"Well, you see," went on John, "we can't count on any late apples this year, so, as we must have cider, we thought that we had better make hay while the sun shines.""How much have you got there?" asked Ben, looking over the load. "About a barrel, I guess," answered John "Could you run them throughfor usthis morning?"
"Certainly, certainly!" replied the others. "Just haul them on, and we'll set to work as quick as we did that morning at Harper's Ferry. Who is this lad?" he asked, indicating Bert.
"My cousin from the city," said Harry, "Bert's his name.""Glad to see you, Bert, glad to see you!" and the old soldier shook hands warmly. "When they call you out, son, just tell them you knew Ben Bennett of the Sixth Massachusetts. And they'll give you a good gun," and he clapped Bert on the back as if he actually saw a war coming down the hill back of the cider mill.
It did not take long to unload the apples and get them inside.
"We'll feed them in the hopper," said John, "if you just get the sacks out, Ben.""All right, all right, my lad; you can fire the first volley if you've a mind to," and Ben opened up the big cask that held the apples to be chopped. When a few bushels had been filled in by the boys John began to grind. He turned the big stick round and round, and this in turn set the wheel inmotion that held the knives that chopped the apples.
"Where does the cider come from?" asked Bert, much interested.
"We haven't come to that yet," Harry replied; "they have to go through this hopper first.""Fine juicy applies," remarked Ben. "Don't know but it's just as well to make cider now when you have a crop like this.""Father thought so," Harry added, putting in the last scoop of sheepnoses. "If it turns to vinegar we can use it for pickles this fall."The next part of the process seemed very queer to Bert; the pulp or chopped apples were put in sacks like meal-bags, folded over so as to hold in the pulp.A number of the folded sacks were then placed inanother machine"like a big layer cake," Bert said, and by turning a screw a great press wasbrought down upon the soft apples.
"Now the boys can turn," John suggested, and at this both Bert and Harry grabbed hold of the long handle that turned the press and started on a runaround the machine.
"Oh, there she comes!" cried Bert, as the juice began to ooze out in the tub."That's cider, all right! I smell it.""Fine and sweet too," declared Ben, seeing to it that the tub was well under the spout.
"But I don't want you young fellows to do all my work.""Oh, this is fun," spoke up Bert, as the color mounted to his cheeks from the exercise. A strong stream was pouring into the tub now, and the wholesome odor of good sweet cider filled the room.
"I think I'll try to get a horse this fall when my next pension comes due,"said old Ben,"I'm a little stiff to run around with that handle like you young lads, and sometimes I'm full of rheumatism too.""Father said he would sell our Bill very cheap if he wasn't put at hard work," Harry said.
"We have had him so long we don't want to see him put to a plow or anything heavy, but I should think this would be quite easy for him.""Just the thing for a worn-out war-horse like myself," answered Ben, much interested. "Tell your father not to think of selling Bill till I get a chance to see him. I won't have my pension money for two months yet, but Imight make a deposit if any more work comes in.""Oh, that would be all right," spoke up John. "Mr. Bobbsey would not be afraid to trust you.""There now!" exclaimed Ben; "I guess you've got all the juice out. John, you can fill it in your keg, I suppose, since you have been so good as to do all the rest. Will you try it, boys?""Yes, we would like to, Ben," Harry replied.
"It's a little warm to make cider in July," and he wiped his face to cool off some.
Ben went to his homemade cupboard and brought out a tin cup. "There's a cup," he said, "that I drank out of at Harper's Ferry.I keepitin everyday use, so as not to lose sight of it."Bert took the old tin cup and regarded it reverently.
"Think of us drinking out of that cup," reflected Bert. "Why, it's a warrelic!""How's the cider?" asked the old soldier.
"Couldn't be better," said Harry. "I guess the cup helps the flavor." This pleased old Ben, for the light of glory that comes to all veterans,whether private or general, shone in his eyes.
"Well, a soldier has two lives," he declared. "The one under fire and the other here," tapping his head and meaning that the memories of battles made the other life.
The cider was ready now, and the Bobbseys prepared to leave.
"I'll tell father about Bill," said Harry. I'm sure he will save him for you.""All right, sonny - thank you, thank you!Good-bye, lads; come again, andmaybe some day I'll give you the war cup!" called the soldier. "That would be a relic!" exclaimed Harry."And I guess father will give himBill for nothing, for we always do what we can for oldsoldiers."
"I never saw cider made before," remarked Bert, "and I think it's fun. Ihad a good time to-day.""Glad you did," said John, "for vacation is slipping now and you want to enjoy it while it lasts."That evening at dinner the new cider was sampled, and everybody pronounced it very fine.
