articlesforchristians

Let us go after those beechnuts today,” said Tim to Peter. “My mother says that I may.”

“The squirrels take all the nuts,” said Peter. “We cannot find any.”

“Yes, we can,” said Tim. “We can get the beechnuts before the squirrels do. Only we must hurry. See if you may go.”

Mother said, “Yes.” Then the boys went through the field back of Tim’s house. They passed the sandbank. Soon they came to the edge of the woods.

The woods were not green any longer. The trees were bright with colors. There were many red and yellow sugar maples. Tim’s father always tapped these in the spring.

A few of the trees in the woods were evergreens. Their needles were a dark green.

And there were many beech trees. Their leaves had turned brown and yellow.

“See, Peter,” said Tim. “Some of the leaves have come down. I am glad. We can play in them.”

“No,” said Peter. “We must hunt for beechnuts. Let us find a beech tree. Then we will look on the ground for nuts.”

“All right,” said Tim. And he began to hunt for beechnuts under a maple tree.

He looked on top of the leaves. He scraped up the leaves. But not one single nut did he find.

“There are no nuts,” he said. “This is not a beechnut year. I shall not hunt anymore.”

Just then Peter shouted, “Oh, come here, come here! I have found some! See, see! The squirrels have not taken them all.”

He held out his hand. In it were some small, brown nuts. They were three-cornered nuts. Two were in a prickly burr.

“There are more on the ground,” he said. “And, Oh Tim! Look up into the tree! I can see burrs all over it. I wish that we could climb up and knock them off.”

“I wish so, too,” said Tim. “I am going back to look up into my tree. Maybe they have not come down from my tree.”

When Peter saw Tim looking up into a maple, he laughed.

“Oh Tim!” he said. “Of course, you cannot find any beechnuts there. Beechnuts do not grow on maples. Find a beech.”

Soon Tim found a tree like Peter’s. The leaves were not the shape of maple leaves. The bark was smoother than maple bark. It had gray spots on it.

Tim began to find nuts, too. He put them into his pocket. That is where Peter put his.

It was not easy work to find such little nuts. Sometimes they were lying on the leaves. Sometimes the leaves hid them.

“It is easier to pick up butternuts,” said Peter. “I could fill my pockets with them very quickly. I shall never get my pockets filled with beechnuts. I have enough any way. Let’s go home.”

“In a minute,” said Tim. “Let’s sit here a little while. See the leaves come down. I can hear them, too. Can you?”

“Yes,” said Peter. “And I shall be glad when they are all down. I am wishing for winter all the time. My mother says that it will come soon.”

The woods were very still. The boys heard no birds singing. Some of them had gone south. Those that were left did not sing.

There was no noise but the sound of the leaves as they fell down from the trees.

Peter got up and scuffed in the fallen leaves.

“I like the smell of them,” he said. “Now I am going home. Come on.”

So home through the field they went. Collie met them. He jumped around them and barked. Perhaps he said, “Why didn’t you take me with you?”

Tim put his hand into his pocket to show Collie his beechnuts. But he could not find them.

He turned his pocket inside out. Still he found no nuts. Instead, he found a large hole.

He said to Peter, “The squirrels take most of the nuts, and the hole takes the rest. I think that is a good joke. Let us go for more, tomorrow.”