The Richest Heart

Chapter 20

"Where do you think you're going, young man?" The voice didn't slow Peter down as he stuffed some of his mother's biscuits into a big, burlap sack. His mother was sitting at the table, peeling some potatoes. The boy looked around cautiously, hoping that his brothers wouldn't hear him answer.

"I'm goin' to an old shack I found in the forest," he answered in a low whisper. "I'm gonna stay all night. Maybe several nights! I've set some traps up there, and I'm gonna start tanning hides! When I'm done, I'll sell 'em to Mrs. Hillenbrand!"

Martha McDougall looked up at her son with love and chiding in her eyes. "Peter," she began in a scolding tone, "you've been runnin' off without tellin' us anything about where you're going or when you're coming back. I don't like that. Some evening, if you don't come home, I'm going to be worried sick about you, and I won't even know where to start looking!" She rose to her feet and wrapped her arms around the boy as if she was afraid he would slip away and be lost forever. "Don't you think it would be right if you were to ask me or your father before you go off into the woods?" She held the boy at arm's length and looked at him. Her face was so gentle, and yet she had a look of great authority and seriousness in her eyes.

The boy smiled. "Alright," he answered. "Can I go to the woods and stay for a while, Mother?" he asked with respect.

Martha squeezed him tighter and thought for a while. "All night?" she asked.

"Or maybe longer," he reminded her. "Please, I just wanna spend some time out there."

The woman sighed reluctantly. "I would say no," she answered. "It's dangerous to be all alone in the woods. What about bears, Peter?"

"I'll be safe," the boy answered quickly. "I've got a toolshed to sleep in. No bear could get me in there."

After a long pause, his mother let go of him and sat back down at the table. "Ask your father," she said quietly.

Peter smiled gratefully, kissed her goodbye, and then carried his sack of things out of the house. Asking his father almost certainly meant that he could go. With haste, he ran across his property to a little building beside the fence. It was his father's workshop. There, he carved and built the most beautiful things.

As Peter threw the door open, Amos gave a start and slipped something into his pocket quickly. He was hiding something, but as soon as he saw Peter, his face looked relieved.

"Ah, hello, lad," he said in his gentle, Scottish voice. "I thought ye were wee Benjamin for a moment. Come sit down and keep me company."

The carver pulled the secret object out of his pocket again and picked up a tool. Peter looked at his father's creation with a smile of admiration. In the man's rough hands, there was a small pocket knife with a beautiful wooden handle. "He might be a wee bit too young for it," Amos began, carving the shape of an eagle into the handle. "But the blade is fairly dull, and I'm sure he'll be careful. He's a thoughtful sort of lad."

Peter felt sure that Benjamin wouldn't get hurt. His little brother wouldn't even use the knife until their father showed him how. But that thought didn't last long in Peter's mind. It was evening, and the late sunshine wouldn't last much longer. He told his father his plan in an excited voice and pulled out the contents of his burlap sack to show him that he was completely prepared. He had packed everything he needed to stay out in the wilderness for a while.

"It frosted last night, Peter. It's bound to be awfully cold." Amos reminded him.

"I've always got my flint and steel, Father. And I brought a blanket," Peter said. "I think there's even a stove in that shed!"

Amos asked him a few more questions and then nodded his head in satisfaction. "It sounds as if yer ready for anythin'," he said. "Don't forget to pray before ye go to sleep, and thank the Lord for yer blessings."