Edward Ellis - Through Forest and Fire

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[Illustration: Book Cover]

_WILD-WOODS SERIES--No. 1._

* * * * *

[Illustration: "Heavenly Father! please take care of me," prayed
Nellie.]

THROUGH FOREST AND FIRE

BY

EDWARD S. ELLIS,

AUTHOR OF "YOUNG PIONEER SERIES," "LOG CABIN
SERIES," "DEERFOOT SERIES," "WYOMING
SERIES," ETC., ETC.

[Illustration]

PHILADELPHIA:
PORTER & COATES.

COPYRIGHT, 1891,

BY

PORTER & COATES.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER PAGE

I.--NICK, 5

II.--SCHOOL DAYS, 14

III.--A MATHEMATICAL DISCUSSION, 21

IV.--LOST, 29

V.--THE PARTY OF SEARCH, 37

VI.--GROPING IN DARKNESS, 47

VII.--AN ALARMING DISCOVERY, 55

VIII.--STARTLING FOOTPRINTS, 63

IX.--THE LITTLE WANDERER, 69

X.--IN GREAT DANGER, 79

XI.--"GOTT SEI DANK!" 88

XII.--OMINOUS PREPARATIONS, 96

XIII.--THE BEAR HUNTERS, 103

XIV.--A RECRUIT, 113

XV.--A SURPRISE, 119

XVI.--THE DINNER IN THE WOODS, 126

XVII.--A TEST OF MARKSMANSHIP, 132

XVIII.--A QUAIL, 139

XIX.--AN UNEXPECTED LESSON, 145

XX.--BOWSER PROVES HIMSELF OF SOME USE, 152

XXI.--FACE TO FACE, 158

XXII.--THE "VACANT CHAIR," 165

XXIII.--HUNTING A BUCK, 171

XXIV.--HUNTED BY A BUCK, 176

XXV.--THE CAMP FIRE, 183

XXVI.--AN UNEXPECTED ATTACK, 190

XXVII.--WAS IT A JOKE? 196

XXVIII.--THE TRAIL OF THE BEAR, 205

XXIX.--"HELP! HELP!" 209

XXX.--A FRIEND IN NEED, 216

XXXI.--THE "DARK DAY" OF SEPTEMBER, 1881, 222

XXXII.--THE BURNING FOREST, 231

XXXIII.--THROUGH THE FIRE, 246

XXXIV.--CALLING IN VAIN, 248

XXXV.--WHAT FRIGHTENED NELLIE, 257

XXXVI.--AN UNWELCOME PASSENGER, 266

XXXVII.--A BRAVE STRUGGLE, 275

XXXVIII.--BEAR AND FORBEAR, 283

XXXIX.--CONCLUSION, 292

THROUGH FOREST AND FIRE;

OR,

"God Helps Them that Help Themselves."

CHAPTER I.

NICK.

Nicholas Ribsam was a comical fellow from his earliest babyhood, and had
an original way of doing almost everything he undertook.

When he became big enough to sit on the porch of the humble little home,
where he was born, and stare with his great round eyes at the world as
it went by, that world, whether on horseback, in carriage, or on foot,
was sure to smile at the funny-looking baby.

Nick, although born in western Pennsylvania, was as thoroughly Dutch as
if he had first opened his eyes on the banks of the Zuyder Zee, in the
lowlands of Holland. His parents had come from that part of the world
which has produced so many fine scholars and done so much for science
and literature. They talked the language of the Fatherland, although
they occasionally ventured on very broken English for the instruction of
the boy and girl which heaven had given them.

When Nick was a year old, he seemed as broad as he was long, and his
round, red cheeks, big, honest eyes, and scanty hair, which stood out in
every direction, always brought a smile to whomsoever looked at him.

"That's the Dutchest baby I ever saw!" exclaimed a young man, who, as he
threw back his head and laughed, expressed the opinion of about every
one that stopped to admire the youngster.

When we add that Nick was remarkably good natured, his popularity will
be understood. Days and weeks passed without so much as a whimper being
heard from him. If his mother forgot she was the owner of such a prize,
and allowed him to remain on the porch until he was chilled through or
half famished, she was pretty sure to find him smiling, when she
suddenly awakened to her duties respecting the little fellow.

Several times he tipped over and rolled off the porch, bumping his head
against the stones. A hoarse cry instantly made known the calamity but
by the time he was snatched up (often head downward) his face was
illumined again by his enormous grin, even though the big teardrops
stood on his cheeks.

When he grew so as to be able to stand with the help of something which
he could grasp, a board about a foot and a half high was placed across
the lower part of the open door to prevent him getting outside.

The first day fat little Nick was confronted with this obstruction he
fell over it, out upon the porch. How he managed to do such a wonderful
thing puzzled father and mother, who half believed some person or animal
must have "boosted" him over; but, as there was no other person in sight
and they did not own a dog, the explanation was not satisfactory.

True, they had a big Maltese cat, but he was hardly strong enough, even
if he had the disposition, to hoist a plump baby over such a gate, out
of pure mischief.

But the most remarkable thing took place the next week, when Nick not
only fell out of the door and over the obstruction, but a few minutes
later fell in again. In fact, it looked as if from that time forward
Nick Ribsam's position was inverted almost as often as it was upright.

"There's one thing I want my little boy to learn," said the father, as
he took him on his knee and talked in the language of his Fatherland
"and that is, 'God helps them that help themselves.' Don't ever forget
it!"

"Yaw, I ish not forgots him," replied the youngster, staring in the
broad face of his parent, and essaying to make use of the little English
he had picked up.

The good father and mother acted on this principle from the beginning.
When Nick lost his balance he was left to help himself up again; when he
went bumping all the way down the front steps, halting a moment on each
one, his father complacently smoked his long pipe and waited to see how
the boy was going to get back, while the mother did not think it worth
while to leave her household duties to look at the misfortunes of the
lad.

"God helps them that help themselves."

There is a great deal in this expression, and the father of Master
Nicholas Ribsam seemed to take in the whole far-reaching truth. "You
must do everything you possibly can," he said, many a time; "you must
use your teeth, your hands, and your feet to hang on; you must never let
go; you must hammer away; you must always keep your powder dry; you must
fight to the last breath, and all the time ask God to help you pull
through, and _He'll do it!_"

This was the creed of Gustav Ribsam and his wife, and it was the creed
which the children drew in with their breath, as may be said; it was
such a grand faith that caused Nick to develop into a sturdy,
self-reliant, brave lad, who expected to take his own part in the battle
of life without asking odds from any one.

The parents of our hero and heroine proved their faith by their works.
By hard, honest toil and economy, they had laid up a competence which
was regularly invested each year, and of which the children were not
allowed to know anything, lest it might make them lazy and unambitious.

The little house and fifty acres were paid for, and the property was
more than sufficient to meet the wants of the family, even after the
youngsters became large enough to go to school.

The morning on which young Nick Ribsam started for the country school, a
half mile away, was one which he can never forget. He was six years old,
and had picked up enough of the English language to make himself
understood, though his accent was of that nature that it was sure to
excite ridicule on the part of the thoughtless.

As Nick had a large head, he wore of necessity a large cap, with a long
frontispiece and with a button on the top. His coat was what is called a
"roundabout," scarcely reaching to his waist, but it abounded with
pockets, as did the vest which it partly inclosed. His trousers were
coarse, thick, and comfortable, and his large boots were never touched
by blacking, Nick's father having no belief in such nonsense, but
sticking to tallow all the time.

Nick carried a spelling book and slate under his arm, and, as he started
off, any one looking at him would have been struck by his bright eyes,
ruddy cheeks, and generally clean appearance. As he was so very good
natured, he was certain to become quite an acquisition to the school.

There are no more cruel, or perhaps thoughtless people in the world than
a number of school-boys, under certain conditions. The peculiar dress
and the broken language of little Nick excited laughter at once, and
this soon turned into ridicule.

Nick was beset continually at recess and at noon by the boys, who
immediately christened him "Dutchy." He laughed and did not seem to mind
it, for his philosophy was that no words applied to him could injure
him, and so long as the boys kept their hands off he did not care.

Among the pupils was Herbert Watrous, a spruce young gentleman from the
city, who dressed better than the others, and who threw out hints about
the sparring lessons he had taken at home, and his wish that he might
soon have a chance to show his playmates how easily he could vanquish an
opponent, much larger than himself, by reason of his "science."

He was fully four years older than Nick, and much taller--a fact which
Herbert regretted as the Pennsylvania Hollander was too insignificant
for him to pick a quarrel with.

But that was no reason, as he looked at his privileges in this life, why
he should not play the tyrant and bully over the honest little fellow
and he proceeded at once to make life unbearable to Nicholas.

He began the cry of "Dutchy," and, finding that it did not disturb the
serenity of the lad, he resorted to more active measures on the way home
from school.

He began by knocking off his hat, and when Nick looked at him in a
surprised way and asked why he did it, the city youth assumed a
pugilistic attitude and answered, "Greens; what are you going to do
about it, Dutchy?"

"Be careful of him," whispered one of the boys, who felt some sympathy
for Nick in his persecutions; "he's _science_."

"I don't care vat he ain't," replied Nick, beginning to lose his temper;
"if he don't lets me be, he'll got into trouble."

Just then Nick started to overtake a lad, who tapped him on the back and
invited him to play a game of tag. As he passed close to Herbert, that
boy threw out his foot and Nick went sprawling headlong, his book and
slate flying from under his arm, while his cap shot a dozen-feet in
another direction.

The other boys broke into laughter, while several of the girls cried out
that it was a shame.

Nick picked himself up, and putting on his cap, turned about to ask
Herbert what he meant by such cruelty, when he was confronted by the
bully, who had thrown himself into his fancy pugilistic posture, and
with one eye shut and his tongue thrust out, said:

"What are you going to do about it, Dutchy?"

"I'll show you vot I do!"

CHAPTER II.

SCHOOL DAYS.

Nicholas Ribsam proceeded to show Master Herbert Watrous what he meant
to do about it.

Paying no heed to the formidable attitude of the city youth, Nick rushed
straight upon him, and embracing him about the waist so as to pinion his
arms, he threw him flat upon the ground with great emphasis. Then, while
Herbert lay on his face, vainly struggling to rise, Nick sat down
heavily on his back. Although he could have used his fists with great
effect, Nick declined to do so; but, rising some six or eight inches, he
sat down on him again, and then repeated the performance very fast,
bounding up and down as a man is sometimes seen to do when a horse is
trotting; descending each time on the back of Herbert with such vigor
that the breath was almost forced from his body.

"Let me up!" shouted the victim, in a jerky, spasmodic manner, as the
words were helped out; "that ain't the right way to fight: that isn't
fair."

"It suits me better as nefer vas," replied the grinning Nick, banging
himself down on the back of the struggling Herbert, until the latter
began to cry and ask the boys to pull Nick off.

No one interfered, however, and when the conqueror thought he had
flattened out the city youth to that extent that he would never acquire
any plumpness again, he rose from his seat and allowed Herbert to climb
upon his feet.

Never was a boy more completely cowed than was this vaunting youth, on
whom all the others had looked with such admiration and awe. He meekly
picked up his hat, brushed off the dirt, and looking reproachfully at
Nick said:

"Do you know you broke two of my ribs?"

"I dinks I brokes dem _all_: dat's what I meant to do; I will try him
agin."

"No, you won't!" exclaimed Herbert, darting off in a run too rapid for
the short legs of Nick to equal.

Nick Ribsam had conquered a peace, and from that time forth he suffered
no persecution at school. Master Herbert soon after went back to his
city home, wondering how it was that a small, dumpy lad, four years
younger than he, was able to vanquish him so completely when all the
science was on the side of the elder youth.

Young as was Nick Ribsam, there was not a boy in the school who dared
attempt to play the bully over him. The display he had given of his
prowess won the respect of all.

Besides this he proved to be an unusually bright scholar. He dropped his
faulty accent with astonishing rapidity, and gained knowledge with great
facility. His teacher liked him, as did all the boys and girls, and when
he was occasionally absent he was missed more than half a dozen other
lads would have been.

The next year Nick brought his sister Nellie to school. He came down the
road, holding her fat little hand in his, while her bright eyes peered
out from under her plain but odd-looking hat in a timid way, which
showed at the same time how great her confidence was in her big brother.

Nellie looked as much like Nick as a sister can look like a brother.
There were the same ruddy cheeks, bright eyes, sturdy health, and
cleanly appearance. Her gingham pantalettes came a little nearer the
tops of her shoes, perhaps than was necessary, but the dress, with the
waist directly under the arms, would have been considered in the height
of fashion in late years.

One daring lad ventured to laugh at Nellie, and ask her whether she had
on her father's or mother's shoes, but when Nick heard of it he told the
boy that he would "sit down" on any one that said anything wrong to
Nellie. Nothing of the kind was ever hinted to the girl again. No one
wished to be "sat down" on by the Pennsylvania Hollander who banged the
breath so utterly from the body of the city youth who had aroused his
wrath.

The common sense, sturdy frame, sound health, and mental strength of the
parents were inherited in as marked a degree by the daughter Nellie as
by Nick. She showed a quickness of perception greater than that of her
brother; but, as is generally the case, the boy was more profound and
far-reaching in his thoughts.

After Nick had done his chores in the evening and Nellie was through
helping her mother, Gustav, the father, was accustomed to light his
long-handled pipe, and, as he slowly puffed it while sitting in his
chair by the hearth, he looked across to his boy, who sat with his slate
and pencil in hand, preparing for the morrow. Carefully watching the
studious lad for a few minutes, he generally asked a series of
questions:

"Nicholas, did you knowed your lessons to-day?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did you know efery one dot you knowed?"

"Yes, sir,--every one," answered Nick respectfully, with a quiet smile
over his father's odd questions and sentences. The old gentleman could
never correct or improve his accent, while Nick, at the age of ten,
spoke so accurately that his looks were all that showed he was the child
of German parents.

"Did nopody gif you helps on der lessons?"

"Nobody at all."

"Dot is right; did you help anypodies?"

"Yes, sir,--three or four of the girls and some of the boys asked me to
give them a lift--"

"Gif dem _vat_?"

"A lift--that is, I helped them."

"Dot ish all right, but don't let me hears dot nopody vos efer helping
_you_; if I does--"

And taking his pipe from his mouth, Mr. Ribsam shook his head in a way
which threatened dreadful things.

Then the old gentleman would continue smoking a while longer, and more
than likely, just as Nick was in the midst of some intricate problem, he
would suddenly pronounce his name. The boy would look up instantly, all
attention.

"Hef you been into any fights mit nopodies to-day?"

"I have not, sir; I have not had any trouble like that for a long
while."

"Dot is right--dot is right; but, Nick, if you does get into such bad
tings as fightin', don't ax nopodies to help you; _takes care mit
yorself!_"

The lad modestly answered that he did not remember when he had failed to
take care of himself under such circumstances, and the father resumed
his pipe and brown study.

The honest German may not have been right in every point of his creed,
but in the main he was correct, his purpose being to implant in his
children a sturdy self-reliance. They could not hope to get along at all
times without leaning upon others, but that boy who never forgets that
God has given him a mind, a body, certain faculties and infinite powers,
with the intention that he should cultivate and use them to the highest
point, is the one who is sure to win in the great battle of life.

Then, too, every person is liable to be overtaken by some great
emergency which calls out all the capacities of his nature, and it is
then that false teaching and training prove fatal, while he who has
learned to develop the divine capacities within him comes off more than
conqueror.

CHAPTER III.

A MATHEMATICAL DISCUSSION.

The elder Ribsam took several puffs from his pipe, his eyes fixed
dreamily on the fire, as though in deep meditation. His wife sat in her
chair on the other side, and was busy with her knitting, while perhaps
her thoughts were wandering away to that loved Fatherland which she had
left so many years before, never to see again. Nellie had grown sleepy
and gone to bed.

Mr. Ribsam turned his head and looked at Nick. The boy was seated close
to the lamp on the table, and the scratching of his pencil on his slate
and his glances at the slip of paper lying on the stand, with the
problems written upon it, told plainly enough what occupied his
thoughts.

"Nicholas," said the father.

"Just one minute, please," replied the lad, glancing hastily up: "I am
on the last of the problems that Mr. Layton gave us for this week, and
I have it almost finished."

The protest of the boy was so respectful that the father resumed his
smoking and waited until Nick laid his slate on the table and wheeled
his chair around.

"There, father, I am through."

"Read owed loud dot sum von you shoost don't do."

"Mr. Layton gave a dozen original problems as he called them, to our
class to-day, and we have a week in which to solve them. I like that
kind of work, and so I kept at it this evening until I finished them
all."

"You vos sure dot you ain't right, Nicholas, eh?"

"I have proved every one of them. Oh, you asked me to read the last one!
When Mr. Layton read that we all laughed because it was so simple, but
when you come to study it it isn't so simple as you would think. It is
this: If New York has fifty per cent. more population than Philadelphia,
what per cent. has Philadelphia less than New York?"

Mr. Ribsam's shoulders went up and down, and he shook like a bowl of
jelly. He seemed to be overcome by the simplicity of the problem over
which his son had been racking his brains.

"Dot makes me laughs. Yaw, yaw, yaw!"

"If you will sit down and figure on it you won't laugh quite so hard,"
said Nick, amused by the jollity of his father, which brought a smile to
his mother; "what is your answer?"

"If I hafs feefty tollar more don you hafs, how mooch less tollar don't
you hafs don I hafs? Yaw, yaw, yaw!"

"_That_ is plain enough," said Nick sturdily "but if you mean to say
that the answer to the problem I gave you is fifty per cent., you are
wrong."

"Oxplains how dot ain't," said Mr. Ribsam, suddenly becoming serious.

The mother was also interested, and looked smilingly toward her bright
son. Like every mother, her sympathies went out to him. When Nick told
his father that he was in error, the mother felt a thrill of delight;
she wanted Nick to get the better of her husband, much as she loved
both, and you and I can't blame her.

Nick leaned back in his chair, shoved his hands into his pockets, and
looked smilingly at his father and his pipe as he said:

"Suppose, to illustrate, that Philadelphia has just one hundred people.
Then, if New York has fifty per cent. more, it must have one hundred and
fifty people as its population; that is correct, is it not, father?"

Mr. Ribsam took another puff or two, as if to make sure that his boy was
not leading him into a trap, and then he solemnly nodded his head.

"Dot ish so,--dot am,--yaw."

"Then if Philadelphia has one hundred people for its population, New
York has one hundred and fifty?"

"Yaw, and Pheelatelphy has feefty per cent. less--yaw, yaw, yaw!"

"Hold on, father,--not so fast. I'm teacher just now, and you mustn't
run ahead of me. If you will notice in this problem the per cent. in the
first part is based on Philadelphia's population, while in the second
part it is based on the population of New York, and since the
population of the two cities is different, the per cent. cannot be the
same."

"How dot is?" asked Mr. Ribsam, showing eager interest in the reasoning
of the boy.

"We have agreed, to begin with, that the population of Philadelphia is
one hundred and of New York one hundred and fifty. Now, how many people
will have to be subtracted from New York's population to make it the
same as Philadelphia?"

"Feefty,--vot I says."

"And fifty is what part of one hundred and fifty,--that is, what part of
the population of New York?"

"It vos one thirds."

"And one third of anything is thirty-three and one third per cent. of
it, which is the correct answer to the problem."

Mr. Ribsam held his pipe suspended in one hand while he stared with open
mouth into the smiling face of his son, as though he did not quite grasp
his reasoning.

"Vot you don't laughs at?" he said, turning sharply toward his wife, who
had resumed her knitting and was dropping many a stitch because of the
mirth, which shook her as vigorously as it stirred her husband a few
minutes before.

"I laughs ven some folks dinks dey ain't shmarter don dey vosn't all te
vile, don't it?"

And stopping her knitting she threw back her head and laughed
unrestrainedly. Her husband hastily shoved the stem of his pipe between
his lips, sunk lower down in the chair, and smoked so hard that his head
soon became almost invisible in the vapor.

By-and-by he roused himself and asked Nick to begin with the first
problem and reason out the result he obtained with each one in turn.

Nick did so, and on the last but one his parent tripped him. A few
pointed questions showed the boy that he was wrong. Then the hearty
"Yaw, yaw, yaw!" of the father rang out, and looking at the solemn
visage of his wife, he asked:

"Vy you don't laughs now, eh? Yaw, yaw, yaw!"

The wife meekly answered that she did not see anything to cause mirth,
though Nick proved that he did.

Not only that, but the son became satisfied from the quickness with
which his father detected his error, and the keen reasoning he gave,
that he purposely went wrong on the first problem read to him with the
object of testing the youngster.

Finally, he asked him whether such was not the case. Many persons in the
place of Mr. Ribsam would have been tempted to fib, because almost every
one will admit any charge sooner than that of ignorance; but the
Dutchman considered lying one of the meanest vices of which a man can be
guilty. Like all of his countrymen, he had received a good school
education at home, besides which his mind possessed a natural
mathematical bent. He said he caught the answer to the question the
minute it was asked him, and, although Mr. Layton may not have seen it
before, Mr. Ribsam had met and conquered similar ones when he was a boy.

While he persistently refused to show Nick how to solve some of the
intricate problems brought home, yet when the son, after hours of
labor, was still all abroad, his father would ask him a question or two
so skillfully framed that the bright boy was quick to detect their
bearing on the subject over which he was puzzling his brain. The
parent's query was like the lantern's flash which shows the ladder for
which a man is groping.

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