Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1890-03-27
BEN LYMAN'S SCARE.

That was a memorable fright ths
Ben Lyman had last March-the twer
tieth. The date stands out in his min
with dreadful distinctness. This wa
how ithappened:
His father had been at work in hi
sugar bush, two miles away; but he ha,
business at home that day, and Be-
seized the opportunity eagerly.
81 know all about sugar making" h
declared. "I've seen you do it enoug
times; and you know L helped a goo
deal last year. If 1 could take Ere
Daniels along to help me"
Help you have harum- scarum frol
ic," said Mr.. Lyman; but his look wa
encouraging.
1--WE shall stay all night" said Ben
clinching the matter. 1--WE can take som
blankets and things, and sleep in tn
shed where you boil the sugar. Oh
it'll be jollyl Now, don't say we can't
And though Ben's father at first shool
his head, and his mother demurred, i
ended in his programmes being consent
ed to, and in his rushing over befor,
breakfast to tell Fred Daniels.
They were off at eight o'clock, will
two packed lunch-pails and bottle o.
milk slowed away among quilts ant
shawls in Ben's old express wagon.
They were in their oldest clothes. Su
gar making was rough work, they re
flected, with qualification. They fel
like emigrants or gypsies, and they en-
joyed the feeling.
Ben's big, black Newfoundland dog
Reginald, frisked and bounded abou
them as they went, beside himself witt
joy.
"You know you're going to do some
thing uncommon, don't you old boy
said Ben, rubbing his ears. "TickleG
to death, amt you? Maybe you car
catch woodcbuck or squirrel, any
how. You'll have some fun, you see."
But poor Reginalds holiday was OF
brief duration. He had frisked off into
a yard they were passing, and suddenly
there came clatter from Mr.. Adams
hennery.
"Bet that's your dog" said Fred.
reg? No, sir" replied Ben.
But he dropped the wagon and hur-
ried to the scene of the disturbance.
Alas! there stood Reg in the midst of
squawking flock, tremulous with ex.
citement, and at his feet lay mangled
chicken. He leaped and paved about
Ben in spasm of seeming delight. Mr.
Adams stood in the door.
"Did you kill that chickens" Ben
asked.
Reg barked joyfully.
"He never did it BEFORE" he said to
Mr.. Adams, crestfallen; but know dogs
do. I'll pay you for it if you'll tell me
how much?"
He was saving his money vigorously
for tennis set, and his heart sank and
his indignation rose.
"See here, Reg, you know better; and
I'm going to teach you lesson," he de-
clared.
There was a peach tree at hand, and
he broke switch from it.
He did not hurt him much; he could
not bring himself to that. But if ever
there was stricken dog. it was Regi-
nald. His ears dropped on his sinking
head; his sprightly tail fell in abject hu-
mility; he stood fairly shivering with
misery.
"Now, go home!" commanded Ben,
sternly. you've lost your good time,
Reg you've forfeited it. Go home, sir!"
He said it with lump in his throat.
He had never whipped Reg before, and
it touched him to see his old pet turn
slowly away, with shame and detection
in every dropping line.
"Just as though he felt injured; just
as though he didn't deserve it a bit
Never saw such a dog" Fred declared.
1t was an unpleasant incident, but it
could not dampen Ben's spirits for long.
There was too much fun in store.
They reached the woods out of breath,
from running most of the way. They
bounded oyer the fence and into the
bush with whoops and cat-calls.
What boy ever saw the woods without
yelling?
The trees were leaf1ess as yet, and the
ground bare, save for last years dead
leaves. But the sun glinted down
through the branches, where few early
birds twittered, and delightfully."- fra
grant woodsy smell came up from the
moist earth.
"There are Goals here from yesterday"
Ben called out from the shed, where the
huge black kettle hung on tripod.
He stirred the ashes and ran for fuel,
and in moment the flames were again
leaping under the big black kettle.
ats running already" said Fred,
racing from tree to tree to look at the
pals hanging on the dripping spiles.-
''Pshaw! it's fun making maple-sugar -
just fun!"
Indeed, the actual work of the day
was small; for two robust boys gathering
the sap two or three times-so often as
the pals filled-and boiling down in the
iron kettle, was light task. The "pan-
ning," as well as the last of the boiling,
was always done at the house. There
were ample interims for the "harum-
5carum frolic."
What was there that they didn't do?
They whitfield wooden spoons, first of
all, to taste boiling sugar with; and the
number of hastings that were necessary,
and the total amount of the delicious
syrup thereby consumed, was amazing.
They constructed wigwam of dead
and then made bonfire of it.
Altogether, they were surprised to
find themselves tired and yawning when
the early dusk settled down among the
trees.
They lifted off the big kettle, and sat
down to roast their apples-all their
appetites had left of their
lunch.
They had hung a quilt at the open end
Of the shed. The little camp was dimly
lighted by the fading fire. 1t was warm
and cozy. They sat rather close togeth
er, for, the thought of being away off there
in the woods alone had pleasantly
scary element in it, and ate toasted ap-
pies and told stories till their eyelids
fairly dropped and their heads nodded.
Then they tucked themselves into
tbair racpantiua hlanlats their qDrinU-