with their dogs close at their heels. As they approached the spot where the trap had been placed they held their guns in readiness, expecting to find the wild-cat secure. But they were disappointed; every thing was just as they had left it, and there were no signs of the wild-cat having been about during the night. Every night and morning for a week they were regular in their visits to the trap, but not even a twig had been moved. Two weeks more pa.s.sed, and during this time they visited the trap but once. At length the time allotted for their stay at Uncle Joe's expired. On the evening previous to the day set for their departure, as they sat before the huge, old-fas.h.i.+oned fireplace, telling stories and eating nuts. Uncle Joe suddenly inquired, "Boys, did you bring in your trap that you set for that wild-cat?"

They had not thought of it; they had been hunting nearly every day, enjoying rare sport, and they had entirely forgotten that they had a trap to look after.

"We shall be obliged to let it go until to-morrow," said Frank.

And the next morning, as soon as it was light, he was up and dressed, and shouldering an ax, set out with Brave as a companion, leaving Archie in a sound sleep. It was very careless in him not to take his gun--a "regular boy's trick," as Uncle Joe afterward remarked; but it did not then occur to him that he was acting foolishly; and he trudged off, whistling merrily. A few moments' rapid walking brought him to the place where the trap had been set. How he started! There lay the remains of the sheep all exposed. The snow near it was saturated with blood, and the trap, clog, and all were gone. What was he to do? He was armed with an ax, and he knew that with it he could make but a poor show of resistance against an enraged wild animal; and he knew, too, that one that could walk off with fifty pounds fast to his leg would be an ugly customer to handle. He had left Brave some distance back, digging at a hole in a stump where a mink had taken refuge, and he had not yet come up. If the Newfoundlander had been by his side he would have felt comparatively safe. Frank stood for some minutes undecided how to act. Should he go back to the house and get a.s.sistance? Even if he had concluded to do so he would not have considered himself a coward; for, attacking a wounded wild-cat in the woods, with nothing but an ax to depend on, was an undertaking that would have made a larger and stronger person than Frank hesitate.

Their astonis.h.i.+ng activity and strength, and wonderful tenacity of life, render them antagonists not to be despised. Besides, Frank was but a boy, and although strong and active for his age, and possessing a good share of determined courage that sometimes amounted almost to rashness, it must be confessed that his feelings were not of the most enviable nature. He had not yet discovered the animal, but he knew that he could not be a great distance off, for the weight of the trap and clog would r.e.t.a.r.d him exceedingly; and he judged, from the appearance of things, that he had not been long in the trap; perhaps, at that very moment, his glaring eyes were fastened upon him from some neighboring thicket.

But the young naturalist was not one to hesitate long because there was difficulty or danger before him. He had made up his mind from the first to capture that wild-cat if possible, and now the opportunity was fairly before him. His hand was none of the steadiest as he drew off his glove and placed his fingers to his lips; and the whistle that followed was low and tremulous, very much unlike the loud, clear call with which he was accustomed to let Brave know that he was wanted and he hardly expected that the dog would hear it. A faint, distant bark, however, announced that the call had been heard, and in a few moments Frank heard Brave's long-measured bounds as he dashed through the bushes; and when the faithful animal came in sight, he felt that he had a friend that would stand by him to the last extremity. At this juncture Frank was startled by a loud rattling in the bushes, and the next moment the wild-cat sprang upon a fallen log, not half a dozen rods from the place where he was standing, and, growling fiercely, crouched and lashed his sides with his tail as if about to spring toward him. The trap hung from one of his hind-legs, but by some means he had relieved himself of the clog and chain, and he moved as if the weight of the trap were no inconvenience whatever. The young naturalist was frightened indeed, but bravely stood his ground, and clutched his ax desperately. What would he not have given to have had his trusty double-barrel in his hands! But he was not allowed much time for reflection. Brave instantly discovered the wild-cat, and sprang toward him, uttering an angry growl. Frank raised his ax and rushed forward to his a.s.sistance, and cheered on the dog with a voice which, to save his life, he could not raise above a whisper. The wild-cat crouched lower along the log, and his actions seemed to indicate that he intended to show fight. Brave's long, eager bounds brought him nearer and nearer to his enemy. A moment more and he could have seized him; but the wild-cat suddenly turned and sprang lightly into the air, and, catching his claws into a tree that stood full twenty feet distant, ascended it like a streak of light; and, after settling himself between two large limbs, glared down upon his foes as if he were already ashamed of having made a retreat, and had half a mind to return and give them battle. Brave reached the log just a moment too late, and finding his enemy fairly out of his reach, he quietly seated himself at the foot of the tree and waited for Frank to come up.

"Good gracious!" exclaimed the young naturalist, wiping his forehead with his coat-sleeve, (for the exciting scene through which he had just pa.s.sed had brought the cold sweat from every pore in his body); "it is a lucky circ.u.mstance for you and me, Brave, that the varmint did not stand and show fight."

Then ordering the dog to "sit down and watch him," the young naturalist threw down his ax, and started toward the house for his gun. He was still very much excited, fearful that the wild-cat might take it into his head to come down and give the dog battle, in which case he would be certain to escape; for, although Brave was a very powerful and courageous dog, he could make but a poor show against the sharp teeth and claws of the wild-cat. The more Frank thought of it, the more excited he became, and the faster he ran. In a very few moments he reached the house, and burst into the room where Uncle Joe and Archie and two or three hired men sat at breakfast. Frank seemed not to notice them, but made straight across the room toward the place where his shot-gun hung against the wall, upsetting chairs in his progress, and creating a great confusion.

"What in tarnation is the matter?" exclaimed the farmer, rising to his feet.

"I've found the wild-cat," answered Frank, in a scarcely audible voice.

"What's that?" shouted Archie, springing to his feet, and upsetting his chair and coffee-cup.