Part 9 (1/2)

And now there were so many objects to take attention, that the professed purpose of the trip was quite forgotten, till Harry by chance spied a woodp.e.c.k.e.r just entering a hole in a hollow tree, and then called his companions' attention to the fact. To scale the tree was the work of a very few minutes, and, to Harry's intense delight, he found the hole sufficiently large to admit his hand and arm, and this time he was successful, for he drew forth with great care, one at a time, three woodp.e.c.k.e.r's eggs, which he placed its his cap, and then descended.

So far the trip had been most successful, for they had obtained the eggs generally reckoned as scarce in most parts of the country, from the secluded habits of the birds; and now the lads turned their attention to find the nest of a turtle-dove. The part of the wood they were in was very thick and full of underwood, a large proportion of which consisted of hazel stubs so dense that, almost before they were aware of it, Fred and Philip were separated from Harry and d.i.c.k; and when they did miss them, and called out, a faint and distant ”Halloo!” was the response.

”Never mind,” said Philip, ”I'm tired. Let's sit down here and let him come to us.”

Saying which he took his seat upon the mossy trunk of an old fallen tree, an example which Fred was not long in following; and there they waited, enjoying the delicious sensation of rest felt in a shady spot after a long, toilsome walk, and thinking very little about poor Harry.

”What a while Harry is,” said Fred at last; ”isn't he coming?”

”Oh, yes; he'll be here presently,” said Philip; ”he'll be sure to find us.”

After a few minutes' pause, ”What's that?” said Fred, pointing to some rustling and moving leaves close by the opening where they sat.

”Hush,” said Philip; ”don't move; it's a stoat or a weasel. You'll see him directly;” and in a moment after a long thin body came creeping out from the herbage. But it was neither weasel nor stoat, but a very large snake, which came right across the open s.p.a.ce they were in--making Fred turn quite pale, for his imagination immediately whispered to him of poison fangs, rattlesnakes, cobras, and all sorts of venomous brutes.

But the snake had no idea of touching the intruders on the silence of the forest, but made directly for a spot upon the other side of the opening, which he would soon have reached if it had depended upon Fred; but Philip possessed the animosity of his race against the serpent tribe, so caught up a rough branch that he had previously broken from a tree and slightly trimmed with his knife, and rushed after the retreating snake.

The poor thing struggled hard for its life and liberty, but in spite of its struggles and menacing att.i.tude, Philip struck at it boldly with his stick and soon rendered his adversary _hors de combat_, when the victor dragged his prize to his companion, and displayed to his wondering gaze a snake upwards of a yard long, and very thick. Philip then secured his trophy by slipping a noose of whipcord over its head, and tying it to his stick.

At last, time slipped by and no Harry made his appearance, while plenty of indications showed that evening was fast closing in: moths began to flutter about the different leaves; every now and then, too, came the low evening drowsy hum of the c.o.c.kchafer, while Fred gave a regular jump when a gigantic stag-beetle stuck him right in the cheek and then fell crawling about in his lap.

”Ouf!” said Fred, ”take the beast off. Is it poisonous?”

Philip laughed heartily at his cousin, as he a.s.sured him to the contrary; but the beetle saved him the trouble of brus.h.i.+ng his h.o.r.n.y body away by making a fresh flight, and disappearing over the trees.

”Come on,” said Philip, ”let's go.”

”But how about Harry?” said Fred.

”Oh, we'll go and find him,” and so the lads pushed right ahead as they thought, and in the direction in which Harry's voice was last heard; but they soon grew bewildered, and at last stood gazing disconsolately at one another, and then, as is stated at the beginning of this chapter, ”Whoo-oo-oo-oop!” sang out Philip.

”Hoop--hoop--hoop!” shouted Fred as loudly as he could, and then, feeling the loneliness oppress him more than he could bear, he sat down on a stump, and seemed half disposed to cry.

”Oh, I say,” said Philip, who was nearly as bad, ”don't look like that, or we shall never get out of the wood. Don't you know what a many times Robert Bruce tried before he got his kingdom? Let's try again; the wood is not so very big, and we must come out somewhere.”

”Do you think we ever shall get out again?” said Fred.

”Oh, of course we shall,” said Philip, ”and there ain't no wild beasts or anything of that kind, so come on and let's start.”

And start they did--creeping through some bushes, pus.h.i.+ng others aside, but somehow or another getting flogged by the returning twigs, and scratched by the brambles in a way they had not suffered in the morning.

Once Fred tripped over a stump and fell heavily down, where he lay crying silently, but without trying to get up again; and it was only by Philip dragging at him that he could be got upon his legs. Duskier grew the wood, till under the big trees it was quite dark; but Philip pressed manfully on, though he felt completely bewildered; still his good sense told him that they must eventually find an outlet.

On and on they went, slowly and toilsomely, and still nothing but trees and bushes, looking gloomy and shadowy--very different to the appearance presented in the afternoon when the sun shone upon them, sending a checkery shade amongst the waving gra.s.s; and at last Philip felt his heart sink within him at the hopelessness of his task. All at once a happy thought struck the boy as they stood in a more open s.p.a.ce, where they could see the stars s.h.i.+ning down brightly upon them.

”I say, Fred,” he said, ”hasn't your papa ever told you about how the people used to guide their s.h.i.+ps by the stars.”

”No,” said Fred moodily, ”but I have heard they used to.”

”Well” said Philip, ”let's see if we can't get out that way. I think we can. I know which is the North-pole star, because Papa showed them all to us; and there it is,” said the boy, joyfully, ”That's the north, and right hand will be west, and left hand east; no, it won't, it will be right hand east, and left hand west. That's right, isn't it?”

”Yes, I dare say it is,” said Fred, dolefully.