The Silent Readers Part 29

When the last drop of cocoa had disappeared and the last red apple had followed the "dogs" and doughnuts to their doom, the boys crawled close to the glowing embers of the fire and, following their usual custom, begged Mr. James for a story.

The fire was slowly dying, and the occasional flickering flames cast fantastic shadows on the hazel bushes and the trees.

"We have all heard more or less about strange sights and sounds in places where men have met with violent death," said Mr. James by way of beginning his yarn. "For instance, I have been told that in this very clearing there grows a peculiar red moss which traces in exact outline the spots on the earth where the old trapper Smith's life-blood dyed the sod. Hunters have told me that no animals ever cross this clearing--that in the dead of winter not even a rabbit track breaks the smooth expanse of snow which is marred only by a ghastly crimson stain where poor old Smith's body was found.

"But let me get on with my story. Thirteen years ago this very night an old hunchback peddler, who had been selling his wares in the backwoods settlements, lost his bearings in the forest and found himself at dusk in this very clearing. Being completely exhausted from his wanderings, he decided to make himself as comfortable as possible for the night. He built a fire in the early evening, and, as the embers slowly settled into ashes fell into a half sleep leaning against his pack.

"Just how long he dozed by the fire he could not tell, nor could he remember exactly what wakened him, yet suddenly he was startled into consciousness, every nerve a-tingle with a sense of impending danger.

Some power he could not sense drew his attention irresistibly to a huge pine tree--that one right there!

"With his eyes starting from their sockets he sat incapable of movement, waiting--waiting--when suddenly----"

Out of the pine on which every scout was focusing his gaze came an unmistakable choking, gasping sound.

An instant later a faintly glowing light appeared.

"Great goodness! Look there!" exclaimed Patrol Leader Crawford in a husky voice.

With a piercing shriek a horrible apparition floated out of the branches of the pine. Its white hair was covered with ghastly clots of red. Its arms waved wildly, moving the folds of a flowing white garment splotched with blood.

Transfixed with horror, the boys sat frozen in their tracks as THE THING rushed toward them.

Then there came a huge splash in the bobbing tub behind them and an unmistakably human voice exclaimed, "Oh, thunder!" The voice belonged to Pepper Perkins, and the Scoutmaster's flashlight revealed its owner in a sitting posture in the tub of water, whence he had fallen from a low branch of a tree directly over his head.

Meanwhile the "ghost" that had floated out of the pine was having troubles of its own. It stopped floating with a sudden jerk and hung suspended in mid-air, with a pair of khaki legs dangling beneath the flowing garment and kicking around for something solid to stand on, while a very unghostly voice pleaded, "Gosh, sakes! Can't you help a feller down?"

A few turns of the flashlight revealed the whole plot. The "ghost"

had floated on a wire stretched from the huge pine to the smaller one across the clearing. The faintly glowing light was a flashlight enclosed in a paper sack, the horrible head-dress a piece of old fur robe smeared with red paint, and the "shriek" a siren whistle.

You have heard how Death-Rattle Hill came by its name. And now you know how it came about that George Taylor of the Glenwood Scouts acquired the name of "Terry"--a name which he bears to this day.

--_Courtesy of "Boys' Life".

Copyrighted, 1918, by "Boys' Life", The Boy Scouts' Magazine._

ROAST CHICKEN

All begin at the same moment. You may take thirty seconds to prepare to tell this story.

An American private spied a rooster prowling around a farm house in No Man's Land just after the Americans had captured Very. Being hungry, and having an appet.i.te for roast chicken, this American private decided to crawl up on the rooster and trap him in the building.

The American was about to lay his hands on the astonished rooster when a German entered the rear door of the building bent on the same mission. Both were so surprised that they stood for a moment and glared at each other, then the American motioned for the German to do a right flank on the prey they were after and both closed in on him.

The rooster was captured by the American, who later returned to the American lines with both rooster and German in tow.

Later, at the regimental P. C., the German roasted the chicken for his captor, who shared it with him.

--_a.s.sociation Men._

WHY THE ECHO ANSWERS

Here is one of the beautiful Greek myths that everyone is supposed to know.

Try to read it so carefully in five minutes that you can tell it from start to finish without being questioned or prompted. Your teacher will let two or three of you tell the story. Perhaps some of you can do it well enough to tell it to one of the lower cla.s.ses in the school.

In the ancient days in Greece, people believed not only in the great G.o.ds and G.o.ddesses, such as the G.o.d of the sea, the G.o.d of the sun, the G.o.ddess of the moon, or the G.o.ddess of the harvest, but also in many less important beings who took care of smaller things in the world of nature. In every river lived a G.o.d, for whom the stream was named. The woods were full of fair maidens called nymphs, whom mortal eyes could not see. They had various names, according to the particular objects which were their care. The nymphs who lived each in her own tree were called _dryads_; those who dwelt in the springs and brooks were _naiads_; while those whose home was in the rocks and hills were _oreads_.

Of all the mountain nymphs, or oreads, the most beautiful was a maiden named Echo. She was one of the troop of maidens who followed and attended Diana, the G.o.ddess of the woodlands. Echo was very faithful to all her tasks, devoted to her mistress, and beloved by all her companions. Her one fault was that, like many another girl, she was too fond of talking. Her tongue ran all day long. It did not matter whether or not she had anything important to talk about; talk she must. The other nymphs were used to it, and didn't pay much attention; indeed, they hardly listened to her, a thing which often happens to people who never know when to stop talking. But Juno, the queen of the G.o.ds, one day grew so tired of Echo's ceaseless chatter that she condemned her to lose her power to speak, except to repeat the words of someone who spoke to her.

This was hard enough when it meant simply that the maiden could no longer talk to her companions. If you have ever had so severe a cold that you have lost your voice for a day or two, you know how many things you think of that you want to say simply because you are unable to say them. That was poor Echo's case, only it was to last forever instead of for a few days. But far worse than this was to happen to the unfortunate maiden. One day, not long after she had lost her tongue, as we say, she saw for the first time the beautiful youth Narcissus, son of one of the river G.o.ds. From that moment Echo's heart was gone as well as her voice, for she fell in love immediately. But alas! how could she let him know it? She could not speak at all, except to mimic his last words whenever he spoke. And his words did not at all express the feelings which she wanted to utter. For instance, when Narcissus, who did not care anything about the lovesick Echo, and who was anxious to get away, cried to her, "Let us leave one another," she answered with all her heart, "One another," and tried to hasten after him. But he could not or would not understand, and did not wait for her.

At last Narcissus, who you can readily see was not as kind as he was beautiful, growing utterly weary of having the forlorn nymph pursue him, said rudely to her, "I cannot bear to come near you." "Near you,"

repeated Echo with all her heart, ready to fling her arms about his neck.

"Hands off!" he cried, starting back. "I would rather die than thou shouldst have me." "Have me," pleaded the unhappy Echo, but all in vain. The cruel youth would have nothing to do with her. From that time on she withdrew herself from the company of the other nymphs, and wandered alone in hidden caves and among the remotest cliffs of the mountains. Gradually she faded away till there was nothing left of her but her voice, which still repeated the last part of any sound she heard. Sometimes when you are in the woods or mountains, if you call aloud, you will hear your own voice seeming to come back to you like an answer. It is not your voice, you see, but that of the unfortunate oread; so we call the sound that rings and rolls along in answer to our voices, by the maiden's name, Echo.

Perhaps you would like to know what happened to the unkind Narcissus.

Echo was not the only maiden whom he scorned. He avoided all the nymphs, for the only person whom he really loved was himself. As time went on he loved himself more and more, especially as he saw the reflection of his own beautiful face in the water. He spent his days stooping over the deep, still pool that made the best mirror. He talked to his own image in the still surface; he tried to embrace it, stooping so far over that he almost fell in. But the mirrored face made no response to all his pleadings. He was being well paid for his treatment of Echo. At last, in despair because his love was not returned, he pined away and died of a broken heart. Like other people who love themselves best, he got no happiness from his vanity and selfishness.

Perhaps you are wondering why the youth whom Echo loved bore the name of our delicate white spring flower. It is because that flower first sprang up from the ground on the spot where the beautiful Narcissus was buried.

--_Mabel Dodge Holmes._

THE FIGHT WITH THE SEA

Before you begin to read this selection, look up the word _reclaim_.

This is a good selection for outlining. You can write four or five topics that will cover the substance of the piece.

Your teacher will keep track of the time it takes each of you to read the selection and make your outline.

There are some learned people who tell us that a great many years ago the island which we call England, Scotland, and Wales was one with the continent of Europe. They say that the sea gradually made its way through a stretch of low-lying land, till at last Great Britain was completely cut off from the continent. We all know that the Eastern counties of England which face the little country of Holland are just as flat and marshy as the opposite sh.o.r.es. The farmers and laborers in these countries are continually endeavoring to make good pasture-land of the unhealthy marshes and fens, as they are called, and each year sees acres of land reclaimed and turned to good use; but also each year a little land is stolen from these counties by the greedy sea.

The patient Dutch people on the other sh.o.r.e are carrying on the same kind of work. They make wonderful d.y.k.es and drive the sea always a little further and further back; and though much of their country is actually beneath the level of the sea, they jealously guard the treasure they have captured, with so much perseverance and energy that the tyrant sea is kept in subjection. Of course, as the land lies lower than the water, the natural result would be that the water would flood the land unless it were kept out by an embankment; and this wonderful little nation, so brave and daring as to defy the sea, have surrounded their land with d.y.k.es, which are huge banks towering above the lowlands of the country, and preventing the sea from obtaining entrance. Of course, these d.y.k.es could be made only gradually as the sea was turned from one spot to another by dams and locks, and these facts will give you a far better proof than any other I could find of the wonderful character and the great courage and perseverance of a nation which has reclaimed its fatherland from the sea.

You will not be surprised to be told that such a land is very damp and misty. All the surface is cut up by innumerable ca.n.a.ls. If you could see the whole country from a height, it would look like an enormous puzzle.

It consists of hundreds of green patches cut up by the waterways, and decorated with red-roofed villages and towns. Through all of these ca.n.a.ls flows the same water; all of them are connected with one another.

Here and there the ca.n.a.ls are wide, and bear much traffic on their placid surfaces. Through miles of green fields wander little baby ca.n.a.ls, draining the pasture-lands, and bravely carrying barges which drift slowly in single file from one busy centre to another.

There are plenty of railways, but the trains are generally slow, and in many places the land perceptibly gives way as the heavy train presses it, so most of the conveyance is done on the ca.n.a.ls.