The Voyage of the Rattletrap | Page 7

he said, "that the rancher and the cook will
sleep in the wagon, and let you sleep under the wagon. Nothing makes
a boy grow like sleeping rolled up in a blanket under a wagon. You'll
be six inches taller if you do it every night till we get back."
"Well, I don't think so," said Ollie, just a little alarmed at the prospect.
"I'd prefer to sleep in the wagon. Maybe what Grandpa Oldberry said
about wild animals is so. You say you like to shoot 'em, so you stay
outside and do it--I don't."
At last it was arranged that Ollie and I should sleep inside and Jack
under the wagon. We were surprised to find how early we were ready
for bed. The long ride and the fresh air had given us an appetite for
sleep. So we soon turned in, the dog staying outside with Jack.
"Good-night, Uncle Jack!" called Ollie, as we put out the lantern and

covered up in the narrow bed. "Look out for painters!"
I was almost asleep when Ollie shook me, and whispered, "What's that
noise?"
I listened, and heard a regular, hollow, booming sound, something like
the very distant discharge of cannon.
"It's the horses walking on the ground-always sounds that way in the
night," I answered.
Again I was almost asleep when Ollie took hold of my arm, and said,
"What's that?"
[Illustration: Effect of a Strange Noise]
I once more listened, and recognized a peculiar creaking noise as that
made by the horses cropping off the grass. I explained to Ollie, and
then dropped off sound asleep. I don't know how long it was, but after
some time I was again roused up by a nervous shake.
"Listen to that," whispered Ollie. "What can it be?"
I sat up cautiously and listened. It was a strange, rattling, unearthly
sound, which I could not account for any better than Ollie.
"It's a bear," he whispered. "I heard them make that noise at the park
back home."
I was puzzled, and concluded that it must be some wild animal. I took
down one of the guns, crept softly to the front end of the wagon, raised
the flap, and looked out. The wind was still, and the night air met my
face with a cool, damp feeling. The moon had just risen and the lake
was like silver. I could see the horses lying asleep like dark mounds.
But the mysterious noise kept up, and even grew louder. I grasped the
gun firmly, and let myself cautiously out of the front end of the wagon.
Then I climbed back in less softly and hung up the gun.
"Wh-what is it?" asked Ollie, in a faint whisper.

"It's your eloquent Uncle Jack snoring," I said. "He's one of Grandpa
Oldberry's sim'lar varmints."

III: FROM LOOKOUT LAKE TO THE MISSOURI RIVER
Our first night in the Rattletrap passed without further incident--that is,
the greater part of it passed, though Ollie declared that it lacked a good
deal of being all passed when we got up. The chief reason for our early
rise was Old Blacky, a member of our household (or perhaps
wagonhold) not yet introduced in this history. Old Blacky was the mate
of Old Browny, and the two made up our team of horses. Old Browny
was a very well-behaved, respectable old nag, extremely fond of quiet
and oats. He invariably slept all night, and usually much of the day; he
was a fit companion for our dog. It was the firm belief of all on board
that Old Browny could sleep anywhere on a fairly level stretch of road
without stopping.
But Old Blacky was another sort of beast. He didn't seem to require any
sleep at all. What Old Blacky wanted was food. He loved to sit up all
night and eat, and keep us awake. He seldom even lay down at night,
but would moon about the camp and blunder against things, fall over
the wagon-tongue, and otherwise misbehave. Sometimes when we
camped where the grass was not just to his liking he would put his head
into the wagon and help himself to a mouthful of bedquilt or a bite of
pillow. He was little but an appetite mounted on four legs, and next to
food he loved a fight. Besides the name of Old Blacky, we also knew
him as the Blacksmith's Pet; but this will have to be explained later on.
On this first morning, just as it was becoming light in the east, Old
Blacky began to make his toilet by rubbing his shoulder against one
corner of the wagon. As he was large and heavy, and rubbed as hard as
he could, he soon had the wagon tossing about like a boat; and