Happy Days for Boys and Girls Part 22

The boys were delighted. All this excavating, laying out of earthworks, and planning of gate-way, seemed like real engineering.

They were reenforced, after a while, by Patrick and the horses; and then how suddenly they became tired, his shovelfuls were so large in comparison with theirs--his wagon carried away so much more at a load!

Pretty early that evening little Clarence crept into his mother's lap, and told her a marvellous story of the amount of earth he had wheeled away; but his tired little eyes acted as though some of it had blown between their lids; and soon mamma tucked him away for twelve hours' sleep.

The hollow in the pasture, I forgot to say, was half an acre in extent, and appeared as though Nature had scooped it out on purpose to make a place for the Davy boys' fishing-pond. The creek, too, running nearly alongside, was there to supply it with water.

"What shall we ever do with that hill?" said Percy, pointing to a rise of ground on one side the hollow, as he and his brothers were surveying their work; "we never can cart all that away, nor dig up those trees, either."

"Let's leave it for an island," said Frank--"a _real_ island--land with water all round it" (he had just begun studying geography); "and the trees will make a splendid grove, where we can have picnics."

"The island will afford a harbor for the boat, too," said Mr. Davy, who had just joined the children. "I suppose you will want a boat on your pond--will you not?"

The boys could scarcely believe their ears. A boat of their own, on their own pond! They had never dreamed of anything half so nice.

"Time to be at work!" said Mr. Davy.

All the forenoon, as I watched them from my window, I saw the embankment growing slowly, but steadily, while the sloping sides of the hollow became steeper and steeper. At night a visible step had been taken towards a fishing-pond.

I cannot tell you about every one of the days during which the Davy boys worked so industriously. At last, however, the excavation was completed, the embankment raised to the desired height. The frame for the gate-way stood firm between its crowding sides. Gates were in progress at the carpenter's, made of solid plank, a door sliding up and down over an open s.p.a.ce near the bottom. This was easily worked by means of a handle at the top.

"And now," said Mr. Davy, "to get the water into the pond. Patrick and Michael must build a dam a little way up the creek and the race-way from a point just above. We shall need a gate similar to the one at the outlet."

The boys were glad to give way to Patrick and Michael, when it came to building dams and race-ways. In the mean time they a.s.sisted the mason who was lining the embankment on either side the gate with stone, to protect it against the action of the water. The stone-boat, a little, flat vehicle which slides over the ground without wheels, was brought out, for piles of stone were to be drawn from a distant part of the farm.

"But I shall want one of you to carry the hod for me," said the mason.

It was arranged that they should take turns at this; so one would stay and fill with mortar the queer little box which hod-carriers use, and bear it on his shoulders to the mason, who was fast laying the curved wall.

"Why do you have the wall laid in this rounding shape, papa?" asked George. "Why not have it straight?"

"Because the curve makes it stronger to resist the force of the water.

You notice that the mason chooses stones which are larger at one end than at the other. He lays them so that the larger ends form the outer side of the curve--the smaller form the inner or shorter side, as you see by looking at this wall. The stones, thus wedged against each other, could not be as easily forced out of place as if they were square in shape, and laid in a straight line. Imagine the water pressing upon the inner side of the curve. How readily the wall would give way, and the water come pouring through! Have you never observed, children," continued Mr. Davy, "that in bridges, culverts, or any structure which is to sustain a heavy weight, the foundations are always laid in the form of an arch?"

"Yes, papa," answered George; "but I never knew why it was. I see now that it is to make them strong."

The boys had quite enough of hod-carrying and stone-quarrying before the wall was done. In fact, Patrick was pressed into the service repeatedly. The hod became too uneasy a burden for the boys'

shoulders, even though it was padded with sheep-skin.

A channel to convey the water from the pond was now the only thing wanting. This was speedily begun, and the little workmen found themselves down in a trench behind a low rampart of earth.

"Let's play we are soldiers," said George. "We'll have Patrick and Michael for captain and lieutenant (only they must work, if they _are_ officers), and papa for general and engineer."

Each little soldier did his best. The officers worked faithfully. The engineer came round often, and the dark thread across the bright, green meadow spun out rapidly.

"Let's elect Frank quartermaster," said Tommy; "then he'll go to headquarters, and make requisition for rations. _I_ think it's time for dinner."

"Tell mother to send a big basketful, Frank. Soldiers get awful hungry," said Percy.

"Tell mother we want to make coffee in the field, too," said George.

"Real soldiers do."

I fear that Patrick and Michael did most of the work after this, for the department of the commissary seemed to require the attention of all the boys.

Mamma was willing to issue rations in the field. "But," said she, "soldiers often have only hard tack and coffee. I suppose you will want nothing more."

This was a view of the case for which the boys were not prepared. They did not wish to seem unsoldierly, but they were very hungry.

"You know, mother," said Percy, "soldiers had bacon sometimes with their hard tack."

"And we are only _playing_ soldiers. We ain't _real_ soldiers," said matter-of-fact Clarence.

His brothers were quite ashamed that he should give this as a reason for wanting a good dinner, yet when they saw the pies and cakes going into the basket, they made no remarks.

While the quartermaster was at the house, Tommy and George had built a fire, to boil the coffee. Two crotched stakes were driven firmly in the ground. A stout rod lay across them, and on this hung the kettle.

A lively fire was burning underneath, the water boiling. In a few moments the coffee was made.

After washing carefully in the creek,--for everything must be done as soldiers do,--all sat down in a circle on the ground. The coffee was served in tin cups; but shall I confess that our soldiers were so unsoldierlike as to drink it with cream and sugar?

Patrick and Michael partook; but as they were absent directly afterwards, under pretence of smoking a noon pipe, I fancy they ate still further rations in the farm-house kitchen. The boys, however, said it was the best dinner they ever ate in their lives.

They were now ready for a visit from the general. "We will have these breastworks," said he, "smoothed down in regular shape, and sow gra.s.s-seed upon them, so that in a few weeks there will be a green slope in place of these unsightly clods."

I a.s.sure you that as I look from my window while writing this story, those slopes appear very pretty, with the merry, sparkling stream flowing between.

But I must hasten; for you will be anxious to know that the pond, gates, outlet, and all were done at last. Then came the day upon which the water was to be let in. A great day it was for the whole neighborhood. All the boys for a mile round were there to see.

When everything was ready, Mr. Davy, who was up at the dam, hoisted the gate; the water came rushing through; in a few moments it had reached the end of its course, and poured over into the pond.

Such a shout as rose from the throats of the forty or fifty boys! It must have surprised those placid meadows and the great solemn rocks around. And you would have thought the sleepy old hills had actually been startled into life, such sounding echoes they sent back in answer.

The water spread itself thinly at first over the bottom of the pond.

Slowly it rose; the little hollows were filled up, the slight elevations hidden from sight. Gradually it closed round the tiny green island which stood out above its surface like an emerald set in shining silver. By night the pond was full. The water began running over the top of the gate, making the prettiest little waterfall, and over it a light spray rose softly towards the evening sky.

Bright and early the next morning there was commotion at the Davys'.

The boys were going to Maxwell's Creek, ten miles away, fishing. Mrs.

Davy was stirring round, preparing their lunch. George and Percy hurried to the stable.

"Come, Brown Billy," said Percy to the favorite pony; "time to get up and have your breakfast. We are all going fishing to-day;" and he laid his hand smartly upon the pony's back.

Brown Billy raised his head, opened his eyes in astonishment to see the boys so early in his stall; but hearing their merry voices, he seemed to understand the situation at once, and to be in full sympathy with them. An extra allowance of oats was put in the manger, and while the boys were eating their breakfast in the house, Brown Billy leisurely munched his in the stable. Then, after a draught from the pump, he was put into the traces. Two casks and a large basket were lifted in, the luncheon deposited, and soon they were on their way.

The sun was just peeping above the horizon, spreading a crimson glory over every hill, and tree, and shrub; but this was so familiar a sight to the Davy boys, that it caused no remark, though they were not insensible to its beauty.

The scene of their day's sport was a beautiful glen among the hills, through which the stream, a genuine, untaught child of the woods, jumped and tumbled at its own wild will, now leaping from precipices in the loveliest cataracts, then fretting noisily over its stony bed, and, a little farther on, flowing as smoothly as if it never thought of foaming or fretting in all its course.

Tommy tied Brown Billy to a tree, giving him a long tether, that he might pick at the fresh gra.s.s.

Trout are the most delicate of fishes, and require careful treatment.

Indeed, they are quite the aristocracy of the finny tribe. Mr. Davy had given Patrick directions not to allow them to be caught with a hook, as it could not be taken from their mouths without causing much pain, and perhaps death.