"O, it looks like a little baked apple, all wrinkled up; but it's right sweet. Ugh!" added Horace, making a wry face; "you better look out when they're green: they pucker your mouth up a good deal worse'n choke-cherries."
"What's a papaw?"
"A papaw? Well, it's a curious thing, not much account. The pigs eat it.
It tastes like a custard, right soft and mellow. Come, let's go to work."
"Well, what's a tree of heaven?"
"O, Peter, for pity's sakes how do I know? It's a tree of heaven, I suppose. It has pink hollyhocks growing on it. What makes you ask so many questions?"
Upon that the boys went to work picking boxberry leaves, which grew at the roots of the pine trees, among the soft moss and last year's cones.
Horace was very anxious to gather enough for some beer; but it was strange how many it took to fill such "_enormous_ big baskets."
"Now," said Horace, "I move we look over yonder for some wintergreen.
You said you knew it by sight."
"Wintergreen? wintergreen?" echoed Peter: "O, yes, I know it well enough. It spangles 'round. See, here's some; the girls make wreaths of it."
It was _moneywort_; but Horace never doubted that Peter was telling the truth, and supposed his grandmother would be delighted to see such quantities of wintergreen.
After some time spent in gathering this, Horace happened to remember that he wanted sarsaparilla.
"I reckon," thought he, "they'll be glad I came, if I carry home so many things."
Peter knew they could find sarsaparilla, for there was not a root of any sort which did not grow "in the pines;" of that he was sure. So they struck still deeper into the woods, every step taking them farther from home. Pincher followed, as happy as a dog can be; but, alas! never dreaming that serious trouble was coming.
The boys dug up various roots with their jackknives; but they both knew the taste of sarsaparilla, and could not be deceived.
"We hain't come to it yet," said Peter; "but it's round here somewheres, I'll bet a dollar."
"I'm getting hungry," said Horace: "isn't it about time for the dinner-bell to ring?"
"Pretty near," replied Peter, squinting his eyes and looking at the sky as if there was a noon-mark up there, and he was the boy to find it.
"That bell will ring in fifteen minutes: you see if it don't."
But it did not, though it was high noon, certainly. Hours passed. Horace remembered they were to have had salt codfish and cream gravy for dinner. Aunt Madge had said so; also a roly-poly with foaming sauce. It must now be long ago since the sugar and butter were beaten together for that sauce. He wondered if there would be any pudding left. He was sure he should like it cold, and a glass of water with ice in it.
O, how many times he could have gone to the barrel which stood by the sink, and drunk such deep draughts of water, when he didn't care anything about it! But now he was so thirsty, and there was not so much as a teaspoonful of water to be found!
[Illustration: CAPTAIN HORACE LOST. Page 42.]
"I motion we go home," said Horace, for at least the tenth time.
"Well," replied Peter, sulkily, "ain't we striking a bee-line?"
"We've got turned round," said Horace: "Canada is over yonder, _I_ know."
"Pshaw! no, it ain't, no such a thing."
But they were really going the wrong way. The village bell had rung at noon, as usual, but they were too far off to hear it. It was weary work winding in and out, in and out, among the trees and stumps. With torn clothes, bleeding hands, and tired feet, the poor boys pushed on.
"Of course we're right," said Peter, in a would-be brave tone: "don't you remember that stump?"
"No, I don't, Peter Grant," replied Horace, who was losing his patience: "I never was here before. Humph! I thought you could find your way with your eyes shut."
"Turn and go t'other way, then," said Peter, adding a wicked word I cannot repeat.
"I will," replied Horace, coolly: "if I'd known you used such swearing words I never'd have come!"
"Hollo, there!" shouted Peter, a few moments after, "I'll keep with you, and risk it, cap'n."
"Come on, then," returned Horace, who was glad of Peter's company just now, little as he liked him. "Where's our baskets?" said he, stopping short.
"Sure enough," cried Peter; "but we can't go back now."
They had not gone far when they were startled by a cry from Pincher, a sharp cry of pain. He stood stock still, his brown eyes almost starting from their sockets with agony and fear. It proved that he had stumbled upon a fox-trap which was concealed under some dry twigs, and his right fore-paw was caught fast.
Here was a dilemma. The boys tried with all their might to set poor Pincher free; but it seemed as if they only made matters worse.
"What an old nuisance of a dog!" cried Peter; "just as we'd got to goin'
on the right road."
"Be still, Peter Grant! Hush your mouth! If you say a word against my dog you'll catch it. Poor little Pincher!" said Horace, patting him gently and laying his cheek down close to his face.
The suffering creature licked his hands, and said with his eloquent eyes,--
"Dear little master, don't take it to heart. You didn't know I'd get hurt! You've always been good to poor Pincher."
"I'd rather have given a dollar," said Horace; "O, Pincher! I wish 'twas my foot; I tell you I do!"
They tried again, but the trap held the dog's paw like a vice.
"I'll tell you what," said Peter; "we'll leave the dog here, and go home and get somebody to come."
"You just behave, Peter Grant," said Horace, looking very angry. "I shouldn't want to be _your_ dog! Just you hold his foot still, and I'll try again."
This time Horace examined the trap on all sides, and, being what is called an ingenious boy, did actually succeed at last in getting little Pincher's foot out.
"Whew! I didn't think you could," said Peter, admiringly.
"_You_ couldn't, Peter; you haven't sense enough."
The foot was terribly mangled, and Pincher had to be carried home in arms.
"I should like to know, Peter, who set that trap. If my father was here, he'd have him in the lock-up."
"Poh! it wasn't set for dogs," replied Peter, in an equally cross tone, for both the boys were tired, hungry, and out of sorts. "Don't you know nothin'? That's a bear-trap!"
"A bear-trap! Do you have bears up here?"