Baby Pitchers Trials | Page 9

could not attend to making the cage. If he succeeded in catching one--and he thought he should, for the spring was full of them--Flora was to have all the perfumery she wanted. So she was comforted, and in time--a very short time--forgot all about the robin. Bertie set his trap, and waited. Nobody believed in the musk-rat but Flora. She had faith in the success of all Bertie's undertakings. Everybody else laughed at him for his pains. Charley said he was a "goney," whatever that may be, and Amy advised him to turn his attention to something sensible. He travelled down to the spring every morning before breakfast, and with quickly beating heart examined the trap. There was nothing in it, but there were tracks all around. He resolved to follow up those tracks, and see what would come of them. It was a long walk to the spring, and a lonely walk. Other traps were set thereabouts, but their owners lived near by, or came from the upper road. Of course he never asked for Charley's company. Charley had no faith, and he ridiculed the idea of going so often on a wild-goose chase. But Bertie reasoned within himself,--other fellows caught musk-rats, why should not he? His traps were as good as theirs, his bait the same. To be sure he never had caught one, but that was no reason he never should. There must be a first time for every thing. And when he did trap one, wouldn't Charley change his tune? The spring was alive with musk-rats. One should find the way into his trap. He hoped it would be a "buster." He was on the road to the spring, when these thoughts passed through his mind. There had been a white frost, and the air was keen. He thrust his hands into his pockets, and ran along, whistling cheerfully. His spirits were light, and his hopes high. He half expected to find a musk-rat in his trap. He had made the path to it so easy and inviting, surely something must have found the way thither. Not a musk-rat, perhaps, but something. When he got there, he was surprised to find a boy examining his trap. It was not an agreeable surprise, for the boy was Jack Midnight; the very last person in the world with whom he desired to have any dealings. It was the same Jack who dishonestly made way with Charley's calico rooster. Bertie was angry. Without stopping to inquire into the circumstances, as he would have done if it had been any other boy, he at once jumped to a wrong conclusion. He thought that Jack was plotting mischief, and without waiting for his hot blood to cool, he called, quickly,
"Come out of that!"
"Do you know what you are gabbing about?" queried Jack.
"I guess I do."
"And I guess you don't. Supposing you hold your horses a minute?"
"It is a mean thing, any how, to meddle with another fellow's trap."
"It is your trap, is it?"
"Yes, it is."
"Well, who's a meddling?"
"You."
"I ain't."
"You are."
"I say I ain't; and who knows best, I should like to know?"
You may know that Bertie was angry, or he would not have stooped to bandy words with such a boy. Besides he would have been afraid, for Jack was a big boy. He was larger, stronger, and a great deal older than Bertie, and he was much better qualified for fighting in every way. He had had a deal of practice. But when a boy is angry, he does not stop to consider consequences. It was fortunate for Bertie that Jack did not feel disposed to quarrel with him. He could have shaken him as easily as a dog shakes a squirrel, and resistance would have been of no avail. For once, Jack was doing nothing to be ashamed of, and he knew he was right. That helps a boy a great deal. When he knows he is right, he does not feel half so much like striking back. Perhaps you think he did strike back when he replied to Bertie's uncivil words; but you must remember that Jack was a desperate fellow, and if he had not been well disposed he would hardly have taken the trouble to strike with his tongue. And language that would sound very rough from the lips of a better bred boy, was not so bad, after all, coming from Jack Midnight. He was secretly very much ashamed of his conduct towards the rooster, particularly as Charley and Bertie had never taken any notice of it. They had simply allowed him to go his own way, taking care, however, that his track never crossed theirs. When they could avoid it, they did not speak to him; when they could not, they were civil in