want of thought by any means, for his brow was knit in an anxious frown,
and he paused now and then to thump the rail, with an impatient
exclamation. The other lad appeared to be absorbed in shaping an arrow
from the slender stick in his hand, but he watched his neighbor with a
grin, saying a few words occasionally which seemed to add to his
irritation, though they were in a sympathizing tone.
"Oh, well, if a chap can't do a thing he can't; and he'd better give up
and say, 'Beat.'"
"But I won't give up, and I never say 'Beat.' I'm not going to be
laughed out of it, and I'll do what I said I would, if it takes all
summer, Chris Warner."
"You'll have to be pretty spry, then, for there's only two more days to
August," replied the whittler, shutting one eye to look along his arrow
and see if it was true.
"I intend to be spry, and if you won't go and blab, I'll tell you a plan
I made last night."
"Guess you can trust me. I've heard about a dozen plans now, and never
told one of 'em."
"They all failed, so there was nothing to tell. But this one is _not_
going to fail, if I die for it. I feel that it's best to tell some one,
because it is really dangerous; and if anything _should_ happen to me,
as is very likely, it would save time and trouble."
"Don't seem to feel anxious a mite. But I'll stand ready to pick up the
pieces, if you come to grief."
"Now, Chris, it's mean of you to keep on making fun when I'm in dead
earnest; and this may be the last thing you can do for me."
"Wait till I get out my handkerchief; if you're going to be affectin' I
may want it. Granite's cheap up here; just mention what you'd like on
your tombstone and I'll see that it's done, if it takes my last cent."
The big boy in the blue overalls spoke with such a comical drawl that
the slender city lad could not help laughing, and with a slap that
nearly sent his neighbor off his perch, Corny said good-naturedly:
"Come now, stop joking and lend a hand, and I'll do anything I can for
you. I've set my heart on shooting a wildcat, and I know I can if I once
get a good chance. Mother won't let me go off far enough, so of course I
don't do it, and then you all jeer at me. To-morrow we are going up the
mountain, and I'm set on trying again, for Abner says the big woods are
the place to find the 'varmint'. Now you hold your tongue, and let me
slip away when I think we've hit the right spot. I'm not a bit afraid,
and while the rest go poking to the top, I'll plunge into the woods and
see what I can do."
"All right. Better take old Buff; he'll bring you home when you get
lost, and keep puss from clawing you. You won't like that part of the
fun as much as you expect to, maybe," said Chris, with a sly twinkle of
the eye, as he glanced at Corny and then away to the vast forest that
stretched far up the mighty mountain's side.
"No, I don't want any help, and Buff will betray me by barking; I prefer
to go alone. I shall take some lunch and plenty of shot, and have a
glorious time, even if I don't meet that confounded beast. I will keep
dashing in and out of the woods as we go; then no one will miss me for a
while, and when they do you just say, 'Oh, he's all right; he'll be
along directly,' and go ahead, and let me alone."
Corny spoke so confidently, and looked so pleased with his plan, that
honest Chris could not bear to tell him how much danger he would run in
that pathless forest, where older hunters than he had been lost.
"Don't feel as if I cared to tell any lies about it, and I don't advise
your goin'; but if you're mad for catamounts, I s'pose I must humor you
and say nothing. Only bear in mind, Abner and I will be along, and if
you get into a scrape jest give a yell and we'll come."
"No fear of that; I've tramped round all summer, and know my way like an
Indian. Keep the girls quiet, and let me have a good lark. I'll turn up
all right by sundown; so don't worry. Not a word to mother, mind, or she
won't let me go. I'll make things straight with her after the fun is
over."
"That ain't just square; but it's not my funeral, so I won't meddle.
Hope you'll have first rate sport, and bag a brace of cats. One thing
you mind, don't get too nigh before you fire; and keep out of sight of
the critters as much as you can."
Chris spoke in a deep whisper, looking so excited and impressed by the
reckless courage of his mate that Corny felt himself a Leatherstocking,
and went off to tea with his finger on his lips, full of boyish faith in
his own powers. If he had seen Chris dart behind the barn, and there
roll upon the grass in convulsions of laughter, he would have been both
surprised and hurt.
No deacon could have been more sober, however, than Chris when they met
next morning, while the party of summer boarders at the old farm-house
were in a pleasant bustle of preparation for the long expected day on
the mountain. Three merry girls, a pair of small boys, two amiable
mammas, Chris and Corny, made up the party, with Abner to drive the big
wagon drawn by Milk and Molasses, the yellow span.
"All aboard!" shouted our young Nimrod, in a hurry to be off, as the
lunch-basket was handed up, and the small boys packed in the most
uncomfortable corners, regardless of their arms and legs.
Away they rattled with a parting cheer, and peace fell upon the
farm-house for a few hours, to the great contentment of the good people
left behind. Corny's mother was one of them, and her last words
were,--"A pleasant day, dear. I wish you'd leave that gun at home; I'm
so afraid you'll get hurt with it.'
"No fun without it. Don't worry, mammy; I'm old enough to take care of
myself."
"I'll see to him, ma'am," called Chris, as he hung on behind, and waved
his old straw hat, with a steady, reliable sort of look, that made the
anxious lady feel more comfortable.
"We are going to walk up, and leave the horses to rest; so I can choose
my time. See, I've got a bottle of cold tea in this pocket, and a lot of
grub in the other. No danger of my starving, is there?" whispered Corny,
as he leaned over to Chris, who sat, apparently, on nothing, with his
long legs dangling into space.
"Shouldn't wonder if you needed every mite of it. Hunting is mighty hard
work on a hot day, and this is going to be a blazer," answered Chris,
pulling his big straw hat lower over his eyes.
As we intend to follow Corny's adventures, we need not pause to describe
the drive, which was a merry one; with girls chattering, mammas holding
on to excited small boys, in danger of flying out at every jolt, Abner
joking till every one roared, Corny's dangerous evolutions with the
beloved gun, and the gymnastic feats Chris performed, jumping off to
pick flowers for the ladies, and getting on again while Milk and
Molasses tore up and down the rough road as if they enjoyed it.
About ten o'clock they reached the foot of the mountain; and after a
short rest at the hotel, began the three-mile ascent in high spirits.
Abner was to follow later with the wagon, to bring the party down; so
Chris was guide, as he knew the way well, and often came with people.
The girls and younger boys hurried on, full of eagerness to reach the
top. The ladies went more slowly, enjoying the grand beauty of the
scene, while Chris carried the lunch-basket, and Corny lingered in the
rear, waiting for a good chance to "plunge."
He wanted to be off before Abner came, as he well knew that wise man and
mighty hunter would never let him go alone.
"The very next path I see, I'll dive in and run; Chris can't leave the
rest to follow, and if I once get a good start, they won't catch me in a
hurry," thought the boy, longing to be free and alone in the wild woods
that tempted him on either hand.
Just as he was tightening his belt to be ready for the run, Mrs. Barker,
the stout lady, called him; and being a well-bred lad, he hastened at
once to see what she wanted, feeling that he was the only gentleman in
the party.
"Give me your arm, dear; I'm getting very tired, and fear I can't hold
out to the top, without a little help," said the poor lady, red and
panting with the heat, and steepness of the road.
"Certainly ma'am," answered Corny, obeying at once, and inwardly
resolving to deposit his fair burden on the first fallen log they came
to, and make his escape.
But Mrs. Barker got on bravely, with the support of his strong arm, and
chatted away so delightfully that Corny would really have enjoyed the
walk, if his soul had not been yearning for catamounts. He did his best,
but when they passed opening after opening into the green recesses of
the wood, and the granite boulders grew more and more plentiful, his
patience gave out, and he began to plan what he could say to excuse
himself. Chris was behind, apparently deaf and blind to his calls and
imploring glances, though he grinned cheerfully when poor Corny looked
round and beckoned, as well as he could, with a gun on one arm and a
stout lady on the other.
"The hardest part is coming now, and we'd better rest a moment. Here's a
nice rock, and the last spring we are likely to see till we get to the
top. Come on, Chris, and give us the dipper. Mrs. Barker wants a drink,
and so do I," called the young hunter, driven to despair at last.
Up came Chris, and while he rummaged in the well-packed basket, Corny
slipped into the wood, leaving the good lady with her thanks half
spoken, sitting on a warm stone beside a muddy little pool. A loud laugh
followed him, as he scrambled through the tall ferns and went plunging
down the steep mountain side, eager to reach the lower woods.
"Let him laugh; it will be my turn when I go home, with a fine cat over
my shoulder," thought Corny, tearing along, heedless of falls,
scratches, and bruised knees.
At length he paused for breath, and looked about him well satisfied, for
the spot was lonely and lovely enough to suit any hunter. The tallest
pines he ever saw sighed far overhead; the ground was ankle deep in
moss, and gay with scarlet bunch-berries; every fallen log was veiled by
sweet-scented Linnea, green vines or nodding brakes; while hidden brooks
sang musically, and the air was full of the soft flutter of leaves, the
whir of wings, the sound of birds gossiping sweetly in the safe shelter
of the forest, where human feet so seldom came.
"I'll rest a bit, and then go along down, keeping a look out for puss by
the way," thought Corny, feeling safe and free, and very happy, for he
had his own way, at last, and a whole day to lead the life he loved.
So he bathed his hot face, took a cool drink, and lay on the moss,
staring up into the green gloom of the pines, blissfully dreaming of the
joys of a hunter's life,--till a peculiar cry startled him to his feet,
and sent him creeping warily toward the sound. Whether it was a new kind
of bird, or a fox, or a bear, he did not know, but fondly hoped it was a
wildcat; though he was well aware that the latter creature sleeps by
day, and prowls by night. Abner said they purred and snarled and gave a
mewing sort of cry; but which it was now he could not tell, having
unfortunately been half asleep.
On he went, looking up into the trees for a furry bunch, behind every
log, and in every rocky hole, longing and hoping to discover his
heart's desire. But a hawk was all he saw above, an ugly snake was the
only living thing he found among the logs, and a fat woodchuck's hind
legs vanished down the most attractive hole. He shot at all three and
missed them, so pushed on, pretending that he did not care for such
small game.
"Now this is what I call fun," he said to himself, tramping gayly along,
and at that moment went splash into a mud-hole concealed under the
grass. He sunk up to his knees, and with great difficulty got out by
clinging to the tussocks that grew near. In his struggles the lunch was
lost, for the bottle broke and the pocket where the sandwiches were
stored was full of mud. A woful spectacle was the trim lad as he emerged
from the slough, black and dripping in front, well spattered behind,
hatless, and one shoe gone, having been carelessly left unlaced in the
ardor of the chase.
"Here's a mess!" thought poor Corny, surveying himself with great
disgust and feeling very helpless, as well as tired, hungry, and mad.
"Luckily, my powder is dry and my gun safe; so my fun isn't spoiled,
though I do look like a wallowing pig. I've heard of mud baths, but I
never took one before, and I'll be shot if I do again."
So he washed as well as he could, hoping the sun would dry him, picked
out a few bits of bread unspoiled by the general wreck, and trudged on
with less ardor, though by no means discouraged yet.
"I'm too high for any game but birds, and those I don't want. I'll go
slap down, and come out in the valley. Abner said any brook would show
the way, and this rascal that led me into a scrape shall lead me out,"
he said, as he followed the little stream that went tumbling over the
stones, that increased as the ground sloped toward the deep ravine,
where a waterfall shone like silver in the sun.
"I'll take a bath if the pool is big enough, and that will set me up.
Shouldn't wonder if I'd got poisoned a bit with some of these vines I've
been tearing through. My hands smart like fury, and I guess the
mosquitoes have about eaten my face up. Never saw such clouds of
stingers before," said Corny, looking at his scratched hands, and
rubbing his hot face in great discomfort,--for it was the gnat that
drove the lion mad, you remember.
It was easy to say, "I'll follow the brook," but not so easy to do it;
for the frolicsome stream went headlong over rocks, crept under fallen
logs, and now and then hid itself so cleverly that one had to look and
listen carefully to recover the trail. It was long past noon when Corny
came out near the waterfall, so tired and hungry that he heartily wished
himself back among the party, who had lunched well and were now probably
driving gayly homeward to a good supper.
No chance for a bath appeared, so he washed his burning face and took a
rest, enjoying the splendid view far over valley and intervale through
the gap in the mountain range. He was desperately tired with these hours
of rough travel, and very hungry; but would not own it, and sat
considering what to do next, for he saw by the sun that the afternoon
was half over. There was time to go back the way he had come, and by
following the path down the hill he could reach the hotel and get supper
and a bed, or be driven home. That was the wise thing to do, but his
pride rebelled against returning empty-handed after all his plans and
boasts of great exploits.
"I won't go home, to be laughed at by Chris and Abner. I'll shoot
something, if I stay all night. Who cares for hunger and mosquito bites?
Not I. Hunters can bear more than that, I guess. The next live thing I
see I'll shoot it, and make a fire and have a jolly supper. Now which
way will I go,--up or down? A pretty hard prospect, either way."
The sight of an eagle soaring above him seemed to answer his question,
and fill him with new strength and ardor. To shoot the king of birds and
take him home in triumph would cover the hunter with glory. It should be
done! And away he went, climbing, tumbling, leaping from rock to rock,
toward the place where the eagle had alighted. More cuts and bruises,
more vain shots, and all the reward of his eager struggles was a single
feather that floated down as the great bird soared serenely away,
leaving the boy exhausted and disappointed in a wilderness of granite
boulders, with no sign of a path to show the way out.
As he leaned breathless and weary against the crag where he had fondly
hoped to find the eagle's nest, he realized for the first time what a
fool-hardy thing he had done. Here he was, alone, without a guide, in
this wild region where there was neither food nor shelter, and night
coming on. Utterly used up, he could not get home now if he had known
the way; and suddenly all the tales he had ever heard of men lost in the
mountains came into his head. If he had not been weak with hunger he
would have felt better able to bear it; but his legs trembled under him,
his head ached with the glare of the sun, and a queer faintness came
over him now and then; for the city lad was unused to such violent
exercise, plucky as he was.
"The only thing to do now is to get down to the valley, if I can, before
dark. Abner said there was an old cabin, where the hunters used to
sleep, somewhere round that way. I can try for it, and perhaps shoot
something on the way. May break my bones, but I can't sit and starve up
here, and I was a fool to come. I'll keep the feather anyway, to prove
that I really saw an eagle; that's better than nothing."
Still bravely trying to affect the indifference to danger and fatigue
which hunters are always described as possessing in such a remarkable
degree, Corny slung the useless gun on his back and began the steep
descent, discovering now the perils he had been too eager to see before.
He was a good climber, but was stiff with weariness, and his hands
already sore with scratches and poison; so he went slowly, feeling quite
unfit for such hard work. Coming to the ravine, he found the only road
was down its precipitous side to the valley, that looked so safe and
pleasant now. Stunted pines grew in the fissures of the rocks, and their
strong roots helped the clinging hands and feet as the boy painfully
climbed, slipped, and swung along, fearing every minute to come to some
impassable barrier in the dangerous path.
But he got on wonderfully well, and was feeling much encouraged, when
his foot slipped, the root he held gave way, and down he went, rolling
and bumping to his death on the rocks below, he thought, as a crash
came, and he knew no more.
"Wonder if I'm dead?" was the first idea that occurred to him as he
opened his eyes and saw a brilliant sky above him, all purple, gold, and
red.
He seemed floating in the air, for he swayed to and fro on a soft bed, a
pleasant murmur reached his ear, and when he looked down he saw what
looked like clouds, misty and white, below him. He lay a few minutes
drowsily musing, for the fall had stunned him; then, as he moved his
hand something pricked it, and he felt pine-needles in the fingers that
closed over them.
"Caught in a tree, by Jupiter!" and all visions of heaven vanished in a
breath, as he sat up and stared about him, wide awake now, and conscious
of many aching bones.
Yes, there he lay among the branches of one of the sturdy pines, into
which he had fallen on his way down the precipice. Blessed little tree!
set there to save a life, and teach a lesson to a wilful young heart
that never forgot that hour.
Holding fast, lest a rash motion should set him bounding further down,
like a living ball, Corny took an observation as rapidly as possible,
for the red light was fading, and the mist rising from the valley. All
he could see was a narrow ledge where the tree stood, and anxious to
reach a safer bed for the night, he climbed cautiously down to drop on
the rock, so full of gratitude for safety that he could only lie quite
still for a little while, thinking of mother, and trying not to cry.
He was much shaken by the fall, his flesh bruised, his clothes torn, and
his spirit cowed; for hunger, weariness, pain, and danger, showed him
what a very feeble creature he was, after all. He could do no more till
morning, and resigned himself to a night on the mountain side, glad to
be there alive, though doubtful what daylight would show him. Too tired
to move, he lay watching the western sky, where the sun set gloriously
behind the purple hills. All below was wrapped in mist, and not a sound
reached him but the sigh of the pine, and the murmur of the waterfall.
"This is a first-class scrape. What a fool I was not to go back when I
could, instead of blundering down here where no one can get at me, and
as like as not I can't get out alone! Gun smashed in that confounded
fall, so I can't even fire a shot to call help. Nothing to eat or drink,
and very likely a day or so to spend here till I'm found, if I ever am.
Chris said, 'Yell, if you want us.' Much good that would do now! I'll
try, though." And getting up on his weary legs, Corny shouted till he
was hoarse; but echo alone answered him, and after a few efforts he gave
it up, trying to accept the situation like a man. As if kind Nature took
pity on the poor boy, the little ledge was soft with lichens and thin
grass, and here and there grew a sprig of checkerberry, sown by the
wind, sheltered by the tree, and nourished by the moisture that trickled
down the rock from some hidden spring. Eagerly Corny ate the sweet
leaves to stay the pangs of hunger that gnawed him, and finished his
meal with grass and pine-needles, calling himself a calf, and wishing
his pasture were wider.
"The fellows we read about always come to grief in a place where they
can shoot a bird, catch a fish, or knock over some handy beast for
supper," he said, talking to himself for company. "Even the old chap
lost in the bush in Australia had a savage with him who dug a hole in a
tree, and pulled out a nice fat worm to eat. I'm not lucky enough even
to find a sassafras bush to chew, or a bird's egg to suck. My poor gun
is broken, or I might bang away at a hawk, and cook him for supper, if
the bog didn't spoil my matches as it did my lunch. Oh, well! I'll pull
through, I guess, and when it's all over, it will be a jolly good story
to tell."
Then, hoping to forget his woes in sleep, he nestled under the
low-growing branches of the pine, and lay blinking drowsily at the
twilight world outside. A dream came, and he saw the old farm-house in
sad confusion, caused by his absence,--the women crying, the men sober,
all anxious, and all making ready to come and look for him. So vivid was
it that he woke himself by crying out, "Here I am!" and nearly went over
the ledge, stretching out his arms to Abner.
The start and the scare made it hard to go to sleep again, and he sat
looking at the solemn sky, full of stars that seemed watching over him
alone there, like a poor, lost child on the great mountain's stony
breast. He had never seen the world at that hour before, and it made a
deep impression on him; for it was a vast, wild scene, full of gloomy
shadows below, unknown dangers around, and a new sense of utter
littleness and helplessness, which taught the boy human dependence upon
Heavenly love as no words, even from his mother's tender lips, could
have done. Thoughts of the suffering his wilfulness had given her wrung
a few penitent tears from him, which he was not ashamed to shed, since
only the kind stars saw them, and better still, he resolved to own the
fault, to atone for it, and to learn wisdom from this lesson, which
might yet prove to be a very bitter one.
He felt better after this little breakdown, and presently his thoughts
were turned from conscience to catamounts again; for sounds in the woods
below led him to believe that the much-desired animal was on the prowl.
His excited fancy painted dozens of them not far away, waiting to be
shot, and there he was, cooped up on that narrow ledge, with a broken
gun, unable even to get a look at them. He felt that it was a just
punishment, and after the first regret tried to comfort himself with the
fact that he was much safer where he was than alone in the forest at
that hour, for various nocturnal voices suggested restless and dangerous
neighbors.
Presently his wakeful eyes saw lights twinkling far off on the opposite
side of the ravine, and he imagined he heard shouts and shots. But the
splash of the waterfall, and the rush of the night wind deadened the
sounds to his ear, and drowned his own reply.
"They are looking for me, and will never think of this strange place. I
can't make them hear, and must wait till morning. Poor Chris will get an
awful scolding for letting me go. Don't believe he told a word till he
had to. I'll make it up to him. Chris is a capital fellow, and I just
wish I had him here to make things jolly," thought the lonely lad.
But soon the lights vanished, the sounds died away, and the silence of
midnight brooded over the hills, seldom broken except by the soft cry of
an owl, the rustle of the pine, or a louder gust of wind as it grew
strong and cold. Corny kept awake as long as he could, fearing to dream
and fall; but by-and-by he dropped off, and slept soundly till the chill
of dawn waked him.
At any other time he would have heartily enjoyed the splendor of the
eastern sky, as the red glow spread and brightened, till the sun came
dazzling through the gorge, making the wild solitude beautiful and
grand.