"Frank and Harry had their part to perform--which was to walk about, rifles in hand, and guard the troughs. This was an important matter, for it is a singular fact that wolves, racc.o.o.ns, badgers, opossums, and, in short, every animal wild or tame, will drink the sap of the sugar-maple, and are so fond of it that they will risk their lives to get at it. As the trees we had opened stood at a considerable distance from each other, our two little sentries were kept constantly relieving one another upon their rounds.
"The sap continued to run for several days; and, of course, we were kept busy during all that time. Had it been in the spring-time, we should have been employed for weeks at it, as it then runs longer and more freely. We were favoured with a smart frost every night, which was a fortunate circ.u.mstance, as the water did not gather during the cold hours of the night--otherwise we should have found it impossible to guard the wild animals from our troughs.
"All these nights we slept by the fire, where we had made a regular camp, as is usual in the backwoods of America. We only went to the house when it was necessary to get some article that was needed. We had put up a little tent, made out of our old wagon-tilt, to cover us; and the place we called by the name which is in use among the backwoods farmers--that is to say, a "sugar camp." We found this out-of-door life very exciting and agreeable, camping thus in the thick shady woods with the great majestic trees towering over and around us--listening at times to the light breeze, as it rustled their golden leaves--or lulled into a pleasing tranquillity by the songs of a thousand birds. At night, however, the music was not so sweet to our ears. Then we heard the barking of wolves, the mournful "coo-whoo-a" of the great horned owl, and the still more terrifying scream of the cougar. But we kept up a crackling, blazing fire all the night, and we knew that this would keep these fierce creatures at bay.
"At length our work was done. The sugar-water flowed each hour more slowly, and then ceased altogether; and we broke up our camp. When we had returned to our house, and collected our many-shaped loaves--for they were of various forms, according to the vessels in which they had been moulded--we found that all together weighed nearly an hundred pounds! This would be enough for all our wants--at least, until the spring, when we purposed returning again to our grand store-house among the sugar-maples."
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.
THE STUMP-TREE AND THE BREAD-PINE.
"That evening, as we sat around the supper table, my wife announced that the last grain of our coffee was in the pot. This was sad news to all of us. Of the little luxuries that we had brought with us from Saint Louis, our coffee had held out longest; and a cup of this aromatic beverage had often cheered us during our toilsome journey across the prairie desert. Often, too, since our arrival in the valley, had it given a relish to our homely meals.
""Well, then," said I, by way of reply to the announcement, "we must learn to do without it. We have now the materials for making soup; what care we for coffee? How many poor people would be glad to be surrounded with luxuries, as we are! Here we have venison of different kinds; we can have beavers" tails whenever we want them. There are fish, too in the lake and stream; there are hares and squirrels, which we shall trap in abundance, by-and-by; and, in addition to all, we shall dine often upon ruffed grouse and roast turkey. I wonder, with all these luxuries around us, who is not content?"
""But, papa," said Harry, taking up the discourse, "in Virginia I have often seen our black folks make coffee out of Indian corn. It is not bad, I a.s.sure you. I have drunk it there, and thought it very good.
Have not you, Cudjo?"
""Dat berry coffee dis chile hab drunk, Ma.s.sa Harry."
""Now, papa?"
""Well, Harry, what of it?"
""Why should we not use that--the Indian corn, I mean--for coffee?"
""Why, Harry," said I, "you surely do not reflect upon what you are talking about. We have a far worse want than coffee, and that is this very Indian corn you speak of--to make bread. Could I only get a supply of that, I should think very little about coffee or any other beverage.
Unfortunately there is not a grain of corn within many an hundred miles of where we are now sitting."
""But there is, papa; I know where there is at least a quart of it; and within less than an hundred yards of us, too."
""Come," said I, "my boy, you have mistaken some useless seed for corn.
No corn grows in this valley, I am certain."
""It did not grow in this valley. It has travelled all the way from Saint Louis along with us. It is now in the wagon."
""What! corn in the wagon?" I exclaimed, starting up with such vehemence as to frighten my children. "Are you sure of that, Harry?"
""I saw it this very morning in one of the old bags," replied he.
""Come!" cried I; "get a torch, Cudjo. To the wagon!--to the wagon!"
"In a short time we had reached the wagon, which stood close to the door. With a beating heart I climbed into it. There was an old worn-out buffalo robe, with the harness of the ox lying upon the bottom.
I flung these aside; and underneath I saw a coa.r.s.e gunny-bag, such as are used in the Western States for holding Indian corn. I knew that it was one of those we had brought with us from Saint Louis, containing corn for our horse and oxen; but I was under the impression that I had emptied out the last of it long before. I took the bag up, and, to my inexpressible delight, found that it still contained a small quant.i.ty of the precious grain; besides, there was still more of it, that had been spilled from time to time, and had got into the corners and cracks of the wagon. These we collected carefully and put with the rest--not leaving a single grain that we did not sc.r.a.pe out from the cracks. Then carrying my bag into the house, I turned out its contents upon the table. To our great joy there was, as Harry had affirmed, nearly a quart of the golden grain!
""Now," said I, "we shall have bread!"
"This was a glad sight to my wife. During the preceding days we had frequently talked upon this subject--the want of bread--which is one of our first necessities. We had lived in hope that we should find some species of cereal in the valley that would supply us with a subst.i.tute for bread; but up to that time nothing of the kind had appeared. We had gathered the mast from the beech-tree and roasted it. We had collected quant.i.ties of locust-pods and acorns. We had also eaten the pulpy fruit of the pawpaw; but all these together we found to be but poor apologies for real bread. This, then, was a discovery of greater importance to us than either the salt or the sugar.
"The winter, in the lat.i.tude of our valley, would be a short one. We could then plant the corn--there was enough of it to plant a whole acre.
It would come to maturity in six or eight weeks; and we knew that in such a climate we could easily raise two crops in the year--so that before the next winter came round we should have enough and to spare.
"While we stood by the table talking over these pleasant prospects, one of the boys--Frank it was--suddenly shouted out, "Wheat! wheat!"
"I looked down to ascertain what he meant. He had been turning over the yellow seeds of the maize, and, among them, had discovered several grains of wheat. No doubt there had been wheat in the bag before the corn had been put into it; and this was soon confirmed, as, on carefully searching the bag, we found several of the precious pickles still clinging between the seams. After separating the one species from the other with great carefulness--for we did not wish to lose a single seed--we found that our grains of wheat counted exactly one hundred!
This, to be sure, was a small quant.i.ty to go a-farming with, but we remembered the old saving, "Great oaks grow from little acorns," and we knew the importance of these small grey seeds. In a couple of years we should have large crops of wheat.
""You see," said I, addressing my little family, "how kind Providence has been to us. Here, in the middle of the Desert, has He furnished us with all the necessaries of life; and now, with a little patience, we may promise ourselves many of its luxuries--for what can mamma not make out of flour and sugar?"
""Oh, everything!" cried Frank, who had grown enthusiastic at the prospect of farming, for he was fond of agricultural pursuits; "we can have venison-pasties with our flour."
""And fruit-pies," added Harry; "there are plenty of fruits. I have found wild plums and cherries, and mulberries as long as my finger, and whortle-berries, too. What delicious puddings we can make."
""Yes," said I; "now shall we care for coffee?"
""No, no!" cried Frank and Harry in a breath.
""Then you shall have it," said their mother, with a smile of peculiar meaning.
""What! mother?" exclaimed Harry, "another tree?"
""Yes, indeed, another."
""Not a coffee-plant?"
""No; but a coffee-tree."
""A coffee-tree! why I thought, mamma, that they never grew, except in the hottest parts of the tropics."
""That is true enough of the small tree or shrub which produces the coffee you have been accustomed to drink; but not far from us there is a very large tree, whose seed will give us a very palatable subst.i.tute.
Here is a specimen of it."
"So saying, she threw down upon the table a large brown pod--of at least twelve inches in length by two in breadth--exactly the shape of a crescent or young moon. It reminded us of the pods of the locust, though differing considerably in shape. Like them, too, when opened-- which was forthwith done--it was seen to contain a pulpy substance, in which several large grey-coloured seeds were imbedded. These seeds, she informed us, when parched, ground, and boiled--after the manner of the true coffee--would afford us a beverage nearly as good and quite as wholesome.
""The tree," said she, "from which I have plucked this pod, grows in most parts of America. You may have observed it here?"
""I have," interrupted Harry. "Now that mamma has shown us the use of the maples, I have been looking particularly at all the trees; since I find that some of them that appeared scarce worthy of notice, may after all be very interesting."
""I have observed the tree," added Frank, who was something of a botanist as well as his mother; "I noticed that its bark is very rough, dropping off here and there in large curling scales. The branches, too, are very odd-looking; they have blunt, stumpy ends, that give the tree a clumsy appearance. Is it not so, mamma?"
""Precisely as you say. Hence its name of "chicot" among the Canadian French, and "stump-tree" in the United States. Its botanical name is _gymnocladus_, which means, "with naked branches;" for during the winter, as you shall find, it will present a very naked appearance. It is also known as the "Kentucky coffee-tree," because the early pioneers and settlers of that country, when they were unable to obtain the true coffee, made use of its seeds, as we intend doing."
""Oh!" cried Harry; "only think of it--sugar, and coffee, and salt, and plenty of meat, and roast turkey--everything but bread. If we only had bread! Would our corn not grow if we planted it now, papa?"
""No; the frost would kill the young plants. We must have patience until spring."