Chapter IV: Part 4

Then stood up Old Pluck and said, “We boys, as I told you before, ran away from school because we are tired of the old humdrum Christmas; and nothing better could have happened to us than to get you fine fellows into our power, as we have done. It will be the jolliest thing in the world for us to see you and your band go through all the wild feats and bold exploits which belong to robber life; and we would like you to begin now, and keep it up all day and to-morrow.”

“But what would you have us do?” asked the chief, somewhat surprised.

“I should like to see you sack a village,” said Old Pluck. “How would that suit you, boys?”

The boys all declared that they thought that would do very well, to begin with.

The chief turned to his lieutenant and said: “Is there any village round here that has not been recently sacked?”

The lieutenant reflected a moment. “There is Buville,” he said. “We haven’t been there for six months.”

“Very good,” said the captain, rising; “we’ll sack Buville.”

In a short time the robber band, followed by the eleven boys, set out for Buville, a few miles distant. When they came within sight of the village the chief ordered his company to get behind a hedge which ran on one side of the road, and thus stealthily approach the place.

As soon as they were near enough the chief gave a loud whistle, and the whole company rushed wildly into the main street. The robbers flashed their drawn swords in the sunlight and brandished their spears, while the boys jumped and howled like so many apprentice bandits.

“Buville is ours!” cried the chief. “Come forth, ye base villagers, and pay us tribute.”

“Come forth!” yelled little Tomtit. “Surrender, and trib!--I mean, pay tribute.”

At this the people began to flock into the street; and presently the principal man of the village appeared, carrying a sheet of paper and pen and ink.

“Good-morning, bold sir,” he said, addressing the chief. “And what is it you’ll have to-day? Shall we begin with flour? How will two barrels do?”

The chief nodded, and the man wrote down on his paper two barrels of flour.

“Sugar, hams, and eggs, I suppose?” continued the man.

The chief assented, and these were written down.

“Sundry groceries, of course?” said he. “And would you care for any rich stuffs?”

“Well, I don’t know that we need any just now,” said the chief; “but you might throw in enough gold-threaded blue taffeta to make a jerkin for that little codger back there.”

“Three-quarters of a yard of blue taffeta,” wrote the man. And then he looked up and asked: “Anything else to-day?”

“I believe not,” said the chief. And then brandishing his sword, he shouted: “Back to your homes, base villagers, and thank your stars that I let ye off so easily.”

“Home with ye!” shouted Tomtit, “and keep on star-thanking till we come again.”

“You need be in no hurry about sending those things,” said the chief to the principal man, as he was about to leave, “except the taffeta. I’d like to have that to-day.”

“Very good,” said the other; “I’ll send it immediately.”

As the robbers and boys departed, the latter were not at all slow to say that they were very much disappointed at what they had seen. It was tamer than a game of football.

“The fact is,” said the chief, “these villagers have been sacked so often that the people are used to it, and they just walk out and pay up without making any row about it. It’s the easiest way, both for them and for us; but I admit that it is not very exciting.”

“I should say not,” said Old Pluck. “What I want is ‘the wild rush and dash, the clink and the clank, and the jingly-jank, hi-ho!’”

“That’s so!” shouted little Tomtit. “‘The clink and the clank, and the jingly-jank, ho hi!’”

“I think we’ll next try a highway robbery,” said Old Pluck, “and stop a company of travellers on the road. That must be exciting.”

The boys all shouted their assent to this plan, and the robber chief led the way to the nearest high-road.

Here the whole party concealed themselves behind rocks and bushes, and waited patiently for a company of travellers to pass by. It was a long, long time before anybody came, and Tomtit had a sound nap in the shade of a hedge.

At last dust was seen in the distance, and before long five horsemen came riding up. They were all elderly men, and each of them led a mule or a horse, loaded with heavy panniers and packages. With drawn swords and brandished spears the robbers rushed out, followed by the boys, with yells and shouts. Instantly the elderly men stopped and descended from their horses.

“We surrender,” said the leader to the robber chief; “but we pray you will not pillage us utterly. We are going to seek a new home for our families, and for the money we get for the sale of these goods we hope to buy the little land we need. If you take these, you leave us nothing.”

The chief turned to Old Pluck, and said: “Well, what shall we do about it? Shall we take their goods?”

“If you set out to do a thing,” said Old Pluck, “I don’t see why you don’t do it. There’s no sense in backing down.”

“That’s so!” cried Tomtit, who had just wakened up, and pushed his way through the hedge. “No backing down. Your money or your lives, travellers. Take notice of that.”

“Lead away the horses and mules,” said the chief to his men, “and let the travellers go.”

As they were leaving the scene of this exploit Old Pluck did not feel altogether easy in his mind. “There used to be a good habit among robbers,” he said to the chief, “and that was to give to the poor what they took from the rich. We will go along this road until we meet some really poor people, and we will give them these goods.”

The robbers and boys, with the loaded horses and mules, walked along the road for nearly an hour, but met with no poor people. At last the chief declared that it was time to turn and go back to the castle, if they wanted to be there by dinner-time. The boys were very willing to go to dinner, and the whole party retraced their steps.

When they reached the spot where they had robbed the travellers, they were surprised to see the five elderly men sitting by the roadside, groaning mournfully.

“What, here yet!” cried the chief. “What’s the matter?”

“There is no use going anywhere,” sadly replied the leader. “We have no money with which to buy even food to eat, and no goods to sell. We might as well die here as in any other place.”

“Boys,” exclaimed Old Pluck, after gazing a few moments on the unfortunate group, “I don’t believe we will ever find anybody as poor as these travellers now are. Let us give them the goods.”

“All right!” shouted the boys. And the loaded horses and mules were delivered to their former owners.

After dinner the boys began to grumble a good deal at the disappointments of the morning.

“We’ve done nothing yet,” cried Old Pluck, “that is half exciting enough, and we are bound to have a good time this afternoon. I go in for burning a town.”

“Hurrah!” said the boys. “We’ll burn a town!”

“That is a very serious thing,” said the chief. “Can’t you think of something else?”

Old Pluck looked at him reproachfully. “We want something serious,” he said. “What we’ve had so far is nothing but child’s play.”

The chief now saw that if he persisted in his objections he would hurt the feelings of the boys, and so he consented to burn a town. A few miles to the south there was a good-sized town, which the chief thought would burn very well, and thither the boys and robbers repaired, carrying blazing torches and fire-brands.

When they reached the town and had made known their purpose the people were filled with alarm. They crowded into the streets and begged the robbers not to burn their houses, their goods, and perhaps themselves and their children.

The chief now took the boys aside, and consulted with them.

“I wish you would consider this matter a little more before you order me to set this town in flames. I am told that there is a magazine filled with gunpowder in the centre of the place, and there will be a terrible explosion when the fire reaches it.”

“Hurrah!” cried the boys; “that will be splendid.”

“Many of these citizens will lose their lives,” said the chief, “and the rest will be utterly ruined.”

“Now, look here,” cried Old Pluck, “there’s no use of always backing down. I’m tired of it.”

“Very well,” said the chief, “but you yourselves must inform the people of your decision.”

“We’ll do that,” said Old Pluck. “Tomtit, you go tell those people that the town has got to burn, and there’s no use talking any more about it.”

“That’s so,” said Tomtit. “She has got to burn.” And with his chest thrown out, and his hands in his pockets, the little fellow boldly advanced to the crowd of people.

As soon as he came near the old men, the women and the children fell on their knees around him, and with tears and lamentations besought him to intercede with the robbers to save their town. Poor little Tomtit was very much moved by their wild grief and despair. Tears came into his eyes, and his little chest heaved with emotion; but he kept up a brave heart, and stood true to his companions.

“It’s no use,” he said, “for you to be blubbering and crying. Your houses have all got to be burned up, and the powder-magazine has got to go off with a big bang, and your furniture and beds will all be burned, and the babies’ cradles, and--and--I’m awful sorry for it,” and here the tears rolled down his cheeks; “but we boys have got to stick by each other, and you won’t have any homes, and I expect you will all perish--boo-hoo! But it won’t do to back down--boo-hoo-hoo! And the little babies will die; but the old thing has got to burn, you know.”

“Now, look here, Tomtit,” said Old Pluck, who, with the rest of the boys, had drawn near, “don’t you be too hard on these people. I say let the town stand.”

The boys agreed with one voice. And Tomtit, kicking one of his little legs above his head, shouted in ecstasy: “Yes, sir, let the town stand, babies and all.”

At this the women rushed up to the little fellow, and, seizing him in their arms, nearly kissed him to death.

“I’d like to know what we are to do next,” sadly remarked Old Pluck.

“I’ll tell you,” cried Tomtit. “Let the chief steal a bride.”

The whole company stopped and looked at Tomtit. “Little boy,” said they, “what do you mean?”

“Why, of course,” said Tomtit, “I mean for the chief to seize a fair damsel and carry her off on his horse to be his bride, the wild hoofs clattering amid the crags.”

“Hoot!” cried all the boys in derision. And the chief said to Tomtit: “Little boy, I know of no fair damsel to steal, and, besides, I do not want a bride.”

“It’s pretty hard,” said Tomtit, wiping his eyes with his little sleeve. “I’ve done just what you fellows told me to, and now you won’t order anything I want to see.”

That night the boys ordered the robbers to hold high revels in the great hall. The flowing bowl was passed, and the great flagons were filled high; wild songs were sung, and the welkin was made to ring, as well as the robbers could do it, with jovial glee. The boys watched the proceedings for some time, but they did not find them very interesting, and soon went to bed.

The next morning Old Pluck called a meeting of his companions. “Boys,” he said, “this robber life is a good deal stupider than anything we left behind us. Let’s get back to school as fast as we can, and enjoy what is left of the Christmas fun. We will all admit that we are sorry for what we have done, and will promise not to run away again; and Tomtit can go to the master and tell him so.”

“I’ll be the first one whipped,” ruefully remarked Tomtit; “but if you boys say so, of course I’ll do it.”

The boys now took leave of the robbers, Tomtit having been first presented with the piece of blue taffeta to make him a jerkin. When they reached the school Tomtit told his tale, and he was the only one who was not punished.

The next year these eleven boys were leaving school for a vacation, and on their way home they thought they would stop and see their old friends, the robbers. Much to their surprise, they found everything changed at the castle. It was now a boys’ school; the chief was the principal, and each of the other robbers was a teacher.

“You see,” said the principal to Old Pluck, “we never knew how stupid and uninteresting a robber’s life was until we were forced to lead it against our will. While you were here we learned to like boys very much, and so we concluded to set up this school.”

“Do you have Christmas trees, and carols, and games?”

“Oh, yes,” answered the principal.

“So do we,” said Old Pluck.

“Yes, sir,” exclaimed Tomtit, standing up very straight. “No more fire and tribute for us. We’ve grown out of that kind of nonsense.”

SUGGESTIONS TO TEACHERS

These suggestions and questions are prepared to aid the child in getting food for thought. Many ethical questions are touched upon in these stories, phases of the great problems of life which each citizen must solve for himself. The school-room is a little community, of which each child is a unit, and there he should get training for good citizenship. Let him grapple, then, with these questions, for he would better be striving after a large truth than altogether absorbing a little one.

OLD PIPES AND THE DRYAD

This story is akin to the Greek and the Latin myths, and will lead
you back to the beginnings of literature, to the myth of Daphne and
her changing to a laurel-tree, the myth of Dryope, and Virgil’s
account of the transformation of Polydore (Æneid, Book III.)--all
of which are tree-myths. Conington’s metrical translation of Virgil
tells this story very musically.

These dryad stories have been the inspiration of poets and artists of
all ages. I hope you may some day see the beautiful picture of Daphne
changing to the laurel-tree that a French artist has painted.

It will add much to the value of the child’s study of literature if
the teacher will read or tell these myths to the children. They
may be found in Gayley’s “Classic Myths,” Murray’s “Mythology,”
Bulfinch’s “Mythology,” or any classical dictionary.

It is easy for us to see that, in this myth of Daphne, the Greek
people were telling us, in their poetic way, that the dawn ever flew
at the sun’s approach.

In this story the loving helpfulness of Old Pipes brought back his
strength and youth quite as much as the kiss of the Dryad; for are we
not always strong and happy when helping others?

What other pieces of literature teach this lesson?

Read Lowell’s poem, “Rhœcus.”

Compare the dryad in Stockton’s story with the dryads of the myths.

How do you think this idea of dryads originated?

Discuss the character of Old Pipes. Have you ever met another like
him in your reading?

Did the Dryad do right in not returning the money to the villagers?

THE BEE-MAN OF ORN

This story can be made a starting-point for interesting science
lessons. Children can easily observe the habits of bees. In ancient
times, when honey was a staple article of food, much was thought
and written about the care of bees. Read with the children John
Burroughs’ “Birds and Bees,” also bits from Virgil’s “Georgics,” Book
IV.

Lead the children to discuss the following points:

Why did the bees not sting the Bee-Man?

What is it that leads animals to like a person?

Did his ugly appearance hinder the bees from liking the Bee-Man?
Would it hinder you from liking him?

Do you think the Bee-Man had flowers growing in the little garden
outside his hut?

What kind of flowers? Why?

Do all flowers with perfume yield honey?

Which would derive more pleasure from watching the life and habits of
bees, a busy person or a lazy one?

Do bees make weather observations? Virgil says that bees do not go
far from the hive when an east wind is blowing.

What do you think was the Junior Sorcerer’s reason for thinking the
Bee-Man had been transformed?

Do you agree with the Junior Sorcerer in his opinion of the Bee-Man:
that he was a “miserable old man”?

When the Bee-Man first felt himself drawn toward the Lord of the
Domain, what was it that influenced him? Are appearances to be
trusted?

Do you ever meet people who, like the Languid Youth, dislike to face
duty alone, and would always rather have someone go with them?

The Bee-Man shrunk from entering the cavern, yet within it he found
that phase of life toward which he was most drawn; so the unpleasant
duties of life from which we so often shrink contain the best things
that life has in store for us.

Suppose the Languid Youth had found the baby in the cavern, what
would he have done?

If you had a chance to go back to your babyhood again, do you think
you would grow up to be the same person that you are now?

Which character in this story do you like best? Why?

THE CLOCKS OF RONDAINE

This story naturally leads to the history of clocks and time-pieces
of various kinds, from the crude hour-glass, the burning candle
graduated to last a certain time, the water-clock, much the same
as the hour-glass, and the dial on which the shadow of the sun is
traced, down to the clocks which we have now, and especially those
of finest mechanism and beautiful ornamentation.

The industry of clock-making is a very important one. In the United
States it has been built up almost entirely in the last sixty years.

Many years ago clock movements were made of wood; now they are made,
as every child knows, of metal, which is cheaper to manufacture and
more durable.

In the days of the Revolution many clocks were made in Connecticut,
using no machinery in their manufacture, but cutting the wheels and
teeth with a saw and jack-knife. Then the makers would travel to the
more recently settled country and sell these crude wooden clocks for
twenty-five dollars apiece.

A description and pictures of the Strasbourg Clock could be made
interesting here.

In what part of the world do you think Rondaine was?

What characteristics should you expect to find in the people of a
town containing so many clocks?

What particular occupations should you expect to find these people
following?

For which did the people care more, clocks or time?

We thought, in the early part of the story, that Arla was the only
person in all Rondaine who cared to know the correct time. Do you
still think so, after finishing the story?

Suppose we followed the reasoning of the little old lady with white
hair, saying that what was good enough for our grandfathers is good
enough for us, how would it affect the world?

Is there anything in this story that seems improbable, that is, does
it seem like a true story?

What truth does it leave with us?

THE GRIFFIN AND THE MINOR CANON

Lead pupils to discuss their ideas of griffins before reading the
story.

To what age of literature do griffin and dragon stories belong?

How could the Griffin know that the stone image was a good likeness
of himself?

What things do you think the Griffin told the Minor Canon about
minerals, metals, and the wonders of the world?

Stop at the point in the story just prior to the sending away of the
Minor Canon, and let the children discuss what _they_ would have done
under those circumstances.

Do you agree with the Griffin in his opinion of the only two good
things in the town?

What did the Griffin mean when he said, “If some things were
different, other things would be otherwise”?

Thus we learn that goodness, bravery, and honesty, even in a griffin,
demand for companionship, goodness, bravery, and honesty.

Ruskin says some very good things about dragons in the first few
pages of “The Queen of the Air.”

How do the things we see every day affect our characters?

Some very interesting and profitable comparisons may be made between
this story and Hawthorne’s story of the “Great Stone Face”; and since
comparison is such a mind-strengthener, the teacher should never lose
such an opportunity.

THE SCRIBNER SERIES _of_ SCHOOL READING

A uniform supplementary reading series, specially edited for use in elementary schools and carefully graded in accordance with results obtained from actual tests in the class room. The main purpose of this series is to introduce into the class room the best literature, particularly the writings of those contemporary American authors who naturally appeal to young people, and to bring this excellent literature within the reach of all schools by offering the books at a very moderate price. The volumes are profusely illustrated, and handsomely and durably bound.

=Fanciful Tales.= By FRANK R. STOCKTON. Edited by JULIA E. LANGWORTHY.
Illustrated.

=Hans Brinker.= By MARY MAPES DODGE. Illustrated.

=A Child’s Garden of Verses.= By ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. Illustrated.

=Some Merry Adventures of Robin Hood.= By HOWARD PYLE. Illustrated by
the author.

=America First.= By FRANCES NIMMO GREENE. Illustrated.

=The Hoosier School Boy.= By EDWARD EGGLESTON. Illustrated.

=Krag and Johnny Bear.= Being the Personal Histories of Krag, Randy,
Johnny Bear, and Chink. By ERNEST THOMPSON SETON. Illustrated.

=Lobo, Rag, and Vixen.= Selections from “Wild Animals I Have
Known.” By ERNEST THOMPSON SETON. With 4 full-page and many other
illustrations from drawings by the Author.

=Hero Tales Told in School.= By JAMES BALDWIN. Illustrated.

=The Page Story Book.= Selections for School Reading by THOMAS NELSON
PAGE. Edited by FRANK E. SPALDING and CATHERINE T. BRYCE.

=The van Dyke Book.= Selections for School Reading. By HENRY VAN
DYKE. Edited by Professor EDWIN MIMS. A new edition, revised, with
an introduction by MAXWELL STRUTHERS BURT. Illustrated.

=The Howells Story Book.= By WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS. Selected and
arranged by MARY E. BURT. Illustrated by MISS HOWELLS.

=The Eugene Field Book.= Verses, Stories, and Letters for School
Reading. By EUGENE FIELD. Edited by MARY E. BURT and MARY L. CABLE.
With an Introduction by GEORGE W. CABLE. Illustrated.

=The Lanier Book.= Selections for School Reading. By SIDNEY LANIER.
Edited and arranged by MARY E. BURT, in co-operation with MRS.
LANIER. Illustrated.

=The Cable Story Book.= Selections for School Reading. By GEORGE W.
CABLE. Edited by MARY E. BURT and LUCY L. CABLE. Illustrated.

=The Roosevelt Book.= Selections from the writings of Theodore
Roosevelt, with an introduction by ROBERT BRIDGES. Illustrated.

=Things Will Take a Turn.= By BEATRICE HARRADEN. Illustrated.

=Around the World in the Sloop Spray.= By Captain JOSHUA SLOCUM.
Illustrated.

=Twelve Naval Captains.= With portraits. By MOLLY ELLIOTT SEAWELL.

=Poems of American Patriotism.= Chosen by BRANDER MATTHEWS.

=Children’s Stories of American Literature, 1660-1860.= By HENRIETTA
CHRISTIAN WRIGHT.

=Children’s Stories of American Literature, 1860-1896.= By HENRIETTA
CHRISTIAN WRIGHT.

=Children’s Stories in American History.= By HENRIETTA CHRISTIAN
WRIGHT.

=Children’s Stories in American Progress.= By HENRIETTA CHRISTIAN
WRIGHT.

=Herakles, the Hero of Thebes, and Other Heroes of the Myth.= By MARY
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=Odysseus: The Hero of Ithaca.= By MARY E. BURT. Illustrated.

=The Boy General.= By MRS. GEORGE A. CUSTER and MARY E. BURT.
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=Don Quixote De La Mancha.= By MIGUEL DE CERVANTES. From the
translations of Duffield and Shelton. By MARY E. BURT and LUCY
LEFFINGWELL CABLE.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:

Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.

Emboldened text is surrounded by equals signs: =bold=.

Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.

Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.

Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.