dragging their fish along, and stumbling through the bushes, to get clear of the wood paths, and bury themselves in the thickest part of the forest. It was a long time before they found a place that seemed lonely enough, but they did discover just the right place at last – a small, open spot, sweet enough and secluded enough to have made a ball-room for the fairies; and Charlie's handsome eyes fairly danced with delight, as he threw himself down, and cried:
"Here we are, boys! splendid place this! Trees all around, and the ground carpeted with beautiful soft moss."
"All but the soft," growled Richard, jumping up, and making a variety of wry faces. "Only look what a great thorn I have sat down upon. I'm half killed. I wonder what thorns were made for?"
"For four-legged gentlemen, with very long ears," answered Arthur. "They are perfectly devoted to them. I think it's very odd you should be so fond of thorns, as you are not a donkey."
"Fond – fiddlesticks! Let a fellow alone, can't you?"
"Don't tease him, Arthur," cried Charlie. "Here, I say, all of you, guess this: Mr. Martingale has ten fine horses, and there are only twenty-four feet among them all."
"Twenty four feet!" said Harry; "impossible! You say they are fine horses, and ten of them. Every horse has four feet, and four times ten are forty – that's certain."
"Perhaps," said little George, "some of them are a new style of horse; six have the right number of feet, making the twenty-four, and the rest crawl on their bellies, like snakes."
"Goodness! how absurd!" exclaimed Arthur. "I have heard of Mr. Barnum's woolly horse, and a saw-horse, and a chestnut horse, and a horse-chestnut; and a flying-horse, and a horse-fly; and a clothes-horse, and a horse-cloth; and a rocking-horse. But a snake-horse is something new."
"Give it up?" said Charlie. "Suppose you alter the spelling a little."
"Oh! I have it!" shouted Arthur. "The horses had twenty fore feet, and they also had twenty hind feet. That's the best catch I ever heard. Just see, fellows, what comes of being head-boy in spelling-class. I'm the boy for learning! I dare say Dr. Addup is crying his eyes out, because it is vacation, and he won't see me for a month."
"I've got twenty-four appetites," said Richard; "when is the plum-pudding coming up?"
"The fish for the first course, and here they are," said Charlie.
"But I don't like raw fish," said George; "and where is the fire to cook 'em?"
"Don't be in a hurry," said the captain. "I'll fix that in a minute; I know all about it – read it in a book; all you have to do, is, to find two sticks, and rub them together, and there's your fire right off."
But our young gipsy soon found the difference between a fire with two sticks in a book, and a fire with two sticks in a wood. He rubbed his two sticks together, until he was in a perfect blaze with the exertion, but the blaze he wanted would not come.
"Hang the sticks!" he exclaimed; "the people in the books always did it so easily, why can't I?"
Luckily for the success of the gipsy party, one of the band just then happened to spy a match, which some chance wanderer had dropped, and a few dry sticks having been hastily collected, a fine fire was soon crackling and snapping merrily.
Delighted with their success, they next held a grand consultation, on the noble science of cooking.
"The gipsies hang a kettle on forked sticks," said Richard; "and fish, flesh, and fowl are all put in together, making, what I should call, stewed hodge-podge."
"Well, there are ninety-nine reasons why we won't use the kettle," said Arthur, who considered himself the wit of the party, – "and the first is, we have no kettle, so I won't trouble you with the rest. Good gracious!" he continued, "I'm so hungry, I could eat what I perfectly hate, and that's a boiled calf's head."
"And I forty sour apples," cried Harry. "I wish one of these trees could be turned into hot ginger-bread, wouldn't we pitch in?"
As there was no kettle to be had, they endeavored to fry the fish by sticking them on the top of forked sticks. But, somehow, the fish would not stay "stuck." They fell off into the blaze, and smoked, and "sizzled," and smelt like any thing but delicious food; and there was great scorching of fingers, and singeing of hair, as the new cooks tried to twitch them out. At last, covered with ashes, and, of course, without plates or any other civilized comfort, the banquet was "served" in the young gentlemen's fingers, and tea began, Richard declaring he was "hungry enough to eat a rhinoceros."
The first mouthful tasted "first rate," but, presently Arthur sang out, "Hollo! I'm choking! my mouth's full of scales, and there is something inside of this fish, that I never saw at home."
"Oh, goodness! I never thought of cleaning them; how stupid!" said Charlie; "Never mind, boys! we'll know better next time."
"But I want some salt, and some bread and butter," said little George; "Robinson Crusoe had them."
"Where's my ship, to get all these things," said Charlie; "we're not on an island."
"But I thought you said you had every thing fixed."
"So I did – in my head; but you see – " answered Charlie, hesitating and scratching his head, and looking very much bothered – "you see – "
"Come, come, boys," interposed Harry, "no fighting in the camp; we are a sort of greenhorn gipsies, now, but we shall be all right by-and-bye, and have a first-rate time. I wish I had a drink of water – but never mind. Hurrah for the gipsies, and success to our side!"
Harry's good humor infected the rest of the party, and their hunger being quieted by the meal, bad as it was, they piled more sticks on the fire, just for the pleasure of seeing them burn, and sat down at a little distance, to tell stories to each other, of all the gipsies, and wild adventures they could remember.
By this time the glorious flush of sunset rested upon every thing. The little fairy glade, with the fire in its centre; the handsome, animated faces of the thoughtless boys, as they sat grouped together in careless but not ungraceful attitudes; the crimson, purple, and golden clouds above, altogether, made a very charming picture, and, so far, gipsy life certainly seemed coleur de rose.
But the shadows gradually lengthened; the glowing colors became fainter; and the gray twilight came stealing on. Occasionally a dissipated little bird would give a faint twitter, as he was hurrying home in the deepening gloom, from a late dinner party. Insensibly the boys relapsed into silence, and, wearied with their long tramp, began to think of going to bed; but here commenced new troubles.
"The beds! and the tents! Even the real gipsies did not sleep upon the bare ground – what was to be done?"
"Here's a pretty how-de-do!" cried Arthur; "this is worse than the fish and the fire; matches may be sometimes dropped in the woods, but mattresses never," and here poor Charlie came in for a scolding chorus from every body.
"Let's get some big branches, and lean them against a tree," said little George.
"Where's the axe to cut them with," said Richard.
"Dig a cave," cried Harry.
"What with – our nails? I have a jackknife," said Richard, "I'll lend it to you; suppose you begin."
Charlie's face looked about as blank as this O, while the boys were talking. He was completely nonplussed,
