CHAPTER II.
AN EVENING IN BACHELOR'S HALL.
In quite a different spirit had the evening been enjoyed by the squatters on a neighboring claim. For the sake of sociability, comfort and economy, four young hunters of claims had agreed to board, and lodge together, thus saving the trouble of three other cabins, being built and furnished; for the claim-laws only required that a foundation should be laid to indicate possession, and the intention to build. Thus, while they surveyed and marked out the lines of their several claims, one roof was sufficient for all, and a vast amount of enjoyment did these amateur housekeepers find in trying to make themselves barely comfortable.
A fine-looking set of young fellows they were, too, in wonderful red woolen shirts, and a surprising amount of beard and hair. Sufficient refinement appeared in their looks and manners to show that they had "seen better days," while enough of the ruddy hue of active exercise glowed on their careless faces to demonstrate the power of air and motion to beautify manhood.
The quartette was made up of four distinct professions—a physician who had never practiced, a lawyer ditto, a surveyor, and an editor—the latter two having had some experience in what they pretended to practice. Very harmoniously lived these four togetler, in a shanty of rough boards, furnished with two rude bedsteads, as many plank benches, a cooking stove, pine table, and a few tin dishes. It was agreed among them that, "for short," each one was to be called by his professional title, or an abbreviation thereof. Thus Doc, Squire, Ed, and Flag, served to denote the personality of gentlemen whose real and complete names will transpire in due season. Over the soubriquet of Flag, there had at first been considerable discussion, one contending for Comp., abbreviation of compass; another for Tent, and a third for Chain; but the surveyor himself carried the day, and was voted unanimously to be Flag, at his own suggestion.
"I say, fellows, this is jolly, isn't it?" remarked Squire, kicking up his heels like a four-year-old, as he lay at length on one of the beds.
"Jolly!" reiterated Doc; "I should think so, for you fellows, kicking up your heels on the beds! But this is my fourth day, as cook, and my back aches like blazes."
"Pooh, you talk like a woman," says Flag, in a tone intended to be very disdainful of the weakness.
"I only wish I could hear a real woman talking, in this shanty," answers Doc, mournfully. "Confound it! I shall never learn to pour the water off the potatoes without scalding my hands with the steam."
"Why don't you take the potatoes out of the water with a fork?" asks Flag, with provoking coolness.
"Because that's not the way it's done by women cooks," was the reply, in rather a surly tone. "That's the way you did, I suppose, when you was cook, and that accounts for their not being fit to eat."
"Without doubt," put in the Squire, soberly; "women are among the most useful of the domestic animals. Now, a man may keep house very comfortably without a dog or a cat, a horse or a cow; but without a woman, something is pretty apt to go wrong. I shouldn't wonder, if we had a woman in the house, if she could put to flight these pilfering mice that are destroying every thing. There was Mrs. Smith that I boarded with when I studied law—she never had a cat about the house nor a mouse either. I suppose she must have caught them herself. Then she didn't keep a cow, and yet we had plenty of milk—she said it was milk—for our coffee. There wasn't a dog nor a horse about the place either, that I knew of; and we all got along comfortably. I always thought it was her management. In fact, I suppose a woman to be an epitome of the domestic universe!"
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself—talking so disrespectfully of the sex," said Doc, indignantly. "Your mother was a woman, I suppose?"
"Guess so—couldn't swear to it, though," replied the Squire.
"Well, supper's ready. I hope this coffee is hot enough to burn your tongue, and learn it better manners.""You're confounded cross to-night, Doc," said Flag, as he seated himself on the bench beside Squire.
"Cross! Wasn't you cross. I wonder, while you was cook? To be sure, you said it was because you had such a terrible cold from the wind blowing on your bed during the storm; and that you had liked to have blown your brains out-the only witty thing you were ever guilty of saying, to my knowledge."
"Plague take the mice!" ejaculated Doc, vehemently, as he viewed the wreck of his only bit of butter; "they get into every thing. I believe they would go through a Dutchman's money-chest after a greasy coin; and as to keeping them out of things in this shanty, it isn't to be done."
"We'll have to have a rat-tail supper," remarked Flag.
"A what?" asked Squire.
"A rat-tail supper."
"That's a new delicacy! Pray how should they be served?" asked Doc, with great interest.
"In soup, I should say," suggested Squire.
"Oh, you unsuspecting innocents," laughed Flag, "would you, really now, desire some rat-tail soup?"
"Why, of course, if it's good,"
Flag indulged in an uproarous burst of merriment, which nearly upset the table.
"Explain yourself," said Squire.
After beginning several times and stopping to laugh, Flag managed at last to explain.
"Why, fellows, all there is about it is just this. Where I was raised, down in Southern Ohio, there was lots of rats-in fact the varmints caused very serious losses to the farmers and others. One winter, when I was a boy, we took to forming companies of rat-catchers. Two of these companies would contend together for catching the largest number in a given time; and when the time came for counting: tails, the party that was beaten had to give the other party a supper."
"Oho!" said Doc.
"Very patriotic," said Squire.
Flag humanely forbore to laugh any longer at the expense of his fellows, being under a wholesome fear of retaliation at the earliest opportunity.
After supper was dismissed, the dishes were tumbled together into a pan, to be left for Ed to wash when he came home. " As for doing Ed's work, I am not going to do it an hour longer. Three days is the rule; and Ed has shirked a whole day of his time as usual; "saying which Doc stretched himself on the bed which Flag had considerately given up because the cook complained of an ache in his back.
"Yes, Ed is a shirk, that's a fact," Squire remarked, as the Doctor became silent.
"He is real mean, I think," added Flag. "He always takes the best of everything that the rest of us have troubled ourselves to get; and he never gets any thing."
"That's just it," rejoined Doe; "he is lazy and selfish."
"Suppose we play him a trick?" said Squire.
"Agreed. What shall it be?"
" He'll be sure not to get himself any supper when he comes in, so it is easy enough to trick him. Just set the cold meat and bread on the table in a careless manner, as if it was intended to be thrown out. He won't mind that—he'd rather eat the pieces than cook any thing."
"But I don't see what joke there is in that—it's just what he always does," said Doc.
"Let me finish," said Squire. "We'll just step out long enough to give him time to come in and eat, and, when the fatal deed is done, we will reappear in time to assure him he has just eaten our wolf-bait, strychnine and all. Lord! won't it be fun to see his roaring and kicking? for he will be frightened to death."
" Good," cried Doc.
"Excellent," echoed Flag. "But we must hurry, for I hear his whistle already."
"There goes the stuff on the table. Let's run now, boys."
Doc quite forgot his back-ache, and was lively as a cricket, while the others were not behind.
"Where are you going?" called Ed, who at that moment came within hail.
"Going to see if old Newcome isn't staking his claim by moonlight," answered Squire, cheerfully; "be back again directly."
The three retired to a safe distance, and discussed the best manner of giving the alarm.
The unsuspecting Ed lunched off the broken remains of the supper with the relish of a hungry man, and then betook himself to a newspaper fresh from the "States," whose date made it two weeks old.
"You are late this evening, Ed," remarked Squire, as the conspirators returned; "got any news?"
"Not much; some interesting letters from the Crimea. That's pretty much all that's worth reading two weeks after printing. Confounded bore to be deprived of the daily news isn't it."
"'Tis so; but then a fellow soon gets used to it. It's all in habit."
"Yes like every thing else," rejoined Doc. "Had any supper, Ed?"
"Well, I helped myself to the leavings; guess that'll do."
The Doctor gave a start, and turned to survey the table.
"Good heaven! did you eat that stuff on the table? "
"I eat some meat and bread, to be sure I did. But what is the matter? You all look as if you had the palsy."
"You're a dead man!" exclaimed Doc, sinking upon one of the benches.
"The wolf-bait! strychnine! "cried Squire and Flag, in tones of horror.
"What do you say? Was the meat poisoned?" asked Ed, piteously, his face and limbs fairly rigid with terror.
"What do you give for strychnine poison, Doc?" inquired Squire, with a sudden appearance of hopefulness. "It may not be too late to save him yet."
"But strychnine acts almost immediately," groaned Flag, despairingly.
"Oil! fat! lard! grease!" ejaculated Doc, rapidly. "We've got some lard and some oil; I'll try that."
While Doc plunged an iron spoon into the lard-can, Ed sat rocking himself to and fro on a bench, with his hands on his stomach, and an expression of agony upon his countenance.
"Oh, it's no use," said he, as Doc offered him a large spoonful of cold lard; "it's too late now; the poison has done its work. Oh, I am in such awful pain! Oh, dear! oh, dear! how could you be so careless?"
"Forgive me, Ed, before you die, if you do die; but perhaps you won't die, after all, old fellow," said Doc, affecting a cheerful manner. "Come, take this lard, quick—there's no time to lose; swallow it right down."
Dying though he believed he was, poor Ed found it hard work to get a quarter of a pound of cold lard down his throat. After swallowing a small portion of it he laid down on the bed in despair.
"Don't give up so, Ed," said Flag, kindly "take this oil, which is easier to swallow. Come, now, don't give up."
Thus urged, Ed made an effort, and swallowed the contents of an oil-cruet at one gulp.
"Isn't that enough to save me, Doctor?" he asked, writhing with imaginary pains and real sickness of stomach.
"I don't know; don't you feel any easier since the lard?"
"Oh, no, I don't feel any better at all. I believe if the lard was melted I could take it easier. Somebody rub my stomach for me, can't you?"
Squire and Flag proceeded to rub him as requested, while Doc melted some more lard in a tin cup over the flame of a candle, for the fire in the stove had all gone out.
I believe the rubbing does me good," gasped the poor victim, who could with difficulty get his breath under the vigorous treatment of his friends.
"I think it does," replied Doc; "and now if you can manage to get down a little more of this grease I guess we shall be able to save you."
Oh, Lord!" cried Ed, as his stomach heaved at the nauseous dose; "it is near about as bad as the poison."
"Never mind, Ed," was Squire's advice; "if it saves your life you can get over the medicine."
"There, that will do, boys. I'll just lie still awhile, and see how I feel;" and the poor fellow lay groaning under a horrible sickness, while his anxious friends stood grouped about his bed in silent sympathy. Presently there was a violent retching and vomiting which really alarmed his friends for fear some injury would come from it; and, after a while, silence and exhaustion. After repeated violent vomitings, poor, victimized Ed fell into a profound slumber, and the three conspirators retired to rest, almost ashamed to laugh at the success of their joke, satisfactory as that had been.
At an unusually early hour of the morning, the whole party was awakened by a noise as of some one coming in.
"Is that you, Doc? "yawned Squire, who occupied a bed with Flag.
"No," said Doc, "I guess it's Ed; he's not in the bed at any rate."
"What are you up so early for, Ed? Do you feel worse again?"
"Worse! I guess you would feel worse if you had half a pint of oil and as much more lard griping in your vitals."
A roar of laughter burst from the occupants of the beds, which caused some grumbling on Ed's part.
"It's very easy for you to laugh, no doubt; but if either of you had come as near being poisoned to death, and had to suffer the way I have, there wouldn't be so much fun in it, I reckon."
"That's a fact," put in Squire, sympathizingly. "You'll be all right again, and it is mean for the fellows to laugh when you have been in such danger."
"Well, we weren't laughing at your accident, you know," added Flag, "but just at the funny parts of the treatment. But I think, after all, Ed, we ought to make you pay for the wolf-skins, 'cause we'd surely have trapped three or four, it was such a pretty night for them to be out."
"More likely that I ought to sue you all for damages," groaned the victim, rocking himself to and fro in the darkness in a frantic manner.
"Don't be wrathy, Ed; of course, it was all a mistake. Doc shall do double duty now, and be cook for two days longer, as a punishment for his carelessness."
This promise somewhat molified Ed's resentment, and he soon subsided into a doze.
An early breakfast was prepared, in order to give all a good start in the business of the day. It was pretty well understood that Newcome intended to remove some of the stakes which bounded a claim belonging to Squire and Doc, and the young men resolved to be on the ground in time to intercept such irregular proceedings.
Flag had business with a party of surveyors, which would take him several miles from home, and keep him out until nightfall. Ed declared his intention to go hunting, if, after eating some breakfast, he felt able to carry his gun.