CHAPTER VIII.
Prop our young trees—A lecture on grafting—A new idea broached—Why should we not build stairs within the trunk of our tree?—Jack finds one objection—I make a beehive, and we drive the bees from the tree—Stair-making—Additions to our family of domestic animals—The education of the “pets”—Shoe-making—We lead water from the stream to Falconhurst—A strange animal approaches—Our old ass and his companion—The onager captured—Provisioning our winter quarters—Capture of ruffed grouse—We discover flax—The rainy season.
Next morning the boys and I started with the cart laden with our bundles of bamboos to attend to the avenue of fruit trees. The buffalo we left behind, for his services were not needed, and I wished the wound in his nostrils to become completely cicatrized before I again put him to work. We were not a moment too soon; many of the young trees which before threatened to fall had now fulfilled their promise, and were lying prostrate on the ground, others were bent, some few only remained erect. We raised the trees, and digging deeply at their roots, drove in stout bamboo props, to which we lashed them firmly with strong broad fibres.
“Papa,” said Franz, as we were thus engaged, and he handed me the fibres as I required them, “are these wild or tame trees?”
“Oh, these are wild trees, most ferocious trees,” laughed Jack, “and we are tying them up lest they should run away, and in a little while we will untie them and they will trot about after us and give us fruit wherever we go. Oh, we will tame them; they shall have a ring through their noses like the buffalo!”
