THE JUNK.

A few days after this, when David and Dwight were at work one evening upon their mole, and Caleb was playing near, sometimes helping a little and sometimes looking on, Mary Anna came down to see them. They had nearly finished the stone-work and were trying to contrive some way to fasten up their flag-staff at the end.

“We can't drive the flag-staff down into our mole,” said Dwight, looking up with an anxious and perplexed expression to Mary Anna, “for it is all stony.”

“Couldn't you drive it down into the bottom of the brook, and then build your mole up all around it?” said Mary Anna.

“No,” said Dwight, “the bottom of the brook is stony too.”

“It looks sandy,” said Mary Anna, looking down through the water to the bottom of the brook.

“No, it is very hard and stony under the sand, and we cannot drive any thing down at all.”

“Well,” said Mary Anna, “go on with your work, and I will sit down upon the bank and consider what you can do.”

After some time, Mary Anna proposed that the boys should go up to the wood-pile and get a short log of wood, which had one end sawed off square, and roll it down to the mole. Then that they should dig out a little hole in the bottom of the brook with a hoe, so deep that when they put in the log, the upper end would be a little above the surface of the mole. Then she said they might put in the log, with the sawed end uppermost, and while one boy held it steady, the other might throw in stones and sand all around it till it was secure in its place. Then they could build the mole a little beyond it; and thus there would be a solid wooden block, firmly fixed in the end of the mole.

“But how shall we fasten our flag-staff to it?” said David.

“Why you must get an augur, and bore a hole down in the middle of it, and make the end of your flag-staff round so that it will just fit in.”

The boys thought this an excellent plan, and went off after the log. While they were gone, Mary Anna asked Caleb if he had fed his squirrel that evening, and Caleb said he had not.

“Hadn't you better go now and feed him before it is too dark?”

“Why, no,” said Caleb, “I don't want to go now; besides, I am going to let Dwight feed him to-night. I promised Dwight that I would let him feed him sometimes.”

The truth was that Caleb wanted to stay and see the boys fix their log. He had had his squirrel now several days, and had lost his interest in him, as boys generally do in any new play-thing, after they have had it a few days. He was really, under this show of generosity and faithful performance of his promise, only gratifying his own selfish desires, but he did not see it himself. The heart is not only selfish and sinful, but it is deceitful; it even deceives itself.

So, presently, when Caleb saw David and Dwight rolling the log down from the house, he ran off to meet them, and said,

“Dwight you may feed my squirrel to-night, and I will help David roll down the log.”

Dwight looked up with an air of indifference, and said he did not want to feed the squirrel that night.

Caleb was quite surprised at the answer; and he walked along by the side of Dwight and David towards the mole, as they rolled the log along, scarcely knowing what to do. He did not want to leave the poor squirrel without his supper; and, on the other hand, he did not want to go away from the mole. Mary Anna saw his perplexity, and she understood the reason of it.

Now, it happened that Mary Anna had been forming a very curious plan about the squirrel, from the very day when he was brought home; though she had not said any thing to the boys about it. To carry her plan into execution, it was necessary that the squirrel should be hers; and she resolved from the beginning, that as soon as a convenient opportunity should offer, she would try to buy him. She determined, therefore, to wait quietly until she saw some signs of Caleb's being tired of his squirrel, and then she determined to buy him.

She did not suppose that Caleb would have got tired of the care of his squirrel quite so soon as this; but when she found that he had, she thought that the time had arrived for her to attempt to make the purchase. So when Caleb came back to the mole, she said,

“Caleb, I have a great mind to go and feed your squirrel for you, if you want to stay here and help the boys to make the mole. In fact, I should like to buy him of you, if you would like to sell him.”

“Well,” said Caleb, “what will you give me for him?”

“Let me see—what can I make you.” And Mary Anna tried to think what she could make Caleb that he would like as well as the squirrel. She proposed first a new picture-book, and then a flag, and next her monthly rose; and, finally, she said she would make him something or other, and let him see it, and then he could tell whether he would give his squirrel for it or not.

“I shall, I know,” said Caleb, “for I can see him just as well if he is yours as I can if he is mine.”

“But perhaps I shall let him go,” said Mary Anna.

“O no,” said Caleb, “you must not let him go.”

“If I buy him of you,” replied Mary Anna, “he will be mine entirely, and I must do whatever I please with him.”

“O, but I shall make you promise not to let him go,” said Caleb, “or else I shall not want to sell him to you.”

“Very well,” said Mary Anna; “though you can tell better when you see what I am going to make you.”

Mary Anna then went up to the house, and fed the squirrel, and as it began to grow dark pretty soon after that, the boys themselves soon came up. She asked David if he would make her a mast, and also a small block of wood for a step.

“A step!” said David; “a step for what?”

“A step for the mast,” said Mary Anna.

“What is a step for a mast?”

“It is a block, with a hole in it for the lower end of the mast to fit into,” said Mary Anna.

“Do they call it a step?” said David.

“Yes,” said Mary Anna; “I read about it in a book where I learned about rigging. Any little block will do.”

David's curiosity was very much excited, and he begged Mary Anna to tell him what she was going to make.

“Well,” said Mary Anna, “if you will keep the secret.”

“Yes,” said David, “I will.”

“A Chinese junk!” said Mary Anna.

“A Chinese junk!” said David, with surprise and delight.

“Yes, now run along to mother.”

So David went, and Mary Anna began to think of her work. She happened to have recollected that there was in the garret an old bread-tray, of japanned ware, which had been worn out and thrown aside, and was now good for nothing; and yet it was whole, and Mary Anna thought it would make a good boat. As, however, it was not shaped like a boat, she thought she would call it a Chinese junk, which is a clumsy kind of vessel, built by the Chinese. Accordingly after the boys had gone to bed, she got all her materials together; the old bread-tray for the hull of the junk, some fine twine for the rigging, David's mast and step, and a piece of birch bark, which she thought would represent very well the mats of which the Chinese make their sails. She carried all those things to her room, so as to have them all ready for her to go to work upon the vessel very early the next morning.

And early the next morning she did get to work. On the whole, the craft, when finished, if it was not built exactly after the model of a real Chinese junk, would sail about as well, and was as gay. She got it all done before breakfast, and carried it down, and hid it under some bushes near the mole.

Then, after breakfast, she took the boys all down, and told Caleb that she was ready to make him an offer for his squirrel. She then went to the bushes, and taking out the junk, she went to the mole, and carrying it out to the end, she gently set it down into the water. The boys looked on in great delight, as the junk wheeled slowly around in the great circles of the whirlpool.

Caleb hesitated a good deal before he finally decided to give Mary Anna his squirrel, and he tried to stipulate with her, that is, make her agree, that she would not let him go; but Mary Anna would not make any such agreement. She said that if she had the little fellow at all, she must have him for her own, without any condition whatever; and Caleb, at length, finding the elegance of the Chinese junk irresistible, decided to make the trade.

And now for Marianna's plan. She liked to see the squirrel very much; she admired his graceful movements, his beautiful grey colour, and his bushy tail, curled over his back, like a plume. But then she did not like to have him a prisoner. She knew that he must love a life of freedom,—rambling among the trees, climbing up to the topmost branches, and leaping from limb to limb; and it was painful to her to think of his being shut up in a cage. And yet she did not like to let him go, for then she knew that in all probability he would run off to the woods, and she would see him no more.

It happened that one limb of the great elm before the house was hollow for a considerable distance up from the trunk of the tree, and there was a hole leading into this hollow limb at the crotch, where the limb grew out from the tree. She thought that this would make a fine house for the squirrel, if he could only be induced to think so himself, and live there. It occurred to her that she might put him in, and fasten up the hole with wires for a time, like a cage; and she thought that if she kept him shut up there, and fed him there with plenty of nuts and corn, for a week or two, he would gradually forget his old home in the woods, and get wonted to his new one.

After thinking of several ways of fastening up the mouth of the hole, she concluded finally on the following plan. She got some small nails, and drove them in pretty near together on each side of the hole, and then she took a long piece of fine wire, and passed it across from one to the other, in such a manner as to cover the mouth of the hole with a sort of net-work of wire. She then got Raymond to put the squirrel in through a place which she left open for that purpose, and then she closed this place up like the rest, with wires. The squirrel ran up into the limb, and disappeared.

When the boys came and saw the ingenious cage which Mary Anna had contrived, they thought it was an excellent plan; and they asked her if she was not afraid that when she opened the cage door, he would run off into the woods again. She said she was very much afraid that he would, but that still there was a possibility that he might stay; and if he should, she should often see him from her window, running about the tree, and she should take so much more pleasure in that than in seeing him shut up in a cage, that she thought she should prefer to take the risk. She made the boys promise not to go to the hole, for fear they might frighten him, and she said she meant to feed him herself every day, with nuts and corn, and try to get him tame before she took away the wires.

The children felt a good deal of curiosity to see whether the squirrel would stay in the tree or run away, when Mary Anna should open his cage door; and after a few days, they were eager to have her try the experiment. But she said, no. She wished to let him have full time to become well accustomed to his new home.

Mary Anna generally went early in the morning to feed the squirrel,—before the boys were up. Then she fed him again after they had gone to school, and also just before they came home at night. She knew that if she fed him when they were at home, they would want to go with her; and it would frighten the squirrel to see so many strange faces,—even if the boys should try to be as still as possible.

One morning, Mary Anna and the boys were down near the mole, and were talking about the squirrel. David and Dwight were sailing their boats, and Mary Anna was sitting with Caleb upon a bench which David had made for his mother, close to the shore. Caleb's junk was upon the ground by his side. Caleb asked Mary Anna when she was going to let her squirrel out.

“O, I don't know,” said she, “perhaps in a week more.”

“A week!” said Dwight, pushing his boat off from the shore, “I wouldn't wait so long as that.”

“Why, when I first had him, you wanted to have me keep him in a cage all the time.”

“I know it,” said Dwight; “but now I want to see whether he will run away.”

“I would not try yet,” said David—“but you'd better have a name for him, Marianne.”

“I have got a name for him,” said she.

“What is it?” said Dwight, eagerly.

“Mungo.”

“Mungo!” repeated Dwight; “I don't think that is a very good name. What made you think of that name?”

“O, I heard of a traveller once, named Mungo. The whole of his name was Mungo Park; but I thought Mungo was enough for my squirrel.”

“He has not been much of a traveller,” said Dwight.

“O, yes,” replied Mary Anna, “I think it probable he has travelled about the woods a great deal.”

“Did Mungo Park travel in the woods?”

“Yes, in Africa. I think Mungo knows his name too,” said Mary Anna.

“Do you,” said Dwight. “Why?”

“Why, whenever I go to feed him,” said Mary Anna, “I call Mungo! Mungo! and drop my nuts and corn down through the wires into the hole. And now he begins to come down when he hears my voice, and the little rogue catches up a nut and runs off with it.”

“Does he?” said Caleb. “O, I wish you would let him out. I don't believe he would run away.”

“Not just yet,” said Mary Anna.

“But if you don't let him out pretty soon, I shall be gone,” said Caleb; “for I am going to Boston, you know, next week.”

“So you are,” said Mary Anna; “I forgot that.”

Caleb's father and mother were coming up from Boston that week, and they had written something about taking Caleb back with them, when they returned. Caleb was much pleased with this idea. He liked living in the country better than living in Boston; but still, he was very much pleased at the thought of seeing his father and mother, and his little sister, at home. He also liked riding, and was very glad of the opportunity to ride several days in the carryall, upon the front seat with his father. He expected that his father would let him have the whip and reins pretty often to drive.

“It is not certain, however,” continued Mary Anna, “that you will go to Boston this summer. Mother said that perhaps you would not go until the fall, and then perhaps she would go with you, and bring you back to stay here through the winter.”

“But I don't want to stay here in the winter,” said Caleb.

“Why not?” said Mary Anna.

“O, it is so cold and snowy;—and we can't play any.”

“That's a great mistake,” said Dwight; “we have fine times in the winter.”

“Why, what can you do?”

“O, a great many things; last winter we dug out a house in a great snow-drift under the rocks, and played in it a good deal.”

“But it must be very cold in a snow-house,” said Caleb.

“O, we had a fire.”

“A fire?” said Caleb.

“Certainly,” said Dwight, “We put some large stones for the fire-place, and let the smoke go out at the top.”

“But then it would melt your house down.”

“It did melt it a little around the sides, and so made it grow larger: but it did not melt it down. We had some good boards for seats, and we could stay there in the cold days.”

“Yes,” said Mary Anna, “I remember I went in one cold, windy day, and I found you boys all snugly stowed in your snow-house, warm and comfortable, by a good blazing fire.”

“Once we made some candy in our snow-house,” said David.

“Did you?” said Caleb.

“Yes,” said David; “Mary Anna proposed the plan, and got mother to give us the molasses in a little kettle, and we put it upon three stones in our snow-house, and we boiled it all one Wednesday afternoon, and when it was done, we poured it out upon the snow. It was capital candy.”

“I should like to see a snow-house,” said Caleb, “very much.”

“Then should not you like to stay here next winter? And then we can make one,” said David.

“Perhaps I could make one in Boston,” said Caleb.

“Ho!” said Dwight, with a tone of contempt, “you couldn't make a snow-house.”

“But there are enough other boys in Boston to help me,” said Caleb.

“There is not any good place,” said Mary Anna, in a mild and pleasant tone. “There is only a very small yard, and that is full of wood piles.”

“I can make it on the common,” said Caleb. “The common is large enough I can tell you.”

Here Dwight suddenly called out in a tone of great eagerness and delight, to look off to a little bush near them, to which he pointed with his finger.

“See! see! there is a squirrel!—a large grey squirrel!”

“Where?” said Caleb, “where? I don't see him.”

“Hush!” said Mary Anna, in a low tone: “All keep perfectly still. I'll shew him to you, Caleb. There, creeping along the branch.”

“I see him,” said David. “Let us catch him, and put him in with Mungo.”

“I'm afraid it is Mungo,” said Mary Anna.

“Mungo!” said Dwight, with surprise.

“Yes,” said Mary Anna, “it looks like him. I am afraid he has got out of some hole, and is going away. Sit still, and we will see what he will do.”

“O, no,” said Dwight, “I will go and catch him.”

“No, by no means,” said Mary Anna, holding Dwight back, “let us see what he will do.”

It was Mungo. He had gnawed himself a hole, and escaped from his prison.

He did not, however, seem disposed to go away very fast. He came down from the bush, and crept along upon the ground towards the brook, and then finding that he could not get across very well, he ran about the grass a little while, and then went back by degrees to the tree. He climbed up to the great branch, playing a minute or two about the grating over the hole, and then ran along out to the end of the branch, the children watching him all the time, and walking slowly along up towards the tree.

“I'll go and get him some corn,” said Mary Anna, “and see if he will not come down for it to his hole, when I call him. You stand here perfectly still, till I come back.”

So she went in and got a nut instead of corn, and put it down by the hole, calling “Mungo!” “Mungo!” as usual. The squirrel came creeping down the branch, and Mary Anna left the nut upon the grating, and went away. He crept down cautiously, seized the nut, stuffed it into his cheek, and ran off to one of the topmost branches; and there standing upon his hind legs, and holding his nut in his forepaws, he began gnawing the shell, watching the children all the time.

The next morning, Mary Anna tore off the netting, and the squirrel lived in the tree a long while. Caleb, however, saw but little more of him at this time, for he went to Boston the next week with his father. What befell him there may perhaps be described in another book, to be called “Caleb in Town.”

END OF CALEB IN THE COUNTRY.

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