THE BOAR HUNT.
"You must be ready to start with the Count in an hour," exclaimed
Sperver, as he stood on my threshold before the sun had yet risen.
"Sebalt and Becker came in late last night, famished, and covered with
mud, and they have reported a wild boar's tracks near the Leidenthal. I
will lend you whatever clothes you need, but be quick, for there's only
breakfast between us and the start."
I got up, and taking a hasty plunge in the icy water beside my bed,
which served to drive the vapors from my brain, I half dressed myself,
and followed Sperver to his room.
"The beaters found game worthy of our powder," continued Gideon. "They
brought back a dried clump of bog-mud with an enormous hoof-print in the
middle of it. If the Count's carbine misses fire, we must stand in well
beside him this time, though he always grudges the fatal shot to any arm
but his own."
I paid little heed to his words, busied as I was in accommodating myself
to my borrowed garments, and I presently emerged from the chamber
dressed in a leather hunting-jacket, cap, and long gaiters which reached
to my hips; a carbine and long hunting-knife completed my outfit.
"If I only had you for a couple of weeks on the forest patrol, I would
make a first-class shot out of you," said Sperver with a grin. "As it
is, I suppose you know as much about a gun as a pike does of mountain
climbing."
"Just about!" I laughed. "However, I'm fortunately in such good company
that it will make little difference whether I can tell the muzzle from
the stock, or not."
"There's something in that," he returned; "and as there are to be ladies
in the party you may find other employment as agreeable as the killing
of animals," and he looked at me with a dry twitching of his mouth.
I made no reply to this beyond rather a grim smile, and a moment later
we reached the dining-room. I found the Count dressed in
hunting-costume, seated at the table, on which Tobias was placing the
last dishes for the breakfast. He complimented me on my professional
appearance, and added that, judging from externals, a little practice
was all that was necessary to make me an accomplished huntsman.
I looked in vain for Odile as I entered the room, but she presently
appeared in a close-fitting habit which became her marvellously well,
sparkling with health and freshness, and bearing in one hand her long
skirt, and in the other a pearl-handled crop. A pistol with a heavy
barrel was thrust beneath her belt, more for ornament, I fancied, than
for service.
"Ha! Odile!" cried her father, as she greeted us and took her seat at
the table, "the mere sight of your rosy cheeks and lithe step puts new
life into me! It's a pleasure to look at you. Isn't it so, Monsieur
Gaston?" then, as Odile grew crimson with confusion, the Count perceived
his blunder, and began to busy himself with the dishes before him. The
next moment I caught Odile's eye, as she stole an amused glance at me,
and I nodded a quick affirmative, without violence to my conscience.
The meal passed with narratives of hunting exploits by the Count, who
delighted in recalling his past experiences, often discontinuing his
meal to illustrate by attitudes and gestures his combats with the
different animals of the regions round about. Odile and I proved good
listeners, though, perhaps, as one sometimes hearkens to a strain of
music, the better to indulge his own reflections.
Breakfast finished, we went down into the courtyard. A dozen horses
stood saddled just inside the principal gate. Sebalt, in his leather
dress, with his double-coiled horn strapped across his back, and a heavy
cowhide whip in his hand ready to strike, held a score of dogs in leash,
that were baying and tugging at their bonds in excited anticipation of
the part they were to play in the day's sport. Joy gleamed in every line
of his goat's face as his long deferred desire was now about to be
realized. Gideon, who held the Count's horse, looked more himself than I
had seen him since the death of poor Lieverle; he seemed to have
recovered much of his wonted good spirits.
I pushed aside the groom who stood beside Odile's horse, and she sprang
from my hand into the saddle. Then I, in turn, mounted my horse, and
moved abreast of Odile and the Count.
When all was in readiness, Sebalt raised his horn and sounded the
departure as, according to Sperver, he alone could sound it.
The neighboring hillsides took up the sound, and threw it back in tones
of purest silver, and all the echoes of the valleys were awakened and
fled away towards the rising sun. This warm February sun had done its
work, and the snow had disappeared to a level of but a few inches,
covered with a hard crust. We started off at a gallop. Sebalt and
Sperver rode first, with Odile, the Count, and myself close behind them.
Becker and the under-keepers came on in the rear.
Sebalt led the pack along the base of the Gaisenberg, and skirting the
falls of the Lauterbach, he followed along the defile at its further
side, from which point the trail diverged in the direction of the
Leidenthal. The weather was superb, not a cloud in the heavens, and the
frosty air clear as crystal. The bare oaks creaked their gaunt branches,
and the singing pines waved their lofty tops in the fresh south wind.
The yelping of the pack could have been heard for a mile around, and
Gideon, turning from time to time, called to them:
"Hold your noise, you rascals; you'll have reason enough to howl before
long, I'll warrant."
There was little chance for conversation at the furious pace which we
were following, and I contented myself with frequent glances at Odile,
whose superb beauty was enhanced by the bright color in her cheeks,
which excitement, exercise and happiness called forth. As for the Count,
I could no longer recognize in him the dying patient of my first night
at Nideck. All trace of his terrible illness had vanished, and he rode
like a youth of twenty years, vigorous, calm, confident.
At the end of an hour we emerged from the defile into the dazzling
sunlight beyond. The dogs came upon the trail of the boar, and their
long, full cries changed to exultant yappings; they glided along to
right and left among the rocks, their noses to the ground, and they ran
and leaped along the trail. Not one of them followed the other's lead,
until he had verified the scent for himself; like all true hunting dogs,
they relied only upon themselves.
Meanwhile, the blast of the horn, the short, savage yelps of the pack,
and the noise of our horses' hoofs as they pierced the sparkling snow
crust, made music of an exciting, bewildering sort. I galloped on imbued
to the finger-tips with the contagious anticipation everywhere around
me.
For some little time past the order of the hunt had been broken up. The
Count, seemingly lost in the one object of the chase and oblivious to
all else, had ridden far ahead, and had almost overtaken Sebalt and
Sperver, who were at such a distance from us that the sound of their
trumpets grew feebler and feebler, and at length were entirely lost,
save that at rare intervals they reached our ears like the sigh of the
passing breeze. The mounts of Becker and his comrades, though chosen for
endurance and strength, were not the equal of ours in speed; and thus it
was that Odile and I now found ourselves alone, as it were, midway in
the plain.
On we went. Every now and then Odile would turn her head and smile at
me; then she would whisper to her horse, and we bounded along yet
faster. From the less frequent pauses of the pack, that glided, no
larger than rabbits now, up the distant slopes, and their straight-ahead
course, I fancied that the foremost of the party were approaching the
whereabouts of the game.
It was now that a belt of dense woods became visible on the rising
ground before us. The Count had by this time gained so far upon us that
we presently saw him disappear, together with his followers, within its
borders.
"We must be in at the death!" cried Odile breathlessly; "let's make
haste!" and she urged her horse still further, while I clapped spurs to
mine. Twenty minutes later we had covered the intervening distance, and
dashed into the shadows of the wood.
We had not proceeded above a mile further, when we found that our road
forked, and running over an extensive ledge of rock, swept bare of snow
and pine-needles by the wind, we were at a loss which path to follow,
for there were no tracks of horses nor dogs, and the direction of both
paths being apparently the same, the noise of the pack growing
momentarily fainter, afforded us no clue to our proper course.
We reined up, impatient at this vexatious occurrence.
"Which way now?" I cried to Odile.
She hesitated for a moment.
"Let's go to the right!" she replied. "There's a new blaze on that
beech-tree yonder. Perhaps one of the men's guns bruised the bark as he
passed it!" and without waiting for me to reply, she started on again.
It occurred to me a few moments later that we might now be left entirely
alone if, perchance, we had chosen the wrong path, and if our followers,
who would inevitably meet with the same question of direction on
reaching the fork in the road, should decide upon the one to the left.
I felt little apprehension in being thus deserted, as it were, but let
it not be understood by this that fearlessness formed any part of my
character; it was to the more ignoble trait of ignorance that my present
equanimity was due. I did, however, feel that Odile should be reminded
of the fact, and I proceeded to communicate it to her; but whether it
was that her attention was so much engrossed by the business in hand
that she had no thought for anything else, or whether she considered my
apprehensions groundless, her only reply was a smile and a motion of her
head, as her horse carried her away from me, which I interpreted as
meant to reassure me, and I gave my horse his head.
From time to time we heard, far over on the mountainside, the sound of
the woodcutter's axe, falling against the oak with measured
stroke,--that slow, heavy stroke that is taken up and exaggerated by the
echoes,--then the creaking of the falling tree, the shout of warning,
and the thud of the giant as it measured its length upon the earth,
crashing among the underbrush. Owing to the frequent windings of the
woodland path, and the uncertain character of the ground, we were
obliged to moderate our speed, and as we came upon the open land between
the hills, the barking of the dogs reached us, loud for a moment, then
faint again, as some intervening object came between us.
"You hear the dogs!" cried Odile; "we are on the right path after all!"
And as the sounds became more distinct with each moment, I was satisfied
that she was right.
Here and there, as we entered a dark defile, we saw the fire of the
charcoal-burner beneath the shadowy boughs, spreading its purple ring
over the snow-crust and even to the tops of the swaying firs, then
drawing its uncertain rays the closer until it was no longer but a
spark, only to spread them out again yet wider than before. The outline
of the charcoal-burner, stooping over the flame, with his broad-brimmed
hat flattened on his shoulders, smoking his short, black pipe, and
turning potatoes in the embers, reminded me at a distance of the trolls
that are said to quarry gems of untold value in the centre of the
earth.
The noise of the dogs, forming a discordant, frenzied concert, grew
nearer every moment. At length a sharp turn to the left, as we emerged
from the deep, narrow glen which we had been traversing for some minutes
past, brought us, it almost seemed, right upon the game, so startling
was the uproar that greeted us.
I was now convinced that we had happened upon the right path, and I
expected momentarily to come upon the Count's party engaged in securing
the game. I glanced back to see if Becker and his comrades were near us,
but our frequent windings through the forest would have concealed them
completely from our view, even had they followed us.
Up to this point I had been vaguely regretting my inexperience in the
hunt, though I still had little realization of the danger that might
threaten us. But now, as I heard the loud blare of Sebalt's horn not
above a quarter of a mile before us, I felt entirely reassured, and both
Odile and I were looking expectantly for the forms of the Count and his
huntsmen among the trees.
A few rods further on we came upon a brake, half swamp, half stubble,
beyond which, as far as the eye could reach, the sun once more shone
brightly. We advanced at a walk, which the treacherous nature of the
ground made necessary. The din of the maddened dogs, and a strange,
ominous snarl, the like of which I had never before heard, told us that
the beast was run, or nearly run, to earth.
"Whose hand will the slaying fall to to-day?" I exclaimed laughingly to
Odile.
"To my father's, if his aim is true," replied Odile excitedly.
She had hardly finished these words when a sudden parting of the bushes
before us brought us into a crescent-shaped clearing some fifty yards in
extent, and entered at its opposite side by the other forest path.
Directly in the centre of this clearing, surrounded by a score of dogs
that had seized him by the ears and neck, and were vainly endeavoring to
bear him down, regardless of those of their number who had succumbed to
his savage tusks,--was a huge wild boar!
I confess to a sensation of horror at the sight. I glanced involuntarily
at Odile, whom I would have given anything in the gift of man to see
removed as far as possible from the spot. She, apparently undaunted
still, though with a shade less color in her fair cheeks, turned hastily
towards me and motioned me to hand her my rifle. I complied with
misgiving, silently cursing my ignorance of the weapon's use, and in
another moment Odile was gazing along its glistening barrel.
There was a report, and though the aim was true it failed of its effect.
And now the raging brute, infuriated by the pain of the wound, charged
directly upon Odile, heedless of the sharp fangs which lacerated him,
unchecked by the combined strength of the pack.
My dismay was complete when, the next moment, the frightened animal
which Odile rode, rearing up at the boar's furious onslaught, lost its
footing in the treacherous bog-land and fell on its side,--happily upon
its right side.
[Illustration: "I FELL UPON MY KNEE BEFORE THE BRUTE."]
Leaping to the ground, I had only time to seize my love about the waist
and swing her beyond the reach of the horse's flying hoofs, when the
boar was upon me. There was no time for reflection. I fell upon my knees
before the brute, my hunting-knife extended straight before me, and held
with all the strength of my arm.
So quickly works the eye sometimes, in moments of danger, that in this
instant I saw the Count, or rather, perhaps, he came within my range of
vision, pale as death, and riding at the highest speed along the
opposite path, while close behind him followed Gideon and Kraft.
The knife in my hand never swerved, for the love I bore Odile steadied
my arm as I fancy that alone could have done. The mad rush of the boar
was but the means of his surer destruction. He came straight upon the
knife, and the momentum of his ponderous body drove the steel deep
through his heart. I felt the gush of his life's blood pour over my arm
and chest; then I heard a cry from Odile's lips and a shout of wild
triumph from the Count and his huntsmen; then I fell backwards, my
consciousness half crushed out by the enormous weight of the brute's
body as it struck against me in its swaying fall to the earth.
A moment later Odile, oblivious to all around her, had thrown herself
into my arms and burst into uncontrollable tears. The crisis of the
moment just passed had completely unnerved her and robbed her of her
usual calm control.
We stood thus when the Count reined up before us.
"Ha! is it so?" he exclaimed, endeavoring to hide his emotion beneath a
joking exterior. "And why not? Who deserves better of a woman than the
lad who has saved her life and her father's too!" And as Sebalt and
Gideon rode up, all three jumped from their saddles and wrung my hands,
while good old Sperver beamed with gratified pride, and pulled the brim
of his hat down over his eyes to screen them from the glare of the sun.
These words of the Count had filled our cup of happiness to the brim.
Though I had dared to hope for little exception on his part when I
should determine to impart to him my wishes, yet this complete and
cordial acceptance of the relationship existing between Odile and myself
filled me with unwonted exultation. Nor was the Count's satisfaction any
less, I believe, as he realized that the fulfilment of that desire which
lay nearest his heart was now assured him. It seemed, moreover, that he
had guessed something of the truth during the hours which we had passed
together in his sick-room.
"Aye," said he, in speaking of it afterwards, "did you think I had not
weighed my words, Gaston, when I promised you any reward you should
require of me? And was I wrong in believing that such a spirited lad as
you, and one after my own heart, might find his happiness in Odile; for
she is lovely, is she not, though she is my child?"
For all answer, I drew Odile closer to me, and kissed the fair face that
rested on my shoulder.