CHAPTER VII
_A "Painter"_
There was still much to do on the house and the boys set themselves atwork on it very early the next morning. First of all there was a chimneyto be built. Jack directed two of the boys to saw out a space nine feetwide for the fireplace, first securing the logs in position by nailingpieces of timber to them, just as he had done with the Doctor's windows.He decided that the fireplace when finished should be five feet wide.
"You see," he said, "we've a hard house to keep warm and we must have alot of fire. Now the width of a fire means as much as its otherdimensions, and so I'm going to have a wide fire. We'll burn full lengthcordwood in our fireplace, and we'll make room for plenty of it in frontof a big back log. In earlier times an open wood fire place was the onlyheating apparatus people had, and they managed very well with it.Nowadays people insist that an open fire will not heat a room. I'mdisposed to think that that's because they make their fireplaces toosmall. We'll make ours big, like those of our grandfathers."
Then Jack turned to the Doctor and asked:
"Is it freezing?"
"No," answered the Doctor. "The thermometer stands at forty-six, andbefore noon this little skim of snow will be gone I think. But why doyou ask?"
"Because we want to chink and daub our house as soon as possible, and ofcourse we can't do it in freezing weather."
"Why not?" asked the Doctor. "We can warm our hands from time to timeand make out to stand it."
"Yes," answered Jack, "but that isn't the point. If we daub in freezingweather the mud will all drop out. You see it freezes and then when athaw comes the whole thing goes to pieces. So I'm glad it isn't freezingto-day. Now come you fellows, and let me show you how to chink anddaub."
He dug away the soil at several spots, exposing the clay that laybeneath. Then pouring great pailfuls of water into the holes thus made,he set the boys at work mixing the clay into a soft plastic mud. By thetime that this was well started the two who were to saw out a fireplaceopening had finished that task, and Jack set all at work fittingchinkings into the cracks between the logs, and so daubing them with thesoft mud as to close up all cracks, big and little, against the ingressof the winter's air.
"Now, Doctor," he said, when the boys began showing something like skillin this work, "if you'll come with me, we'll start a chimney."
They went into the woods and set to work splitting some chestnut logsinto thick slabs, six or seven feet long. With these they made a sort ofcrib work outside the house at the point where the fireplace was to be.This, as Jack explained, was to hold the fire place.
Inside of this crib, or box--about two feet inside--Jack drove somesharpened sticks into the ground and behind them he placed someclapboards set on edge. Then he called for mud and with it filled in thespace between the clapboards and the crib walls behind. Then he setanother tier of clapboards and added more mud, and so on till he had thewhole inside of the slab crib lined with two feet of mud held in placeby clapboards set on edge and braced with stakes.
"Now, then," said Jack, "when we build a fire the clapboards will slowlyburn away, but very slowly because no air can get behind them, and inthe meantime the mud will bake into one great solid brick. Now for thetop of the chimney."
Then he went outside and built upon this fireplace a smoke stack,consisting of cribwork of sticks split out for the purpose, embeddingeach stick in a thick daubing of mud as he went.
By the time he finished it was night--for so eager had the boys beenwith their work that they had not stopped on this third day for dinner,but had contented themselves with cold bites left over from breakfast.In the meantime also the other boys had finished chinking and daubingthe house.
"Now we're ready to move in," said Jim Chenowith as they sat down roundthe fire to eat their supper.
"Indeed we're not," answered little Tom. "We haven't built our bed yetor a table to eat on, or any chairs to sit on, and besides that thefireplace must have at least twenty-four hours in which to dry before wecan build a fire in it. You're always in a hurry Jim. If we getcomfortably moved into our winter quarters by this time day afterto-morrow we'll do very well indeed."
"Yes," interposed Jack, "but we'll move in to-morrow night nevertheless.By that time we'll have the bed constructed and a table and some sort ofchairs made, and we shall be much more comfortable in the house than outhere under the cliff where it is very uncomfortably wet and muddy sincethe snow began to melt. Of course we can't have a fire in the house fortwo or three days yet, but we can have one outside, in front of thedoor."
"So the programme for to-morrow is to make beds, chairs and a table?"asked the Doctor.
"That's the programme for the other boys, Doctor. You and I will in themeantime set up the chute through which we are to send the results ofour chopping into the valley below. Fortunately there is a straightslide down the mountain, free from trees and landing at the right place.It was used some years ago to send big stones down. All we've got to dois to build a short chute at this end of it. Gravity will do the rest."
"But, I say Jack," broke in little Tom, "If we begin to chute sticksdown there and anybody should be in the way--"
"But there'll be nobody in the way," answered Jack. "You don't imaginethat I left so serious a matter as that to chance, do you? I've arrangedthe whole thing. Our slide ends in a spreading sort of flat down therein the valley that embraces an acre or so of level ground. Our timberswill go down there with the speed of cannon balls, but when they getthere they'll slow up as the descent grows gentler, and stop on thelevel ground. Now I've arranged with the railroad people that we're notto send anything down the chute till to-morrow afternoon at theearliest, and that after that we are to send nothing down till threeo'clock each day. That's to give them a chance to collect the stuff,haul it away and measure it."
"By the way," asked the Doctor, "how are we going to keep tab on theircounts and measurements? Must we simply trust the contractor's men forall that?"
"Not by any means," answered Jack, who carried a very good business headon his shoulders. "Not by any means. We'll keep our own count up here.On every hundredth tie that we send down I am to mark 100, 200, 300 andso forth, according to the count, using a piece of red keel for thepurpose. On every big bridge timber that we send down I am to mark thelength and smallest diameter, keeping an account of it all up here. Asfor cordwood, every time we have sent down ten cords I am to send down aslab indicating the amount. All these markings of mine will be verifiedbelow, of course, and when we go down in the spring the contractor or,rather, his agent with whom I made our bargain--for I didn't meet thecontractor himself--will settle with us. He knows us only as a singlesource of supply, and will credit everything we send down to the wholeparty of us. So as between ourselves we must keep our own accounts soas to make a proper and equitable division of the proceeds of our workwhen the springtime comes. To that function I appoint Ed Parmly. He isto keep our books. He has had experience in that sort of work in hisfather's store, and we'll look to him to keep a record of every fellow'scontribution to the supply of timber sent down."
"But Jack," broke in little Tom, "how are we to estimate the amount ofcordwood we send down the chute?"
"We won't estimate it at all. We'll cord it up and measure it before wesend it down, just as we'll count our ties and measure up our bridgetimbers. What's that?"
All the boys had started to their feet at the sound of something thatseemed to be a human being in excruciating agony.
After a long pause there was a repetition of the strange, pitiful cry.
"May I use your rifle, Doctor?" asked little Tom. "That's a fellow thatI don't care to tackle with a shot gun, and I've located him prettywell."
"What is it, anyhow?" asked Ed Parmly and Jim Chenowith, in a breath.
"It's a panther," answered Tom as he took the gun from the Doctor'shands, slipped off his boots and crept stealthily and noiselessly intothe woods.
"Stay here, all of you," he commanded, "and don't make the
least noise."
Tom was a chronic huntsman. From his tenth year onward, as has beenalready told, he had spent a large part of his vacation alone in thewoods in pursuit of game. Sometimes he had been absent from home for aweek at a time, having taken no supplies with him, but dependingexclusively upon his gun for the means of subsistence. Then he had comehome heavily burdened with wild turkeys, squirrels, opossums, raccoonsand game of every other species that the mountains afforded. In everymatter pertaining to the chase his present comrades were willingly readyto pay deference to little Tom's superior skill, knowledge and sagacity.So they all obeyed him when he bade them remain where they were, andkeep perfectly still.
There was a long time of waiting. Then came another of the demoniacalscreams, but still no response from little Tom. Several minutes latercame three rapidly succeeding reports from the repeating rifle, andafter half a minute more little Tom called out--
"Come here all of you, and bring your guns."
The boys all hurried to the place from which the voice came, the Doctorcarrying a brand from the camp fire to give light.
It was well that he had thought of that, for light was just then badlyneeded. Little Tom was lying at the root of a tree, covered with bloodand manifestly fainting. Only a few feet away lay the panther, shotthree times through the body but still sufficiently alive to be strikingout madly with his fearfully clawed fore feet in a desperate endeavor todestroy his enemy.
TOM WAS LYING AT THE FOOT OF THE TREE.]
By the light of the Doctor's torch three charges of buckshot werequickly driven into the beast's vitals, and at last he lay still.
Then, all attention was given to Little Tom. Throwing his torch upon theground the Doctor called out:
"Build a fire right there, boys, as quickly as you can. I must havelight by which to examine the boy's wounds."
Willing hands produced the desired light within a very few moments, andstripping off part of Tom's clothing, the Doctor discovered that thebeast had dealt him two vicious blows with his horridly armed claws, onetearing his left arm severely and the other lacerating his chest. Aftera hurried examination, the Doctor said:
"He can stand removing to the camp if you'll carry him gently, boys, andI can treat him better there than here." Then he gave a few hurrieddirections as to the best way of carrying the wounded boy, and theothers very lovingly obeyed his instructions in removing their comradeto the main camp fire.
"Now," said the Doctor, "remove all his clothing as quickly and asgently as you can."
This was done and the Doctor carefully examined the wounds.
"It's all right, boys," he said, presently. "Tom is very painfully hurt,but the 'painter' didn't know enough of anatomy to deliver his blows invital parts. Tom will get well, but he's fainting now. Lower his headand throw a gourdful of cold water into his face and another over hischest."
It was no sooner said than done, and no sooner was it done than Tomrevived. After blinking his eyes for a moment, he asked:
"Did you fellows finish the painter?"
"Indeed we did," answered Jack; "but it's you old fellow, that we'reconcerned about now."
"That's all right," said Tom, "but that fellow's hide is worth a goodmany dollars, and better than that, we're rid of him. If I hadn't shothim he would have dropped from a tree upon some one or other of us, andin that case he wouldn't have left anything for the Doctor to do."
Meanwhile the Doctor was carefully cleansing the boy's wounds anddrenching them in water in which disinfectant tablets from his pocketcase had been dissolved. Here and there it was necessary to draw theedges of deep gashes together by a stitch or two with a surgical needle."But the main thing," the Doctor expounded, "is to cleanse and disinfectthe wounds. Nature itself," he added, "will repair any wound that doesnot involve a vital part, if it is cleansed and kept clean. The dangeralways is that the wound will become infected, that inflammation andblood poisoning will set in and kill the patient. Fortunately, wesurgeons know now how to prevent that, and I'll answer for it thatnothing of the kind shall happen to little Tom."
"But what is it that causes the inflammation and blood poisoning?" askedHarry.
"Microbes," answered the Doctor; "little things that you can't seewithout a microscope--and some that you can't see with one. The greatestadvance that was ever made in medical and surgical science was thediscovery of the fact that nearly all diseases and all hurtful anddangerous inflammation is due to the presence of microbes in a wound.The moment the Doctors found that out they set to work to kill themicrobes. They studied them under the most powerful microscopes. Theytried all sorts of experiments with them till they learned how to killthem. Thus they discovered two greatly good things--antiseptic surgeryfirst and after that aseptic surgery. Antiseptic surgery aims to killall the evil germs that are already in a wound. Aseptic surgery aims tokeep all evil germs out of the wounds that the surgeon must make."
"Would you mind giving us some illustrations, Doctor?" asked Jack.
"Certainly not, if you are interested," said the Doctor.
"I have practiced both antiseptic and aseptic surgery on little Tomto-night, so his case will serve to illustrate both. I have washed allhis wounds with a solution of bi-chloride of mercury, commonly calledcorrosive sublimate, for the purpose of killing all the germs that mayhave got into them from that beast's claws or in any other way. That wasantiseptic surgery. Then, wherever I found it necessary to take a stitchor two, I have used ligatures drawn directly out of a disinfectingsolution, and perhaps you observed that I thoroughly disinfected myneedles and other implements by passing them through a blaze beforeusing them. So, also, as to my hands. Before touching Tom's wounds Ithoroughly scoured my hands in a solution of corrosive sublimate, sothat they might not carry any possible infection to the scratches. Allthat is aseptic surgery. In the hospitals, where all conditions can becontrolled they do this aseptic business completely. First of all, theyhave an operating table made of glass, which absorbs nothing and couldbe easily and perfectly cleansed after each operation by mere washingwith water. But not content with that they scour the table with adisinfecting solution immediately before every operation. Then thesurgeon, his assistant, and all the attendants are clad in garments thathave been rendered 'sterile' as they call it, by roasting. So of all thetowels and sheets and everything else employed about the patient'sperson. Everything is sterilized. The bandages and the thread or thecatgut to be used are drawn from thoroughly disinfected supplies. Thesurgeon's instruments of every kind are laid in a panfull of adisinfecting fluid, and there are so many of each that if any one ofthem is accidentally dropped its use is abandoned and another is used inits stead. But come! Little Tom, you are comfortable now. Why not tellus how it all happened?"
"Well, you see," answered little Tom, "when I heard that cry and locatedit, I knew what it meant. I knew it was a painter or a catamount, or apuma, or a panther, or a mountain lion--or whatever else you choose tocall it, for it bears all those names and some others. And I knew whatit was after. It wanted that last leg of venison of ours, but it wasn'tover particular. If it couldn't get the venison it was quite ready totake any one of us boys instead.
"It's a smart beast, the panther. It sneaks on its prey and springs uponany animal, human or other, that it may fancy, for lunch. And yet it isa fool in some ways. It suffers itself to grow enthusiastic now andthen, though that is very rare, and when that happens it gives thatexcruciating yell that we heard. I never heard that except once, beforeto-night.
"Well, when I heard it, I knew what it meant. I knew that unlesssomebody killed that panther, that panther would kill somebody in thiscompany. At his second yell I located him pretty accurately, though, ofcourse, you can't depend too confidently upon that, as the beast oftenruns a dozen yards in a few seconds. So I took your gun, Doctor, andwent out to find the gentleman. For a time, I couldn't get a sight ofhim, but after awhile he yelled again, and I 'spotted' him. I crept upin the very dim light till I got a good view of him, crouching on
alimb, and evidently planning to spring upon me and accept me in lieu ofthe venison. Then I fired three bullets through him with that splendidrepeating rifle of yours, Doctor, and then I had an illustration of theold adage about 'the ruling passion' being 'strong in death.' For,instead of dropping to the ground, as I had expected him to do, thebeast sprang twenty or thirty feet forward and attacked me with hishideously long and sharp claws. He tore me to ribbons at his firstonset, but then the three bullets I had given him from your gun seemedsuddenly to dishearten him. So I managed to creep out of his way andcall to you fellows to come to my rescue. The rest of the story youfellows know better than I do. For the next thing I recollect was whenyou doused me with the water so that I should become conscious of theprick of the Doctor's needles, as he sewed me up. By the way, Doctor, amI seriously hurt?"
"Seriously, yes," answered the Doctor. "But not dangerously, I think.You're going to have a good long rest in one of our beds over there inthe new house, but surgery is now so exact a science that I think I canpromise you an entirely certain recovery within a few days, or a fewweeks at furthest, if you'll be a good boy and obey my instructions."
"I say, boys," called out Tom, "how fortunate we've been in bringing aDoctor along, even if we did have to resolve half his age away! Doctor,I never met any other boy of only sixteen years old who knew half asmuch as you do! Now, I'm tired. I'm going to sleep. Call me when itcomes my turn for guard duty."
And with that the boy sank to sleep. But there was no call upon him thatnight or for many nights yet to come, for sentinel service.