V

A SNOWSTORM

Margaret grew steadily stronger. She was out of doors a great deal, rambling about in the mornings on the hard snow; and later in the day, when the snow became soft, she would play on the piazza, or talk with Beechnut while he was at his work. The weather was all the time getting warmer, and the snow was fast disappearing. One day Margaret found some little green leaves beside a walk in the yard. Beechnut came by as she was looking at them, and she asked him how much longer he thought the snow would last.

"I don't know," replied Beechnut. "We may have more before this is gone. In fact, I think it looks as if there might be a snowstorm gathering now."

Margaret turned her eyes toward the sky and saw that it was hazy, especially toward the south. The sunshine was gradually becoming dimmer, and within half an hour the air grew so cold that Margaret went into the house. The sky was gray, and darkness came that night much earlier than usual. When the children went upstairs to go to bed the storm had begun. Margaret looked out of a window. "0 dear me!" she exclaimed, "the garden is covered deep with snow again. The flowers will all be killed."

"No," said Frank, "they don't care for the snow. I'm glad to have such a storm. We shall have a good time going to break out the roads."

"Shall we?" said Margaret.

"Yes," was Frank's response, "if we have snow and drifts enough. I hope it will snow all night, and blow — oh, how I hope it will blow!" It did snow all night, and in the morning, when Margaret awoke, the snow was piled up against the windows so that she could scarcely see out of them. As soon as she was dressed she went downstairs and found Frank in the sitting room. They both looked out of the window a few minutes, and then Margaret sat down on a low stool by the fireplace and began to play with Carlo. Tom was asleep on the other side of the hearth.

"Oh, Margaret," said Frank, "come here and see the drops run down on the glass."

"I have seen them already," replied Margaret, "and I know what makes them run down."

"What is it?" asked Frank.

"Why," said she, "it is because the, glass is warm and melts the snowflakes that strike against it outside."

Margaret had received this explanation from her aunt before she came downstairs. Frank put his hand on the glass. "It is not warm," said he. "It is cold."

"No," said Margaret, "it is warm. My aunt told me it was warm, and she knows."

"But come and feel it yourself," urged Frank, "it is as cold as ice."

"I don't wish to feel it," said Margaret. "I know it is warm because my aunt says it is."

Frank then left the window and went toward Margaret saying, "Just come and feel;" and he took hold of her arm to pull her along.

At this instant the door opened and Beechnut came in bringing an armful of wood for the fire. "What's the matter?" he inquired.

"Frank won't leave me alone," replied Margaret.

"She says the glass of the window is warm," explained Frank, "and I want her to feel it."

"One of you says it is warm, and the other says it is cold; is that it?" asked Beechnut. "Yes," Frank answered.

"I'll go and see," said Beechnut.

So he laid down his wood and then he put his hand in his pocket and took out a mitten.

"What are you going to do?" asked Frank.

"I am going to put this mitten on in case the glass should be so hot as to burn me," Beechnut replied.

He advanced very cautiously toward the window, reaching his hand out as if he were afraid he might get burned. In fact, he mimicked so perfectly the appearance of a boy about to touch hot iron that Frank and Margaret forgot their dispute and went to see what he would do.

Beechnut put his hand on the window, and the instant he touched it he caught his hand away, crying out, "Oh, how hot!" Then he added, "I believe I'll try it without my mitten."

So saying, he drew off his mitten and touched his bare hand to the glass. Immediately he jumped as if he had been burned, and began to caper about the room shaking and blowing his fingers and making such droll faces of distress that Frank and Margaret filled the room with shouts of laughter. Beechnut danced and hopped along to the door, opened it, and disappeared. But the instant he passed out he resumed his ordinary appearance and walked just as if nothing had happened, in the soberest manner possible, through the kitchen past Mrs. Henley who was busy there preparing breakfast.

Margaret followed Beechnut and found him in the shed taking down more wood from a pile. "Was it really hot, Beechnut?" she asked.

"Ah," responded Beechnut, shaking his head, "if you could only see my fingers — all blistered!"

 

"But was it hot, really?" said Margaret. "Tell me."

"Well," said Beechnut, "you and Frank come here into the shed, after breakfast, and I'll settle t h e dispute for you."

Margaret assented to this and went in and told Frank. She found him relating the story of the dispute to Wallace who had just come downstairs. Wallace put his hand on the glass and said, "Certainly the glass is not so warm as the hand, and it therefore feels cold when we touch it; but it is warmer than the snow, and as a result the snow that gets against it is melted."

"But it is cold when we feel it," said Frank. "Yes," Wallace agreed, "or rather it feels cold to the hand."

"There!" exclaimed Frank, turning to Margaret. "I told you so."

"I am not going to talk about it any more," said Margaret. "Beechnut says he will settle it after breakfast."

When they had eaten, Margaret put on her bonnet and shawl, and she and Frank went to the shed. Beechnut was piling wood. The doors of the shed were all shut to keep out the storm, which was beating incessantly against the building as if the wind and snow were trying to get in. Some of the snow had been driven through the crack beneath one of the doors and lay there in a little drift. Frank and Margaret made snowballs from it and then went to Beechnut to get their dispute settled.

"I'll read the law about disputes out of the Code Antonio," said Beechnut.

The emperor Napoleon caused a body of laws to be framed which became very celebrated all over the world, and was called the Code Napoleon. It was in imitation of this name that Beechnut called the laws which he announced from time to time to Frank and Margaret the Code Antonio.

He put his hand in one of his coat pockets, took out a small book, and after turning the leaves began to read. "Chapter forty-eight. Of Disputes. Section First. If two brothers get into a dispute it is the older that is in the wrong; for he ought to be the wiser, and disputing among children is folly."

"But we are not two brothers," said Margaret.

"Section Second," continued Beechnut, still looking on his book. "If a brother and a sister get into a dispute it is the brother who is in the wrong, for he ought to be too polite to dispute with a lady."

"But we are not a brother and sister," said Margaret.

"It comes pretty near it," commented Beechnut, shutting the book.

"Let me see your book," said Frank as Beechnut was putting it in his pocket.

"No; but I'll tell you what I will do," was Beechnut's response.

"Yes, tell us," said Frank.

"If you and Margaret will pile wood for me one hour, I'll tap some maple trees for you."

"When will you tap them?" Frank questioned.

"The first good day," replied Beechnut. "Well, Margaret," said Frank, "let's do it." Margaret assented, and the children worked

for an hour piling wood very industriously.

Beechnut always adopted much this same mode whenever he attempted to settle a dispute between Frank and Margaret. He amused them at first by some original device to excite their interest and curiosity, or to make them laugh, and then contrived to turn their attention off from the subject of dispute into a wholly new channel.

That afternoon, when Frank's lesson hour was over, he came down into the sitting room to play with Margaret. The snow still continued to fall, and the two children saw that it was getting very deep in the yard. The garden gate was entirely covered by a great drift. Frank presently sat down beside the fire to teach his dog Tom to "speak," as he called it. He held a piece of bread up above the dog's reach and tried to make him bark for it by saying, "Speak, Tommy, speak!"

Tom would seem very anxious and uneasy, and would whine and make all sorts of disagreeable noises and finally bark. As soon as he barked Frank would give him the bread, and then, breaking another piece from a slice he had in his lap, he would start the same lesson again. While he was engaged in this manner, Beechnut passed through the room, but paused to ask Frank what he was doing with his dog.

"I am teaching him to speak," replied Frank, and he broke off another small piece of bread, held it up high, and said as before, "Speak, Tommy, speak!"

Tommy wiggled and jumped about and whined, but being perhaps a little disturbed by the presence of Beechnut would not bark.

"He would speak a minute or two ago," Frank declared.

"I am glad he won't now," said Beechnut.

"Why? Don't you think it is a good plan to teach him something?" asked Frank.

"Yes," Beechnut replied; "but I should teach him something useful, and not disagreeable tricks."

"What would you teach him?" Frank inquired.

"Oh, I don't know," said Beechnut. " Perhaps I should teach him to draw like a horse. If you teach both the dogs to draw, they might help you get your sap to the boiling kettle when you make sugar."

Beechnut now left the room on his way to the barn. Frank was very much pleased with the idea of teaching the dogs to draw, and after talking with Margaret about it a few minutes he concluded to go out and ask Beechnut how it was to be done. He found him in the barn leading out the horse from its stall.

"Where are you going?" asked Frank. "To the post office," replied Beechnut. "Ho!" said Frank, "that is in the village,

a mile away. You can't get there."

"I can try," Beechnut responded, and he put a folded blanket on the horse's back and fastened it on with a long strap. Then he mounted.

"Aren't you going to have a bridle?" Frank questioned.

"No," said Beechnut, "a halter is bridle enough for me when I have the Marshal to ride."

The Marshal was very handsome and very spirited, but so well trained that Beechnut could control him by a halter as well as by a bridle.

"Before you go," said Frank, "I wish you would show us how to teach our dogs to draw, and make us a harness."

"No," responded Beechnut, "it would take me half an hour to do that."

"And how long will it be before you get back from the post office?" asked Frank.

"It will take me at least an hour to go and come," said Beechnut, " if the drifts are as deep as I suppose."

"I mean to go and ask Wallace to ride to the post office," said Frank, "and then you can stay and help us."

"Very well; but tell him it is your plan and not mine," rejoined Beechnut.

Frank ran into the house and soon came back accompanied by Wallace, who had a cap on his head, and his coat buttoned up to his chin.

"I am afraid you will find it very hard getting to the post office, Mr. Wallace," said Beechnut.

"I expect to find the roads blocked," Wallace responded; "but I would like to go very much, notwithstanding — only I believe you must give me a saddle and bridle."

Beechnut dismounted, saddled and bridled the horse and delivered him to Wallace. He then opened one half of the great barn door, and Wallace sallied forth into the snow. Beechnut and Frank stood watching him. The wind howled among the tops of the trees, all traces of the road had disappeared from view, and even the tops of the fences were in many places covered. Beyond the road the whole landscape was concealed by the falling flakes that were driven furiously by the force of the gale.

As the Marshal advanced through the yard the snow was so deep that he could scarcely wallow through it. When he approached the gateway Wallace found that the whole line of the fence at that point, gateway and all, was entirely hidden by a monstrous drift. The horse pushed into this drift, the snow growing deeper and deeper at every step. When at length it came up to his shoulders he could go no farther. He struggled a moment and stopped.

Wallace then got off his back, and leaving him went on ahead trampling the snow down with his feet and attempting to break a way through the drift. He advanced very slowly, but finally succeeded in getting through the deepest of the snow and then turned to the horse, which had followed close behind. "Now, old fellow," said he, "I think you can carry me once more."

He mounted, and the horse plodded on until the flying flakes concealed him from the sight of Beechnut and Frank who had continued to watch from the barn door.

"I wish I had asked Wallace to let me go too, riding behind him," said Frank.

Beechnut did not reply, but shut the barn door, and then he and Frank went into the house to begin teaching the dogs to draw. First, Beechnut made the harness. Each harness consisted of a collar of soft leather and two long straps, one on either side, to serve for traces. They used Beechnut's drag for a cart and only hitched up one dog at a time. Carlo learned the faster; but before Wallace returned, either of the dogs would go very well across the room drawing the drag after him.

Beechnut said that Frank and Margaret must teach them more every day, and thus by the time the snow hardened so that they could commence the sap boiling, the dogs would make a very good team. He then went away.

Frank was tired of training the dogs, and he said he would go and cut some stems of elder bushes to make sap spouts. Margaret told him the snow was too deep, but Frank thought not. So he put on his boots, and with a pair of leather straps fastened his trousers down about his ankles to prevent the snow from getting up under them. He then went out on the piazza which led to the yard behind the house, while Margaret stood at the window to see.

He waded along through the yard, looking around continually toward Margaret and tumbling down purposely into the snow to make her laugh, and wallowing about here and there wherever the snow was deepest. But, as he advanced in the direction he had to go to reach the elder bushes, he found the snow so deep that he could not get along. It came up to his waist. He turned toward Margaret and stood still, laughing. Suddenly, he pointed at something out among the trees of the garden.

Margaret pushed up the window a little and asked, "What is it?"

"Snowbirds," Frank called back.

Margaret put the window down to keep out the blustering storm, and Frank waded forth from the drift and came toward the house. As soon as he got to the piazza he began to stamp about its floor, shaking and brushing the snow off his clothes. He then went to the window where Margaret was and shouted that he was going to get the snowshoes.

Off he went to the shed and soon returned with the snowshoes on his feet. He started again to go to the elder bushes, but though he no longer sank in the snow, the shoes were so large that it was extremely difficult for him to manage them. He staggered on very awkwardly, and Margaret watched him until he passed around the corner of the house. Then her attention was attracted in another direction, for Wallace was coming in from the post office, whitened from head to foot.