Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. Little Men by Louisa May Alcott (literature books to read .TXT) 📖
- Author: Louisa May Alcott
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Book online «Little Men by Louisa May Alcott (literature books to read .TXT) 📖». Author Louisa May Alcott
“Not much. I don't just see which way to go, and I guess we'd better call.”
So they both shouted till they were hoarse, yet nothing answered but the frogs in full chorus.
“There is another tall tree over there, perhaps that's the one,” said Nan, whose heart sunk within her, though she still spoke bravely.
“I don't think I can go any more; my boots are so heavy I can't pull 'em;” and Robby sat down on a stone quite worn out.
“Then we must stay here all night. I don't care much, if snakes don't come.”
“I'm frightened of snakes. I can't stay all night. Oh, dear! I don't like to be lost,” and Rob puckered up his face to cry, when suddenly a thought occurred to him, and he said, in a tone of perfect confidence,
“Marmar will come and find me she always does; I ain't afraid now.”
“She won't know where we are.”
“She didn't know I was shut up in the ice-house, but she found me. I know she'll come,” returned Robby, so trustfully, that Nan felt relieved, and sat down by him, saying, with a remorseful sigh,
“I wish we hadn't run away.”
“You made me; but I don't mind much Marmar will love me just the same,” answered Rob, clinging to his sheet-anchor when all other hope was gone.
“I'm so hungry. Let's eat our berries,” proposed Nan, after a pause, during which Rob began to nod.
“So am I, but I can't eat mine, 'cause I told Marmar I'd keep them all for her.”
“You'll have to eat them if no one comes for us,” said Nan, who felt like contradicting every thing just then. “If we stay here a great many days, we shall eat up all the berries in the field, and then we shall starve,” she added grimly.
“I shall eat sassafras. I know a big tree of it, and Dan told me how squirrels dig up the roots and eat them, and I love to dig,” returned Rob, undaunted by the prospect of starvation.
“Yes; and we can catch frogs, and cook them. My father ate some once, and he said they were nice,” put in Nan, beginning to find a spice of romance even in being lost in a huckleberry pasture.
“How could we cook frogs? we haven't got any fire.”
“I don't know; next time I'll have matches in my pocket,” said Nan, rather depressed by this obstacle to the experiment in frog-cookery.
“Couldn't we light a fire with a fire-fly?” asked Rob, hopefully, as he watched them flitting to and fro like winged sparks.
“Let's try;” and several minutes were pleasantly spent in catching the flies, and trying to make them kindle a green twig or two. “It's a lie to call them fire-flies when there isn't a fire in them,” Nan said, throwing one unhappy insect away with scorn, though it shone its best, and obligingly walked up and down the twigs to please the innocent little experimenters.
“Marmar's a good while coming,” said Rob, after another pause, during which they watched the stars overhead, smelt the sweet fern crushed under foot, and listened to the crickets' serenade.
“I don't see why God made any night; day is so much pleasanter,” said Nan, thoughtfully.
“It's to sleep in,” answered Rob, with a yawn.
“Then do go to sleep,” said Nan, pettishly.
“I want my own bed. Oh, I wish I could see Teddy!” cried Rob, painfully reminded of home by the soft chirp of birds safe in their little nests.
“I don't believe your mother will ever find us,” said Nan, who was becoming desperate, for she hated patient waiting of any sort. “It's so dark she won't see us.”
“It was all black in the ice-house, and I was so scared I didn't call her, but she saw me; and she will see me now, no matter how dark it is,” returned confiding Rob, standing up to peer into the gloom for the help which never failed him.
“I see her! I see her!” he cried, and ran as fast as his tired legs would take him toward a dark figure slowly approaching. Suddenly he stopped, then turned about, and came stumbling back, screaming in a great panic,
“No, it's a bear, a big black one!” and hid his face in Nan's skirts.
For a moment Nan quailed; ever her courage gave out at the thought of a real bear, and she was about to turn and flee in great disorder, when a mild “Moo!” changed her fear to merriment, as she said, laughing,
“It's a cow, Robby! the nice, black cow we saw this afternoon.”
The cow seemed to feel that it was not just the thing to meet two little people in her pasture after dark, and the amiable beast paused to inquire into the case. She let them stroke her, and stood regarding them with her soft eyes so mildly, that Nan, who feared no animal but a bear, was fired with a desire to milk her.
emptying the contents of her pail into her hat, and boldly beginning her
new task, while Rob stood by and repeated, at her command, the poem from
Mother Goose:
“Cushy cow, bonny, let down your milk,
Let down your milk to me,
And I will give you a gown of silk,
A gown of silk and a silver tee.”
But the immortal rhyme had little effect, for the benevolent cow had already been milked, and had only half a gill to give the thirsty children.
“Shoo! get away! you are an old cross patch,” cried Nan, ungratefully, as she gave up the attempt in despair; and poor Molly walked on with a gentle gurgle of surprise and reproof.
“Each can have a sip, and then we must take a walk. We shall go to sleep if we don't; and lost people mustn't sleep. Don't you know how Hannah Lee in the pretty story slept under the snow and died?”
“But there isn't any snow now, and it's nice and warm,” said Rob, who was not blessed with as lively a fancy as Nan.
“No matter, we will poke about a little, and call some more; and then, if nobody comes, we will hide under the bushes, like Hop-'o-my-thumb and his brothers.”
It was a very short walk, however, for Rob was so sleepy he could not get on, and tumbled down so often that Nan entirely lost patience, being half distracted by the responsibility she had taken upon herself.
“If you tumble down again, I'll shake you,” she said, lifting the poor little man up very kindly as she spoke, for Nan's bark was much worse than her bite.
“Please don't. It's my boots they keep slipping so;” and Rob manfully checked the sob just ready to break out, adding, with a plaintive patience that touched Nan's heart, “If the skeeters didn't bite me so, I could go to sleep till Marmar comes.”
“Put your head on my lap, and I'll cover you up with my apron; I'm not afraid of the night,” said Nan, sitting down and trying to persuade herself that she did not mind the shadow nor the mysterious rustlings all about her.
“Wake me up when she comes,” said rob, and was fast asleep in five minutes with his head in Nan's lap under the pinafore.
The little girl sat for some fifteen minutes, staring about her with anxious eyes, and feeling as if each second was an hour. Then a pale light began to glimmer over the hill-top and she said to herself,
“I guess the night is over and morning is coming. I'd like to see the sun rise, so I'll watch, and when it comes up we can find our way right home.”
But before the moon's round face peeped above the hill to destroy her hope, Nan had fallen asleep, leaning back in a little bower of tall ferns, and was deep in a mid-summer night's dream of fire-flies and blue aprons, mountains of huckleberries, and Robby wiping away the tears of a black cow, who sobbed, “I want to go home! I want to go home!”
While the children were sleeping, peacefully lulled by the drowsy hum of many neighborly mosquitoes, the family at home were in a great state of agitation. The hay-cart came at five, and all but Jack, Emil, Nan, and Rob were at the bars ready for it. Franz drove instead of Silas, and when the boys told him that the others were going home through the wood, he said, looking ill-pleased, “They ought to have left Rob to ride, he will be tired out by the long walk.”
“It's shorter that way, and they will carry him,” said Stuffy, who was in a hurry for his supper.
“You are sure Nan and Rob went with them?”
“Of course they did; I saw them getting over the wall, and sung out that it was most five, and Jack called back that they were going the other way,” explained Tommy.
“Very well, pile in then,” and away rattled the hay-cart with the tired children and the full pails.
Mrs. Jo looked sober when she heard of the division of the party, and sent Franz back with Toby to find and bring the little ones home. Supper was over, and the family sitting about in the cool hall as usual, when Franz came trotting back, hot, dusty, and anxious.
“Have they come?” he called out when half-way up the avenue.
“No!” and Mrs. Jo flew out of her chair looking so alarmed that every one jumped up and gathered round Franz.
“I can't find them anywhere,” he began; but the words were hardly spoken when a loud “Hullo!” startled them all, and the next minute Jack and Emil came round the house.
“Where are Nan and Rob?” cried Mrs. Jo, clutching Emil in a way that caused him to think his aunt had suddenly lost her wits.
“I don't know. They came home with the others, didn't they?” he answered, quickly.
“No; George and Tommy said they went with you.”
“Well, they didn't. Haven't seen them. We took a swim in the pond, and came by the wood,” said Jack, looking alarmed, as well he might.
“Call Mr. Bhaer, get the lanterns, and tell Silas I want him.”
That was all Mrs. Jo said, but they knew what she meant, and flew to obey her orders. In ten minutes, Mr. Bhaer and Silas were off to the wood, and Franz tearing down the road on old Andy to search the great pasture. Mrs. Jo caught up some food from the table, a little bottle of brandy from the medicine-closet, took a lantern, and bidding Jack and Emil come with her, and the rest not stir, she trotted away on Toby, never stopping for hat or shawl. She heard some one running after her, but said not a word till, as she paused to call and listen, the light of her lantern shone on Dan's face.
“You here! I told Jack to come,” she said, half-inclined to send him back, much as she needed help.
“I wouldn't let him; he and Emil hadn't had any supper, and I wanted to come more than they did,” he said, taking the lantern from her and smiling up in her face with the steady look in his eyes that made her feel as if, boy though he was, she had some one to depend on.
Off she jumped, and ordered him on to Toby, in spite of his pleading to walk; then they went on again along the dusty, solitary road, stopping every now and then to call and hearken breathlessly for little voices to reply.
When they came to the great pasture, other lights were already flitting to and fro like will-o'-the-wisps, and Mr. Bhaer's voice was heard shouting, “Nan! Rob! Rob! Nan!” in every part of the field. Silas whistled and roared, Dan plunged here and there on Toby, who seemed to understand the case, and went over the roughest places with unusual docility. Often Mrs. Jo hushed them all, saying, with a sob in her throat,
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