CHAPTER THREE.
HOW I HUNTED THE LION IN NO-MAN'S-LAND AND WHAT FOLLOWED.
My aunt's cry brought out Uncle Joseph in a terrible state ofexcitement, and it was not until after a long chase and Buzzy was caughtthat she could be made to believe that he had not received a mortalwound. And a tremendous chase it was, for the more Uncle Joseph and Itried to circumvent that cat, the more he threw himself into the fun ofthe hunt and dodged us, running up trees like a squirrel, leaping downwith his tail swollen to four times its usual size, and going over thebeds in graceful bounds, till Uncle Joseph sat down to pant and wipe hisface while I continued the chase; but all in vain. Sometimes I nearlycaught the cat, but he would be off again just as I made a spring toseize him, while all Aunt Sophia's tender appeals to "poor Buzzy then,""my poor pet then," fell upon ears that refused to hear her.
"Oh how stupid I am!" I said to myself. "Oh, Buzzy, this is too bad togive me such a chase. Come here, sir, directly;" and I stooped down.
It had the required result, for Buzzy leaped down off the wall up whichhe had scrambled, jumped on to my back, settled himself comfortably withhis fore-paws on my shoulder, and began to purr with satisfaction.
"I am glad, my boy," said Uncle Joseph, "so glad you have caught him;but have you hurt him much?"
"He isn't hurt at all, uncle," I said. "It was all in play."
"But your aunt is in agony, my boy. Here, let me take the cat to her."
He stretched out his hands to take the cat from my shoulder, but Buzzy'seyes dilated and he began to swear, making my uncle start back, for hedreaded a scratch from anything but a rose thorn, and those he did notmind.
"Would you mind taking him to your aunt, Natty, my boy?" he said.
"No, uncle, if you'll please come too," I said. "Don't let aunt scoldme, uncle; I'm very sorry, and it was only play."
"I'll come with you, Nat," he said, shaking his head; "but I ought notto have let you have that bow, and I'm afraid she will want it burnt."
"Will she be very cross?" I said.
"I'm afraid so, my boy." And she really was.
"Oh you wicked, wicked boy," she cried as I came up; "what were youdoing?"
"Only playing at tiger-hunting, aunt," I said.
"With my poor darling Buzzy! Come to its own mistress then, Buzzy," shecried pityingly. "Did the wicked, cruel boy--oh dear!"
_Wur-r-ur! spit, spit_!
That was Buzzy's reply to his mistress's attempt to take him from myshoulder, and he made an attempt to scratch.
"And he used to be as gentle as a lamb," cried my aunt. "You wicked,wicked boy, you must have hurt my darling terribly to make him so angrywith his mistress whom he loves."
I protested that I had not, but it was of no use, and I was in greatdisgrace for some days; but Aunt Sophia forgot to confiscate mycrossbow.
The scolding I received ought to have had more effect upon me, but itdid not; for it was only a week afterwards that I was again in disgrace,and for the same fault, only with this difference, that in my fancy thegarden had become a South African desert, and Nap was the lion I wasengaged in hunting.
I did him no harm, I am sure, but a great deal of good, with theexercise; and the way in which he entered into the sport delighted me.He charged me and dashed after me when I fled; when I hid behind treesto shoot at him he seized the arrows, if they hit him, and worried themfiercely; while whenever they missed him, in place of dashing at me hewould run after the arrows and bring them in his mouth to where hethought I was hiding.
I don't think Nap had any more sense than dogs have in general, but hewould often escape from my aunt when I came home from school, and runbefore me to the big cupboard where I kept my treasures, raise himselfupon his hind-legs, and tear at the door till I opened it and took outthe crossbow, when he would frisk round and round in the highest stateof delight, running out into the garden, dashing back, running outagain, and entering into the spirit of the game with as much pleasure asI did.
But the fun to be got out of a crossbow gets wearisome after a time,especially when you find that in spite of a great deal of practice it isvery hard to hit anything that is at all small.
The time glided on, and I was very happy still with my uncle; butsomehow Aunt Sophia seemed to take quite a dislike to me; and no matterhow I tried to do what was right, and to follow out my uncle's wishes, Iwas always in trouble about something or another.
One summer Uncle Joseph bought me a book on butterflies, with colouredplates, which so interested me that I began collecting the very nextday, and captured a large cabbage butterfly.
No great rarity this, but it was a beginning; and after pinning it outas well as I could I began to think of a cabinet, collecting-boxes, anet, and a packet of entomological pins.
I only had to tell Uncle Joseph my wants and he was eager to help me.
"Collecting-boxes, Nat?" he said, rubbing his hands softly; "why, I usedto use pill-boxes when I was a boy: there are lots up-stairs."
He hunted me out over a dozen that afternoon, and supplied me with anold drawer and a piece of camphor, entering into the matter with as muchzest as I did myself. Then he obtained an old green gauze veil from myaunt, and set to work with me in the tool-house to make a net, after thecompletion of which necessity he proposed that we should go the verynext afternoon as far as Clapham Common to capture insects.
He did not go with me, for my aunt wanted him to hold skeins of wool forher to wind, but he made up to me for the disappointment that evening bysitting by me while I pinned out my few but far from rare captures,taking great pleasure in holding the pins for me, and praising what hecalled my cleverness in cutting out pieces of card.
I did not know anything till it came quite as a surprise, and it wassmuggled into the house so that my aunt did not know, Jane, according touncle's orders, carrying it up to my bedroom.
It was a large butterfly-case, made to open out in two halves like abackgammon board; and in this, as soon as they were dry, I used to pinmy specimens, examining them with delight, and never seeming to weary ofnoting the various markings, finding out their names, and numberingthem, and keeping their proper titles in a book I had for the purpose.
I did not confine myself to butterflies, but caught moths and beetles,with dragon-flies from the edges of the ponds on Clapham Common, longingto go farther afield, but not often obtaining a chance. Then, as Ibegan to find specimens scarce, I set to collecting other things thatseemed interesting, and at last, during a visit paid by my aunt to somefriends, Uncle Joseph took me to the British Museum to see thebutterflies there, so, he said, that I might pick up a few hints formanaging my own collection.
That visit turned me into an enthusiast, for before we returned I hadbeen for hours feasting my eyes upon the stuffed birds and noting thewondrous colours on their scale-like feathers.
I could think of scarcely anything else, talk of nothing else afterwardsfor days; and nothing would do but I must begin to collect birds andprepare and stuff them for myself.
"You wouldn't mind, would you, uncle?" I said.
"Mind? No, my boy," he said, rubbing his hands softly; "I should likeit; but do you think you could stuff a bird?"
"Not at first," I said thoughtfully; "but I should try."
"To be sure, Nat," he cried smiling; "nothing like trying, my boy; buthow would you begin?"
This set me thinking.
"I don't know, uncle," I said at last, "but it looks very easy."
"Ha! ha! ha! Nat; so do lots of things," he cried, laughing; "butsometimes they turn out very hard."
"I know," I said suddenly.
"I know," I said, "I could find out how to do it."
"Have some lessons, eh?" he said.
"No, uncle."
"How would you manage it then, Nat?"
"Buy a stuffed bird, uncle, and pull it to pieces, and see how it isdone."
"To be sure, Nat," he cried; "to be sure, my boy. That's the way; butstop a moment; how would y
ou put it together again?"
"Oh! I think I could, uncle," I said; "I'm nearly sure I could. Howcould I get one to try with?"
"Why, we might buy one somewhere," he said thoughtfully; "for I don'tthink they'd lend us one at the British Museum; but I tell you what,Nat," he cried: "I've got it."
"Have you, uncle?"
"To be sure, my boy. There's your aunt's old parrot that died and wasstuffed. Don't you know?"
I shook my head.
"It was put somewhere up-stairs in the lumber-room, and your aunt hasforgotten all about it. You might try with that."
"And I'd stuff it again when I had found out all about it, uncle," Isaid.
"To be sure, my boy," said uncle, thoughtfully; "I wonder whether youraunt would want Buzzy and Nap stuffed if they were to die?"
"She'd be sure to; aunt is so fond of them," I said. "Why, uncle, Imight be able to do it myself."
"Think so?" he said thoughtfully. "Why, it would make her pleased, myboy."
But neither Buzzy nor Nap showed the slightest intention of dying so asto be stuffed, and I had to learn the art before I could attemptanything of the kind.