CHAPTER IX.

HUNTING ANECDOTES AND EXPERIENCES--CHRISTMAS--CONWELL AND HIS

REMINISCENCES.

A backwoods gun--Anecdote of a panther--My dog

“Bearsgrease”--Collmar’s house--Hunting a tame bear--Hunting

expedition--Hailstorm--Spirit-seller--Route of Eastern Indians;

their sufferings--The “Mulberry” river--Christmas-eve--Conwell, the

old settler--Hunting with Conwell--His age and robust frame--A

bear--Fat turkeys--Anecdotes of the Indians; their

cunning--Anecdote of the moccasins--Method of hanging up

deer--Dangerous work with a buck--Anecdote of a

buffalo-hunt--successful sport.

Meantime it grew dusk, and Slowtrap returned with seven ducks, three of

which had had their heads shot off. Meat was now plentiful. After S. had

made himself comfortable--that is to say, had taken off his hat, laid

aside his rifle and pouch, pulled off his wet shoes and stockings, taken

unto himself a slice of cold turkey, with its appropriate maize bread

and boiled pumpkin, seated himself with his feet to the fire, cut off a

piece of his chair to make a toothpick, and begun complacently to pick

his teeth, a sure sign that he felt comfortable, all which operations

took about three quarters of an hour--he asked, “Well, what’s the news?”

As the answer was not encouraging, another long pause ensued. When it

was quite dark, and a good fire was burning, his wife brought us some

bread and milk, of which he partook largely, and then began to thaw,

and speak of his exploits: he had fired eleven times, and his piece had

missed fire twenty-seven times, a habit the old flint gun had; but he

had nevertheless brought home seven ducks, and he had seen a fresh

panther trail; the panther had probably seen him from a tree, and jumped

down and escaped.

He took particular notice of my panther skin, and thought that there

must be a number of them about, but that formerly there were more than

twice as many in Kentucky. “Ah, at that time,” said he, “a man might

shoot five or six deer before breakfast, and once I had got up at

daylight, and shot two noble bucks, and stalked a third for half a mile,

when he got scent of me, and escaped. I was tired with my exertions, and

had scarcely any sleep all night, for a rascally panther had been

howling near me, and several times came so close to the fire that I

could make out his form, though he never gave me time to put a ball into

him with certainty. So I threw myself under a tree, to rest a little,

meaning then to continue my sport; but somehow my eyes closed

unconsciously;--and I can’t say how long I may have lain there, when,

still half asleep, I heard a strong rustling amongst the dry leaves

which surrounded me, and felt that they were being thrown over me, so

that I was quite covered in a few minutes. Surprise at first, and then

an instinct of danger, which I did not quite understand, kept me

motionless, awaiting the result: before I had formed any resolution, I

heard something moving stealthily away, and cautiously raising my head,

saw a panther disappear in the thicket. My first act was to jump up and

look to my priming, and as I saw nothing more of the beast, though I

was sure that it would return, I resolved to oppose cunning to cunning.

A piece of a broken bough lay near; I dragged it to the spot, and

covered it carefully with dried leaves--then, slinging my rifle on my

back, I mounted a neighboring oak to await in patience, but with a

beating heart, the conclusion of the adventure, as the panther might

return at any moment. I may have sat for rather more than half an hour,

my eyes steadfastly fixed on the place where the panther had vanished,

when the bough began to move, and the female panther (for a female it

turned out to be), reappeared with two cubs, intending, no doubt, that I

should serve as supper for the family. This time she had reckoned

without her host. I remained silent and motionless in the tree, watching

every movement and keeping the rifle in readiness. She crept stealthily

to within fifteen paces of the spot where she had left me covered up

with leaves, and crouched down with her green eyes glaring upon the log;

the next instant she made a spring, struck the claws of both her fore

feet into it, and buried her sharp fangs deep in the rotten wood. When

she found herself deceived she remained for a moment or two in the same

attitude, quite confounded. I did not leave her much time for

consideration; my ball crashed through her brain, and she fell dead on

her supposed prey, without a moan. I killed the two young ones easily

enough.”

He had hardly finished the anecdote, when the dogs began to bark, and,

by and by, we jumped up to see what was the matter. It was a neighbor,

named Collmar, from the other side of the hill. I took the

[Illustration: THE PANTHER AT FAULT.]

saddle off his horse, and laid it under one of the beds, tied up the

horse to a young tree, shoved a roughly-hewn trough before him, which I

filled with maize, and his eager munching proved how well he was

satisfied with all the proceedings. Collmar had come over the hill to

invite us to assist in erecting a new house. He had collected all the

logs on the spot, and now, according to American custom, was calling on

his neighbors to come and assist in raising them. S. was his nearest

neighbor but one, and lived nine miles distant; the next dwelt eight

miles further.

I promised to come at all events, but it was against Slowtrap’s habit to

promise any thing two days in advance. Besides, his wife and his

youngest child were both unwell. We shortened the evening with stories

and anecdotes. Collmar was off with the dawn to prepare for the

following day. I took my rifle and lounged into the forest with

Bearsgrease to look for a turkey. He drove a gang into the trees, at

less than half a mile from the house; but the wood was so thick and

overgrown, that before I could come up to see which trees they had

perched in, they had so hidden amongst the branches that there was not a

trace of them to be seen. I therefore whistled for my dog, and hid

behind a tree to await the time when they would think themselves safe,

and begin to call. I had not long to wait; ere long they began to cry,

and about a hundred yards in front of me, a large cock raised himself on

a branch, where he had nestled without my perceiving him. Without trying

to get nearer, I took aim at once, and hit the turkey, which fell

flapping from the tree; but the bushes were so thick that I should have

lost him, had not Bearsgrease dashed in with the greatest intrepidity,

in spite of thorns and creepers. The turkey, whose fall had been broken

by the wild vines, had no sooner touched the ground, than he made a

quick run for a cane-brake, and disappeared, with Bearsgrease bounding

and barking on his trail. On forcing my way through the canes, I

witnessed an interesting struggle between the two. The dog was still

young, and the turkey a fellow of twenty or twenty-two pounds; and

Bearsgrease, knowing that he must not injure him, tried to hold him with

his fore paws, whilst the turkey, which was only wounded in the left

wing, constantly succeeded in escaping, and running a yard or two before

the dog could pin him again. After watching them for some time, I put an

end to the struggle by cutting off the turkey’s head with my knife, and

carried him home. I then saddled Slowtrap’s old pony, and set off over

the mountain to gain Collmar’s house before night, leaving Bearsgrease

behind me.

The hills and rivers south of the Arkansas almost all run, like that

river, from west to east, and the hills have a peculiar formation. The

middle row or back-bone ridge is the highest, and generally on either

side are two or three lower ranges of hills, running parallel to the

main range, and sloping more and more towards the plain. All the smaller

rivers which run into the Arkansas from this side, have such hills

between them. I rode slowly up and down these hills looking out for

game. I had left my hunting-shirt behind, and a sharp north wind began

to chill me a little; but I did not like covering myself with the

blanket which lay across my saddle. Suddenly I saw a fox watching me

from the side of a hill beyond a little brook. I raised myself slowly in

the saddle, and fired; but my hand shook so with the cold that I missed

him. After the report, when the smoke cleared away, the fox had

disappeared; I jumped off and ran to the place where he had been

standing, to see if I could find traces of the ball--finding none I

reloaded, and returned to the horse, which was quietly grazing. With my

left foot in the stirrup, and in the act of throwing my right leg over

the saddle, what was my astonishment to see the fox in the same place as

before, looking as unconcerned as if nothing had happened! I had to turn

my horse before I could take aim, and the fox turned at the same time. A

loud whistle made him stop for a moment to see what it was; he was off

again before I could fire, but not quick enough to escape my ball. The

jump he gave showed he was hit; so, throwing myself off the horse, I

hastened after him. When he heard the bushes rustling, he stood still to

listen. This allowed me to approach him: the shot had broken his left

hind leg; and, throwing away every thing that hindered me in running, I

darted after him. Dragging his wounded leg, he limped along the side of

the hill; but, finding that I gained on him, he turned towards the

summit. I had run for a good half mile, and too much out of breath to

breast the hill, I soon lost sight of him. Heated and tired, I returned

to the horse, picking up my rifle, powder-horn, pouch, and cap, by the

way, enveloped myself in my blanket, and mounted my patient steed.

I soon crossed the highest summit of the range, and running down by the

side of a small stream southwards from the hills, in about an hour and

a half arrived at the place where Collmar’s house was to be built, and

where some of those who had arrived before me were occupied in cutting

the logs.

The ground was already prepared and planks cut; other neighbors arrived

from time to time with their dogs and guns, and the clearing was filled

with laughing, talkative groups.

The horses were hobbled near some reeds, with plenty of maize shaken

down in a dry place. In the evening, we all assembled at Collmar’s hut,

or rather shed, formed of boards fastened together, supported by poles,

and containing three roughly-hewn bedsteads, a weaver’s loom, and two

spinning-wheels. It may have been about fifty feet long and twenty wide,

with the floor as nature supplied it. Rifles and saddles lay about;

three pairs of deer hams adorned one corner, and dried pumpkins hanging

to poles, formed the sky to this paradise.

Immense blazing logs were heaped up in one blackened corner, and from

time to time it was necessary to throw a pail of water over the fire to

prevent the planks from burning; and then clouds of ashes threatened us

with the fate of Herculaneum and Pompeii.

All sorts of cooking utensils were crowded round the fire--a turkey was

stuck upon a stick to roast by the side of an opossum, dangling on a

string from the roof. Notwithstanding my long abode amongst people who

were passionately fond of this article of food, I could never bring

myself to eat a thing with a rat’s head and tail, and hand-like claws.

The prospect of a good supper was a delight to my hungry stomach.

Meantime, I was much diverted by a bargain about cows going on between

two old backwoodsmen: but, before discussing this subject, it will be as

well to say something of the other inmates of the shed. Collmar’s wife,

a stout, strong-built woman of about thirty-four, with two daughters of

fourteen and ten, were all that belonged to the fair sex. They were

busily employed about the fire with long-handled spoons, turning the

meat in the frying-pans, and basting the turkey and opossum; five

smaller figures, with a tin pot of milk in one hand and a lump of maize

bread in the other, huddled near the fire, stared at the strangers with

all their eyes. The hostess soon made room for the company by sending

the children to bed. But to return to the bargainers about the cows.

Instead of each praising his own cow, they found so much fault with

them, that their own calves, if they had heard it, must have felt

ashamed of them. After above an hour’s discussion on the faults and

failings of their horned property, they observed that they could not

part with them without giving something into the bargain, as even their

hides were worth nothing. These calumnies were put an end to by the

announcement, “Supper is ready.” Boxes, chairs, and logs were placed

round the table for seats. Turkey, venison, pork, opossum, maize bread,

and the favorite beverage of the backwoodsman, coffee, disappeared so

rapidly that soon nothing was left but the bones of the animals, the

remembrance of the bread, and the grounds of the coffee. One after

another rose when he had had enough, and then the woman-folk, who had

wisely kept something for themselves, took their places. This is one of

the customs of the West which always displeased me. The hostess seldom

sits down to table with the men, except now and then at tea or coffee.

The other custom, that of rising when they had had enough, without

regard to those who remained at table, was not so bad.

After supper the company formed various groups, and the conversation

turned on shooting, pasture grounds, the survey of the land that had

recently been accomplished, and then on religion. Words soon ran high;

for among the company were Methodists, Baptists, Presbyterians, and

unbelievers--but all disputes were put an end to by the arrival of two

large jugs of whiskey, each containing about four bottles, which Collmar

had sent his eldest son, a lad of fifteen, to fetch from a distant

store. The boy had been obliged to ride slowly for fear of breaking the

jugs.

The old bear-shooters were highly amused at the following account one of

the party gave of a bear-hunt that had occurred in North Carolina, and

which gave a sad picture of the low state to which field sports had

fallen there. “In order to have a bear-hunt several farmers met, and let

loose a tame two-year-old bear, giving him half an hour’s law, and then

following with horse and hound. The bear made straight for some hills,

and in about an hour and a half’s time was chased into a tree. Not

wishing to kill him, no one had brought a rifle; so I went to a house

about half a mile off, and borrowed an axe to cut down the tree. The

bear looked with inquisitive eyes on the proceedings below, and did not

appear to suspect danger, till the tree fell with a tremendous crash;

men and dogs threw themselves on the half-stunned bear, to secure him

and take him home; but the majority voted for another hunt, so the dogs

were held in and the bear let loose. After a time, we all went after him

again; this time the chase lasted longer, as the bear swam a river, and

to avoid a wetting we turned off to a bridge, giving the bear a great

advantage. At length, when we got close to him, he took to an enormous

fir-tree, and we all assembled under it; none of us knew how to get him

down again. We were several miles from any house, and had left the axe

behind us, and he seemed to set us at defiance in his lofty position.

Nevertheless he did not seem quite at his ease, and kept looking

anxiously first on one side, and then on the other, at the dogs who were

jumping and barking round the trunk of the tree. This inspired an old

Virginian of the party with a new idea. There were several pine branches

lying about; so, taking up one of the heaviest and longest, he commenced

striking the tree with all his force. At the first blow, the bear gave a

start as if electrified, and at the second or third he darted down like

lightning among the dogs, when he was soon secured and taken home. He

was once more allowed to run about for a couple of years, when he grew

very fat, and in good condition for killing, and he was slaughtered

accordingly.” When the story was ended, we wrapped ourselves in our

blankets, and slept soundly, though occasionally disturbed by some

thirsty souls who rose to get a drink. It was lucky for those who were

lying in the outer rows that most of the water seekers wore moccasins.

We were up at daybreak, and prepared to build the house by first making

a large fire to warm our hands and feet. A man with an axe stood in each

corner of the rising house, to cut the mortices and fit them into each

other, while the rest of the party raised the logs; no trifling labor,

as the house was to have two stories. By the evening, it was all up

except the roof, when rain began to fall, and the logs became too

slippery to admit of our standing on them; so the completion was left

till dry weather.

We remained the night at Collmar’s, and departed next day on our various

ways, after a very frugal breakfast, for we had devoured all his store.

It was cold and foggy, and I was glad to get to Hogarth’s, where I

passed the night, returning next day to Slowtrap’s. On relating the

extraordinary behavior of the fox; he gave one of his smiles, and told

many droll stories of the tricks of foxes, and one of a wild-cat, which

attacked a man in the marshes of the Cash. The man had gone out early in

the morning to shoot a turkey, and hearing a cock gobbling away with all

his might, he placed himself behind a fallen tree, and began to use his

call, when a wild-cat, probably deceived by the sound, sprang upon him

like a fury, and attempted to bite through the veins of his neck. He

found it impossible to pull the beast off, and was obliged to kill it

behind his back with his scalping-knife; he was confined to his bed for

several weeks, before he recovered from the ugly wounds caused by the

cat’s teeth and claws.

The weather cleared up next morning, and as old Slowtrap was still

unprepared for his journey, I resolved to cross the river to shoot, and

went to Curly’s on the same day. As the deer kept themselves close hid

in the daytime, we determined to have a shot in the night. An iron pan

was soon prepared, and with my old German game-bag, which had

accompanied me in all my wanderings, full of kindlers, our rolled-up

blankets on our shoulders, we set off as soon as it was dark. A sharp

wind had made the leaves so dry in the course of a few hours, that our

footsteps might be heard at three hundred yards off; consequently we saw

no deer, and after carrying the pan to and fro for about three hours, we

got tired of such useless trouble. On arriving at a small stream, we

made a good fire, and after a frugal supper had set our chins for a very

short time in motion, we rolled ourselves in our blankets, and lay down

each with his dog pressed close to his side.

We rose at daybreak, and following different routes, appointed a

rendezvous at Curly’s, as we did not mean to make a long affair of it.

Bad luck seemed to stick to us, for though we found plenty of trails, we

saw no game. At length Bearsgrease found a fresh trail, and followed it

up, often looking round to see if I was near him; so I kept as close as

possible. Suddenly he stood still and pointed, and an old buck got up

about fifty yards from us, and made a half circle round us. When I gave

a hail, he stood still as if to ask what I wanted. It happened that I

was to windward of him; and snuffing the air he gave a bound, which

caused my ball to strike too far backwards under his spine, bringing him

on his haunches. Bearsgrease had been observing it all with remarkable

patience, only turning his head from one to the other;--but now giving

vent to his eagerness he darted on the deer, seized him by the jaw, and

springing over his back, brought him to the ground. I had now a good

opportunity of cutting the deer’s throat, but wished to give the dog a

little practice, and I watched the struggle with the greatest interest.

The buck was one of twelve branches, and had the full use of the

forepart of his body. He strove to hit the dog with his sharp hoof, and

to run his horns into him; but the dog cleverly eluded all his attempts,

and at last seizing him by the throat, held him fast, while I ended his

torments with my knife.

As Slowtrap had assured me that he would be ready to make the

long-expected journey in a few days, I would not delay. I skinned the

deer, packed the two haunches in the skin, fed the dog, and trudged away

heavily laden up and down hill to Curly’s house.

Slowtrap was not ready. It was quite out of his character to be hurried.

I saw no end of his awful procrastination; yet there was nothing left

for it but patience. On my arrival, he was busy making a sledge to draw

wood, that his wife might have enough for several weeks; this was no

trifle, considering what enormous logs were consumed in these

fireplaces.

The next day was a washing-day--and a washing-day in most places, and in

Arkansas in particular, is an awful thing to a man whether married or

not. Curly’s young wife and sister had volunteered to assist, and to me

was deputed the honor of escorting them; I buckled a blanket on the

horse, and rode over, but as all three could not find room at once, I

had to make two trips. All the American women are good riders. Curly’s

wife jumped up lightly behind me, and held on by my belt. Away we went

at a gallop through the foaming though shallow river and thick forest,

to Slowtrap’s house, where having safely deposited my charge, I hastened

back for the sister. I had now to think of my own safety, as it would

have been foolhardiness to have remained near three women on a

washing-day. Being tired from yesterday’s exertions, to take a long

walk, I decided on shooting wild-fowl; so seizing S.’s long rifle with a

hundred balls to the pound, I sauntered down to Porter’s Creek. The

number of ducks was astounding. I lay down in a quiet shady place, and

only fired when a good opportunity offered, Bearsgrease securing the

prize. To be sure he frightened the others away, but only for a time;

they soon returned, and by the evening I had bagged thirteen.

The two next days were wet and disagreeable. All we could do was to cut

and stack wood. When the sun again shone through the clouds on the moist

smoking ground, it was the 12th of December, and I went again over to

Curly’s to shoot another deer before the journey, if possible. Old

Collmar was there and a young man of the name of Martin, who was rather

eccentric; he was about twenty-five, and had not a single hair on his

head. He used to tell extraordinary stories as to the cause of his

baldness, in which he frequently got confused, when he would start up,

rush out of the house, and never show himself again the whole day.

Sometimes when he was engaged to work, he would steal away, leaving his

wages, and sometimes his clothes. We gained from him, that he had

married a wooden-legged woman in Illinois, and had left her there; but

he told it in such a way that we doubted its truth. He told the most

absurd stories of what he had seen and experienced, and flew into the

most violent passions if the least doubt was manifested. Thus passed the

afternoon. When it was dark C. and I took our firepan to try our luck

once more. We went southwards towards the hills, in the first instance,

and then turned to the westward, the stars shining brightly; but

gradually thick clouds began to appear, and some flashes of lightning

were visible. We continued walking in the same direction without seeing

any deer, and may have gone on about three quarters of an hour when we

came to a clearing. Looking upwards to find our way by the stars, we

saw, to our horror, that the whole sky was one mass of black clouds. I

had now left my compass at home, the wind blew in violent gusts, and

thunder in the distance kindly gave us notice that a storm was

approaching.

Nothing is easier than to lose one’s way in the forest by torchlight;

for the fire lights up only a few paces around, giving a peculiar

appearance to the trees, and all beyond thirty yards is the blackest

darkness, and all points of the compass look alike. I now recollected

that when I last carried the pan (for we took it in turns), I had

observed it was lightning under the north star, which was not then

covered by clouds, and we concluded that the storm must have advanced

towards the east. A heavy clap of thunder informed us that we had no

time to lose; so we beat our retreat, keeping the lightning on the left

hand. We may have been about two miles from Curly’s house; the lightning

came quicker and brighter, the thunder louder, and we fled like two

ghosts with our waving flame, when by one of the flashes Curly

distinguished the roof of his abode; we hastened to it as fast as our

legs would carry us, dashed in, and fastened the door, just as the hail

came down as if it was trying to split every plank on the roof. As we

looked at each other we broke into such an immoderate fit of laughter,

that we could scarcely recover ourselves. The noise of our arrival, the

thunder, hail, and our loud laugh awoke all the inmates. Martin’s

handkerchief, which he wore at night to cover his pate, had slipped off,

and his queer appearance, as he looked at us with astonishment, set us

off laughing again.

Meantime the hail gave place to heavy rain; but “savage tyrants reign

not long,” and presently the beauteous stars looked down quite cheerily

upon us.

Storms are frequent in Arkansas, and occasionally hurricanes, which will

sweep a district of a mile in width and several miles in length,

levelling every thing in their path. After a time blackberries, thorns,

and creepers, grow so luxuriantly over the heaps of fallen trees, as to

make the thickets quite impenetrable in many places, offering a secure

refuge to bears, &c.

On returning to Slowtrap’s, we began in earnest to make preparations for

the long-expected, long-delayed journey. In S.’s good steel mill we

ground flour enough to last the family till his return, put our knives

and rifles in order, and finally started on the morning of the 19th of

December.

It was a bright cold winter’s day, when, with our three dogs bounding

about us, we commenced our march; Slowtrap on his nag, which carried,

besides, a sack of provisions, our blankets, and my skins, while I

stepped out briskly in a hunting-shirt, leggings, and moccasins, an

untanned raccoon-skin-cap, and with no pack to carry. S. as he sat on

his horse looked as if he must weigh at least twenty stone, his wife had

heaped so many clothes on him, while my accoutrements were all of summer

stuff; but the exercise prevented me from feeling cold, as we jogged

along a small cart-track through the thick forest.

The first part of our journey led through marshes, but we soon reached

the hills that divide the “petit Jean” from the “Fourche le Fave,” and

with them, dry land. The people of Yell county had selected a spot near

the “petit Jean” for a new county seat for the sessions. The infant town

consisted of exactly the same number of buildings as Perryville, viz.

two houses and a stable. When a town is founded in America, the streets

are first marked off, by cutting away a piece of bark from the trees,

and boards are nailed up at the corners with the names, such as,

Main-street, Second-street, Walnut-street, Elm-street, &c., and

sometimes, when in the forest, a man may find that he is in the high

street of a town.

If the position of the new-born, newly-christened town be a good one, it

grows incredibly fast; in the contrary case, it looks desolate

enough--merchants and travellers desert it, houses are left unfinished

and fall to pieces, and the court-house, as I once saw near White River,

may be turned into a corn-crib.

In Danville, as the town was called, a speculative genius had

established a small store, having removed from the Arkansas, about

twenty miles off, with a cask of whiskey, and for whiskey or money he

bought all skins he could find. He had also powder, lead, coffee,

sugar, and lucifer matches; the latter article are wretchedly made in

America. I exchanged all my skins for powder, lead, and coffee.

From hence, somewhat lightened, we proceeded to Spring Creek, which is

thickly settled, one good farm bordering another, till we passed the

water-mill, where they ceased, and we prepared for the night, which

looked threatening. We halted by an overthrown pine-tree, unloaded the

horse, and gave him some corn, collected firewood, and made a hut. Pine

bark lay about in heaps; though worm-eaten in many places, it answered

for want of better, and, used in double and treble layers, it made a

very respectable sort of shed. When I thought it was finished, being

rather tired, I flung myself on the ground; but my companion was not so

easily satisfied; he laid on one piece of bark after another, and spread

some to keep our limbs from the damp earth, and, whether I wished it or

not, I must up and help till he pronounced “That’ll do.” Our simple

supper was soon over; he then pulled off his shabby old coat, folded it

up carefully, and laid it on his saddle as an extra pillow, spread his

blanket on the pine bark with the edge to the fire, so that in lying on

it, and covering himself with the other half, he might admit the warmth.

After adding a few more logs to the fire, he pulled off his shoes,

placing them near him with the soles upwards, that they might not fill

with water in case of rain; he hung his socks under the bark roof, to

keep them properly warm and dry; then laying himself carefully on his

blanket, and covering himself with the other half, he was soon asleep.

I could not sleep, but lay close to the fire, which I kept stirring with

a stick, making it crackle, and raising showers of sparks, which were

carried by the wind far away into the dark forest, while I gave audience

to my various thoughts. At length some pattering drops warned me that it

was time to seek shelter in the warm shed.

The rising sun found us again on the march, and nothing remarkable

occurred till evening, when we passed an old plum orchard of the

Cherokees. It was an unenclosed space, several miles in circumference,

thickly covered with bushes from two to six feet high, bearing small,

round, very sweet plums, which ripen in August. Similar plum orchards

are found in many places near the Arkansas and Mississippi.

We struck the Arkansas before dark, opposite the little town of

Pittsburg, and crossed over. As our purses were in a weak condition, we

did not enter the town, but lighted a fire on the river’s bank, made a

shed of some planks which had been driven on shore, probably from a

sunken boat, and were soon well housed. As we had marched quick, and

kept in our dogs for fear of losing them, we had seen no game; our

provisions were rather low, and henceforth the horse had no further

weight to carry than the well-packed, goodly person of my companion, who

now and then got off to give me a lift. We husbanded our stores so well,

that we had something for supper and breakfast, and to feed the dogs,

and laid ourselves comfortably down in our blankets.

Next day we passed along a part of the route by which some years ago a

numerous body of eastern Indians, having given up their lands to the

United States on condition of receiving other equally good lands in the

West, were conducted by the parties who had engaged to provide for them

on their journey. Numerous square holes cut in the fallen trees showed

where the squaws had pounded their maize to make bread. More melancholy

traces were visible in the bones of human beings and animals which were

strewed about. Many a warrior and squaw died on the road from

exhaustion, and the maladies engendered by their treatment; and their

relations and friends could do nothing more for them than fold them in

their blankets, and cover them with boughs and bushes, to keep off the

vultures, which followed their route by thousands, and soared over their

heads; for their drivers would not give them time to dig a grave and

bury their dead. The wolves, which also followed at no great distance,

soon tore away so frail a covering, and scattered the bones in all

directions. This is a sad instance of the abominable haggling spirit so

prevalent in America. The government, to avoid trouble, had contracted

with individuals for a certain sum, which was quite sufficient to have

conveyed the poor Indians comfortably; but they were obliged to part

with all they had for bread, selling their rifles and tomahawks, horses

going for two and three dollars; and, while they died of hunger and

distress, the contractors made a fortune.

About three in the afternoon we reached the Ozark mountains, and passed

close by some farm buildings where there were several tame white

turkeys. My dog, who was a capital fellow for turkeys, had as yet never

seen any but wild, consequently black ones. He gave a side glance or

two at them, and then passed on without further notice, until one

crossed the road, and he came on the fresh trail, which he followed on

the instant; but when he got close to the white bird, he kept first

looking at the one, and then smelling at the other, as much as to say,

“They don’t agree,” while the turkey walked off with long strides,

turning his head from side to side to examine the stranger who was so

close at his heels, and whose intentions he rather seemed to doubt. I

called off the dog, and we stepped out at a good pace up a narrow ravine

by the banks of a mountain stream. Narrow as the ravine was, we found

houses in places where no one, at least no reasonable being, could ever

have supposed they would have been erected, there being so little arable

land near. One place particularly amused me--a turnip field, about sixty

paces square, from one corner of which I saw smoke rising. As there was

no trace of a building or of a human being to be seen, I was anxious to

discover where the smoke came from, and on reaching the corner of the

field, I found myself looking straight down a chimney. The house was

built in a little hollow in the rock, probably to avoid encroaching on

any part of the useful ground. But what could induce people to settle in

such a hole, when so much good land was to be had in Arkansas, was more

than I could divine.

We now turned to the left, and crossed the first spur towards the summit

of the hills that divide the Mulberry from the Arkansas. The ascent was

rather steep, but we surmounted it without mishap, and were rewarded

with a beautiful view over the country we had passed. While I was seated

on a high piece of rock, contemplating the prospect, Slowtrap rolled a

large stone to the edge of the declivity; then pushing it over, he set

the dogs after it--these hearing the noise, flew in wild haste down the

steep. The stone at first moved slowly, but as it gathered way in its

descent, it made bounds of twenty and thirty feet, broke off young

trees, and went thundering to the bottom in clouds of dust, the dogs

still in chase. I did not much like it, fearing they might break their

legs or necks. Bearsgrease came back first, crouching and wagging his

tail, as if he knew that he had committed an egregious folly. The others

returned later, puffing and snorting. S. seemed to have been much

amused: he sat comfortably on a rock, with his bridle on his left arm,

and looked on without moving a muscle of his countenance.

We had a long march before us. It was ten miles to the nearest house,

and we had nothing eatable left, either for ourselves or the horse; it

was moreover getting dark. S. said we must keep on the hill for six or

seven miles, and then turn down towards the Mulberry to the house.

It grew darker and darker. A narrow unfrequented footpath covered with

yellow leaves was our only guide, which I followed up with undivided

attention, Slowtrap riding slowly after me. A thin penetrating rain set

in with the night; yet, indefatigably, and with my nose nearly on the

ground, I kept to the almost invisible path, till about ten o’clock,

when I stopped, and told Slowtrap that either the path ended here, or I

had missed it; which of the two was the case I could not say. Slowtrap,

who had followed patiently without speaking a word, asked if I thought

I could find the trail again on retracing my steps. The weather was not

favorable for conversation; I shouldered my rifle, went some way back,

made a circle, and found a strip of darker ground amongst the leaves. I

called out, and my companion came, leading his horse, and said that I

might ride, and he would follow up the path, as his eyes were more

accustomed to forest work than mine. Tired with the long day’s march, I

was not sorry for this, and was soon in the saddle, while Slowtrap,

stooping low, preceded me about two hundred paces; but he came to a

stand where I had stopped, and said the path ended there. We could not

be far from the descent to the Mulberry, for the trees were thinner, and

Slowtrap said that if it were not so dark, we might be able to see the

whole of its valley. At present nothing was to be seen but our miserable

plight.

It is dangerous to lose one’s way in these hills, as precipices occur

where least suspected. The rain now fell in torrents, and we were as wet

as drowned rats. At length we decided on descending the hill straight

before us, lead where it would. It was steep and slippery, and although

we led the horse, we were often in danger of falling into one of the

steep ravines; we passed so near one that we heard the stones fall to

the bottom as they were kicked away by the horse’s feet.

It may have been about eleven o’clock when the dogs gave the first signs

of life, by a growl and a low bark. Then the oldest of them, a good old

fellow, covered with honorable scars, gave a short howl. It was answered

by several dogs in the distance; this inspired us with fresh courage,

and we hastened down the hill towards the sound. When the strange dogs

left off barking, we easily excited them again by imitating the howl of

a wolf. We gained at once the foot of the hill and a mountain stream,

and came to a small house, from whence we had heard the bark of the

dogs. We entered and obtained shelter, but no hearty welcome.

Next morning, as we were not very well pleased with our host, who did

not care about us, and fearing that the rivers we had to cross might

swell with rain--an event which soon occurs in the mountains--we left at

daylight, and proceeded to a farmer’s, named Davis, about half a mile

off on the other side of the river; here we were received kindly and

hospitably.

Mr. Davis would by no means allow us to proceed, as it had poured with

rain the whole night, and all the brooks were rushing torrents; so,

taking charge of our things, he made us sit by the fire, and seemed

highly gratified at the pleasure its warmth afforded us. His family were

very agreeable, and I was quite sorry to part with them so soon as the

next morning; but by that time the waters fell, and Slowtrap was in a

hurry to get on. However, it was hard work to get through some of the

rivers, especially as we had but one horse. Luckily my companion knew

the country too well to expose us to the chance of sleeping again in the

forest, and this evening, wet, tired, and half frozen, we arrived at the

abode of an old squatter.

This day we had crossed the main range of the “Boston divide,” which

parts the waters of the Mulberry from the White river, and found

ourselves on the latter, which, here, we could leap across, though

further down it is navigated by steamers. The country and vegetation

differed considerably from that south of the Arkansas. There was no

trace of fir; the mountains were covered with oak, beech, and hickory,

all at this season without leaves, which, to an eye accustomed to green

hollows, seemed rather mournful and monotonous. It struck me as

extraordinary that the best and most fertile land was on the hill tops,

where, in other places it is generally the worst; here grew black

walnut, wild cherry, with stems sometimes twenty inches in diameter,

black locust, and sugar maple, trees which generally grow only in the

richest soils. The black locust was very frequent, and its long sharp

thorns are by no means pleasant on a journey.

About noon we passed a log house, at the door of which stood a fat

red-haired man. When we had passed, Slowtrap told me that, four years

ago, that man had bought a clock; and after he had had it two days, he

doubted whether all was right inside; so he took it to pieces, and when

satisfied, put it together again, and people said that when he had done

so, he had wheels enough left for another clock.

It was Christmas eve, and growing dark. My heart sunk as I remembered

former joys of this season, and thought of my present loneliness.

Strange! that recollections should be so sweet and yet so bitter.

In good time we arrived at old Conwell’s, Slowtrap’s father-in-law. He

lived in a block-house, surrounded by mountains covered with trees,

close to the bank of the White river, which was narrow enough to be

bridged by a tree. The family were assembled round the fire; Conwell

himself was absent. A matron of pleasing appearance rose from her seat

on the entrance of her son-in-law, and cordially shook his hand, while

two fine boys of eleven and eight jumped up to welcome him; another

person in the room, a young graceful girl, who at first kept modestly in

the background, then came forward to greet her brother-in-law, who

addressed her as Sophy; neither was the stranger overlooked, but

received a hearty welcome from all. I, who, a few minutes before, had

felt so deserted and miserable, now experienced a silent joy, as I

looked on the amiable, honorable countenance of the mother, the mild

expression of the daughter, and the open, happy faces of the two boys.

It was as if I had found new relations, and was once again at home.

Never in my life had I felt, from the first moment, so completely

domesticated as with these people.

In about half an hour old Conwell came in: if ever uprightness was

stamped upon any countenance, it was upon his; his hair was white as

snow, but his step was as springy as he moved about in his

hunting-shirt, leggins, moccasins, and bare neck, as if he had seen but

twenty years. After we had been seated about an hour, it seemed as if I

had known him from childhood, and the evening flew past with incredible

swiftness.

The cold was very sharp on Christmas-day, and we were delighting in a

glorious fire, when John, the youngest boy, ran in, and said there was a

large gang of turkeys in the corn. I seized my rifle, called

Bearsgrease, and was soon in the field. No sooner had the dog found the

scent, than he was amongst them, and they flew to the neighboring trees.

I knocked over one, loaded, and tried for another, leaving Bearsgrease

to watch the prize, as several pigs were near us. Not being able to get

another shot, I returned to the dog, and found him with his paws full of

business. Another larger dog had come to have a smell at the turkey;

Bearsgrease, mistaking his intentions and my instructions, attacked the

stranger, threw him over, and held him fast, with the fiercest

countenance in the world; but when he saw me coming he began to wag his

tail, being thus, like Janus, severe in front and amicable behind. I

released the stranger from his disagreeable position, and patted and

soothed Bearsgrease to express my approbation and satisfaction at his

good behavior; but he continued to give an occasional growl and scowl at

the other dog.

I amused myself for a couple of days with turkey shooting, leaving

Slowtrap time to arrange his affairs, when he informed me that he had

concluded his business quicker than he had expected, and now meant to

return home. This was disagreeable to me for two reasons--first, because

he was a very pleasant companion; and, secondly, because he was so well

acquainted with the mountains. However, there was no persuading him to

remain, and he fixed on the following morning for his departure.

In the afternoon, as the sun was bright and warm, we formed a merry

party in front of the house; but S. who never could bear lying or

sitting on the cold ground, sat himself on the fence, which was about

five feet high, and told us some of his humorous stories with his usual

gravity. Meantime several cows had assembled on the other side of the

fence. It has already been said that S. wore a shabby old coat, whereof

the tails hung low outside the fence. In the morning he had been walking

about the hills, and had been very hot; and his pocket-handkerchief,

moist with perspiration, was in one of his pockets. It is well known

that cows are fond of salt and saline substances, and they had probably

divined that something of the sort was in one of those pockets. One,

rather bolder than the rest, had quietly approached, taken the flap in

her mouth, and was contentedly chewing it. I had observed the whole

proceeding with great amusement; but fearing that his coat was in danger

of being reduced to a state of pulp, I called out to him to look behind.

He looked round, beheld the cow chewing his coat-tails with the greatest

placidity, and raised one of his long arms to drive her away. The cow,

frightened at the long arm, made a retreat; but unluckily one of the

buttons caught between her teeth, and she gave a sudden wrench to poor

Slowtrap, who was nicely balanced at the top of the fence; in a moment

his legs rose in the air, like the two chimneys of a steamer, and then

his body tumbled to the ground. What happened afterwards, no one could

tell, as we all followed his example, in a convulsion of laughter.

On the 28th December my old companion mounted his steed, and shaking

hands with his relations and me, was soon out of sight in the forest. I

prepared for the mountains, and Conwell said he would willingly go with

me, but that he had business for some days; I answered, that I would go

first, not to be a burden to him, at which he was much vexed, and

requested me not to go without him, concluding his kind invitation to

remain in his house, by saying that I was “as welcome as the flowers in

May.” I could not withstand this, and remained with much pleasure. He

rode away the same day, and returned on the following evening. In the

afternoon it came on to snow, and continued till late at night, so that

we expected glorious weather for shooting; but our joy did not last

long, for it soon became warm again. Nevertheless we got every thing in

readiness, mended moccasins, cast balls, sharpened knives, and, on the

30th, we proceeded to the Pilot rock, at the source of the Hurricane.

After crossing the Boston divide, we stopped on the slope, where we

found a spring of delicious water, and “struck camp.” The night was

clear and cold, but the heat of the day had spoiled all the beautiful

snow. Stretched before the fire, we rested our weary limbs after the

exertions of the day, and were soon sound asleep, with our dogs beside

us.

As we were not yet on our intended ground, we rose early, descended the

mountain, crossed the Hurricane, and fixed upon a spot for our night’s

camp, where we left Conwell’s horse, with our blankets, and provisions.

Here we separated to mount the hill on different routes. The Hurricane

is a mountain stream, taking its name from a hurricane which raged near

its mouth some time ago, leaving traces that are still visible. It runs

into the Mulberry, and flows with it into the Arkansas.

Conwell went to the left, I to the right; the hill was in places so

steep, that I was obliged to lift the dog up before me. At length I

gained a flat terrace. The terrace formation is characteristic of these

mountains; seen from below they do not appear very high, because only

the top of the next division is visible; but when one is surmounted,

another and another arises, and people maintain that when you come to

the highest there is always one more.

The terrace on which I found myself was about one hundred and eighty

paces wide. Advancing cautiously towards the middle, keeping a sharp

look-out, I perceived a doe quietly grazing, and coming towards me. I

whistled, she stopped, bounded upwards with the shot, ran about fifty

paces towards me, and fell dead. She was in excellent condition--I hung

her up, and went on. At the end of the terrace, where a spring dashed

down the rock, I observed signs of a bear; he had turned over several

stones to find worms, and had bitten off some of the bushes to make a

bed; seeing nothing more, I returned to the camp, to have the help of my

companion to follow up the trail next day, taking half the doe on my

shoulders as I went along. I found Conwell occupied with a very fat

turkey.

Tired with all the climbing, we wrapped ourselves in our blankets, and

threw ourselves down for a nap; but the sun setting, and wind getting

colder and sharper, did not allow us much repose, but warned us to make

a fire, and a good fire too, for the night. Wood was abundant, and we

had only to move a few steps for as much as we wanted. The sun had

hardly disappeared behind the trees on the western mountains, when it

became dark in our ravine; the twilight did not last more than ten

minutes. It was the last day of the year. In my native land, many a

happy pair were forgetting past pains and sorrows in the tumult of the

dance in lighted halls; while I was stretched under the starry skies

beside a crackling fire in the forest, my trusty rifle and faithful dog

by my side. I had no mind for dancing or music; for seven months I had

not heard from home, and seemed to have got wedged in among the

mountains, with the world closed behind me, all retreat cut off, and

nothing left but to advance: and yet the future offered no inviting

picture; alone, in the endless wilderness, I stood, with hair turning

gray--a solitary hunter, leaning on my rifle, separated from all I

loved.

Old Hawkeye, must have had many a sorrowful hour.

Meantime, my companion, leaning on his elbow, was gazing on the fire,

and lost in recollections of the past; but his past must have been a

happy one, for he often smiled to himself. He had lived an active life,

and looked forward to a happy old age, in the circle of an amiable

family, in the vicinity of his married children, in the enjoyment of

health and strength. Wherefore should he be unhappy?

I stood up to change the current of my thoughts, poked at the fire, laid

the logs together, which were burnt through the middle, and reposed

again on my blanket. Conwell told me he was sixty-two years old to-day,

31st of December, 1841; and yet he was so strong and active that I had

to exert myself to keep up with him. He spoke of his past life; how he

had continually preceded civilization, first in Carolina, then in

Kentucky, Tennessee, Missouri, and now in the Ozark mountains, and he

complained that people were gathering too thick about him, and said he

felt a strong inclination to make another move. He mentioned how

fortunate and happy he was in his family. He spoke of his children, and

as I listened to him my troubled thoughts were soothed; it was as if one

of my own family was speaking. Thus passed our evening till sleep

weighed down our eyelids, and wrapped in our blankets past and future

were forgotten.

Next morning, as the tips of the western mountains were lighted up with

the first rays of the rising sun, we woke from our lairs, shook off the

wreaths of frost, and joyfully inhaled the fresh morning air; it was

bitter cold, the water in our tin cups was all frozen, as was the meat,

but a breakfast fit for a prince was soon smoking before us--juicy

venison, fat turkey, good strong coffee, and maize bread. Where was the

hotel that could afford fare as good? but man is fated never to be

satisfied--my companion sighed for bear.

Before breakfast was quite ready I went to the creek which flowed at a

few paces from our camp, to have a good wash, and finding a hole with

deep water as clear as crystal, I threw off my clothes, and plunged

under the cool element. It was a delicious treat, and I did not feel the

cold till I got out; but I was soon by the fire, and by the time I had

my clothes on I felt such an animating glow, and such strength that I

could almost have torn an oak up by the roots. Old C. looked on smiling,

but thought it too cold to plunge in, and contented himself with washing

face, breast, hands, and feet. Thus refreshed, we sat down to breakfast;

turkey, venison, coffee, and bread disappeared with terrific rapidity;

even Bearsgrease appeared surprised sitting with his mouth wide open,

though Conwell maintained that he held it open more conveniently to

catch the morsels I threw to him from time to time; perhaps he was

right.

After these trifles, half a turkey, and the greater part of a haunch of

venison had been safely disposed of to the general satisfaction, we set

off to look for the bear, tokens of whose whereabout I had seen the day

before. On arriving at the place, the dogs showed signs of excitement,

and running down the steep they soon began to give tongue. We followed

as fast as we could, and came to a large detached rock, behind which a

cave ran into the mountain. Several marks showed that the bear was at

home; the dogs barked furiously, and I laid aside my rifle and pouch,

and was about to enter the cave with my drawn knife, when Bruin began to

suspect mischief. He was right opposite the entrance, but a slight bend

in the cave, which was only eight feet deep, prevented our seeing him.

He would not have cared much for the dogs, but as I approached the wind

was behind me; the moment he discovered me he began snorting and

growling, and made a rush which nearly upset me, although I sprang on

one side. Conwell, who had seen many such affairs, coolly stood at the

entrance with his rifle cocked, watching my proceedings. The report of

the rifle was heard before I and the dogs had recovered our composure

after the rush; the bear seemed to be determined that nothing should

stop him, and disappeared in a gorge; but the dogs, roused by the shot

were soon on his traces. The old man laughed heartily as he saw me

standing knife in hand quite disconcerted at the mouth of the cave, and

regretted that he had not been able to give all his attention to my

admirable jump, as he was obliged to look after the beast.

We followed the dogs, and on examining a rock which the bear had

crossed, we found drops of dark blood, and were tolerably sure of him.

Weakened with loss of blood, he had not run far before the dogs came up

with him. As they were both young and untrained to bears, he had not

much trouble in keeping them off, but they answered our purpose in

stopping him. I came up just as he had shaken off the dogs, and was

climbing a steep bluff. I fired and struck his right paw, and as he fell

the dogs seized him again; my companion now arrived, and coolly taking

aim, sent a ball through his heart. He was a fat two-year-old, and

promised a delicate repast; we decided on taking him home. So while C.

skinned and cut him up, I returned to the camp to fetch the horse with

our blankets and game, and as I rode past I brought away the other half

of the doe, which was too good to leave behind. As the day was now far

advanced, and the horse had about 200 lbs. to carry, we resolved to camp

for the night near the first spring we came to.

As we crossed a flat on the top of a mountain we heard a horrible noise

from a large gang of turkeys, a sure sign of bad weather. Conwell sprang

from his horse, and we ran towards the sound. When near enough I cheered

on the dog, and in an instant the whole forest was alive with turkeys. A

great big fellow flapped into a tree about sixty yards in front of me,

and fell to the ground with a ball from my rifle. While loading, I

observed Conwell going about with his rifle at his cheek, carefully

watching all the long necks; then he stopped, took aim, and fired. But

the turkey only reeled on the bough, and recovered himself. As soon as I

was loaded I knocked over a second, and by this time the greater part of

the gang had made off; but the one Conwell had hit sat still, badly

wounded, with the blood dropping fast. Conwell had now loaded again, and

shot him through the head. On my asking why he had not selected another,

as he was sure of this one, he answered, that this was the fattest and

heaviest of the whole gang; and he was right. Mine were both large

birds, but his weighed more by three pounds. He laughed, and said he had

not looked out for the best in vain, and told me, “when the turkeys are

all sitting on the trees, frightened at the dogs, there is no occasion

to be in a hurry to shoot the first that comes--a good sportsman should

choose the best, which is easily done; a short thick neck is the

infallible sign. The leaner the turkey, the longer and thinner his neck.

The bird seems larger, but take care to shoot the thick-necks, and I’ll

wager that they ain’t so bad to eat.” Long experience has since taught

me that he was right, but it required some time before I was cool enough

to look at the turkeys on their perch, and make a choice amongst them.

We opened them on the spot; for it is extraordinary how soon they spoil,

even in cold weather, if this is not done. We threw two of them over the

horse, while I shouldered the third; and in a very short time we came to

a spring of good water, and made a camp for the night.

One of the results of our camping out, with supper and breakfast, was

the disappearance of one of the turkeys and half the bear’s ribs. With

strength well recruited we set off for the dwelling of my old friend,

and reached it about two in the afternoon. It was dark by the time when

the skins were stretched and the meat salted, when we sat round the fire

and talked over old times.

We were tired and went betimes to bed, intending to sally forth early

next morning; but the rain poured down the whole night, and we had

forgotten to take our blankets in from the fence, so that, it may be

supposed, they were rather damp; however, we were not vexed. We had

plenty of provisions; a little repose would not hurt us, especially as

we were looking forward to fresh adventures.

We made ourselves comfortable, provided wood, and had placed ourselves

in a half circle round the fire, when little John ran in and told us

that he was just come from a neighbor’s, who had sent out his negro to

count the little pigs, which a sow was bringing with her out of the

forest. After a little while he came in, and said gravely, that he had

counted nineteen, but that one had run about so, that he could not count

him. Conwell now commenced a story of his early days, in the following

words:--“About forty years ago my parents moved into the Cumberland

mountains; and as the land was good and fertile, and game plentiful, a

little settlement was soon made. We were very comfortable, grew as much

Indian corn as we wanted, had plenty of venison, bear, and wild honey,

and we could always procure powder, coffee, and whatever else we wanted

in exchange for our bears’ fat, skins, &c.; so that every one would have

allowed that we could not be better off, but for one circumstance that

embittered our existence and exposed us to numberless dangers. There was

a tribe of Tuskarora Indians in our vicinity, who had been driven out of

the north, probably by the French, and who plundered and murdered

whenever they found an opportunity. Amongst other things, they had

stolen a number of horses, and that so cunningly, that for a long time

they eluded all our efforts to trace them. The mountains ended in a

bluff several miles long, and from twenty to thirty feet high, so steep

that no bear, let alone a horse, could have descended it. As soon as a

horse was missed, those who went to seek him examined each end of the

cliff, without ever finding any traces of the animal. I was then about

twenty-two years old, and one day I was out with my dog,--and such a dog

I have never seen since. Old Beef here is a good fellow, but that one

had a cross of a bull in him; well, we came on the trail of a fat

bear--for fat he was--of that I had infallible signs; in the first

place, because he had crossed a sandy bed of a small stream where his

footsteps were deeply impressed, showing the balls round and full;

secondly, I found that he had not eaten the acorns with their cups, but

had taken the trouble to separate them. I fancied he could not be far

off, and followed up the trail, which led towards the bluff; at about

two hundred yards from it, he had entered the stony bed of a brook. I

kept close up with the dog, making as little noise as possible, and only

taking my eye off the trail when a turn or higher ground gave me a

chance of seeing the beast. As I proceeded I was astonished to find

traces of horses leading towards the bluff. Two capital horses had been

stolen from us a few nights before, and we had looked everywhere for

traces of them, without success; of course, no one thought of looking on

the edge of the cliff.

“My previous astonishment was nothing to what I experienced, when I came

to the place, where, after heavy rain, the brook falls over the cliff,

but which in dry weather does not contain a drop of water, and found,

where the depth might be about twenty feet, two fir-trees, rounded, and

placed standing against the rock, just so far apart that a horse might

slide down them, but could not fall through; that this was the use they

had been put to was evident from the marks of the struggles of the

horses, before they were launched, and from patches of horsehair

sticking to the poles. That the bear had descended by these means was

clear from the marks of his claws in the wood.

“It would not have done for the dog;--besides the discovery was too

important for delay, and I hastened home to give information. We had not

long to wait to turn it to account. The Indians, who had stolen a couple

of horses a few nights before, returned for some more the same evening.

Luckily, our watchmen gave the alarm in time, and they had hardly made

off with their booty, when we started by a nearer road, as they were

obliged to choose the most stony paths, in order to leave as few traces

as possible, and thus made a long circuit.

“About nine in the morning we arrived opposite the fir-trees, and hid

ourselves in the trees and behind rocks to await the redskins. About

noon we began to think that they must have discovered our trail, and

would not appear; but we resolved to wait till dark. We were fifteen in

all, and decided not to fire till every man was sure of his mark; and,

with beating hearts, we listened for the slightest sounds. We had almost

given up the hopes of seeing them, when a single warrior appeared, in

his blanket dress, and descended the cliff. He was sent to reconnoitre,

and had not the slightest suspicion of danger; for he passed close

before my uncle Ben, who, not able to resist the temptation, or fancying

that he was discovered, I know not which, contrary to his usual caution,

fired. The savage leaped high in the air, and fell on his face without a

groan.

“Now, whether the Indians thought that their spy had shot something, or

whether they thought themselves strong enough to disregard a single man,

whom chance might have brought to the spot, in less than five minutes

the whole troop were on the edge of the bluff, about eighty paces from

our hiding-place. They had with them only the four horses which they had

lately stolen, and as we well knew that it would be vain to seek them if

once their suspicions were roused, we took aim in silence. The party

consisted of nine men, four of them on horseback; we might easily have

killed them all, but were too eager to recover the horses; so it

happened that all aimed at the riders. I had not been in quite such a

hurry, and when the others turned to fly I aimed at one just as he was

entering the thicket; he gave a spring and threw off his blanket; I saw

the blood spurt out, but he was soon out of sight, and as I could not

find his body, I think he must have escaped.

“We took the arms and dresses of the slain, bound them on the horses,

left the corpses to the wolves and vultures, and entered the settlement

in triumph the same evening. It was long before we saw any thing more of

the Tuskaroras, who withdrew in alarm towards Lake Ontario.”

By this time dinner was ready, and after dinner we took a siesta; then,

what with reading and conversation, it was evening before we were aware.

I was now asked to give information about the old world, and to tell

them whether kings would take off people’s heads when they chose--and

how houses were built when there was so little wood--and what people did

in the winter. They were much astonished when I mentioned that we did

not grow Indian corn, nor let the cattle run wild; but when I said that

we sometimes planted trees, the children shook their heads, and even the

old ones thought that I was practising on their credulity; they also

wanted to know if kings and queens always wore their crowns, and if they

walked about with their sceptres, and what the nobility looked like.

Next morning, starting with the rising sun, we took a direction towards

the Richland and War-eagle, two streams which flow into the White river.

We took no provisions with us, but rode out with only the blankets on

the horses, as Conwell supposed we should find plenty of game. On

arriving on our ground, we turned the horses loose, who bent their steps

homewards, grazing as they went. We took different courses, agreeing to

return in the evening to the place where our blankets were hanging up. I

walked cautiously and slowly, but saw nothing of either deer or turkey;

once I heard the report of C.’s rifle. When I returned to the camp I

made a good fire, spread my blanket, placed my rifle in readiness, and

laid me down to rest. About sunset I heard a light step; at first I

thought it was a deer--it was Conwell, without game or dog. He sat down

by my side on the blanket, and observing that he supposed I must be very

hungry, he gave a faint smile, and said that he could fast until

tomorrow evening. He might well laugh. He said his dog was after a deer

which he had shot, and, judging from the marks, he must have been hit in

the fleshy part of the haunch; the dog, being young, could not be called

off after once catching the scent, and dog and deer were soon out of

sight.

While he was talking, Bearsgrease rose up and snuffed the air; Conwell

thought it must be his dog who had found his trail. As I supposed so too

I took no notice, until I thought I heard a short bark, and Bearsgrease,

growling lightly, gave me a significant look. I jumped up with my rifle,

and in a minute a noble buck, with horns laid back, rushed by at full

speed, at about twenty paces from the camp. I sent a ball into him, and

my dog was instantly close on his heels. He did not run far; my ball had

broken the left leg, and passed through the right. After running about

200 paces, he sprang into the Richland, on whose banks we were encamped,

and seemed resolved to sell his life as dearly as possible. The dogs

were upon him, but, as they were forced to swim, while he touched the

bottom, he had not much difficulty in shaking them off again. Conwell

remained lying as if it were no concern of his, so I seized his rifle,

ran to the bank, ended the poor animal’s torments with a ball through

his brain, and plunged into the water to pull him out. Now we had meat

in plenty; the skin and haunches were hung up, the ribs roasted, and the

dogs fed before dark.

We slept well all night, and were up early, but the leaves were so dry

that we found nothing but one turkey, which Conwell knocked over.

However, the sky began to get cloudy, and as we had meat for the

present, our hopes rose. It came on to blow from the north, but we were

protected by a bank of about ten feet high, and though we could not sit

close to it on account of sharp stones, yet it kept off some of the cold

wind, and a glorious fire soon made us forget it.

Supper was over, and Conwell had taken off one of his moccasins to take

a stone out, when he said that it reminded him of something that had

happened to him a long time ago when he was a child. I was already

covered up in my blanket, but finding that he had a mind to talk, I

roused up, gave the fire a poke that made the sparks fly, and leaning

back, with Bearsgrease for a pillow, who seemed well pleased with the

arrangement, I awaited the commencement of his narrative.

When I got up, Conwell stopped; but now passing his hand over his face,

he began:--

“I was between five and six years old when my father made my first pair

of moccasins, for he was a very good shoemaker, and had always made

strong shoes for children, though he himself always wore moccasins; but,

at my earnest, repeated request, he made a pair for me, and warned me

particularly not to lose them. On this same day a peddler had been in

the house, and had persuaded my father to buy a pair of large boots, as

very serviceable for bad weather;--and as it had rained a great deal

lately, he put them on, took his rifle, and sallied forth to the forest.

He was hardly gone when I wished to wear my new moccasins; and, to my

horror, found that one was missing. In vain I searched the house from

top to bottom; it was gone, and the other seemed to be there only to

remind me of my loss, and the punishment awaiting me. With a beating

heart I saw my father return earlier than I had expected, out of humor

with the bad weather and bad sport; and he asked roughly, why I was

running about barefoot. With tears in my eyes I told him that I could

not find one of the moccasins, and that I thought the cat must have run

off with it. He said he would _cat_ me, and that if I did not find the

other before night I should suffer for it. With a sorrowful heart I

recommenced my search, and all my brothers helped me. Meantime my father

had sat himself by the fire, and complained that something in his boot

had plagued him the whole day; so, pulling it off, and feeling inside,

what should he find but my much-bemoaned moccasin. It is easier to

imagine my delight than to express it.”

Conwell rolled himself in his blanket and fell asleep, still smiling at

the recollection. I could not sleep; his story had recalled events of my

own childhood, and I kept gazing at the strange and changing figures in

the fire. Bearsgrease was lying close to me, with his head on my

shoulder; he had raised it several times, and snuffed the air, and again

lain down. At length he roused up and gave a slight growl. I thought I

heard something, and looking up to the bank behind me, I was astonished

to find two glowing eyeballs steadily fixed upon me. My head being

between the fire and the animal, I could see them plainly just above the

bank. It must be a panther, and, judging from the position, ready to

spring. My rifle, as usual, lay ready; so, half raising myself, that I

might have the fire in a line with the two sights, I aimed between the

two fiery balls, and the rocks reëchoed the report.

Old Conwell was up like lightning with his rifle ready, and the dogs

hunted about while I reloaded, but all was as silent as the grave. The

old fellow shook his head, and asked what on earth I had been firing at.

I finished loading without a word, then taking a brand from the fire and

going about twenty paces to a slope in the bank, I mounted, and found an

immense panther, quite dead. I threw him over, and C. dragged him to the

fire; the ball had pierced his brain through the right eye. He was a

very powerful beast, had enormous fangs, and when we cut him open, his

stomach was found quite empty. He must have been attracted to the fire

by hunger, and C. thought he might have smelt the venison; he would

probably have ventured a spring as soon as the fire had burnt low; the

dogs could not scent him, as he was so much above us. After skinning him

we threw the carcass into the river below the camp, as the dogs would

not touch it. We slept the rest of the night undisturbed.

A light rain fell next morning, which, in about an hour, moistened the

dead leaves sufficiently for us to walk without making a noise; so I

made haste to stretch the panther’s skin, and we set off, each as

before taking a separate path. Before I had gone half a mile I saw two

deer grazing; just at this moment Conwell’s gun was heard at some

distance, and they both raised their heads and listened attentively, but

perceiving nothing suspicious, they began to feed again. They were a doe

and a year-old fawn, and when they were in a line I fired; the doe,

which was nearest, fell at once, and the fawn after running about fifty

yards. They were very fat, and I hung them up.

In hanging up deer it is necessary to take precautions against the

vultures, which are a great annoyance to sportsmen. The best way of

securing the deer, whose skin they would ruin with their beaks, is to

hang them up by their heads, so that the vultures may have no point of

support, and must content themselves with pecking at the skull. There is

also a large crow, which tries to steal the fat; but they may be kept

off by placing two peeled sticks crosswise on the deer--for the crows

will not venture their heads between two such suspicious-looking

objects.

Continuing my march, I came to the bank of a stream running into the

Richland, when I saw a wolf spring out of a thicket on the opposite

side, about eighty paces off; he ran about fifty yards and then stopped,

but not long enough for me to take aim; finally he disappeared among

some rocks. I crossed over to the thicket to see how Bearsgrease would

take the scent of a wolf; all his hairs bristled up the moment he came

to the yet warm lair.

Late in the afternoon, on my way to the camp, I struck a fresh bear’s

trail, and followed it up, though it led me out of my way. Meantime it

began to rain harder, and coming to a broad stream, which the bear had

crossed, my dog lost the trail. As it was too late to return to the

camp, I considered myself lucky in finding a cave, two feet deep in

leaves driven in by the wind. Without making a fire, which would have

been dangerous, I crept in, taking Bearsgrease for a pillow, who was

much pleased thereby, and, spite of wet clothes, I slept well till

morning, covered up with the leaves.

The morning was cold and wet, my clothes were still damp from

yesterday’s rain, and I was as hungry as a lion; so altogether I did not

feel quite so comfortable as I could wish. But walking quick to warm

myself, in about an hour’s time I reached the place where I had left the

two deer, hung the fawn over my shoulders, and not long after gained the

camp.

The fire was burning bright which C. had only lately left, and it was no

small quantity of venison that I put down to roast. Having appeased my

appetite, and fed Bearsgrease, I laid down again to rest. After an

hour’s time, as C. did not return, I set off again; it was still very

cold. As I was passing a small ravine I saw a young buck feeding,

without the slightest suspicion of danger. As I was within distance, I

aimed and fired; he fell as if shot through the brain, but my ball had

struck too high, so that at the moment when I came up to seize him he

recovered himself, and rose on his forelegs. I saw on the instant that

there was no time to lose, and threw myself upon him. The dog had also

seized him, and I was in the act of drawing my knife to plunge in his

throat, when he made a sudden effort, and we all three tumbled down a

declivity of nine or ten feet. In falling I had dropped my knife, which

fell among the stones, and I felt much pain in my head and left side;

but neither I nor Bearsgrease had let go our hold. The poor animal made

most desperate efforts to escape, and with our greatest exertions it was

hardly possible for us to hold him. Without a knife there was but one

method of securing him; a cruel one, indeed, but if I had to bite his

neck through with my teeth I would not let him go. I threw him over on

his side, and smashed his forelegs with a sharp stone. Thus crippled,

Bearsgrease could hold him; I jumped up, found my knife, and ended the

poor creature’s torments.

I succeeded in slinging it with a great deal of trouble, my left side

paining me exceedingly; however I managed to climb up the steep,

recovered and loaded my rifle, and hobbled towards the camp, intending

to remain quiet the rest of the day.

I found my old friend awaiting me. He had killed four bucks, and brought

away their haunches, the rest not being good eating at this season. We

settled to shoot towards the house next day, and then to take horses to

carry home the game we had shot.

On our way homewards we only killed three turkeys. We caught the horses

the same evening, and once more reposed our weary limbs among my old

friend’s family circle.

At midnight it began to rain, and towards morning it poured in torrents.

The game was not to be thought of, and we sat round the fire amusing

ourselves with

[Illustration: THE CAPTURED BUFFALO.]

old stories and anecdotes. As we were talking of the prairies, Conwell

told us one of his adventures after buffaloes.

“Not many years ago, when I lived in the Kickapoo prairie, in Missouri,

four of us set out one morning to shoot buffaloes. It was bitter cold,

and we rode rapidly over the frozen ground. On gaining an elevation, we

descried a herd in the distance, and made towards them. When about half

a mile from them they discovered us, and ran off, we after them

helter-skelter. The hindmost was a cow, too fat to keep up with the

others, so we all singled her out for our mark. After galloping for

about a mile, she received all our balls, and fell, when we secured her.

The wind was now blowing from the north-west, almost cold enough to

freeze the marrow in our bones, and the dry buffalo dung, the only fuel

in the prairies, made but a poor fire. The nearest wood was about a mile

from the place where the cow fell, and a debate arose whether we should

fetch the wood to the buffalo, or carry the buffalo to the wood. We

thought the latter easier. One of the party, named Turner, began to

strip off the skin; we offered to help him, but he would not permit it;

so, willingly leaving the cold work to him, we made as good a fire as we

could for him to warm his hands by. When the skin was off, we cut off

the prime pieces, took the marrow-bones, packed them in the skin, threw

them over a horse, and brought them to the nearest wood, where we

luckily found water. Our four tomahawks soon cut wood enough, and we

made a roaring fire; when it was burnt to charcoal we stuck in the

marrow-bones, first one end, then the other; and certainly there is no

more delicate eating for the backwoodsman than buffalo marrow, except

bear’s ribs, and wild honey. The meat was rather tough, and nothing

particular.

“It was now getting dark, and we began to prepare our camp. One of the

party proposed, instead of each rolling himself separately in his

blanket, that we should spread the skin, which was large enough to hold

us all, and then lay all the blankets over us. But Turner objected, and

maintained that as he had skinned the cow alone, he alone would sleep in

it. It was all the same to us; we all had good blankets, and could make

ourselves comfortable by the fire, which we closely surrounded, while

Turner wrapped himself in his heavy skin, with the hairy side

inwards;--and we were all soon asleep.

“The weather was extremely cold, and we were obliged to get up several

times in the course of the night, to lay on fresh wood, though Turner

never moved out of his warm skin. Towards morning the wind changed to

north-east, and the sky threatening a snow-storm, we decided on

returning home as soon as possible, to avoid the approaching storm, or

at any rate to get better shelter than the open prairie afforded. So we

swallowed our breakfasts quickly, and saddled the horses, which had been

feeding on the dry grass, and now approached as close as they could to

the fire. We called Turner several times to make him get up, but a

slight motion of the hide was the only answer. At length, a half

smothered cry for help issued from the skin. We rushed to Turner in

alarm, fearing something serious, but burst into a roar of laughter, on

finding that he was frozen in, and could not move a limb. We rolled him

to the fire, to thaw the skin, and set him free; the rolling and the

heat made him feel rather giddy, but a hot marrow-bone restored

him;--and then loading the horses with the softened skin, and the

remainder of the meat, we reached home before the storm, which came on

that evening with tremendous force.”

The weather continued gloomy enough, the clouds hanging about the trees,

as if they were seeking shelter from the wind, which was driving them

from the rocky mountains. All the cattle collected near the house, with

their tails to the wind, and pendant ears, looking very wretched.

Luckily I found a few books,--such as “A Dialogue of Devils,” “The Life

of Marion,” “The Life of Washington,” “The Pilgrim’s Progress,” “The

United States’ Reader,” &c., and killed some of the time by turning over

their leaves.

The rain lasted till the 12th January. The various streams had become

cataracts and rivers, so we were obliged to remain at home two days

longer. Meantime our store of meat had fallen very low, and there

appeared little hope of being able to use that which we had left hanging

in the forest. However we hastened away to save the skins, if there was

yet time. The streams were still so swelled that we could only pass them

on horseback. We reached our last camp about noon, and found, as we had

expected, that the meat was tainted, and the greater part of it

devoured by vultures. We stretched the skins, in the hope that the wind,

with the help of a faint sun, which was peering bashfully through the

clouds, might dry them.

As it grew late, and we had no other provisions than bread and salt, we

set off with the dogs to look for turkeys, and came upon a gang just as

they were making themselves comfortable for the night. We killed two,

and might have shot more, but did not wish to increase the quantity of

decaying meat in the neighborhood. On this account we removed our camp

about half a mile off, stretched our blankets to keep off a light

drizzling rain, hobbled the horses, and fed them with maize. The wolves

made a dreadful noise all night at our old quarters. In the morning the

rain held up, and the clouds separated a little; so I set off to try and

steal a march on them, and spoil their howling. The leaves were wet, and

going round to gain the wind, I crept for about two hundred yards on my

knees up to a large tree, and counted eight of them. Although they were

to windward of me, one of them raised his head and began snuffing the

air, then turned sharp round, and they all made off with their peculiar

long gallop for the bush. Now was my time or never; I aimed at one of

the largest, which covered another with its body. When the smoke cleared

away, not a wolf was to be seen; they had vanished like magic--but

following up the trail, I found one dead, and signs of another being

wounded; but I found nothing more of the latter,--he was probably torn

to pieces by his comrades. I scalped my prize, and returned to the camp;

the scalp is valued, as before stated, at three dollars.

Meantime Conwell had employed himself in roasting turkeys, and we made

an excellent breakfast. We then started off again. When I came to the

place where I had hung up the buck, whose capture nearly cost me my

neck, I found that the wolves had succeeded in dragging it down, and

eaten nearly all but the bones. I knocked over another, and also killed

a wild cat; returning to camp in the afternoon, where Conwell had

arrived before me. He had killed a couple of deer, and we decided on

bringing them to the camp, as there were so many wolves about.

Finding no traces of bears, we determined to leave the Richland and try

the Mulberry again; so next morning we loaded our horses, and set off on

our return. As we were descending a hill, Conwell stopped suddenly at

the foot of a large oak, and after examining the bark attentively, he

said that a bear was either in the tree, or had very lately left it. The

weather had improved, and it was again rather cold. We had nothing

better than our tomahawks for cutting down the tree, and they were not

very sharp; a few strokes proved the fact. Luckily for us it was hollow,

and we set-to with a will.

After hacking at it for three hours, the tree began to crack. We seized

our rifles, called the dogs, and hastened towards the direction in which

the tree must fall, to be ready to receive him. A couple of small

splinters broke first; then a larger one; then the top began to bend

slowly down the hill; then with a loud crash, and smashing its branches

in the fall, the tree measured its length on the ground. No bear

appeared; the nest was empty, though there could be no doubt it had

lately been tenanted, for the sides were beautifully smooth and clean.

There was a bough about five feet below the hole, where the bear went in

and out, on which an Indian must formerly have stood, and tried to make

an opening with his tomahawk, but without success; probably the bear,

disturbed by the blows, had made his way out in time. Judging by the

bark, this must have occurred about four or five years ago.

While we were looking at it, Conwell asked what the dogs were about;

they appeared to be very eagerly licking up something from the ground,

and we found that, accidentally, we had cut down a tree with honey in

it. The bees were all torpid with the cold, and the dogs were enjoying

the honey, which the breaking boughs had brought to light. Our plans

were soon arranged; Conwell went to look for a deer; I took my tomahawk

to cut a trough, and was soon busy about the upper part of the trunk,

which was sound enough. As it was freezing, and the honey would not run,

there was no occasion to make the trough very deep; so it was soon

finished, and I loaded it with great lumps of the frozen delicacy. This

done, I collected wood and made a fire, expecting we should pass the

night here; but just then I heard the report of Conwell’s gun quite

near, followed by his hail: I answered, and was soon by his side. He had

killed a large fat doe, which we hung up by the hind legs, made a cut

above the haunch, and drew off the skin without another touch of the

knife, except at the knees, hocks, and head; stopping the holes, we

turned it with the hair outwards, and so made a bag to carry the honey.

When it was all in, I mounted, Conwell handed it to me, and away we went

homewards, leaving the greater part of the last deer behind.

[Illustration]