Swiss Family Robinson

recent rain had promoted the growth of our young corn, I determined to irrigate the fields with the drainage from our crushing-mill.
    The fishing season was again successful. Large takes of salmon, sturgeon and herring rewarded our annual exertions, and our store-room again assumed a well-stocked appearance. Much as I wished that we could obtain a constant supply of these fish fresh, I was obliged to reject the naive proposal from Jack, that we should tether a shoal of salmon by the gills to the bottom of the bay as we had secured the turtles.
    Many quiet uneventful days passed by and I perceived that the boys, wearied by the routine of farm work at Rockburg , were longing for a cruise in the yacht or an expedition into the woods, which would refresh both mind and body.
    `Father,' said Fritz at length, `we want a quantity of hurdles, and have scarcely any more bamboos of which to make them. Had we not better get a supply from Woodlands? And you said, too, the other day, that you wished you had some more of the fine clay: we might visit the Gap at the same time.'
    I had really no objection to propose; and it was shortly afterwards settled that Fritz, Jack, and Franz should start together; and that Ernest, who had no great desire to accompany his brothers, should remain with his mother and me, and assist in the construction of a sugar-mill, the erection of which I had long contemplated.
    Before they started, Fritz begged some bear's meat from his mother, to make pemmican.
    `And what may pemmican be?' she asked.
    `It is food carried by the fur-traders of North America on their long journeys through the wild country they traverse; and consists of bear or deer's flesh, first cooked and then pounded or ground to powder. It is very portable, and nourishing.'
    His mother consented `to humour him', as she said, although without much faith in the value of the preparation; and in the course of two days a stock of pemmican, sufficient for a Polar expedition, was fabricated by our enthusiastic son.
    They were ready to start, when I observed Jack quietly slip a basket, containing several pigeons, under the packages in the cart.
    `Oh, oh!' thought I, `the little fellow has his doubts about that pemmican, and thinks a tough old pigeon would be preferable.'
    The weather was exquisite; and, with exhortations to prudence and caution from both me and their mother, the three lads started in the very highest spirits. Storm and Grumble, as usual, drew the cart, and were ridden by Fritz and Franz; while Hurry carried Jack swiftly across the bridge in advance of them; followed by Floss and Bruno, barking at his heels.
    The sugar-mill occupied us for several days, and was made so much like our other mills that I need not now describe it.
    On the evening of the first day, as we sat resting in the porch at Rockburg , we naturally talked of the absentees, wondering and guessing what they might be about.
    Ernest looked rather mysterious, and hinted that he might have news of them next morning.
    Just then a bird alighted on the dove-cot, and entered. I could not see, in the failing light, whether it was one of our own pigeons or an intruder. Ernest started up, and said he would see that all was right.
    In a few minutes he returned with a scrap of paper in his hand. `News, father! The very latest news by pigeon-post, mother!'
    `Well done, boys! What a capital idea!' said I, and taking the note I read:
    `Dearest parents and Ernest,
    `A brute of a hyaena has killed a ram and two lambs. The dogs seized it. Franz shot it. It is dead and skinned. The pemmican isn't worth much, but we are all right. Love to all.
    `Fritz
    `Woodlands, 15th instant
    `A true hunter's letter!' laughed I. `But what exciting news. When does the next post come in, Ernest?'
    `Tonight, I hope,' said he, while his mother sighed, and doubted the value of such glimpses into the scenes of danger through which her sons were passing, declaring she would much rather wait and hear all about it when she had them safe home again.
    Thus the winged letter-carriers kept us informed from day to day of the outline of adventures which were afterwards more fully described.
    On approaching the farm at Woodlands, the boys were startled by hearing, as they thought, human laughter, repeated again and again; while, to their astonishment, the oxen testified the greatest uneasiness, the dogs growled and drew close to their masters, and the ostrich fairly bolted with Jack into the rice swamp.
    The