Abraham Lincoln

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Abraham Lincoln Page 3

by Augusta Stevenson


  “I think it’s a panther, Abe. I wouldn’t go near those bushes.”

  “I’ll wait till it cries again,” said Abe.

  “S—sh!” said Austin. “There it is!”

  “I know it’s something that is hurt,” said Abe. “It has that kind of sound. I’m going!”

  He ran toward the bushes. Austin waited just one minute, then he followed. He couldn’t hang back when his chum went on.

  The boys had reached the bushes when they heard the cry again. It was there—right by the place where they were standing.

  They parted the branches and, as Abe had expected, there was something that was hurt. There lay a little dog with a broken leg.

  “Poor doggie, poor doggie,” said Abe.

  “Poor doggie,” said Austin.

  The little dog looked at them. Then he cried again and again.

  “Don’t cry, doggie,” said Abe. “I’ll fix your leg. I know how.”

  He made a splint of stiff bark. Then he put the splint on the broken leg and tied it with strips of soft bark.

  Austin watched him. “I wish I knew how to make a splint,” he said.

  “Father showed me,” said Abe.

  The poor little dog stopped crying and licked Abe’s hand. That was his way of saying, “Thank you, little boy.”

  “Let’s hide him in our cave,” said Abe, “till he can walk.”

  “The very thing!” said Austin. “I’ll go on ahead and make a bed of leaves.”

  Abe lifted the dog gently and carried him to the cave. Gently he lifted him on the bed of leaves and patted his head.

  “I’ll take care of him,” said Abe. “I live nearer the cave than you do, Austin.”

  “I’d look after him if I could,” said Austin. “You know that, don’t you, Abe?”

  “Of course I do,” said Abe. “You would never let the poor dog go hungry any more than I would.”

  Then the boys patted the dog again and went away.

  That evening Abe took food and water to the dog. He fed him every day. He gave him fresh water every day. He made a new bed of leaves every day. As soon as the dog could walk, Abe took him home. The broken leg was crooked, but it was strong.

  Abe named the dog Honey, because he loved him dearly. And the dog loved Abe dearly and followed him everywhere.

  ABE LEARNS BY WATCHING

  MR. LINCOLN CAME into the cabin and looked around. He saw Mrs. Lincoln getting supper. He saw Sarah helping, but he didn’t see Abe.

  “Where is Abe?” he asked.

  “I sent him to Mrs. Brown’s with some venison,” said Mrs. Lincoln.

  “When did he go?”

  “At noon, just after dinner. He should be home by this time.”

  “Of course he should,” said Mr. Lincoln. “He is playing in the woods.”

  “It’s a long way to the Browns’ and back, Thomas, and there are two steep hills to climb.”

  “I know, but he should have been here an hour ago. I want him to help me with a log. I can’t lift it alone, and the fire is almost out.”

  Then Mr. Lincoln sat in front of the dying fire and waited. Ten minutes passed, fifteen, twenty.

  Supper was ready, but everyone waited for Abe to come.

  “He is always late,” said Mr. Lincoln. “He thinks of nothing but play.”

  “He doesn’t really play, Father,” said Sarah. “He just stops to look at things.”

  “What things?” asked Mr. Lincoln.

  “Oh, trees, clouds, grass, and stones.”

  Mr. Lincoln frowned. “It’s all nonsense,” he said. “It’s a bad habit.”

  Suddenly Mrs. Lincoln smiled. “I heard him whistle to Honey,” she said. “He’ll be here in a minute.”

  Sure enough, just then Abe and Honey came out of the dark woods. In another minute they were in the cabin, and Abe was hanging his cap on a peg.

  “Mrs. Brown said she was much obliged for the venison,” Abe said to his mother.

  “You should have been home an hour ago,” said his father.

  “I didn’t know it was so late. I was looking at something.”

  “You are always looking at something,” said Mr. Lincoln angrily.

  “I’ll try not to be late again,” said Abe.

  “What were you looking at?” asked Sarah.

  “That tall poplar tree on top of our hill.”

  “You’ve seen it at least a hundred times,” said Mr. Lincoln.

  “But I never noticed how it looked at night. It leans over, you know, Father.”

  “Well, what if it does?”

  “Why, it leans right across the smoke that comes from Mr. Brown’s chimney.”

  “Did you watch that for an hour?” asked Mr. Lincoln disgustedly.

  “I watched it a long time. I wanted to see if the smoke was always back of the tree. And it was. It was pretty, too.”

  “I must look at it some night,” said sweet Nancy Lincoln.

  “There’s no sense in looking at trees and smoke,” said Mr. Lincoln. “You just waste time, and I want you to stop, Abe.”

  “I’ll come straight home the next time.”

  “Supper is ready!” said Mrs. Lincoln.

  “No supper till we put another log in the fireplace,” said Mr. Lincoln. “Come along, Abe, and help me bring one in.”

  THE FIRE

  One night a few weeks later a neighbor rushed to the Lincoln cabin. He didn’t knock. He didn’t take off his cap. He didn’t speak to Mrs. Lincoln or Mr. Lincoln. He didn’t speak to Sarah or Abe. He didn’t tell them why he carried a large water bucket. He didn’t say why the bucket was empty.

  He just stood in the door and shouted, “Fire! Fire! Browns’ cabin is on fire!”

  “I’ll be ready in one minute,” said Mr. Lincoln, jumping to his feet.

  “So will I,” said Abe.

  Now the Brown family lived some distance from the Lincolns, but that didn’t make any difference. Settlers always helped one another if there was trouble.

  So Mr. Lincoln seized a large bucket, and Mrs. Lincoln gave him his cap. Abe seized another bucket, and Sarah gave him his cap.

  Then out ran Mr. Lincoln and the neighbor, and out ran Abe after them.

  “I want to go, too!” cried Sarah.

  “No, Sarah,” said Mother, “you must stay here with me.”

  “But I’ve never seen a big fire,” said Sarah. “Please let me go!”

  “There’s a creek to cross. Could you run over the log in the dark?”

  Sarah hung her head. Mother went on: “The others will. Then they will climb the steep hills like rabbits, and leave you far behind.”

  “I’ll stay here, Mother,” said Sarah.

  It was just as Mrs. Lincoln had said. The two men and Abe crossed the creek in the dark. And they ran across the log, too!

  Then came a steep hill, and up they went like rabbits. Sometimes Abe slipped and fell, but he didn’t mind that. He reached the top.

  They could see the smoke plainly now, great clouds of it floating into the dark sky.

  “Yes, it’s Browns’ cabin,” said the neighbor. “There’s no doubt of that.”

  “Not a bit!” said Mr. Lincoln. “Come on!”

  “Wait!” said Abe. “There isn’t any use in going farther.”

  The men were astonished. They turned and looked at Abe. He was standing near a large poplar tree and pointing to it.

  “Look at this tree,” he said. “Do you see any smoke back of it?”

  “That’s nonsense,” said Mr. Lincoln. “Stop looking at that tree and come on.”

  “There’s no use to go,” said Abe. “The Browns’ cabin isn’t burning. The smoke from their chimney is always just back of this poplar tree. The tree bends over across it. I’ve seen it at night before.”

  “That is true,” said Mr. Lincoln. “He told us about it some time ago.”

  Abe pointed to the smoke. “That smoke is south of this tree,” he said. “It’s a long way from the Browns�
� cabin.”

  “Then where is the fire?” asked the neighbor. “Whose cabin is burning?”

  “Nobody’s cabin is burning,” said Abe. “That fire is in some woods on Mr. Brown’s farm. He must be burning logs.”

  “Oh, I remember now,” said the neighbor. “Mr. Brown told me he was going to burn some logs, but I forgot all about it.”

  Then he turned to Abe. “You’ve saved us a long hard trip, my boy,” he said.

  Then back down the hill went the two men and Abe. The men were silent. Abe was afraid that his father was angry.

  At the foot of the hill the neighbor stopped. “Abe,” he said, “how did you know that poplar tree leaned across the smoke from Mr. Brown’s chimney?”

  “I saw it one night, and I watched it so long that I was late for supper,” said Abe.

  “And I scolded him and told him to stop watching things,” said Mr. Lincoln. “I see now that I made a mistake.”

  “A big mistake, Thomas,” said the neighbor. “Let Abe watch things, and he’ll make one of the smartest men who ever came out of these Kentucky hills.”

  Mr. Lincoln didn’t scold Abe for stopping to look at things—not for a long time.

  THANK HONEY

  THE MILLER CAME to the door of his mill. “Abe,” he called, “your corn meal is ready!” He waited for a moment, but Abe didn’t come.

  The miller called again. “Abe! Abe Lincoln! Your corn meal is ready.”

  He waited again for a moment, but still Abe didn’t come.

  The miller couldn’t understand this. Abe often brought his father’s corn to the mill, and he always waited until it was ground.

  Once he had to wait all day. But he hadn’t complained, and he hadn’t gone home till the corn meal was ready.

  No wonder the good miller was puzzled. He was just a bit angry, too. There were several men waiting to have their corn ground, and he must spend his time looking for Abe.

  The men were talking outside. Now they were coming up to the mill. They didn’t like this delay either. No doubt they were all in a hurry. They always wanted to get home before dark.

  They were crossing a little footbridge close to the mill, and he could see their faces. To his great surprise not one of them looked angry. In fact, all of them seemed worried.

  Their voices were anxious, too, when they spoke to him.

  “Abe isn’t around here,” said one. “I saw him go into the woods a long time ago.”

  “So did I,” said another. “His dog was with him.”

  “I saw him, too,” said another.

  “How long ago was that?” asked the miller.

  “Oh, it was an hour or so, I guess.”

  “All of an hour,” said the first man.

  “Then I’m afraid he’s lost,” said the miller. “He’s only seven years old.”

  “Only seven!” said the third man. “Does he bring his father’s corn to the mill?”

  “Yes,” said the miller. “He rides a horse bareback, with the corn in a sack behind him. And he pays me every penny and takes the corn meal home.”

  “My boy couldn’t do that,” said the fourth man, “and he’s eight.”

  “Abe is big for his age,” said the second man.

  “He is too smart to be lost,” said the first man. “And he knows the forest.”

  “Yes, and he knows he ought to be back,” said the miller.

  “Then something must have happened to him,” said the second man. “Bears with cubs are ugly just now.”

  “Wildcats and panthers are always ugly,” said the first man.

  “We must hunt for him,” said the miller.

  “Yes! Yes!” said the men.

  “Lead the way,” said the miller to the first man. “You saw where he entered the woods.”

  “Follow me!” said the first man.

  In single file they crossed the little footbridge and passed the great mill wheel. They went down the brook and through the clearing. They were now at the edge of the woods.

  “This is where he went in,” said the first man.

  “Lead on,” said the others.

  But just then something happened—something that made every one of those men stop in his tracks.

  A little dog came running out of the woods!

  “Honey!” cried the miller.

  “Honey!” cried the others.

  It was indeed Honey. He barked sharply. He leaped up to the miller’s outstretched hand and touched it with his paw.

  His eyes were troubled and anxious. Everything he did and the very sound of his bark said as plainly as words, “Abe’s in trouble! Help!”

  Honey ran to the other men and looked up into their faces with his soft, anxious eyes. He barked sharply again and again.

  Then he ran back into the woods. Suddenly he stopped and looked at the men again, and again he barked sharply. He was talking to them. He was saying, “Come on! Come on! Follow me!”

  “He wants us to follow him,” said one man. “See how he turns and looks at us.”

  “Something has happened to Abe,” said another man, “and Honey has come to tell us.”

  “He’ll lead us to Abe,” said another man. “Come on!”

  The men followed Honey. He led them far into the woods. At last he stopped at a cave. He looked at the men and barked. Then he ran into the cave.

  The men followed Honey. The cave was not very light, and at first they had trouble seeing where they were going.

  As soon as their eyes were used to the darkness, they walked faster. Soon they heard a boy’s voice calling, “Help, help!”

  “That sounds like Abe!” said the miller. “I know his voice.”

  “We’re coming, Abe! We’re coming!” shouted the men.

  Very soon they found him. He could talk, but he couldn’t move. He was held fast between two great rocks.

  “Why, Abe,” said the miller, “what has happened here?”

  “I climbed up on this rock,” said Abe. “Then all at once that large rock fell. I was caught between them and I couldn’t move.”

  “The rock might have fallen on you,” said one of the men.

  The men worked carefully. Slowly they rolled the rock away and at last Abe was free.

  He thanked the men for saving him.

  “Don’t thank us,” they said. “Thank your dog, Honey!”

  Then Honey barked and barked. That was his way of saying, “I brought these men here. I told them about you.”

  The men laughed at Honey and patted him. Abe patted him, too, but he didn’t laugh.

  “My goodness!” he cried. “What if that rock had fallen on Honey!”

  THE NEW HOME IN INDIANA

  TWO TIRED HORSES came slowly along the road. On one was pretty, dark-eyed Mrs. Nancy Lincoln. In front of her rode Sarah. Abe rode the other horse, with a great bundle of household goods tied on behind him. Mr. Lincoln walked beside the horses.

  All day long they had traveled, and the day before, and the day before that, too.

  “When will we come to the big, wide river?” asked Sarah.

  “I thought we would make it by evening,” said Mr. Lincoln, “but we can’t. The horses are too tired. We’ll camp in the first good place. And here it is! A spring by the side of the road! This is good luck. Whoa! Whoa!”

  In another minute everyone was busy. Mr. Lincoln fed and watered the horses. Then he gathered wood and made a fire. Mrs. Lincoln fried bacon and corncakes. Abe gathered leaves and made beds on the ground. Sarah took coverlets from the great bundle and laid them on the leaves.

  By that time supper was ready, and the Lincoln family sat on a log and ate. Oh, how good the bacon and corncakes were! How cool the sparkling spring water was!

  They talked about the home they had left on Knob Creek. They were all sorry to leave it.

  “But our new home will be prettier,” said Mother. “Our cabin will be on a little hill.”

  “Children,” said Father, “there are walnut and hickory
trees all over the place.”

  “I love walnuts,” said Sarah.

  “So do I,” said Abe, “and I love hickory nuts, too. But I’m sorry I have to leave Austin.”

  “Austin can visit us,” said Mother.

  “And best of all,” said Father, “corn grows better in Indiana. So I’ll make more money than I did in Kentucky.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you will, Thomas,” said Mother. “And now, children, it’s time for bed.”

  “Will you keep the fire burning all night?” asked Sarah.

  “Yes, indeed,” said Father. “There are many wild animals in these woods.”

  “May I help watch?” Abe asked.

  “I may call you later. I’ll watch first.”

  The others got ready for bed. It took only a moment. They just rolled up in their covers, clothes and all, and were soon fast asleep.

  Suddenly Abe heard his father call him. It was his turn to watch, so he jumped out from his covers and went to the fire.

  “Why, this isn’t any fire at all,” he said. Then he piled on wood until he had it blazing.

  “No beasts will come near this fire,” he said. “They can see it far away.”

  Then he piled on more wood and kept the fire blazing for a long time.

  Suddenly he noticed that the fire was going out. He looked for wood, but there was no more. He was frightened.

  “What shall I do?” he thought. He didn’t dare go into the dark forest for wood.

  The blaze went out. The fire was only smoking now. All around was a wall of darkness—black, black darkness.

  And now in this wall of black Abe saw two green spots of light—the eyes of some wild animal! They were coming toward him! Nearer and nearer they came!

  “Father!” he called. “Father! Father!”

  “Wake up! Wake up!” his father said.

  Abe opened his eyes and sat up. It was just daylight. The fire was burning. Bacon and corncakes were frying.

  “Why, I thought I let the fire go out,” said Abe. “I saw two green eyes watching me.”

  “You had a bad dream,” said Mother.

  “Didn’t I watch the fire at all?”

  “No,” said Father, “your mother and I did.”

  “I’m glad it was a dream,” said Abe, “but I learned how to keep a fire burning all night.”

 

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