Ben Comee Part 3

"Come on, Edmund. We've got to kill those that are sure to die. The rest we will put in a box with some hay, and perhaps they will get well."

We wrung the necks of three, and put the others in a box and covered it over.

Then we looked at each other, and Edmund opened his basket, and let those we had caught fly away.

"No more quail shooting for me, Ben. They're too human. By George, I know just how a murderer feels."

One snowy winter day, Davy came to our barn, where I was foddering the cattle, and said:--

"Ben, this storm will be over to-morrow, and will make fine snowshoeing.

Amos Locke is going with me fox-hunting, and we want you to come too."

[Sidenote: INVITATION TO A FOX HUNT]

"I don't know that I can go. Let's talk it over with my brother John."

When John heard us he said: "I guess I can fix things so that you can get off. Pitch in, work hard, and do some of the stints that father set you for to-morrow, and I will look after your ch.o.r.es."

By the time mother came to the door and blew the horn for supper, we had done a great deal of work.

After supper I lit a big pine knot and placed it in the side of the fireplace, so that the smoke from it would go up the chimney. It threw a pleasant light out into the room. Father was at work on an ox-bow. John had a rake into which he was setting some new teeth, and I sat on a stool with a wooden shovel between my legs, sh.e.l.ling corn; rasping the ears on the iron edge of the shovel, so that the kernels fell into a big basket in front of me.

My little brother David was sitting on a bench in the side of the great fireplace, reading that terrible poem by the Rev. Michael Wigglesworth, called the "Day of Doom," which tells all about the day of judgment,--how the sinners are doomed to burn eternally in brimstone; and the saints are represented as seated comfortably in their armchairs in heaven, looking down into the sulphurous pit.

I used to wonder how Mr. Wigglesworth got so thorough a knowledge of these two places and of judgment day, and doubts crept into my mind as to the accuracy of his description. When I thought of Bishop Hanc.o.c.k seated in one of those armchairs, I knew that his soul, at least, would be full of pity and sorrow for the poor sufferers below, and I felt that the saints ought to be a good deal like him.

I did not envy David his book. It seemed to me that every now and then I could see his hair rise up and his eyes bulge out with terror.

Mother stood by the woollen wheel, spinning, and my little sister Ruhama sat near her, knitting.

The fire lit up the room and made the pewter dishes on the dresser shine.

Above us, hanging from the rafters, were bunches of herbs, crooked-neck squashes, and poles on which were strung circular slices of pumpkin which were drying, to be made into sauce in the future.

[Sidenote: THE "DAY OF DOOM"]

David shut up his book, went to mother, and said: "Oh, mother, mother!

I'm scared to death. Do you suppose I've got to go to h.e.l.l?"

"No, David. You're a good little boy. Just learn your catechism, go to meeting, and be a good boy, and I guess you'll come out all right."

I remembered well how I felt as I read that book, and the hours of anguish that it caused me. David got some apples, placed them on the hearth in front of the fire; and, in watching them roast and sputter, he soon forgot his fears.

John began to talk to father about old times, and soon got him started telling stories about hunting.

"Yes, I used to go after wild turkeys with Will Munroe, the blacksmith, when I was a boy. One day we met Ben Wellington, and he said he had just come down the Back Road, and had seen a bear in a huckleberry patch, and if we'd go with him, we could kill him. He borrowed a gun of Tom Fessenden, and we drew our charges, and loaded with a bullet and some buckshot. When we got to the place, we crept along carefully, and saw the bear stripping off the huckleberries and eating them. He was so busy he didn't notice us, and we got quite close to him. Will and I fired, and he rose and turned to us, and Ben fired. We ran off a little, loaded again, and went back, and found the bear was dead.

"In the winter we used to go fox-hunting. What fun we had! I vum, I'd like to go now."

This gave John a good opening, and he said: "Young David Fiske and Amos Locke are going after foxes to-morrow, and they want Ben to go with them. Benny worked hard to-day, and did most of the jobs that you laid out for him to do to-morrow; and I told him that if you would let him go, I would do his ch.o.r.es."

"Well," said father, "one can't be young but once in one's life. I certainly did have great fun hunting when I was a boy; and if you'll do Benny's ch.o.r.es, I think we can manage to let him go. But it was a pretty sly trick of yours, John, to lead the talk around to hunting, and get me worked up over it, before you said anything about to-morrow."

[Sidenote: LUXURIOUS LIVING]

"I thought it would be a good idea to make you remember how much you liked it yourself."

The clock struck nine, and we got up and put our things away. Father read a chapter from the Bible. Then I raked up a great ma.s.s of red coals, and covered them carefully with ashes to keep them alive till the morning.

John and I went up to the attic, where we slept; and as I undressed and lay down in my straw bed, I could hear the wind hum and whistle as it caught on the roof, and cold draughts swept through the attic.

I pulled the blankets and comforter closely about me, and was soon asleep, dreaming of foxes.

When I awoke, I jumped out of bed and stepped into some snow that had sifted in through the cracks and formed a little drift over my leather breeches, which were frozen hard as a board. I shook the snow off them, and, grabbing up my clothes, ran downstairs, pulled the ashes off the coals, and fanned them till they were bright, and built a good fire in the fireplace. I warmed my leather breeches over the fire till they were softened so that I could get into them.

It was a little after five o'clock. The snowstorm was over, and the moon was shining bright.

Mother came in and said, "Well, Benny, you've built me a nice fire, and I hope you'll have a good time."

She hung a pot with some hasty pudding in it over the fire, warmed it up, and fried some pork in the skillet. I brought up a jug of cider from the cellar, and as I was eating breakfast, father came in and took down the gun from over the fireplace. "I think I'll put a new flint in the gun, Ben. You don't want to miss fire when you get a chance to shoot at a fox. Be careful of the gun. You know it belonged to your Uncle John, and he had it with him when he was killed in the Indian fight up to York, the same time that Ben Muzzy was captivated and carried off. I never take it down without thinking of John. He was dreadful fond of hunting, just as you be, Benny. You put me in mind of him."

[Sidenote: BEN STARTS FOR THE FOX HUNT]

I pulled some long stockings that belonged to my brother John over my own shoes and stockings, put on my woollen frock, and buckled my belt round my waist. Father handed me the gun, and said, "Give my respects to Dr. Fiske, Benny, and good luck to ye."

When I got outdoors, I slipped my toes under the thongs of the rackets, and shuffled along over the fields till I got to the road. The moon was bright, and everything was distinct and clear.

I skimmed along over the snow, and William Munroe, the blacksmith, came out of his house near the foot of the common, just as I was pa.s.sing.

"h.e.l.lo, Benny, you're up early to-day. Where are you bound for?"

"Fox-hunting with Davy Fiske."

"Well, he's a good one at it, and it will be a fine day."

The meeting-house was covered with a casing of snow. As I pa.s.sed by the common I could see lights in Sam Jones's house and in old John Muzzy's.

I kept on up the road by Jonas Parker's, and when I came in sight of Dr.

Fiske's place, Davy was outside, waiting for me.

"h.e.l.lo, Ben! Where have you been? I've been waiting for you these two hours."

"Oh, pshaw, Davy. This is plenty early. You can't see the least bit of daylight yet, and one can't do much with foxes till the sun is well up and warms the scent."

The doctor came to the door and said:--

"Don't mind David, Benny. You're early enough. But he's crazy about hunting, and wants to be at it all the time. It would be better for him if he spent less time at it."

"Father told me to give his respects to you, sir."