The Project Gutenberg eBook of The 'B. O. W. C.', by Prof. James de Mille

In Mud and Water.—A Sea Monster.—A terrific Fight.—Wonderful Pluck of the “B. O. W. C.”—Swallowing a Sculpin.—The Trophy.—Waiting for Deliverance.

FINDING themselves thus fixed in the mud, they looked around to see the place at which they had thus unexpectedly arrived. In front of them was a bank about sixty feet high, which extended for some miles away, commencing with the rocky headland, and covered with trees on the top; while beyond this, the country rose into hills. As far as they could see, there was no opening in the shore to indicate the presence of a cove or a harbor. From the appearance of the water, it seemed as though the mud flat extended for miles along the shore. The water was comparatively smooth, and the headland kept off the wind, so that after they had lowered the sails, the schooner remained quite still.

It was now about noon, and they knew that the tide was rising. A wide space of the mud flat lay still uncovered by the water. Their position was a safe one as yet, though not at all pleasant on many accounts.

“Well, it doesn’t make much difference, for we couldn’t do anything if we did get there.”

“I say, boys,” said Arthur, “the schooner’s beginning to float again.”

“Yes,” said Bruce, “the tide has risen since we struck, and is floating us in. At high tide we shall be close up under the bank.”

“And then what shall we do? We must either choose to fasten the vessel ashore if we can, or float out again and sail for it, or drift.”

“I don’t think we’ll care about sailing again, particularly as the tide will be going out, and the night coming on.”

“My idea is,” said Bruce, “to fasten her to the shore if we can, and then go along the beach or the bank till we find some people and get help.”

“That’s about all we can do,” said Bart. “We can’t think of going adrift, and none of us can sail the vessel; so, if they don’t come after us, we had better land, and leave the vessel; or some of us can go for help, and others stay on board.”

“O, safe enough—if a gale don’t spring up in that case she might get knocked on the bank.”

“We don’t seem to have been hurt by our knocking up there,” said Arthur. “There’s no water in the hold.”.

“O, she’s all right,” said Bruce; “and she’s a gallant, gallant ship, as the song says.”.

The vessel was steadily floated nearer and nearer to the shore as the tide rose, and the boys watched her progress with close attention. At about three o’clock they could expect to be up to the bank, and then they would have to find some way to fasten her.

Suddenly Bart, who had been looking down the shore, pointed to something, and said,—

“Why, it’s a wier for fish. It shows that people must be living not far from here. It shows, too, that we can get something to eat at low tide, even if there are no people. So, hurrah, boys we’re all right yet.”

“The fact is,” said Bruce, solemnly, “I must confess that I’m starving. I’ve felt the pangs of hunger for the last two hours, and I can’t stand it any longer. I’m going to have a regular rummage down below, for I’m bound to find something.”

All the rest followed Bruce as he went below, and they began to overhaul the whole vessel. For some time they found nothing but a beggarly array of empty boxes, and loud were their murmurs and complaints.

“If it hadn’t been for that miserable Sammy Ram Ram, we’d have a few turkeys and chickens here,” said Bruce. “How that fellow and Johnny Blue managed to get through with them all, I can’t understand.”

“Pooh! those two fellows did nothing else but stuff from the time they came on board till they got to Pratt’s Cove. Captain Corbet and the mate helped them, and so did Pat, too, no doubt. I haven’t any hard feeling against any of them, but I must say I wouldn’t be sorry if their food didn’t agree with them.”

“See here,” cried Tom, triumphantly. “Arn’t we in luck? Don’t ever fret again, boys. Here’s a half loaf of bread that I found in the corner. It’s rather stale, a little too dry, and too hard,—but I think it’s about the nicest morsel I ever saw. We’ve got our dinner provided for us, and we needn’t hanker after raw fish from the wiers any more.”

Tom’s joy was fully shared by all; and the half loaf of hard, stale, dried-up bread was quickly divided into five pieces, and eagerly devoured by the famished boys.

“And now,” said Bruce, “I feel like a giant refreshed. I’ll go on deck and have another look at the situation. My private opinion is, however, that if they’re coming after us, they’d better come. The tide’s getting higher every minute; and if they get here after we’ve fastened her to the shore, and got her high and dry, they’ll have to wait for twelve good hours before they can get her to float off again,—not to speak of spring tides. Do you know, Bart, if this is spring tide?”

“Well, then, we’ll have to trust to luck, I suppose. At the same time I’ve a great mind to go ashore and reconnoitre.”

“I’ll go too,” said Tom. “But oughtn’t some of us to stay on board?”

“I don’t believe there’s any chance of her drifting off while the tide is rising,” said Bruce; “and if she does drift off, I think we’re all better out of her than in her. So if one of us goes ashore, we’d all better go. It’s not more than three feet deep at the bows, and there’s a sand-spit over there within easy distance.”

“O, we’ll have to run the risk. There are a couple of boat-hooks there, and two of us can go ahead and try the ground with them. It’s not far to the spit.”

“Yes. It would be a great joke if we left our clothes behind, and the vessel drifted off with them.”

The boys now proceeded to undress themselves, and prepare to go ashore. Each one tied up his clothes in a compact bundle. Bruce and Bart took each a boat-hook, which lay in the schooner; Arthur took a handspike, and Tom and Phil found a stout stick each. Thus equipped, they prepared for the journey.

It was about one o’clock, and the tide would not be high for two hours yet. In front of them, and between them-and the bank, lay a broad expanse of mud flats, separating them from the bank by at least a quarter of a mile of distance. On their right, however, was a place which gave them a chance of a much better foothold than that which was offered-by the slippery and treacherous mud. This was a long sand-spit, which stretched out from the bank, and ran down across the mud flat and into the water. It approached to within a hundred yards of the schooner, and afforded not only a good walking-place, but a much nearer chance of dry land than was possible anywhere else..Running down over the flat, it rose above it to a height of from twelve to twenty inches, and was covered with sand, gravel, and round cobblestones. It was to this place that they intended to go.

Bruce led the way. Descending carefully over the bows, he dropped into the water, which he found up to his armpits. The others followed, and found it deeper for their shorter stature. It was over the shoulders of Bart and Phil. Bart, however, took his place by Bruce’s side, and prepared to walk ahead with his pole. Their first object was to get into shallower water, and so they walked in the direction of the shore until the water was not above their waists. Then they turned to the right, toward the sand-spit.

If it had not been for the bundles, they could have varied their progress by swimming; but as it was, they had to wade, and feel the way cautiously, for fear of air-holes and quicksands. The surface mud beneath their feet was very soft; but they did not sink very deeply, and with every step they acquired fresh confidence. As they neared the sand-spit, the bottom grew sensibly harder, and shoaled rapidly, till it was not much above their knees. At length it became a sandy bottom, and they walked along more rapidly, no longer feeling their way.

Suddenly they were startled by a wild shout from Arthur. He had been walking behind with Phil, and was some distance from the others, when rapidly, between him and them, darted the form of a large fish, which, in that shoal water, was as visible as if it were on land. At the cry which he gave, Bruce and the others turned, and saw Arthur with his handspike in the air, and the fish floundering and splashing close beside. For a moment the blood of all of them froze with horror; the next instant Arthur sprang forward, and dealt a tremendous blow with his heavy handspike full on the head of the fish.

The monster splashed and struggled, and moved back into deeper water for a few feet.

The boys all set off as fast as they could toward the sand-spit, which now was close by them.

But the fish was not to be easily escaped. In a few minutes it’s dark form was beside them, and soon it crossed immediately in front of Bruce and Bart. Mechanically, and in utter horror, both the boys swung up their boat-hooks, and dashed them wildly against the dark figure. Both struck home. There was a fearful splashing and writhing. Bart’s boat-hook was wrenched from his hand, and the fish darted forward into shoaler water.

“Run, boys, run!” shouted Bruce, holding his boathook toward the fish, and slowly retreating, so as to keep the monster in sight. Away they went, Phil and Tom first, then Arthur. Bart moved forward, and then, seeing his pole floating a few feet on one side, made a rush for it and secured it. Then he kept by Bruce’s side, ready to help him in guarding the retreat of the others.

The fish continued to splash and writhe about, either because he was bewildered by the shoal water, or else because he was suffering from the wounds which had been inflicted. As he did not pursue, Bruce and Bart took fresh courage.

“Pitch in, then!” cried Bruce; and rushing at the fish, he drove his boat-hook point deep into his side, while, at the same time, Bart, raising his into the air, struck down, so that the hooked part penetrated and held.

“Hook him, ‘Bruce!” shouted Bart. “Let’s drag him ashore.” Bruce raised his pole to do so; but at that instant the struggling, writhing fish turned towards them with furious energy, and moving over on its side, it tried to twist Bart’s hook out of its flesh. The water was so shallow that it could not have full exercise of its strength, and Bart held on. The fish, in its struggles, opened its gasping mouth, showing wide rows of sharp, triangular teeth. At that instant Bruce lowered his pole, and drove it straight into the open mouth; forcing it deep into the throat. The monster, in its agony, closed its jaws, and held it with a deathlike tenacity.

“Hurrah, boys! We’ve got him!” they cried. “Pull, Bruce, nearer the shore—into shoaler water.”

The water was already too shoal for the fish, which had so carelessly thrown himself into it, and his resistance could not prevent the united energies of Bruce and Bart from dragging him forward a few paces. But that was all. Rousing himself, the monster tossed, and writhed and struggled, and lashed the water into foam. Bruce and Bart could no longer drag him. It was a struggle between them; but the boys had now got their blood up, and they would have been dragged back to the schooner rather than loose their hold.

The fish, in its fury or its agony, still kept its teeth closed on Bruce’s pole, and strove to wrench it out of his grasp. His tremendous efforts were prevailing against their united strength, and were dragging them farther out. Bart’s hook had already been thrown off, and he was plunging the pointed iron again and again into the fish’s side.

At this instant Arthur came dashing through the foam. Raising his heavy handspike in the air, he poised it for a moment so as to take sure aim, and then, with tremendous force, the weapon descended full on the monster’s head. It was a crushing blow. The struggles and writhings ceased, and changed to feeble motions and occasional convulsive vibrations. It resisted no longer. It was powerless.

They dragged it upon the dry ground of the sand-spit, and examined their conquest.

The fish was about five feet long, very broad at the head and shoulders, with a very wide mouth, armed with several rows of saw-like teeth. The nose was rounded, and the jaw was underneath. Its back was a dark slate color, and its belly white.

“It’s what we call a Shovel-mouth Shark,” said Bruce, as he looked at it, and admired its proportions.

“It certainly, is a kind of shark,” said Arthur; “and as that sounds better, we’ll call it by that name. Boys, we’ve fought and killed a shovel-mouth shark! Let the ‘B. O. W. C.’ remember that!”

“We must keep his jaws as a trophy,” said Bruce. “Let’s cut him up and get his jaws. Who’s got a knife?”

Thereupon, with the aid of the knife, the fish was dissected. In the stomach they found a fish quite as remarkable as the one which had swallowed it. It was a sculpin, a fish whose bony covering, and spiny back, and horny head, and wonderful voracity, make it seem like those primeval fish that swam in the waters of the world in an age when all the inhabitants thereof were formed on a similarly monstrous model.

“What a fish,” cried Bart, “to swallow a sculpin! He must be a real shark, after all, for a shark could not beat that. I thought that it might have been by accident only that he met us, but it seems now as though he was ravenous enough to mean mischief. ’Pon my word, if I’d known about that sculpin, I think I would have run away instead of staying to fight.”

After examining the fish, the jaws were removed, and, carrying them, they walked up the sand-spit to the shore. Then dressing themselves, they sat down and rested for a time. Then Bruce and Bart climbed to the top of the bank, and went in different directions to explore. On coming back, each had the same story. They had met with nothing but fir trees and alder bushes, and had not seen a sign of any house whatever. On this they all decided to go to the top of the bank, and wait patiently until the tide was high, then fasten the schooner as well as they could, leave a message on board to indicate their course, and set off along the coast in search of inhabitants. With this decision, they climbed the bank to a conspicuous position, and there waited.

The tide rose higher and higher. Each increase in the depth of the water allowed the schooner to approach nearer to the shore, though there was a sidelong drift, which, from time to time, changed her position, sometimes presenting her bows to the beach, at other times her side.

The water was rising higher and still higher. The mud flats extended close up to the beach below, but the beach itself was formed of sand and gravel, and rose, by a steep slope, from the mud flat to the base of the bank. By two o’clock the water had reached the edge of the gravel.

“It will take an hour more,” said Bruce, “before it gets to high-water mark. One hour more, boys, and then off we must go to explore the country.”

XV.

Scratching for Clams.—How not to eat them.—Fearful Consequences of Folly.—A formidable Medicine Chest.—Prevention better than Cure.

MEANWHILE the people at Pratt’s Cove waited for the return of the captain and his company. The boys had excited the deepest sympathy of Mrs. Pratt by their loss of appetite, and she was anxious about the lost vessel. They had not eaten anything for tea; and after the meal was over, they walked down to their old place. It was about half past six o’clock, and a large part of the cove was already uncovered by the receding tide.

Sammy and Johnny both looked innocently down, and by their silence acknowledged the soft impeachment.

“I’ve a presentiment,” said Jiggins, “that I’m going to be very hungry before bed time.”

“1 shouldn’t wonder if some of the rest of us were like you,” said Muckle.

“And now,” said Jiggins, in a grave and solemn tone, “what ought we to do?”

“Deed, thin, an’ why don’t ye go aff an’ do somethin’?” said Pat, energetically. “Come, now, whatever ye do, I’m yer man. Is it another duck ye mane?”

“The fact is, I have my doubts about it. I don’t think it’s altogether right.”

“Thin what made ye ate it for?” said Pat. “There wor others that thought it was all right—they did.”

“Well,” said Pat, “if ye didn’t like the duck, how did ye like the pig? Ye’ll not be findin’ fault with that, I think.”

“O, botheration take your doubts. Why didn’t ye doubt before ye sat down?”

“Look,” said Muckle, waving his hand over toward the flats; “do you see that?”

“Why, of course—of course,” said Jiggins. “Why, so it is. What do you say, boys?”

“I say yis,” cried Pat. “Hurroo, boys! if we can’t have a duck, or a roaster, again, we’ll have clams.”

“Well, you wait here and kindle the fire, and get a pot ready. We’ll cook them the moment we get back.”

Upon this Jiggins, and Muckle, and Pat started off after the clams. Before leaving the shore, they got some sticks to use for scraping up the sand, and then directed their steps toward the creek. The creek ran through the middle of the cove, and on each side of it the wide flats extended up to the shore. These, toward the lower part of the cove, were formed of soft mud, but at the upper part they consisted of sand, in which appeared a multitude of little holes, which are generally called breathing-holes, about these parts, under the impression that they serve this purpose for the clams. By digging where these little holes are seen, the clams may be found buried in the sand and mud.

Toward the upper place they walked rapidly and eagerly, and looked anxiously around for the “breathing-holes.”

“See,” said he, pointing to the sand, which was dotted with little holes all around the place where they were standing.

“O, clams ain’t bad,” said Muckle, “when you can’t get oysters. So pitch in, Jiggins.”

“Well, I might as well have nothing. It’s like trying to eat rice with a chopstick, Chinese fashion. I’m going to try another plan.”

“Why, like the hens. I’m going to scratch for my food,” said Jiggins. “What were fingers made for?”

“Bedad! an’ if you’re the hen, I’ll be the chicken, an’ ate what you scratch up.”

“Doesn’t that look as if I knowed how?” said he, biting off the black tip of the clam, and throwing it down. “Scratch them along, my boy.”

“An’ here’s to your very good health, an’ long life to ye,” said Pat, as he swallowed it.

“Here’s another—and here—and here—and here, too—and here’s three.”

“Faith, thin, the more the merrier, and it’s meself that’s glad to see thim same,” said Pat, as he seized and opened them, one by one, and sent them flying after the others.

“Go it it is,” said Pat, seizing the clams with undiminished avidity, and devouring them.

“Here’s more, Pat. Don’t blame me if you see the ghost of your grandmother in your dreams tonight. And here’s more. Don’t blame me if you have the gripes, and have to stand on your head all night.”

“Niver you fare for me; but you go on wid yer scratching an’ let me ate in pace.”

The clams now came forth fast and furious. Muckle had found a place filled with them, and had heaped up his basket. Jiggins had a large pile on the sand, in front of which Pat had taken his station, and was vainly trying to keep up with Jiggins. But it was impossible, for Jiggins had found large numbers closely packed together.

“What’s the matter over there?” said Muckle. “Have you filled your basket, Jiggins?”

“Not yet. I’m busy filling Pat,” said Jiggins. “Hallo, Pat, you’re slow about it.”

“Niver fare. Slow is it? Thin I’ll be up wid ye before long. On’y give me time, as the schoolmaster said when they wor examinin’ him on the alphabet.”

“All right. But while I’m waiting, I’ll put these in the basket,” said Jiggins; and he began to fill his basket from the pile.

But Jiggins was tired; and after digging up some more he found the sand tinged red. To his amazement he saw that his nails were worn away, and were now bleeding. His fingers’ ends began to smart with acute pain, and he was compelled to desist.

“From the basket, is it? Not a bit of it,” said Pat; “I’ll only eat from your scratching.”

“I’ve scratched the basket full for you, and that’s enough. In fact it’s too much,” he added, as he felt fresh stings on his finger tips. “Besides, I’ve my doubts about it.”

“You’re a quare bird, wid yer doubts, an’ that’s all about it,” said Pat.

They then went back to the bank, where a bright fire was burning, and the pot was all ready, with sea-water boiling in it. Into this they threw the clams; and sitting down around the fire, they waited.

Pat sat in silence. There was a peculiar expression on his face. He grew moody and preoccupied. Frequent sighs escaped him.

Pat struggled against his secret grief most valiantly, but soon he could struggle no longer. A deep groan burst from him, and he fell back doubled up and writhing. His face was deadly pale, and big drops of perspiration stood on his brow. In his pain he rolled over and over, and moans and low cries escaped him.

“It’s the clams!” cried Jiggins. “O, I knew it. I had my doubts about it all the time.”

But for a long time they could do nothing. He writhed and struggled so that he could not be moved. At last Johnny Blue ran up for Mrs. Pratt. The good lady came down with a basket full of infallible remedies, and tended poor Pat for some time. At last he was easier, and they managed to get him up to the house, and put him in bed.

Jiggins went back with the others, and finished the clams. All were silent except Jiggins, who, every little while, would solemnly shake his head, and slowly ejaculate—

“It was not right. No, boys, it was not right. I felt so, for I had my doubts about it all the time.”

One thing surprised Mrs. Pratt when she was administering to Pat’s woes on the bank; and that was, the very savory smell of that clam stew which was simmering in a pot behind the bushes. She could not understand it, but concluded that it must be some great delicacy among the vessel’s stores lying on the bank, which had so very fragrant an odor. Afterward, when her mind was less preoccupied,—when Pat had been well rubbed, and poulticed, and blistered, and plied with herb tea, and all those other medicaments which the “medicine women” of the rural districts love so well; after all this had been attended to, then she began to think once more about that fragrant odor. And gradually, as she thought about it, there arose in her mind a conjecture as to what that odor might have arisen from; and the conjecture gathered itself inseparably around the idea of—“clams.”

It meant that there was danger abroad,—danger which impended over the young charges committed to her, and which she must counteract. It meant that some of them had been eating clams in the month of May—an act which, in her estimation, might produce consequences which could only be called terrible.

In the face of this great possible danger, Mrs. Pratt gathered herself up, and prepared to meet it boldly. Already all her doctoring instincts had been roused into full play by the case of Pat, and having begun a good work, it was not easy to stop abruptly. She had got her hand in, as the saying is, and she wanted to finish her work. It did not take long for her to come to the stern conclusion that the work must be fully completed.

So she first of all brought forth her little store of medicaments of all kinds, and ranged them on the kitchen table. They presented a formidable show. There were,—

     1 bottle Mint tea.

     1 “   Essence of peppermint.
     1 “   Ginger extract.
     1 “   Cayenne pepper extract.
     1 “   Paregoric.
     1 “   Rum and onions.
     1 “   Sulphur and molasses.
     1 “   Sour cream.
     1 “   Eye wash.
     1 “   Pratt’s pain killer..
     1 “   Hemlock water.
     1 “   Tar water.
     1 “   Poppy juice.
     1 “   Essence of smoko.
     1 “   Brandy and salt.
     1 “   Castor oil.
     1 “   Camomile water.
     1 “   Mineral water.
     1 “   Pratt’s antidote.
     1 “   Hair wash.
     1 “   Ear wash.
     1 “   Toothache drops.
     1 “   Creosote.
     1 “   Rowland’s Macassar oil.
     1 “   Cocoaine.

     1 bottle Salt and treacle.
     1 “   Antibilions mixture.
     1 “   Arnica.
     1 “   Opodeldoc.
     1 “   Hartshorn.
     1 “   Aromatic vinegar.
     1 “   Sweet oil.
     1 “   Benzine.
     1 “   Grease eradicator.
     1 “   Lye.
     1 “   Tobacco water.
     1 “   Wild honey.
     1 “   Lime juice.
     1 “   Alcohol.
     1 “   Cod liver oil.
     1 “   Neats foot oil.

     In addition to these, she had,—

     1 parcel Wormwood.
     1 “   Camomile flowers,
     1 “   Cardamum seeds.
     1 “   Birch bark.
     1 “   Spruce gum.
     1 “   Bosin.
     1 “   Dandelion.
     1 “   Elm bark.
     1 “   Elder berries.
     1 “   Hops.
     1 “   Gum arabic.
     1 “   Catnip.

     1 parcel Spearmint.
     1 “   Peppermint.
     1 “   Beeswax.
     1 “   Boot ginger.
     1 “   Cloves.
     1 “   Alum.
     1 “   Magnesia.
     1 “   Balm of Giles
     1 “   Horseradish.
     1 “   Flagroot.
     1 “   Sarsaparilla.
     1 “   Sassafras.
     1 “   Soap.
     1 pot Pomatum.
     1 box Lard.
     1 bundle Lint.
     1 parcel Senna.
     1 pot Mucilage.
     1 parcel Salts.
     1 “   Cotton wool.
     1 “   Diachylon.
     1 pot Mustard.
     1 parcel Calomel.
     1 box Blue pills.
     1 “   Cantharides.
     1 “   Garlic.
     1 “   White lead.

And a great many other things, which had accumulated in her closet, and which she now brought forth for the especial benefit of the four boys. Having selected some from among these, she sat calmly awaiting their return.

When the boys came back from the bank,—. where they had been enjoying their clam stew,—. this was the sight that greeted their eyes on entering the kitchen: a table filled with bottles and vials, another table filled with parcels and bundles, and on the floor jugs, boxes, kegs, firkins, and bags, in the midst of all of which sat Mrs. Pratt, with her eyes gleaming, from behind her spectacles, upon them, and an expression of benevolent yet unshakable resolution upon her face.

The boys entered one by one, and took their seats, looking suspiciously around. There was something in the general appearance of things which did not altogether satisfy them.

“Ehem—ehe-e-em!” said Jiggins, at last, to whom the suspense was becoming intolerable.

“Ehe-e-em!” he remarked a third time. “Is—ah—is Pat—ah—any better?”

“That’s right—that’s good. I feel very much relieved. I’ve blamed myself very much for letting him do as he did.”

“What do you mean?” she asked. “You all had clams, as well as he. You had a clam stew. Why should he suffer more’n you’ns?”

The boys started, and looked at one another. How in the world had Mrs. Pratt found out about the clams? They felt uneasy at first, but soon recollected that, after all, cooking clams was no harm. So they regained their courage.

“Why, you see,” said Jiggins, at last, “it was different with Pat. We had them cooked, but he ate them raw.”

“Why, certainly—of course,” said Jiggins, looking at Mrs. Pratt anxiously; while all the other boys stared at her in dire anticipation of some fearful disclosure.

“Not a mite,” said Mrs. Pratt. “There isn’t a mite of difference between you,—all of you, mind, and him,—on’y he was kind o’ took bad at onst, an’ you’re a waitin’. Let me sec. How long is it since you finished eatin’?”

“Well, I supposed so. Ye-ry well,” repeated Mrs. Pratt, in the tone of a cool physician, who feels gratified when a disease takes the form he suspected, even when it is attended with pain and danger to the patient. “Yes, that’s it; and now can you remember how long a time it was after Pat had done eating the raw clams to the fust pain he felt?”

The boys looked in fearful anxiety at one another, and then all eyes turned to Jiggins. He turned pale, and all the expression of his face changed to one dismal blank.

“Well—as near as I can remember,” said Jig-gins, in a faltering voice, “it’s—about—I should think—somewhere near—perhaps—the neighborhood of half an hour—that is, more or less.”

“Well,” said Mrs. Pratt, with a benevolent smile, “somewhere about half an hour from this you’ll feel the same.”

The effect was powerful. Four pale faces looked, with awful eyes, at her, and at one another. Not a word was spoken in reply.

“Very well. You’ll have it hot and heavy, mind I tell you. Pat will be beginning to feel quite comfortable just as you begin to get took.”

“But—but,” ‘said Jiggins, rousing himself despairingly, “I thought—that is, I always heard—that clams were good stewed—and I never heard that even raw clams were bad, except when you took too many of them.”

“Shows how your parients neglected your edication,” said Mrs. Pratt, loftily. “They didn’t understand the natur’ of the clam, certain. It isn’t the cooking, or the not cooking, of the clam that makes it so dangerous; it’s the clam itself—or rather, the clam at this season of the year. That’s what makes it dangerous.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of that? Dear! dear! dear! An’ yet you go to the Academy, and don’t know about clams. Dear! dear! dear!”

“Poison!” ejaculated the others, in horror at the thrilling whisper in which Mrs. Pratt hurled this word at them.

“Yes, pison! Hain’t you ever heerd the old lines,

‘In the months without the “R,”
Clams a deadly pison are’?

That means May, June, July, and August. Another verse, says,

’In August, May, July, and June,
All shell fishes lead to ruin.’

That means, you see, that in the summer months these things are as bad as pison.”

“What shall we do?” cried Jiggins, after a long, despairing silence, in which these fearful words sank deep into the hearts of all. “What shall we do?”

“Well,” said Mrs. Pratt, with a benevolent smile, “you’d ort ter be thankful that you’ve got me. I am jest the person to treat your case. I’ve got the medicine all ready. If you take it in time, you may avoid trouble. As there’s only been a few minutes sence you ate the pison clams, p’raps you may get off without much pain. I’ve jest got some herb tea, some drinks of different kinds, some mustard poultices, and two or three more mixtures for you. I won’t bleed any of you if I can help it. Only jest give yourselves up to me, and trust to me. But there must be no delay. I have the mixtures all ready.”

Saying this, Mrs. Pratt rose like an ogress, and advanced upon the unhappy boys. Filled with fears of poison, looking upon her as their only safety, they made no resistance, but swallowed, one by one, the nauseous mixtures which were given. And still she stood over them, talking about the danger before them, and forcing upon them more medicaments.

XIV.

XV.