The Richest Heart

Chapter 9

Morning threw a thin path of light across the floor. It was still very early. Outside, the shadows were long and cold, but Peter couldn't sleep any longer. For a moment, he lay in bed listening very quietly. The chickadees were chattering in the trees, and the robins were making a pleasant noise. It was as if they were singing praises to the one who had created them.

Without another moment, Peter threw his blankets onto the ground and jumped out of bed. The floorboards squeaked loudly as he hurried to his closet. There were no clothes inside. He kept the few shirts and worn-out breeches he owned scattered across the floor. But he had some very important things locked up in that wardrobe. On top of it, a key lay safely out of his brothers' reach.

I'm gonna have to hide this key soon, Peter thought, pulling on his shirt and opening the closet door. He glanced back at his brothers and marked how tall they were getting. He wouldn't have to worry about Otho for a while; he was only four years old, and he was too small to reach the key. But it wouldn't be too long before the boy's busy mind would get him into mischief. Otho always wanted to plunder in his brother's things. As soon as he learned how to use a key, he would surely find a way to open that closet.

Simon was the one who really had to be watched. Peter eyed the boy suspiciously. Simon was already shoulder-height, and his jealous attitude always got him into trouble. Peter felt smug as he got into his closet, grabbed two heavy knives, and fastened them onto his belt. They were longer and sharper than Simon's knives. Best of all, they belonged to him and no one else. He had bought them with his own money.

Peter snuck out of the bedroom and shut the door quietly behind him. As he felt his way through the dim, cluttered hall, he glanced at the clock. He couldn't see the time very well, but he guessed that it was about four o'clock. He smiled with a feeling of freedom. If he hurried, he could get his morning chores done and then spend some time in the wilderness before he had to go to school.

The rooms downstairs were dark and cold. His parents would wake up in a little while. But by then, Peter planned to be long gone. He would be up on a mountaintop looking across at the green fields and the houses below.

A rustling noise made the boy stop and listen. Was someone awake? Or was it the scampering of mice feet that he heard? A loud thud swept that thought away from Peter's mind. Someone was downstairs making a ruckus. With less caution, the boy climbed down the rest of the steps. Looking into the dark living room, he saw a boy with rusty hair kneeling by the fire place.

Peter gave a curious smile. He hadn't even thought about his middle brother that morning. Benjamin was the one person Peter never had to worry about because he never made trouble or whined. He was usually as quiet as a shadow. And no matter where he went, his only purpose was to make other people happy.

"Benjamin," Peter whispered. The little boy gave a start and looked over at his brother like a guilty criminal who had just been caught. "What are you doing?"

For a moment, Benjamin was silent. His big blue eyes studied Peter's face until he was sure that he wasn't in trouble. At last, he smiled cheerfully. "I'm helpin'!" he explained. His voice squeaked with delight, but it was still too quiet to wake anyone up. "See Peter, I built the fire!"

The boy crammed another piece of wood into the fireplace and then blew hard on the cold ashes. There wasn't a spark or even a glow. Benjamin had snuffed out the few coals which had survived the night, and he had piled the wood as high as it would go.

Peter chuckled. "Here, kid," he began, kneeling down on the hearth. "I'll show you how to make a really big fire."

Benjamin sat down and watched with eager eyes. To him, everything his brother did was perfect and exciting. In a moment, Peter had rearranged the wood and the kindling. Then he took out two pieces of flint and steel which he always kept in his pocket, struck several bright sparks into a nest of tinder, and carefully blew the sparkling embers into a flame.