Abbott Jacob
Bruno
THE SILVER BOWL RECOVERED
On the night when Lorenzo’s silver bowl was stolen by the gipsy, all the family, except Lorenzo, were asleep, and none of them knew aught about the theft which had been committed until the following morning. Lorenzo got up that morning before any body else in the house, as was his usual custom, and, when he was dressed, he looked out at the window.
“Ah!” said he, “now I recollect; Bruno is fastened up in his house. I will go the first thing and let him out.”
Lorenzo discovers the open door.
So Lorenzo hastened down stairs into the kitchen, in order to go out into the yard. He was surprised, when he got there, to find the kitchen door open.
“Ah!” said he to himself, “how came this door open? I did not know that any body was up. It must be that Almira is up, and has gone out to get a pail of water.”
He releases Bruno.
Lorenzo went out to Bruno’s house, and took down the board by which he had fastened the door. Then he opened the door. The moment that the door was opened Bruno sprang out. He was very glad to be released from his imprisonment. He leaped up about Lorenzo’s knees a little at first, to express his joy, and then ran off, and began smelling about the yard.
Bruno’s mysterious behavior.
He found the traces of Murphy’s steps, and, as soon as he perceived them, he began to bark. He followed them to the kitchen door, and thence into the house, barking all the time, and looking very much excited.
“Bruno,” said Lorenzo, “what is the matter with you?”
Bruno went to the door of the closet where the bowl had been kept. The door was open a little way. Bruno insinuated his nose into the crevice, and so pushing the door open, he went in. As soon as he was in he began to bark again.
“Bruno!” exclaimed Lorenzo, “what is the matter with you?”
Bruno looked up on the shelf where the bowl was usually placed, and barked louder than ever.
“Where’s my bowl?” exclaimed Lorenzo, looking at the vacant place, and beginning to feel alarmed. “Where’s my bowl?”
He spoke in a tone of great astonishment and alarm. He looked about on all the shelves; the bowl was nowhere to be seen.
“Where can my bowl be gone to?” said he, more and more frightened. He went out of the closet into the kitchen, and looked all about there for his bowl. Of course, his search was vain. Bruno followed him all the time, barking incessantly, and looking up very eagerly into Lorenzo’s face with an appearance of great excitement.
“Bruno,” said Lorenzo, “you know something about it, I am sure, if you could only tell.”
The wind-mill.
Lorenzo, however, did not yet suspect that his bowl had been stolen. He presumed that his mother had put it away in some other place, and that, when she came down, it would readily be found again. So he went out into the yard, and sat on a stone step, and went to work to finish a wind-mill he had begun the day before.
Lorenzo’s mother explains the mystery.
By-and-by his mother came down; and as soon as she had heard Lorenzo’s story about the bowl, and learned, too, that the outer door had been found open when Lorenzo first came down stairs, she immediately expressed the opinion that the bowl had been stolen.
“Some thief has been breaking into the house,” said she, “I’ve no doubt, and has stolen it.”
“Stolen it!” exclaimed Lorenzo.
“Yes,” replied his mother; “I’ve no doubt of it.”
So saying, she went into the closet again, to see if she could discover any traces of the thieves there. But she could not. Every thing seemed to have remained undisturbed, just as she had left it the night before, except that the bowl was missing.
“Somebody has been in and stolen it,” said she, “most assuredly.”
Bruno, who had followed Lorenzo and his mother into the room, was standing up at this time upon his hind legs, with his paws upon the edge of the shelf, and he now began to bark loudly, by way of expressing his concurrence in this opinion.
“Seek him, Bruno!”
“Seize him, Bruno!” said Lorenzo. “Seize him!”
Bruno, on hearing this command, began smelling about the floor, and barking more eagerly than ever.
“Bruno smells his tracks, I verily believe,” said Lorenzo, speaking to his mother. Then, addressing Bruno again, he clapped his hands together and pointed to the ground, saying,
“Go seek him, Bruno! seek him!”
Bruno departs upon his errand.
Bruno began immediately to follow the scent of Murphy’s footsteps along the floor, out from the closet into the kitchen, and from the kitchen into the yard; he ran along the path a little way, and then made a wide circuit over the grass, at a place where Murphy had gone round to get as far as possible away from Bruno’s house. He then came back into the path again, smelling as he ran, and thence passed out through the gate; here, keeping his nose still close to the ground, he went on faster and faster, until he entered the thicket and disappeared.
Lorenzo did not pay particular attention to these motions. He had given Bruno the order, “Seek him!” rather from habit than any thing else, and without any idea that Bruno would really follow the tracks of the thief. Accordingly, when Bruno ran off down the yard, he imagined that he had gone away somewhere to play a little while, and that he would soon come back.
“He’ll be sure to come back pretty soon,” said he, “to get his breakfast.”
But Bruno did not come back to breakfast. Lorenzo waited an hour after breakfast, and still he did not come.
He waited two hours longer, and still he did not come.
Where was Bruno all this time? He was at the camp of the gipsies, watching at the place where Murphy had hid the stolen bowl.
He reaches the gipsy camp. He discovers the place where the bowl was hidden.
When he followed the gipsy’s tracks into the thicket, he perceived the scent more and more distinctly as he went on, and this encouraged him to proceed. Lorenzo had said “Seek him!” and this Bruno understood as an order that he should follow the track until he found the man, and finding him, that he should keep watch at the place till Lorenzo or some one from the family should come. Accordingly, when he arrived at the camp, he followed the scent round to the back end of a little low hut, where Murphy had hidden the bowl. The gipsy had dug a hole in the ground, and buried the bowl in it, out of sight, intending in a day or two to dig it up and melt it. Bruno found the place where the bowl was buried, but he could not dig it up himself, so he determined to wait there and watch until some one should come. He accordingly squatted down upon the grass, near the place where the gipsies were seated around their fire, and commenced his watch.4
There were two gipsy women sitting by the fire. There was also a man sitting near by. Murphy was standing up near the entrance of the tent when Bruno came. He was telling the other gipsies about the bowl. He had a long stick in his hand, and Bruno saw this, and concluded that it was best for him to keep quiet until some one should come.
“I had the greatest trouble with Bruno,” said Murphy. “He barked at me whenever he saw me, and nothing would quiet him. But he is getting acquainted now. See, he has come here of his own accord.”
“You said you were going to poison him,” remarked the other man.
“Yes,” replied Murphy. “I did put some poisoned meat in his house, but he did not eat it. I expect he smelled the poison.”
Lorenzo goes in search of Bruno.
The hours of the day passed on, and Lorenzo wondered more and more what could have become of his dog. At last he resolved to go and look him up.
“Mother,” said he, “I am going to see if I can find out what’s become of Bruno.”
“I would rather that you would find out what’s become of your bowl,” said his mother.
“Why, mother,” said Lorenzo, “Bruno is worth a great deal more than the bowl.”
“That may be,” replied his mother, “but there is much less danger of his being lost.”
Lorenzo walked slowly away from the house, pondering with much perplexity the double loss he had incurred.
“I can not do any thing,” he said, “to get back the bowl, but I can look about for Bruno, and if I find him, that’s all I can do. I must leave it for father to decide what is to be done about the bowl, when he comes home.”
So Lorenzo came out from his father’s house, and after hesitating for some minutes which way to go, he was at length decided by seeing a boy coming across the fields at a distance with a fishing-pole on his shoulder.
“Perhaps that boy has seen him somewhere,” said he. “I’ll go and ask him. And, at any rate, I should like to know who the boy is, and whether he has caught any fish.”
The sheep. The geese.
So Lorenzo turned in the direction where he saw the boy. He walked under some tall elm-trees, and then passed a small flock of sheep that were lying on the grass in the field. He looked carefully among them to see if Bruno was there, but he was not. After passing the sheep, he walked along on the margin of a broad and shallow stream of water. There were two geese floating quietly upon the surface of this water, near where the sheep were lying upon the shore. These geese floated quietly upon the water, like vessels riding at anchor. Lorenzo was convinced that they had not seen any thing of Bruno for some time. If they had, they would not have been so composed.
The ducks in the water.
Lorenzo walked on toward the boy. He met him at a place where the path approached near the margin of the water. There was some tall grass on the brink. Three ducks were swimming near. The ducks turned away when they saw the boys coming, and sailed gracefully out toward the middle of the stream.
Lorenzo, when he drew near the boy, perceived that it was an acquaintance of his, named Frank. Frank had a long fishing-pole in one hand, with a basket containing his dinner in the other.
“Frank,” said Lorenzo, “where are you going?”
“I am going a fishing,” said Frank. “Go with me.”
“No,” said Lorenzo, “I am looking for Bruno.”
“I know where he is,” said Frank.
“Where?” asked Lorenzo.
“I saw him a little while ago at the gipsies’ camp, down in the glen. He was lying down there quietly by the gipsies’ fire.”
“What a dog!” said Lorenzo. “Here I have been wondering what had become of him all the morning. He has run away, I suppose, because I shut him up last night.”
“What made you shut him up?” asked Frank.
“Oh, because he made such a barking every night,” replied Lorenzo. “We could not sleep.”
“He is still enough now,” said Frank. “He is lying down very quietly with the gipsies.”
Lorenzo then asked Frank some questions about his fishing, and afterward walked on. Before long he came to a stile, where there was a path leading to a field. He got over the stile, and followed the path until at last he came to the gipsies’ encampment.
Bruno in the camp of the gipsies.
There he found Bruno lying quietly on the ground, at a little distance from the fire. As soon as he came in sight of him, he called him. “Bruno! Bruno!” said he.
Bruno looked up, and, seeing Lorenzo, ran to meet him, but immediately returned to the camp, whining, and barking, and seeming very uneasy. He, however, soon became quiet again, for he knew very well, or seemed to know, that it would require more of a man than Lorenzo to take the bowl away from the gipsies, and, consequently, that he must wait there quietly till somebody else should come.
Lorenzo tries to drive Bruno home, but Bruno will not go.
“Bruno,” said Lorenzo, speaking very sternly, “
come home!”
Bruno paid no attention to this command, but, after smelling about the ground a little, and running to and fro uneasily, lay down again where he was before.
“Bruno!” said Lorenzo, stamping with his foot.
“Won’t your dog obey you?” said Murphy.
“No,” said Lorenzo. “I wish you would take a stick, and drive him along.”
Now the gipsies did not wish to have the dog go away. They preferred that he should stay with them, and be their dog. They had no idea that he was there to watch over the stolen bowl.
“Don’t drive him away,” said one of the gipsy women, speaking in a low tone, so that Lorenzo could not hear.
“I’ll only make believe,” said Murphy.
So Murphy took up a little stick, and threw it at the dog, saying, “Go home, Bruno!”
Bruno paid no heed to this demonstration.
Lorenzo then advanced to where Bruno was lying, and attempted to pull him along, but Bruno would not come. He would not even get up from the ground.
“I’ll make you come,” said Lorenzo. So he took hold of him by the neck and the ears, and began to pull him. Bruno uttered a low growl.
“Oh, dear me!” said Lorenzo, “what shall I do?”
In fact, he was beginning to grow desperate. So he looked about among the bushes for a stick, and when he had found one sufficient for his purpose, he came to Bruno, and said, in a very stern voice,
“Now, Bruno, go home!”
Bruno did not move.
“Bruno,” repeated Lorenzo, in a thundering voice, and brandishing his stick over Bruno’s head, “
GO HOME!”
Bruno, afraid of being beaten with the stick, jumped up, and ran off into the bushes. Lorenzo followed him, and attempted to drive him toward the path that led toward home. But he could accomplish nothing. The dog darted to and fro in the thickets, keeping well out of the way of Lorenzo’s stick, but evincing a most obstinate determination not to go home. On the contrary, in all his dodgings to and fro, he took care to keep as near as possible to the spot where the bowl was buried.
Lorenzo goes home.
At last Lorenzo gave up in despair, and concluded to go back to the house, and wait till his father got home.
The search for the bowl.
His father returned about the middle of the afternoon, and Lorenzo immediately told him of the double loss which he had met with. He explained all the circumstances connected with the loss of the bowl, and described Bruno’s strange behavior. His father listened in silence. He immediately suspected that the gipsies had taken the bowl, and that Bruno had traced it to them. So he sent for some officers and a warrant, and went to the camp.
The bowl found.
As soon as Bruno saw the men coming, he seemed to be overjoyed. He jumped up, and ran to meet them, and then, running back to the camp again, he barked, and leaped about in great excitement. The men followed him, and he led them round behind the hut, and there he began digging into the ground with his paws. The men took a shovel which was there, one belonging to the gipsies, and began to dig. In a short time they came to a flat stone, and, on taking up the stone, they found the bowl under it.
Pursuing Murphy.
Bruno seemed overjoyed. He leaped and jumped about for a minute or two when he saw the bowl come out from its hiding-place, and raced round and round the man who held the bowl, and then ran away home to find Lorenzo. The officers, in the mean time, went off hastily in pursuit of Murphy, who had made his escape while they had been digging up the bowl.
BRUNO AND THE LOST BOY
Bruno was quite a large dog. There are a great many different kinds of dogs. Some are large, others are small. Some are irritable and fierce, others are good-natured and gentle. Some are stout and massive in form, others are slender and delicate. Some are distinguished for their strength, others for their fleetness, and others still for their beauty. Some are very affectionate, others are sagacious, others are playful and cunning. Thus dogs differ from each other not only in form and size, but in their disposition and character as well.
Pointers.
Some dogs are very intelligent, others are less so, and even among intelligent dogs there is a great difference in respect to the modes in which their intelligence manifests itself. Some dogs naturally love the water, and can be taught very easily to swim and dive, and perform other aquatic exploits. Others are afraid of the water, and can never be taught to like it; but they are excellent hunters, and go into the fields with their masters, and find the game. They run to and fro about the field that their master goes into, until they see a bird, and then they stop suddenly, and remain motionless till their master comes and shoots the bird. As soon as they hear the report of the gun, they run to get the game. Sometimes quite small dogs are very intelligent indeed, though of course they have not so much strength as large dogs.
In the above engraving we see several small dogs playing in a parlor. The ladies are amusing themselves with flowers that they are arranging, and the dogs are playing upon the carpet at their feet.
There are three dogs in all. Two of them are playing together near the foreground, on the left. The other is alone.
Bruno was a large dog.
Bruno was a large dog. He was a very large dog indeed. When other dogs were playing around him, he would look down upon them with an air of great condescension and dignity. He was, however, very kind to them. They would jump upon him, and play around him, but he never did them any harm.
Faithfulness.
Bruno was a very faithful dog. In the summer, when the farmer, his master (at a time when he belonged to a farmer), went into the field to his work in the morning, he would sometimes take his dinner with him in a tin pail, and he would put the pail down under a tree by the side of a little brook, and then, pointing to it, would say to Bruno,
Watching.
“Bruno, watch!”
Bruno and his master eating dinner in the fields.
So Bruno would take his place by the side of the pail, and remain there watching faithfully all the morning. Sometimes he would become very hungry before his master came back, but, though he knew that there was meat in the pail, and that there was nothing to cover it but a cloth, he would never touch it. If he was thirsty, he would go down to the brook and drink, turning his head continually as he went, and while he was drinking, to see that no one came near the pail. Then at noon, when his master came for his dinner, Bruno would be rejoiced to see him. He would run out to meet him with great delight. He would then sit down before his master, and look up into his face while he was eating his dinner, and his master would give him pieces of bread and meat from time to time, to reward him for his fidelity.
Bruno was kind and gentle as well as faithful. If any body came through the field while he was watching his master’s dinner, or any thing else that had been intrusted to his charge, he would not, as some fierce and ill-tempered dogs are apt to do, fly at them and bite them at once, but he would wait to see if they were going to pass by peaceably. If they were, he would not molest them. If they came near to whatever he was set to guard, he would growl a little, to give them a gentle warning. If they came nearer still, he would growl louder; but he would never bite them unless they actually attempted to seize and take away his trust. Thus he was considerate and kind as well as faithful.
Fierceness.
Some dogs, though faithful, are very fierce. They are sometimes trained to be fierce when they are employed to watch against thieves, in order that they may attack the thieves furiously. To make them more fierce, their masters never play with them, but keep them chained up near their kennels, and do not give them too much to eat. Wild animals are always more ferocious while hungry.
Here is a picture of a fierce watch-dog, set to watch against thieves. He is kept hungry, in some degree, all the time, to make him more ferocious. He looks hollow and gaunt. There is a pan upon the ground, from which his master feeds him, but he has eaten up all that it contained, and he wants more. This makes him watchful. If he had eaten too much, he would probably now be lying asleep in his kennel. The kennel is a small house, with a door in front, where the dog goes in and out. There is straw upon the floor of the kennel. The dog was lying down upon the floor of his kennel, when he thought he heard a noise. He sprang up from his place, came out of the door, and has now stopped to listen. He is listening and watching very attentively, and is all ready to spring. The thief is coming; we can see him climbing over the gate. He is coming softly. He thinks no one hears. A moment more, and the dog will spring out upon him, and perhaps seize him by the throat, and hold him till men come and take him prisoner.
This dog is chained during the day, but his chain is unhooked at night, so as to leave him at liberty. By day he can do no harm, and yet the children who live in the neighborhood are afraid to go near his kennel, he barks so ferociously when he hears a noise; besides, they think it possible that, by some accident, his chain may get unfastened.
Tiger’s fidelity. His ferocious character.
This dog’s name is Tiger. Bruno was not such a dog as Tiger. He was vigilant and faithful, but then he was gentle and kind.
Bruno’s master, the farmer, had a son named Antonio. That is, his name was properly Antonio, though they commonly called him Tony.
The difference between Antonio and Bruno.
Tony was very different from Bruno in his character. He was as faithless and remiss in all his duties as Bruno was trusty and true. When his father set him at work in the field, instead of remaining, like Bruno, at his post, and discharging his duty, he would take the first opportunity, as soon as his father was out of sight, to go away and play. Sometimes, when Bruno was upon his watch, Tony would attempt to entice him away. He would throw sticks and stones across the brook, and attempt to make Bruno go and fetch them. But Bruno would resist all these temptations, and remain immovable at his post.
It might be supposed that it would be very tiresome for Bruno to remain so many hours lying under a tree, watching a pail, with nothing to do and nothing to amuse him, and that, consequently, he would always endeavor to escape from the duty. We might suppose that, when he saw the farmer’s wife taking down the pail from its shelf, and preparing to put the farmer’s dinner in it, he would immediately run away, and hide himself under the barn, or among the currant-bushes in the garden, or resort to some other scheme to make his escape from such a duty. But, in fact, he used to do exactly the contrary of this. As soon as he saw that his master was preparing to go into the field, he would leap about with great delight. He would run into the house, and take his place by the door of the closet where the tin pail was usually kept. He would stand there until the farmer’s wife came for the pail, and then he would follow her and watch her while she was preparing the dinner and putting it into the pail, and then would run along, with every appearance of satisfaction and joy, by the side of his master, as he went into the field, and finally take his place by the side of the pail, as if he were pleased with the duty, and proud of the trust that was thus committed to him.
Antonio’s expedients to avoid work.
In fact, he was really proud of it. He liked to be employed, and to prove himself useful. With Tony it was the reverse. He adopted all sorts of schemes and maneuvers to avoid the performance of any duty. When he had reason to suppose that any work was to be done in which his aid was to be required, he would take his fishing-line, immediately after breakfast, and steal secretly away out of the back door, and go down to a brook which was near his father’s house, and there – hiding himself in some secluded place among the bushes, where he thought they could not find him – he would sit down upon a stone and go to fishing. If he heard a sound as of his father’s voice calling him, he would make a rustling of the leaves, or some other similar noise, so as to prevent his hearing whether his father was calling to him or not. Thus his father was obliged to do without him. And though his father would reprove him very seriously, when he came home at noon, for thus going away, Tony would pretend that he did not know that his father wanted him, and that he did not hear him when he called.
The plowing.
One evening in the spring, Tony heard his father say that he was going to plow a certain piece of ground the following day, and he supposed that he should be wanted to ride the horse. His father was accustomed to plow such land as that field by means of a yoke of oxen, and a horse in front of them; and by having Tony to ride the horse, he could generally manage to get along without any driver for the oxen, as the oxen in that case had nothing to do but to follow on where the horse led the way. But if Tony was not there to ride the horse, then it was necessary for the farmer to have his man Thomas with him, to drive the horse and the oxen. There was no way, therefore, by which Tony could be so useful to his father as by thus assisting in this work of plowing; for, by so doing, he saved the time of Thomas, who could then be employed the whole day in other fields, planting, or hoeing, or making fence, or doing any other farm-work which at that season of the year required to be done.
Antonio escapes.
Accordingly, when Tony understood that this was the plan of work for the following day, he stole away from the house immediately after breakfast, and ran out into the garden. He had previously put his fishing-line, and other necessary apparatus for fishing, upon a certain bench there was in an arbor. He now took these things, and then went down through the garden to a back gate, which led into a wood beyond. He looked around from time to time as he went on, to see if any one at the house was observing him. He saw no one; so he escaped safely into the wood, without being called back, or even seen.
He felt glad when he found that he had thus made his escape – glad, but not happy. It is quite possible to be glad, and yet to be not at all happy. Tony felt guilty. He knew that he was doing very wrong; and the feeling that we are doing wrong always makes us miserable, whatever may be the pleasure that we seek.
His walk through the wood.
There was a wild and solitary road which led through the wood. Tony went on through this road, with his fishing-pole over his shoulder, and his box of bait in his hand. He wore a frock, like a plowman’s frock, over his dress. It was one which his mother had made for him. This frock was a light and cool garment, and Tony liked to wear it very much.
When Tony had got so far that he thought there was no danger of his being called back, and the interest which he had felt in making his escape began to subside, as the work had been accomplished, he paused, and began to reflect upon what he was doing.
He almost decides to return and help his father.
“I have a great mind to go back, after all,” he said, “and help my father.”
So he turned round, and began to walk slowly back toward the house.
“No, I won’t,” said he again; “I will go a fishing.”
So he turned again, and began to walk on.
“At any rate,” he added, speaking to himself all the time, “I will go a fishing for a while, and then, perhaps, I will go back and help my father.”
So Tony went on in the path until at length he came to a place where there was a gateway leading into a dark and secluded wood. The wood was very dark and secluded indeed, and Tony thought that the path through it must lead to some very retired and solitary place, where nobody could find him.
“I presume there is a brook, too, somewhere in that wood,” he added, “where I can fish.”
The gate was fastened, but there was a short length of fence on the left-hand side of it, formed of only two rails, and these were so far apart that Tony could easily creep through between them. So he crept through, and went into the wood.
He comes to the brook.
He rambled about in the wood for some time, following various paths that he found there, until at length he came to a brook. He was quite rejoiced to find the brook, and he immediately began fishing in it. He followed the bank of this brook for nearly a mile, going, of course, farther and farther into the wood all the time. He caught a few small fishes at some places, while at others he caught none. He was, however, restless and dissatisfied in mind. Again and again he wished that he had not come away from home, and he was continually on the point of resolving to return. He thought, however, that his father would have brought Thomas into the field, and commenced his plowing long before then, and that, consequently, it would do no good to return.
Fishing. The squirrel.
While he was sitting thus, with a disconsolate air, upon a large stone by the side of the brook, fishing in a dark and deep place, where he hoped that there might be some trout, he suddenly saw a large gray squirrel. He immediately dropped his fishing-pole, and ran to see where the squirrel would go. In fact, he had some faint and vague idea that there might, by some possibility, be a way to catch him.
The squirrel ran along a log, then up the stem of a tree to a branch, along the branch to the end of it, whence he sprang a long distance through the air to another branch, and then ran along that branch to the tree which it grew from. From this tree he descended to a rock. He mounted to the highest point of the rock, and there he turned round and looked at Tony, sitting upon his hind legs, and holding his fore paws before him, like a dog begging for supper.
An unsuccessful hunt.
“The rogue!” said Tony. “How I wish I could catch him!”
Very soon the squirrel, feeling somewhat alarmed at the apparition of a boy in the woods, and not knowing what to make of so strange a sight, ran down the side of the rock, and continued his flight. Tony followed him for some time, until at last the squirrel contrived to make his escape altogether, by running up a large tree, keeping cunningly on the farther side of it all the way, so that Tony could not see him. When he had reached the branches of the tree, he crept into a small hollow which he found there, and crouching down, he remained motionless in this hiding-place until Tony became tired of looking for him, and went away.
The lost boy.
Tony, when at last he gave up the search for the squirrel, attempted to find his way back to the place where he had left his fishing-pole. Unfortunately, he had left his cap there too, so that he was doubly desirous of finding the place. There was, however, no path, for squirrels in their rambles in the woods are of course always quite independent of every thing like roadways. Tony went back in the direction from which he thought he came; but he could find no traces of his fishing-pole. He could not even find the brook. He began to feel quite uneasy, and, after going around in very circuitous and devious wanderings for some time, he became quite bewildered. He at length determined to give up the attempt to find his fishing-line and cap, and to get out of the woods, and make his way home in the quickest possible way.
