“It is impossible to say, but there is little doubt that many of them flourish for a thousand years. There are vigorous oaks to-day in England that were old in the time of William the Conqueror. The famous White Oak of Hartford, in which Captain Wadsworth hid the charter two hundred and twenty-five years ago, was several centuries old at the time, and it was not until the summer of 1856 that a windstorm brought it to the ground. While it is one of the most valuable of the family, the white oak is in danger of extinction, because of its value as timber and on account of the sweetness of its nuts, which makes it a favorite with wild creatures that will not eat the bitter acorns of other oaks. You know the white oak is so called because of the color of its bark, which however is generally an ashen gray. Can any of you tell me the name of the oak that is fifty feet or slightly more in height, grows in Texas, has a fine-checked bark nearly the color of the white oak, with an awkward form and has shoots along the whole length of its branches, with the leaves coarse and rough on both sides? I shall not wait for you to guess the name, which is the post oak.
“The bur oak grows to a height of a hundred and fifty feet and ranges south to Texas and from the foothills of the Rockies to the Atlantic coast, being most abundant in Kansas and Nebraska. One of J. Fenimore Cooper’s most pleasing tales is ‘The Oak Openings,’ a name applied to the scattered forests of Minnesota. Now, you may know that the cork of commerce is the outer bark of an oak growing in southern Europe. The bur oak seems to be striving to produce the same thing and probably will succeed after awhile.
“The chestnut oak sometimes reaches a height of a hundred feet, but the trunk divides into large limbs a few feet above the ground. It is found in this State, westward through Ohio and as far south as Kentucky. It has many features in common with the yellow oak, whose range is somewhat different.
“The dwarf chinkapin, or scrub chestnut oak, is a shrub rarely more than a dozen feet high and grows on sandy or rocky soil. We do not meet with it north of Massachusetts. In Missouri and Kansas, it acquires dimensions more like a tree.
“The swamp white oak grows to a height of more than a hundred feet, and is fond of the borders of swamps. The top is narrow and round and the branches pendulous. You know about the red oak, which is a rapid grower and ranges from this State to Georgia and westward to Kansas, but attains its finest development north of the Ohio.
“To continue, I should add the names of the scarlet oak, the black and the yellow oak, the pin oak, the swamp Spanish, the bear, the scrub, the black jack, the barren, the shingle, the laurel, and the willow.
“You have noticed that I have done little more than mention the names of the different species. You have learned very little, for it is necessary that you should know the range of each, the height to which it grows, the characteristics of the bark, the wood, the leaves, the flowers and acorns. In conclusion, I shall say that the willow oak is one of the most interesting of trees. Its leaves resemble those of the willow, as do the straight slender shoots. It grows on the wet borders of swamps, but keeps away from the sea coast. Its acorns are very small, with a kernel so bitter that you would never bite into it a second time.
“My object this evening,” said Uncle Elk, “has been rather to awaken a desire on your part to study systematically our common American trees than to give you actual information. Let us dismiss the subject, for in dropping a matter of that kind we should follow the rule in eating, which is to stop before the appetite is cloyed. Suppose to-morrow night we have a little talk about American birds.”
There was general nodding of heads and the old man rose to his feet. He was so pleased with his listeners that he said:
“If we get through that subject in time, I’ll promise to tell you a story, provided you would like to hear one from me.”
He could be seen smiling behind his abundant gray beard.
“Boys will be boys always. Nothing suits them better than a story. So I shall bid you good night for the present, hoping nothing will interfere with our meeting again to-morrow evening.”
“The better plan,” suggested Scout Master Hall, “is for you to take supper with us, for I foresee that there will be much for you to tell us. We don’t want to miss the talk about birds, and I am as eager as the boys to hear your story, which I know will be a good one.”
All crowded around the Instructor in Woodcraft, shaking hands, thanking him and urging him so warmly to accept the invitation that he could not refuse. The last one with whom he clasped hands was Jack Crandall, who straightened up in his easy chair and declared he was receiving more benefit than a dozen doctors could impart.
Mike Murphy had risen to his feet at the close of the old man’s talk, but kept his place by the door until Uncle Elk came opposite. A nod of the hermit’s head told Mike that he wished to speak with him alone. The signal was observed by several who stayed behind as the two passed out and down the porch to the beach. Uncle Elk did not speak until they were beyond the hearing of the others. Then he halted and looked into the face of the youth.
“Well, Michael, what word do you bring me?”
“I told the docther what ye said and he is agreeable. He will not come to the bungalow in the evening unless we signal for him, which the same doesn’t seem to be likely.”
“That is what I wanted to know, and I thank you for your service. Well, my son, did you learn anything to-night?”
The youth was not sure of the scope of the question.
“If ye ask whither I larned anything from your words to the byes, I may say I picked up a good deal more than I iver knowed, which wasn’t much.”
“I refer to what you did after leaving the home of Dr. Spellman and paddling to the upper side of the lake.”
“Did ye obsarve me?” asked the astonished Mike.
“How could I help it, when I passed within a few feet of you in my own boat?”
“I didn’t notice it whin I came ashore.”
“I landed a little way up the beach, where my boat now awaits me. You haven’t told me whether you learned anything through your scouting.”
“I saan no one but yersilf, but I heerd them two tramps laughing over something and I smelled the cigar that one of them was smoking.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I don’t catch yer maaning, Uncle Elk,” said the mystified Mike; “I sartinly sniffed a cigar and heerd two men chuckling to thimsilves.”
“I haven’t denied that, but they were not the tramps you have in mind.”
“How can ye know the same for sartin?”
“I went to that spot on the shore to meet those men; they are old acquaintances and the name of neither is Biggs nor Hutt.”
“Who are they?”
“It would be useless to name them, since they are strangers to you.”
“Why didn’t ye stay and inthrodooce me?”
“I may do so one of these days, but I gave you a chance to find out things for yourself.”
“And mighty little I larned,” remarked Mike disgustedly; “if ye don’t mind, would ye tell me what the mischief scared thim two tramps to the extint that they jumped out of the canoe they had stole and took a bath in Gosling Lake?”
Uncle Elk was distinctly heard to chuckle.
“I had a talk with my two friends regarding the incident and I don’t wonder that they laughed even after I had left them.”
“I faal like laughing mesilf, Uncle Elk, and if ye’ll give me the same cause I’ll laugh so hard that it will wake the docther’s daughter on t’other side of the lake.”
“Have patience, Michael, and don’t think I am trifling with you, but I am under a promise not to reveal this little secret until I have permission. Good night.”
Mike stood gazing after the old man until he passed from sight in the obscurity and he heard