CHAPTER II.JERRY AND OSCAR.
AfterClinton had finished his duck-house, he noticed that the water was getting quite low in the brook. It was the month of August, and the season had been very hot and dry, so that the springs in the hills, which fed the brook, had almost given out. While he was thinking what his ducks would do for water if the brook should dry entirely up, it occurred to him that he might make a little pond, to be filled from the brook, which would afford a good place for his ducks to swim, and might also prolong the supply of water. Having obtained his father’s consent, he set about the job at once. He was busily at work, digging out the peat or mud for this pond, one warm afternoon, when he happened to look up and saw two boys by the side of him. As their eyes met, one of them exclaimed,—
“An’ faith, Patrick, what are ye after doin’ now?Is it for goold ye are diggin’, sure? or are ye goin’ to make a river of the brook? Why don’t ye spake, ye bogtrotter, hey?”
Clinton laughed at this rough salutation, but perhaps he felt that there was a slight tinge of unkindness in the joke, as he turned his eye from the neat dress of the speaker, to his own heavy boots loaded with mud, and his coarse and well-worn pantaloons, the bottoms of which were tucked into his boots.
“But you do look just like a Paddy, Clin, I’ll leave it to Jerry if you don’t,” continued the speaker, who was a cousin of Jerry Preston’s, and was named Oscar.
Jerry agreed that it was so. “But,” he continued, “what are you trying to make, Clin? I should really like to know.”
“Wait a few days and you will see,” replied Clinton.
“The same old story,” said Oscar, “‘wait and you’ll see;’ you needn’t think you can get anything more than that out of him, Jerry.”
“I guess he has taken a contract to dig a cellar for somebody,” continued Jerry. “See him put in!” he added, as Clinton resumed his work.
“And I guess,” said Oscar, “that he isn’t makinganything in particular, but is only digging for amusement. What capital fun it must be to dig mud this warm day!”
Clinton made no reply to their bantering, but kept on digging. After a minute’s pause, Jerry resumed the conversation by saying,—
“Clin, you are the queerest fellow I ever saw.”
“How so?” inquired Clinton.
“Why, I never come over here but I find you hard at work about something or other. You must love to work better than I do.”
“Yes, andsuchwork, too,” chimed in Oscar; “you’re making a complete clodhopper of yourself. You’ll be an old man before you are a young one, if you don’t mind. Why doesn’t your father make his men do this hard drudgery, instead of putting it upon you?”
“My father doesn’t make me do this work,” replied Clinton, with some spirit; “I’m doing it for myself, and of my own accord.”
“I suppose your father doesn’t make you work at all,” said Oscar, with a sneer in his look and voice, which Clinton could not fail to observe.
“Yes, he does require me to work,” replied Clinton, “but no more than I ought to. I have plenty of time for play, besides having a little left for study, too, which is more than some boys, that I know, can say.”
“Yes,” resumed Oscar, “when you aint hard at work, digging like an Irishman, your father makes you sit down in the house, and mope over your books. I’m glad I havn’t got such a father to stand over me; aint you, Jerry?”
“I am so,” replied Jerry. “I don’t believe in making slaves of boys. It is time enough to go to work when we get to be men. I mean to enjoy myself while I am young, if I don’t any other time. But come, Oscar, we’ve stopped here long enough,—let’s be going.”
“Well, I’m ready,” said Oscar, and they began to start. Clinton, seeing that they were not directing their steps homeward, inquired where they were going.
“Over to the pond,” replied Jerry, “to have a swim. Come, wont you go too, Clinton?” he added.
“Yes, come with us, Clin,” said Oscar; “we shall have a first-rate time; and as you say you can play asmuch as you please, there’s nothing to prevent your going.”
Clinton did want to go with them, but his parents and Annie had gone away that afternoon, leaving the house in his charge, and he thought it would not be right to leave the premises. It was true, he was not expressly told not to go off; but Clinton knew his father expected him to remain about the house until their return, as he had left a message to be delivered to Mr. Hardy, the blacksmith, who was to call at Mr. Davenport’s that afternoon. So, after a moment’s hesitation, Clinton answered,—
“I should like to go, but I don’t see how I can to-day.”
“Why not?” both Oscar and Jerry inquired, at the same instant.
Clinton did not like to tell them his reason, for fear they would laugh him out of it. He could not bear to be ridiculed, and these boys knew it; for whenever they wished to persuade him to do anything he was not inclined to do, they generally resorted to this weapon to effect their object. Accordingly, they began to try its virtues in the present case. They askedhim if he was afraid to go out of sight of the house without his father’s leave, and how long he expected to be tied to his mother’s apron-strings. They had proceeded in this strain but a few moments, when Clinton’s’ resolution began to give out. He at first warmly denied that he was afraid to go; and a moment after, as if to convince them that it was not fear that kept him at home, he threw down his shovel, and exclaimed,—
“I don’t care,—I believe I will go, too.”
So, exchanging his thick boots for a light pair of shoes, he started for the pond with the other boys. It was not a very long walk,—taking the shortest path through the fields,—and they were soon tumbling and plunging about in the cool water, in high glee. Judging from their shouts of laughter, and the merry splashing they made in the calm lake, you would have supposed they were a happy set of boys. But Clinton, at least, was not quite so happy as he seemed. Something in his breast told him that he had done wrong in yielding to the solicitations of his comrades. The louder he laughed, the more plainly did he hear the voice within, saying, “Ah! Clinton, you have made afalse step; you have yielded to a foolish temptation; you have disobeyed your father; you have betrayed his confidence,—and all for a few moments’ gratification.” He tried to drive these unpleasant thoughts from his mind, but they would not leave him. He was careful, however, not to let his companions see any traces of his uneasiness.
When they had been in the water nearly an hour, Clinton proposed returning home; but neither Oscar nor Jerry seemed inclined to do so. After waiting a little longer, Clinton concluded to go home alone, and proceeded to dry and dress himself. The other boys were so absorbed in their sport, that they scarcely noticed what he was doing.
Just as Clinton was about to start for home, Oscar took it into his head to have a sail on the lake. There was a sail-boat anchored a little way from the shore, near where they were bathing, which belonged to Squire Walcott. Oscar proposed to take possession of this boat, and Jerry readily fell in with his plan. The water where the boat lay was so shallow they could wade out to it; so they proceeded to dress themselves, preparatory to their excursion. Clinton knew that theSquire was very obliging, and was always willing to lend his boat to any one who knew how to manage it; and he was sorry that the boys were going to take it without leave. Indeed, he even remonstrated with them about it. But the only reply he got, was this from Oscar:—
“Who cares for old Walcott? Besides, he needn’t know anything about it, unless you go and tell him. You may go home, if you choose, but I’m bound to have a sail.”
Clinton got home before his parents returned; and, fortunately for him, Mr. Hardy came along soon after, and the message was delivered, so that this burden was removed from his conscience. He did not, however, feel exactly right in his mind; for though no harm had resulted from his absence, he had been guilty of something like a breach of trust, and his conscience continued to reprove him.
The boat aground
Jerry and Oscar amused themselves on the pond, for an hour longer; but though both of them attempted to act the skipper, neither knew much about managing a boat, and the result was, they run themselves aground, at a place where the bottom was soft mud, and wereunable to get afloat again. It was half a mile from their starting place, and they did not know how they should get the boat back to its anchoring ground. They got into the water, and tried to push it off, but it refused to go. At length, wearied with their exertions, and with their clothes wet and dirty, they concluded to wade ashore, and leave the stolen boat to take care of itself. In going home, they avoided the road, as much as possible, and skulked through the woods, lest theyshould be seen; but after they had reached their home, and considered themselves beyond the danger of discovery, they began to treat the affair as a joke, and laughed to think how mad “old Walcott” would be, when he found his boat aground, half a mile from the place where it belonged. They did not seem to realize that they had acted meanly and wickedly, in taking possession without leave, of Squire Walcott’s boat, and in leaving it aground, without informing him of its whereabouts. If they could escape detection, it mattered little to them whether their conduct had been right or wrong.
These two boys were unlike Clinton, in many respects. Jerry,—or, to give, him his full name, Jeremiah Preston,—lived in the nearest farm-house to Mr. Davenport’s.[1]There was more than half a mile’s distance between the two families; but as there were no nearer neighbors, they were on pretty intimate terms. Jerry was but a few months older than Clinton, and the two boys had been playmates almost from the cradle. Mr. Preston was engaged in the loggingand lumbering business, which required him to be away from home, in the forests, a large portion of the year. As Jerry’s mother did not succeed very well in governing her household, the long and frequent absences of Mr. Preston from his family were unfortunate for the children, especially for Jerry, who was the eldest child, and the only son. During the few months of each year the father spent at home, he was more inclined to humor his children, than to train them to obedience. Sometimes, it is true, in a moment of passion, he would punish Jerry severely, for some offence; but at another time, he would entirely overlook a much more serious fault. Under the influence of this bad training, it is not strange that Jerry was getting to be an ungovernable and mischievous boy.
Oscar Preston was a cousin to Jerry, who had recently come from Boston, to spend a few months in Brookdale. He was about a year older than Jerry, in age, but was several years his senior in bad habits. He had in fact become almost unmanageable at home, and it was on this account, as well as to get him away from the evil influences of the city, that his father sent him into the country. He had never been taught tolabor, and as he now had nothing to do, and there was no school to attend, and no one to restrain him, he did not seem to grow much better by his banishment from home. It is said that idleness is the mother of mischief, and Oscar furnished daily proof of the truth of the saying. His adventure with the boat is but a specimen of the way in which he amused himself.
The influence of Oscar Preston upon the other boys in the village, and especially upon Jerry, from whom he was seldom separated, soon became very perceptible. He had seen more of the world than they, and never wearied of telling of the wonders of the city, often exaggerating his stories, to make them the more marvellous. In addition to this, he was naturally bright and intelligent, and was more genteelly dressed than the village boys; but the qualities that contributed most to his influence over his associates, were his daring spirit, and his imperious, commanding bearing, which seemed to mark him for a leader. But he had been permitted to have his own way so long at home, that he had become headstrong and unmanageable; and his evil passions were daily growing stronger, while the voice of conscience within him wasas rapidly becoming weaker. It is sad, indeed, to see a youth growing up in this manner, for he is like the sailor who should go to sea in a frail boat, without anchor, rudder, or compass. He may be delivered from early destruction, through the mercy of Providence, but he will not escape many struggles and losses.
FOOTNOTES:[1]See the map on page14. Clinton’s home is numbered 1, and Jerry’s 2. The building numbered 3 is the school-house.
[1]See the map on page14. Clinton’s home is numbered 1, and Jerry’s 2. The building numbered 3 is the school-house.
[1]See the map on page14. Clinton’s home is numbered 1, and Jerry’s 2. The building numbered 3 is the school-house.