Hearts of Oak, Part II [pp. 419-431]

HEARTS OF OAK.
HEARTS OF OAK.
IN FOUR PARTS.-PART SECOND.
THE ROMANCE OF A HOLIDAY.
HUM RIVERS was the lion at
Miss lVhacker's, and one not to
be meddled with. From the time he
had adopted Paul, it was wonderful to
see how the latter rose in the estimation
of the school. In fact, Rivers had once
been heard to remark casually, "He'd
just like to see any one lay a finger on
that youngster;" but he was not gratified. The youngster went scot-free, and
continued ever after to bask in the sunshine of popularity.
There was a break in the monotony
of life at Whacker's. A picnic, long
talked of, wonderfully well planned, and
now finally to be carried out, was the
occasion of it. This picnic was a perfect godsend to most of the boys, but
especially to Paul, who was finding life
rather tiresome nowadays, though Rivers was his chum. Paul's heart, having
its desire satisfied, began to cool and
grow wayward again. It was a way
Paul's heart had of doing, and it gave
him some trouble in after-life, and perhaps saved him some as well. He was
beginning to feel the symptoms the
unmistakable and never-to-be-forgotten
symptoms-of home-sickness. He tried
very hard to get rid of them. He had
the promise of a return at the end of the
quarter, and every three days a letter
came from the dear ones at the Rookery,
who missed him more bitterly than he
was aware of. He talked it over with
Chum Rivers, and concluded to be as
manly as possible under the circumstances, to hold out to the end of the
quarter, and then leave, perhaps never
to come back again.
The picnic was the occasion of just
such a bold resolution. And what a
picnic it was, and in what a lovely place!
A wild, mountainous pass, wooded on
every side. A high plateau spread out
like a cushioned floor, and beyond it the
woods climbing to the very peaks of the
mountains, perfuming the air with gums
and blossoms. A swift stream, rushing
down between these verdant heights,
seemed to flow with no other object than
to make as much noise and foam as possible. Trout in the waters, birds and
butterflies in the air, and careless, happy
children on the high plateau. It was
the picnic of picnics, several schools and
literary societies having combined their
forces to give grandeur to the occasion.
The banners of the various prize-classes
floated from the boughs of the surrounding trees, and every game that could be
remembered or devised was played and
played again, in the midst of the brilliant
and inspiring scene. There were footraces, in which Paul took part and lost,
while Chum Rivers invariably won. Of
course the pretty girls sat in judgment,
and the prettiest of the pretty crowned
the victor. It was an undeniable fact
that Paul lost that race.
At the base of the ravine lay one of
those exquisite inland lakes, sacred to
water-lilies and summer swallows, but on
this occasion profaned by the keels of
several Indian canoes, brought hither
for any aquatic games that might suggest themselves. The lig,ht skiffs, each
propelled by one broad paddle, to be
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