MOSE HOWARD'S FISH TRAP.
Nicodemus Squab, Professor of Orthography in the Jimtown districtschool, was a man of an inquiring turn of mind.
Overhearing some of the scholars discussing a prospective coon huntthat was to come off the following Saturday night, the professor drewnear and inquired if they would allow him to join them.
"Of course you kin jine us," said Mose Howard, who was the ringleaderin all the devilment in the neighborhood. "Glad tu have you go 'long.We'll come by for you."
"Thank you," said the professor. "I never was coon hunting in my life,though I've always wanted to go--just to see how it is done, you know."
According to promise, Mose Howard, Dick Miller, and Joe Smiley cameby for the professor, who was ready and waiting, and who joined thehunters, anticipating a jolly old time.
After winding up the coon hunt, which resulted in the capture of fivepossums and three coons, Mose Howard proposed that they should go backby the fish trap and catch a mess of fish.
The proposition was unanimously agreed to, and they struck off downthe creek, the professor bringing up the rear, puffing and blowing,though highly elated at the variation that this additional act in theprogramme promised, as well as at the prospect of a successful raidupon the finny tribe.
The "Dofuny" contraption that Mose dignified with the name of fish trapconsisted merely of a large sack held open by a hoop, around whichthe mouth of the sack was fastened, and a couple of ropes, one end ofwhich was fastened to each side of the hoop, while the other ends werefastened to trees on the opposite sides of the stream, in such a way asto allow the hoop to remain about halfway submerged.
On the bank of the creek was a lantern, in which was about half atallow candle.
Producing some matches, Mose lit the candle and proceeded to explain tothe professor the modus operandi of catching fish with his new-fangledtrap.
"You just take the lamp, and wade into the trap, and hold the lampright in front of the mouth so that the fish can see how to run in, andwe boys'll go away down the creek and pull off our clothes and wadeinto the creek and drive the fish up and into the trap."
The professor, as unsuspicious of any trick as a sucking baby, shuckedhimself, and then taking up the lantern, waded into the trap that theboys set for him instead of for fish, and in the construction of whichthey had not only exhausted their financial resources in the purchaseof the material out of which it was constructed, but also theiringenuity in the getting up and fabrication of the same.
"Ugh!" grunted the professor, as he reached the trap and placed thelantern in the position indicated, "this water is cold as ice. I wantyou boys to make haste."
"Yes, sir," responded the boys.
"You'll hear us hollerin' as we come," said Mose, and off they starteddown the creek in a trot.
"All right," said the professor.
As soon as they got out of sight their gait slackened to a walk, whichthey kept till they reached a point some four hundred yards distantfrom the trap, when, seating themselves on a log, they began the mostuproarious din of yelling and howling that had ever awakened theslumbering echoes of those old woods since the aborigines had vacatedthe premises.
After about an hour spent in this way the boys got up and advancedslowly up the bank of the stream about a hundred yards, when theyseated themselves on another log, where they continued to whoop andyell like so many wild Indians.
After another hour thus spent they made another advance which broughtthe professor and the fish trap within their range of vision, though,owing to the darkness, they were not visible to him.
"Hurry up, boys!" he shouted. "I'm nearly froze, and the candle'snearly out."
That was what they were waiting for--the candle to burn out--so thattheir failure to catch fish could be laid to the absence of the light.
"Yes, sir!" they shouted back; "we're hurrying as fast as we can!"
And renewing their yells, they advanced slowly--very slowly--up thestream.
"Hurry up! hurry up!" again shouted the professor. "The candle will beout in two minutes."
"Ay, ay, sir!" shouted Mose back; "but you must stop hollerin', oryou'll skeer the fish."
Sure enough, in about two minutes the candle gave a last convulsiveflicker, and in the twinkling of an eye thick darkness reigned asabsolutely over the professor and the fish trap as elsewhere.
"Boys," said Mose, in a tone of voice loud enough for the professor tohear him, "there ain't no use wadin' in this water any longer; let's goback an' git our cloze."
Seating themselves on a log, they sat perfectly silent for awhile--long enough, as they thought, for it to have taken them to goback to where they commenced their drive, dress themselves, and reachthat point on their return--when they got up and resumed their progressupstream.
On reaching the trap, they found the professor on shore, and though hehad completed his toilet, his teeth were chattering together worse thana pair of castanets rattling off a quickstep march.
"We'll have to try it over ag'in some other time," said Mose, "andfetch more candles with us. I thought we had plenty this time, but wedidn't. I guess I'll bring enough next time."
"Why didn't you fellows hurry up?" said the professor. "What made youcome so slow?" the chattering of his teeth as he spoke causing him tocut the words into more than the legitimate number of syllables towhich they were entitled.
"Couldn't come no faster," said Mose. "The water was so thunderin' coldthe fish wouldn't drive fast."
Satisfied with this explanation, the professor fell into ranks asthe boys filed off in the direction of home. The exercise of walkingsoon brought a reaction in his system, the first effect of which wasto put a stop to the music of the castanets, and on reaching home hepronounced himself all right again.
Sometime during the ensuing week Mose Howard informed the professorthat they were going to try the fish trap again the following Saturdaynight, and asked him if he didn't want to go along.
The professor gave an involuntary shudder as the recollection of thatprotracted soaking in ice water of the previous Saturday night flashedacross his mind.
Discretion prompted him to give a negative response. Curiosity,however, got the better of discretion, and he accepted the invitation.
"I'll be on hand," said he. "There's no fun standing in that coldwater, especially when you get no fish; but if you can stand it I guessI can."
At the appointed time the boys came by, when, the professor joiningthem, they proceeded to the fish trap.
On arriving there, Mose produced a couple of pieces of candle, one ofwhich he proceeded to light and put in the lantern. It was nearly twiceas long as the one they had burned out on the previous occasion.
The other piece he placed in the lantern, so that it could be easilygot at if it should be needed.
This latter piece Mose had had manufactured himself especially for theoccasion, and had taken some little pains in its construction.
After soaking the wick in water until it was perfectly saturated, hehad taken a skillet and melted some tallow therein; then placing thewick in a mould, he filled the latter with the melted tallow, and thething was accomplished.
This particular candle he had carefully marked, so as to be able todistinguish it from any other candle.
Before completing their arrangements at the fish trap, preparatory tobeginning the drive, the professor proposed that one of the boys shouldtake his place at the trap while he accompanied the others and assistedin driving the fish.
"Kin you swim?" asked Mose Howard.
"No," answered the professor.
"Well, you'd run the resk ov gittin' drownded, then," said Mose.
"You go on, then," said the professor, "and I'll mind the trap."
So off the boys started, and going down the stream about a mile, seatedthemselves upon a log, and began yelling and whooping, as on theprevious occasion.
Hour after hour passed, each hour seeming to the benumbed professor anage.
Th
e yelling approached slowly but surely.
The boys had now arrived at a point where every motion of the professorwas distinctly visible.
The piece of candle Mose had lighted and put in the lantern was nearlyburned out. Taking up the other piece, the professor proceeded to lightit. Placing it in the lantern, it gave a splutter and went out. Dark!Dark was no name for it. No moon, no stars, no matches.
But that bogus candle would have been a match for a whole box ofmatches.
"What in thunder's the matter now?" shouted Mose.
"The candle's gone out," shouted the professor back. "Have you got anymatches?" he inquired.
"Nary match," said Mose.
"What's to be done?" inquired the professor.
"Nuthin'," said Mose. "The thing's played out. Put on your cloze, whilewe go and git ourn, and then we'll git for home."
Seating themselves on a log, the boys remained quiet for a while, thenrising to their feet, they came up to where the professor was waltzingaround trying to get up a circulation.
"Another waterhaul," said Mose.
"Looks a good deal like it," said the professor.
"Don't know why the mischief some of us didn't think tu bring somematches," said Mose.
"I don't know, either," responded the professor, in a deprecating toneof voice, as though he entertained the idea that somehow or other hehad been mainly instrumental in producing the bad luck.
"Better luck next time," said Mose philosophically, as he struck outfor home, followed by the others.
They had proceeded about two-thirds of the way home, groping their wayas best they could through the thick darkness, when a shrill, prolongedscream directly ahead of them, and apparently at no great distance,broke upon their startled auriculars.
"Painter!" ejaculated Mose, in a low tone of voice, though sufficientlyloud to be distinctly audible to the professor, at the same timespringing to one side, and the next moment he was out of theprofessor's hearing.
The fact was he had only taken a couple of steps and then squatted inthe grass as completely concealed from his companions by the intensedarkness as though he had been on the opposite side of the globe.
"Painter!" repeated the other boys, following Mose's example, ofspringing to one side and squatting in the grass.
Left alone, the professor, with hair on end, paused a moment to collecthis scattered thoughts; but only for a moment.
Another scream long drawn out, and apparently but a few yards distant,set his dumpling-shaped body in motion, and the next moment he wasstreaking it across the country as fast as his duck legs could carryhim.
Tumbling over a log lying on the edge of a bank some twenty feet highand nearly perpendicular, down which he rolled, he landed in a mud holeat the bottom.
Gathering himself up he began looking for his hat, which had partedcompany with him on the way down the bank, when, another screambreaking upon his ear, he struck out once more on his race for life,hatless and covered with mud from his head to his heels.
Coming to a brier patch, he was on the point of diverging fromhis course in order to try and go around it, when another screamprecipitated the terror-stricken professor into the patch like acatapult.
Emerging from the brier patch with his coat tails torn into ribbons,the mud-begrimed professor held on the even tenor of his way withoutany diminution of speed for a hundred yards or so, when his pace beganto slacken a little. Another scream, however, put him to his mettleagain, but as that was the last, and as he was about exhausted, he soonsettled down to a walk, and presently stumbling over a log, he pickedhimself up and seated himself thereon.
After resting a while, plunged in the meantime in a deep cogitation, hefinally concluded to try and seek a shelter for the remainder of thenight. So, starting forward, he wandered about first in one directionand then in another, and it was not until daylight began to streak theeastern horizon that he stumbled on a clearing in the woods, in themidst of which was a log cabin.
Cautiously approaching the cabin, he had reached the foot of a saplingsome fifty steps from the door when a big dog came dashing around thecorner of the house, barking in a most furious manner.
No sooner did the professor catch sight of the dog bouncing along inthe direction of him and the sapling than he was seized with such asudden panic as to cause him to grasp the sapling in his arms and startup it, though, owing to want of practice, with hardly the agility ofa squirrel. After a tremendous effort he succeeded in reaching a forksome ten feet from the ground, where he seated himself, and awaited theissue of events.
He didn't have long to wait. The furious barking of the dog soon rousedthe inmates of the cabin.
Scarcely a minute had elapsed after the professor had succeeded, bythe most superhuman exertions, in seating himself comfortably in thefork of the sapling, out of the reach of the dog, when the door of thecabin opened and a huge six-footer of a backwoodsman, somewhat airilyattired, with a rifle of corresponding size with himself in his hand,emerged therefrom.
"What you got thar, Bull?" said the man, as he approached the sapling,at the root of which the dog was barking in a most vociferous manner."What is it, old feller?" he continued. "B'ar, painter, ur catamount?"
Bull's response was an abortive attempt to climb the tree, accompaniedby a most furious outburst of barking.
"Be quiet, old feller," said the man; "we'll soon see what it is," atthe same time raising his rifle to his shoulder.
"Hold on there," shouted the professor, who was beginning to realizethe perilous position in which he was placed, and the imminent dangerhe was in of being shot for a bear or catamount. "I am no varmint.I'm Nicodemus Squab, Professor of Orthography in the Jimtown districtschool."
"Hallo," said the backwoodsman, as he lowered his rifle, "is that so?Well, that gits me. What in thunder ur you doin' up thar?"
"Wait till I get down, and I'll tell you."
And crawling out of the crotch in which he had been seated, theprofessor slid down the sapling, when he soon succeeded in explainingmatters to the satisfaction of that thinly clad backwoodsman and hissavage bulldog.
It was now broad daylight, and when he reached Jimtown the sun was somedistance above the horizon, climbing upward toward the zenith.
Of course every man, woman, and child in the place beheld, withwonder-depicted countenances, the advent of the mud-begrimed, hatlessprofessor, and a thousand conjectures were indulged in as to the causeof his singular appearance.
The professor was disposed to be reticent on the subject, answeringinterrogatories in relation to the matter evasively; but the joke wastoo good to be kept, and in less than twenty-four hours his approachtoward any crowd was greeted by a broad grin overspreading thecountenances of a majority of the members thereof, and his departuresignalized by a long guffaw.
This conduct on the part of the citizens annoyed the professorconsiderably at first; then it grew monotonous, and he became disgusted.
Finally he burst into a flame of indignation, and after taking hisrevenge out of the hides of the pupils, especially Mose Howard and hisconfederates, the irate professor shook the dust of Jimtown off hisfeet, and betook himself to parts unknown.
Motor Matt's Make-and-Break; or, Advancing the Spark of Friendship Page 19
