menu_book Chapter 9

chapter nine of down the big river by stephen w meter this librivox recording is in the public domain chapter nine tom struggled upward out of an abyss of sleep and lay semi-conscious wondering what made his legs feel so stiff without opening his eyes he put out a hand and fumbled about beside him funny the deck felt wet had it rained he wondered the happy singing of the thrush that at first wakened him had a fair weather sound was it daylight yet they would be starting down the river soon in a flash he remembered where he was and sat bolt upright his eyes blinking in the morning sunlight beside him in the little glade andy still slumbered his mouth peacefully open and a half smile on his freckled face tom wouldn't wake him yet he got to his feet and looked around the dew was heavy in the moss and it was sleeping there without blankets that had stiffened him a dry branch in the thicket crackled and cub came trotting into the open space the little dog seemed to care nothing at all for their predicament he dashed to tom's side with a cheerful greeting of tail wags and wet kisses

tom rolled him over in the grass and started down to the river bank a score of yards away a douse in the cold water raised the lad's spirits wonderfully the sun came up and with it a little breeze that ruffled the river pleasantly and as he sprang up the bank once more tom was actually whistling from the ground near where he had slept he picked up the axe thrown down in dejection the night before the feel of the ash helve in his hand was good going into the brush higher up the bank tom soon cut half a dozen dead birches into firewood lengths and carried several armfuls down to the knoll then he took his rifle loaded it carefully without spilling a grain of the precious powder that filled his big powder-horn and stepped off into the woods cub though not a bird dog had been taught by many hunting trips with his master that he must not bark now he trotted quietly ahead and before they had proceeded a quarter of a mile he flushed a cock partridge

the bird flew a few yards and sat stupidly on a pine limb probably he had never seen a dog or a man before tom fired deliberately as usual and the partridge dropped scarcely fluttering with a plump fowl swinging from his gun barrel the boy went back to camp a cheery sight welcomed him at the edge of the cleared space dry sticks were snapping in a tidy little blaze and andy standing bare-headed near by was humming a river diddy as he shaped a rude bucket out of birch bark gee he cried hungrily as he caught sight of tom's trophy got a partridge did you i heard the old gun shoot come on clean the little feller and i'll cook you the best breakfast in canetuck there was no flour for pancakes no coffee nor tea nothing but the fat little bird which soon sizzled above the fire spitted on a green stick yet these two wilderness raised lads found their meal a delicious and satisfying one andy had in a pocket of his coat one of the little leather sacks of salt that woodsmen of that day often carried and with this they seasoned their breakfast tom had brought a gallon of muddy water up from the river in the birchbark dipper

we'll go to the spring down by the landing after this he said but river water won't hurt us this morning they picked the bones of the partridge and sat down on the river bank to consider their case now andy said tom s'pose you or earless jake what do you reckon you'd do with uncle ezra and aunt phoebe andy scowled and drove his long hunting knife into the sod speculatively finally he answered well if i was that mean cuss which i ain't i figure i'd tie em both up in the hold of the boat and put for old jericho wilson's cave once i got down thar i wouldn't be afraid o nothin i'd keep em prisoner a while cause i'd callate that folks as well fixed as them would have friends back east willing to pay for em as for you tom andy added with a grin i reckon if i was old jake i'd say to myself huh that our little varmint he'll starve to death in a week

and the red-haired lad rolled agilely out of the way as tom's hand descended the bigger boy laughed at that he said i believe you're right jake never did seem to make much account of me he'll figure i'm as good as dead already The thoughtful look gave place to a gleam in Tom's eyes, and he sat up straight in the sunlight. All right, Andy, he said. We're going to show that low-down cur. He doesn't know that there's two of us, remember?

Tom stood up and squared his shoulders as he looked down the river. His mouth was set in a grim line. How many days will it take him to reach Jericho Wilson's cave? he asked. Let's see. Andy pondered. One to the Licking River and Cincinnati. One, two, three more days to the

falls. Then maybe a day waiting to go down. After that, four days or maybe five to the Wabash. Jericho's hangout is close below. Only three or four hours, say. You can call it ten days ordinary going. If they was travel nights, they could cut that down to less than a week. but I don't see why they should be in much of a hurry. Good, said Tom.

We'll say nine days to be on the safe side. Now, Andy, I mean to catch that boat before it reaches the Wabash. There'd probably be another keelboat or broadhorn along here within a couple of days if we wanted to wait, though I don't think this is a regular landing place.

But they wouldn't make any better time than Jake and his crew. We've got to go in our own craft and go night and day if we hope to overtake the Phoebe Ann. Andy, did you ever build a canoe? Nope, said the river boy, but I've seen them built, birch barks and dugouts both, and oh boy, I sure can paddle one.

Same here, Tom nodded. I've been looking around and there don't seem to be any big birch trees along this part of the river, nothing but these little gray birches. And then, even if we found a good canoe tree, it takes time to get the pitch and the lacings in shape to use.

No, Andy, it's got to be a dugout. And we've got to get to work on it in an all-fired hurry. Come on, said Andy. I seen a big gum tree up the shore this morning. And jumping to his feet, he started off at a trot.

the tree to which he led the way was over three feet in diameter and tall and straight of trunk the new leaves coming out on all its branches bore witness to its soundness she'll be heavy and full of sap said tom but it's the best we can do this time of year and even as he spoke his free-swung axe bit deep into the wood for nearly two hours the light chips flew and the sharp ring of steel on wood sounded through the forest,

as first one boy and then the other took his turn at the deepening scarf. At length, Andy, looking aloft, gave a warning shout. Here she comes! And Tom, with a final mighty stroke of the axe,

sprang nimbly to one side. The huge tree tottered slowly, swaying toward the river, then gathered momentum and came down with a roar of rending fibers and a jarring crash as it struck the earth. Don't look much like a boat, does she? grinned Andy.

Here, Tom, lend me the axe, and while you figure how long to make her, I'll go cut us a couple of wedges and a spud. Tom sighted carefully along the fallen trunk, noticed that there was a knot about twenty feet from the base, and decided that the place to cut was just below this protuberance. Andy soon returned with several roughly shaped wedges of white oak, which he proceeded to finish with his hunting knife,

and Tom, taking the axe once more, fell to work chopping the great trunk in two. They labored without pause till it was long past noon. Then Tom straightened up and looked at his calloused hands. That'll do, he said.

there's less than a foot left in the middle we can burn that through while we're getting some dinner he threw a few handfuls of dried chips and twigs in a heap under the nearly severed tree and put one hand into his pocket for flint and steel a delighted grin overspread his face gee what luck he cried

i was just wondering what we'd have to eat look here andy the fish line i was using yesterday I stuck it in my pocket when we landed. Boy, I'll have a catfish out of water in three minutes. He was almost as good as his word,

for an hour later the boys had dined, rested, and were ready for work once more. As Tom had prophesied, the brisk little fire had burned away the remaining wood between the tree trunk and what the boys already called their canoe. Now came the long, difficult process of splitting the green wood.

Tom had helped his uncle get out timber from the time he could swing an axe, and Andy was no less an adept, although he did not possess Tom's strength. Gradually, inch by inch, they drove their oak wedges deeper into the widening cleft that ran along the log, till at last the two halves separated cleanly and fell apart. Andy grinned as he wiped the sweat from his forehead with one ragged sleeve.

Pretty stuff, ain't it? he said. looking at the straight fine grain of the wood the rift had been purposely made three or four inches to one side of the log center so that one part was slightly thicker than the other it was to this larger piece that the boys now directed their attention not without some difficulty they turned it over with the bark upward and fell to work shaping the bow and stern tom sharpened the axe on a flat stone and attacked one end while andy started a new fire at the other by the time it grew too dark to work there was a rude semblance of an overturned boat lying on the river bank somewhat to the surprise of both andy's end was more nearly finished than tom's We can use the fire on the inside and get it burned out faster than we could chop it with the axe, said Tom.

Besides, the heat'll help to dry her out and make her later in the water. He stretched his arms above his head. Ho-hum, he yawned. I sure am tired tonight. Hello there, cub old boy.

What's up now? The little dog had been gone the best part of the afternoon. Now he came racing through the trees and rushed up to Tom, barking excitedly. Hardly had he reached his master's side when he bounded away to the edge of the open space once more, looking back at the boys with eager eyes.

Plainly, he was begging them to come with him. Look at that, said Tom, dropping his voice to a whisper. Cubs found something, sure. It can't be any of Roger's gang, though, or he wouldn't act this way. Here, boy, come back. It's too dark to go now, but I'll follow you in the morning.

And carefully priming their long rifles, the two lads turned in on a bed of fresh-cut pine tips. End of chapter 9