________________________________________________
_ When Ben awoke next morning, he looked about him for a
moment half bewildered, because there was neither a
canvas tent, a barn roof, nor the blue sky above him,
but a neat white ceiling, where several flies buzzed
sociably together, while from without came, not the tramping of
horses, the twitter of swallows, or the chirp of early
birds, but the comfortable cackle of hens and the
sound of two little voices chanting the multiplication
table.
Sancho sat at the open window, watching the old
cat wash her face, and trying to imitate her with his
great ruffled paw, so awkwardly that Ben laughed;
and Sanch, to hide his confusion at being caught,
made one bound from chair to bed, and licked his
master's face so energetically that the boy dived under
the bedclothes to escape from the rough tongue.
A rap on the floor from below made both jump up,
and in ten minutes a shiny-faced lad and a lively dog
went racing downstairs, -- one to say, "Good-mornin',
ma'am," the other to wag his tail faster than ever
tail wagged before, for ham frizzled on the stove, and
Sancho was fond of it.
"Did you rest well? " asked Mrs. Moss, nodding
at him, fork in hand.
"Guess I did! Never saw such a bed. I'm used
to hay and a horse-blanket, and lately nothin' but sky
for a cover and grass for my feather-bed," laughed
Ben, grateful for present comforts and making light of
past hardships.
"Clean, sweet corn-husks ain't bad for young bones,
even if they haven't got more flesh on them than
yours have," answered Mrs. Moss, giving the smooth
head a motherly stroke as she went by.
"Fat ain't allowed in our profession, ma'am. The
thinner the better for tight-ropes and tumblin';
likewise bareback ridin' and spry jugglin'. Muscle's the
thing, and there you are."
Ben stretched out a wiry little arm with a clenched
fist at the end of it, as if he were a young Hercules,
ready to play ball with the stove if she gave him leave.
Glad to see him in such good spirits, she pointed to
the well outside, saying pleasantly, --
"Well, then, just try your muscle by bringing in
some fresh water."
Ben caught up a pail and ran off, ready to be useful;
but, while he waited for the bucket to fill down
among the mossy stones, he looked about him, well
pleased with all he saw, -- the small brown house with
a pretty curl of smoke rising from its chimney, the
little sisters sitting in the sunshine, green hills and
newly-planted fields far and near, a brook dancing
through the orchard, birds singing in the elm avenue,
and all the world as fresh and lovely as early summer
could make it.
"Don't you think it's pretty nice here?" asked Bab,
as his eye came back to them after a long look, which
seemed to take in every thing, brightening as it roved.
"Just the nicest place that ever was. Only needs
a horse round somewhere to be complete," answered
Ben, as the long well-sweep came up with a dripping
bucket at one end, an old grindstone at the other.
"The judge has three, but he's so fussy about them
he won't even let us pull a few hairs out of old Major's
tail to make rings of," said Betty, shutting her arithmetic,
with an injured expression.
"Mike lets me ride the white one to water when
the judge isn't round. It's such fun to go jouncing
down the lane and back. I do love horses!" cried
Bab, bobbing up and down on the blue bench to
imitate the motion of white Jenny.
"I guess you are a plucky sort of a girl," and Ben
gave her an approving look as he went by, taking
care to slop a little water on Mrs. Puss, who stood
curling her whiskers and humping up her back at
Sancho.
"Come to breakfast!" called Mrs. Moss; and for
about twenty minutes little was said, as mush and
milk vanished in a way that would have astonished
even Jack the Giant-killer with his leather bag.
"Now, girls, fly round and get your chores done up;
Ben, you go chop me some kindlings; and I'll make
things tidy. Then we can all start off at once," said
Mrs. Moss, as the last mouthful vanished, and Sancho
licked his lips over the savory scraps that fell to his
share.
Ben fell to chopping so vigorously that chips flew
wildly all about the shed; Bab rattled the cups into
her dish-pan with dangerous haste, and Betty raised
a cloud of dust "sweeping-up;" while mother seemed
to be everywhere at once. Even Sanch, feeling that
his fate was at stake, endeavored to help in his own
somewhat erratic way, -- now frisking about Ben at
the risk of getting his tail chopped off, then trotting
away to poke his inquisitive nose into every closet
and room whither he followed Mrs. Moss in her "flying
round" evolutions; next dragging off the mat
so Betty could brush the door-steps, or inspecting
Bab's dish-washing by standing on his hind-legs to
survey the table with a critical air. When they drove
him out he was not the least offended, but gayly
barked Puss up a tree, chased all the hens over the
fence, and carefully interred an old shoe in the garden,
where the remains of the mutton-bone were already buried.
By the time the others were ready, he had worked
off his superfluous spirits, and trotted behind the party
like a well-behaved dog accustomed to go out walking with
ladies. At the cross-roads they separated,
the little girls running on to school, while Mrs. Moss
and Ben went up to the Squire's big house on the
hill.
"Don't you be scared, child. I'LL make it all right
about your running away; and if the Squire gives
you a job, just thank him for it, and do your best to
be steady and industrious; then you'll get on, I
haven't a doubt," she whispered, ringing the Ben at
a side-door, on which the word "Morris" shone in
bright letters.
"Come in!" called a gruff voice; and, feeling very
much as if he were going to have a tooth out, Ben
meekly followed the good woman, who put on her
pleasantest smile, anxious to make the best possible
impression.
A white-headed old gentleman sat reading a paper,
and peered over his glasses at the new-comers with a
pair of sharp eyes, saying in a testy tone, which would
have rather daunted any one who did not know what a
kind heart he had under his capacious waistcoat, --
"Good-morning, ma'am. What's the matter now?
Young tramp been stealing your chickens?"
"Oh, dear no, sir! " exclaimed Mrs. Moss, as if
shocked at the idea. Then, in a few words, she told
Ben's story, unconsciously making his wrongs and
destitution so pathetic by her looks and tones, that
the Squire could not help being interested, and even
Ben pitied himself as if he were somebody else.
"Now, then, boy, what can you do?" asked the
old gentleman, with an approving nod to Mrs. Moss
as she finished, and such a keen glance from under
his bushy brows that Ben felt as if be was perfectly
transparent.
"'Most any thing, sir, to get my livin'."
"Can you weed ? "
"Never did, but I can learn, sir."
"Pull up all the beets and leave the pigweed, hey?
Can you pick strawberries?"
"Never tried any thing but eatin' 'em, sir,"
"Not likely to forget that part of the job. Can
you ride a horse to plow?"
"Guess I could, sir!" -- and Ben's eyes began to
sparkle, for he dearly loved the noble animals who
had been his dearest friends lately.
"No antics allowed. My horse is a fine fellow,
and I'm very particular about him."
The Squire spoke soberly, but there was a twinkle
in his eye, and Mrs. Moss tried not to smile; for the
Squire's horse was a joke all over the town, being
about twenty years old, and having a peculiar gait of
his own, lifting his fore-feet very high, with a great
show of speed, though never going out of a jog-trot.
The boys used to say he galloped before and walked
behind, and made all sorts of fun of the big, Roman-
nosed beast, who allowed no liberties to be taken
with him.
"I'm too fond of horses to hurt 'em, Sir. As for
ridin', I ain't afraid of any thing on four legs. The
King of Morocco used to kick and bite like fun, but
I could manage him first-rate."
"Then you'd be able to drive cows to pasture,
perhaps?"
"I've drove elephants and camels, ostriches and
grizzly bears, and mules, and six yellow ponies all to
oncet. May be I could manage cows if I tried hard,"
answered Ben, endeavoring to be meek and respectful
when scorn filled his soul at the idea of not being
able to drive a cow.
The Squire liked him all the better for the droll
mixture of indignation and amusement betrayed by
the fire in his eyes and the sly smile round his lips; and beingrather tickled by Ben's list of animals, he answered gravely, --
"Don't raise elephants and camels much round
here. Bears used to be plenty, but folks got tired of
them. Mules are numerous, but we have the two-legged kind;
and as a general thing prefer Shanghae fowls to ostriches."
He got no farther, for Ben laughed out so infectiously that both
the others joined him; and somehow that jolly laugh seemed to
settle matters than words. As they stopped, the Squire tapped on
the window behind him, saying, with an attempt at
the former gruffness, --
"We'll try you on cows awhile. My man will
show you where to drive them, and give you some
odd jobs through the day. I'll see what you are
good for, and send you word to-night, Mrs. Moss.
The boy can sleep at your house, can't he?"
"Yes, indeed, sir. He can go on doing it, and
come up to his work just as well as not. I can see
to him then, and he won't be a care to any one," said
Mrs. Moss, heartily.
"I'll make inquiries concerning your father, boy;
meantime mind what you are about, and have a good
report to give when he comes for you," returned the
Squire, with a warning wag of a stern fore-finger.
"Thanky', sir. I will, sir. Father'll come just as
soon as he can, if he isn't sick or lost," murmured
Ben, inwardly thanking his stars that he had not done
any thing to make him quake before that awful finger,
and resolved that he never would.
Here a red-headed Irishman came to the door, and
stood eying the boy with small favor while the Squire
gave his orders.
"Pat, this lad wants work. He's to take the cows
and go for them. Give him any light jobs you have,
and let me know if he's good for any thing."
"Yis, your honor. Come out o' this, b'y, till I
show ye the bastes," responded Pat; and, with a
hasty good-by to Mrs. Moss, Ben followed his new
leader, sorely tempted to play some naughty trick
upon him in return for his ungracious reception.
But in a moment he forgot that Pat existed, for
in the yard stood the Duke of Wellington, so named
in honor of his Roman nose. If Ben had known any
thing about Shakespeare, he would have cried, "A
horse, a horse! my kingdom for a horse!" for the
feeling was in his heart, and he ran up to the stately
animal without a fear. Duke put back his ears and
swished his tail as if displeased for a moment; but
Ben looked straight in his eyes, gave a scientific
stroke to the iron-gray nose, and uttered a chirrup
which made the ears prick up as if recognizing a
familiar sound.
"He'll nip ye, if ye go botherin' that way. Leave
him alone, and attend to the cattle as his honor told
ye," commanded Pat, who made a great show of
respect toward Duke in public, and kicked him
brutally in private.
"I ain't afraid! You won't hurt me, will you, old
feller? See there now! -- he knows I 'm a friend, and
takes to me right off," said Ben, with an arm around
Duke's neck, and his own cheek confidingly laid
against the animal's; for the intelligent eyes spoke to
him as plainly as the little whinny which he understood
and accepted as a welcome.
The Squire saw it all from the open window, and
suspecting from Pat's face that trouble was brewing,
called out, --
"Let the lad harness Duke, if he can. I'm going
out directly, and he may as well try that as any
thing."
Ben was delighted, and proved himself so brisk and
handy that the roomy chaise stood at the door in a
surprisingly short time, with a smiling little ostler at
Duke's head when the Squire came out.
His affection for the horse pleased the old gentleman,
and his neat way of harnessing suited as well;
but Ben got no praise, except a nod and a brief "All
right, boy," as the equipage went creaking and jogging away.
Four sleek cows filed out of the barnyard when Pat
opened the gate, and Ben drove them down the road
to a distant pasture where the early grass awaited
their eager cropping. By the school they went, and
the boy looked pityingly at the black, brown, and
yellow heads bobbing past the windows as a class
went up to recite; for it seemed a hard thing to the
liberty-loving lad to be shut up there so many hours
on a morning like that.
But a little breeze that was playing truant round
the steps did Ben a service without knowing it, for a
sudden puff blew a torn leaf to his feet, and seeing a
picture he took it up. It evidently had fallen from
some ill-used history, for the picture showed some
queer ships at anchor, some oddly dressed men just
landing, and a crowd of Indians dancing about on
the shore. Ben spelt out all be could about these
interesting personages, but could not discover what it
meant, because ink evidently had deluged the page,
to the new reader's great disappointment.
"I'll ask the girls; may be they will know," said
Ben to himself as, after looking vainly for more stray
leaves, he trudged on, enjoying the bobolink's song,
the warm sunshine, and a comfortable sense of friendliness
and safety, which soon set him to whistling as
gayly as any blackbird in the meadow. _
Read next: CHAPTER VI. A CIRCULATING LIBRARY
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