NATURAL HISTORY.
Lester Brigham was not at all intimate with Don and Bert. The
brothers, as in duty bound, called upon him when he first arrived in
the settlement, and a few days afterward Lester rode over and took
dinner with them; and that was the last of their visiting. The boys
could see nothing to admire in one another. Don and Bert were a
little too "high-toned;" in other words, they were young gentlemen,
and such fellows did not suit Lester, who preferred to associate with
Bob Owens and a few others like him. Lester had been a leader among
his city schoolmates, and he expected to occupy the same position
among the boys about Rochdale; but before he had been many weeks in
the settlement he found that there were some fellows there who knew
just as much as he did, who rode horses and wore clothes as good as
his own, and who had some very decided opinions and were in the habit
of thinking for themselves. They wouldn't "cotton" to him even if he
was from the city, and so Lester made friends with those whom he
regarded as his inferiors in every way.
Lester was not at all pleased with the task he had set himself on
this particular day. He never felt easy in Don's presence and Bert's,
and nothing but the hope of compelling David to give up his contract
and thus leave the way clear for Bob and himself, would have induced
him to call upon them. He rode slowly in order to postpone the
interview as long as he could, but the General's barn was reached at
last, and the hostler, who came forward to take his nag, told him
that Don and Bert had just gone into the house. The latter opened the
door in response to his knock, and Lester knew by the way he looked
at him that he was very much surprised to see him. But he welcomed
him very cordially, and conducted him into the library, where Don was
lying upon the sofa.
"That night in the potato cellar was a serious matter for you, wasn't
it?" said the visitor, after the greeting was over and he had seated
himself in the chair which Bert placed in front of the fire. "Haven't
you been able to take any exercise at all yet?"
"O, yes; I've been out all day. I've had almost too much exercise,
and that is what puts me here on the sofa."
"We've had some excitement, too," added Bert.
"Yes. We went up the bayou to see if the ducks had begun to come in
any yet, and we found a bear on Bruin's Island."
"Did you shoot him?"
"No. He gave us notice to clear out and we were only too glad to do
so. Such growls _I_ never heard before."
"One's nerves do shake a little under such circumstances, that is, if
he is not accustomed to shooting large game," said Lester, loftily.
"You ought to have had me there. Perhaps I'll go up some day and pay
my respects to him."
Don, who thought this a splendid opportunity to test Lester's
courage, was on the very point of telling him that he and Bert were
going up there the next day to see if they could find the animal, and
that they would be glad to have his assistance; but on second thought
he concluded that he would say nothing about it. He expected to have
some sport as well as some excitement during the trip, and he didn't
want his day's enjoyment spoiled by any such fellow as Lester
Brigham.
"I came over to see you two boys on business," continued the visitor,
drawing an official envelope from his pocket. "We talk of getting up
a Sportsman's Club here in the settlement: will you join it?"
"Who are talking of getting it up, and what is the object of it?"
asked Don.
"All the boys are talking of it. One object is to bring the young
sportsmen of the neighborhood into more intimate relations, and
another is to protect the game. Perhaps I can give you no better idea
of the proposed organization than by reading this constitution, which
will be acted upon by the club at its first meeting."
As Lester said this he looked from one to the other of the brothers,
and receiving a nod from each which signified that they were ready to
listen, he drew out the document of which he had spoken, and
proceeded to read it in his best style. He glanced at his auditors
occasionally while he was reading the paper, and when he came to a
certain paragraph, the one upon which he and Bob had expended the
most time and thought, he told himself that he had certainly made an
impression, for Bert looked bewildered and Don straightened up, drew
a note-book from his pocket and began making entries therein with a
lead-pencil. The paragraph read as follows:
"The great object of the club being to put down pot-hunters and
poachers, and stop the practice, which is so common, of trapping game
and shipping it out of the country, it is hereby
"_Resolved_, that on and after the date of the adoption of this
constitution, it shall be unlawful for any person to take by
trapping, at any season of the year, or on any lands, whether private
in their own occupation, public or waste, any of the game animals and
birds hereinafter described, to wit: pheasant (_T. Scolopax_);
partridge (_Picus Imperialis_); rabbit (_Ortyx Virgiana_); and red
deer (_Canis Lupus_). The penalty for disobedience shall be a fine of
ten dollars for the first offence, twenty for the second, thirty for
the third, and so on; the fines to be sued and recovered before any
justice of the peace in the county, and to be divided in equal parts
between the informer and the poor; and in default of payment the
offender shall be imprisoned for ten days in the county jail."
When the document was finished, Don asked him to read this clause
over again. He complied with the request, and as he folded the paper
very deliberately waited for his auditors to say a word of
commendation; but as they didn't do it, he said it himself.
"Now, I drew up that instrument, and I think it is just about right,"
said he, complacently. "It is nothing but the truth, if I do say it
myself, that there is not another fellow in the settlement who could
have done it. Of course it will be open to amendments, but I don't
see how or where it could be improved. It covers all the ground,
doesn't it?'
"It covers a good deal, and especially the article you read twice,"
replied Don. "But I can't join such an organization as that. I'm a
pot-hunter myself. I never went hunting yet, without I intended to
shoot something for the table."
"But you are not a poacher."
"I don't know about that. I hunt in every field and piece of woods I
find, no matter who owns them."
"Perhaps I had better change that," said Lester, after thinking a
moment, "and say market-shooters instead of pot-hunters."
"There are no such things as market-shooters in the county."
"But there are market-trappers," said Lester. "There are persons
here, who are catching quails and shipping them out of the state."
"Yes, there is one who thinks of going into the business, and I got
him the job. It wouldn't look very well for me to turn around now and
tell him that he must not do it."
"You could say to him that you have had reason to change your mind
lately, and that you know it isn't right to do such things."
"But I haven't changed my mind."
"You ought to. The first thing you know there will be no birds for
you and me to shoot."
"I'll risk that. You may trap two hundred dozen if you want to, and
send them out of the county, and when you have done it, I will go out
any morning with my pointer and shoot birds enough for breakfast.
I'll leave more in the fields, too, than you can bag in six months,"
added Don, and Bert saw the point he was trying to make, if Lester
did not. "Besides, what right have I to tell Dave what he shall do
and what he shall not do? He'd laugh at me."
"Well, he wouldn't do it more than once. A few days in the calaboose
would bring him to his senses."
"Who would put him there?"
"The club would."
"Where's the club's authority for such a proceeding?"
Lester lifted the constitution and tapped it with his forefinger by
way of reply.
"I think I had better have nothing to do with it," said Don, who
could scarcely refrain from laughing outright.
"We intend to make you our president," said Lester.
"I am obliged to you," replied Don, but still he did not take any
more interest in the Sportsman's Club than he had done before. He did
not snap up the bait thus thrown out, as Lester hoped he would. He
was not to be bought, even by the promise of office. Lester saw that,
and arose to take his leave.
"Well, think it over," said he. "Sleep on it for a few nights, and if
at any time you decide to go in with us, just let me know. Good
evening!"
"I'll do so," answered Don. "Good evening!"
Lester bowed himself out of the room and Bert accompanied him to the
door. The first question the latter asked when he came back was:--
"Is there a beast or a bird in the world whose Latin name is
canis-lupus?"
Don threw himself back upon the sofa and laughed until the room rang
again. "Is there a beast or a bird in the world whose English name is
dog-wolf?" he asked, as soon as he could speak. "I did give Lester
credit for a little common sense and a little knowledge, but I
declare he possesses neither. It beats the world how he has got
things mixed. Just listen to this," added Don, consulting his
note-book. "He speaks of a pheasant and calls it _T. Scolopax_. Now
_Scolopax_ is a snipe. He probably meant ruffed grouse, and should
have called it _Tetrao Umbellus_. He speaks of a partridge when he
means quail, or more properly Bob White, there being no quails on
this side the Atlantic----"
"Why do people call them quails then?" asked Bert.
"The name was given to them by our forefathers, because they
resembled the European quail. There is no pheasant in America either;
but our grouse looked like one, and so they gave it that name, Lester
calls a quail _Pious Imperialis_. Now that's an imperial
woodpecker--that big black fellow with a red topknot that we
sometimes see when we are hunting. He used to be called
cock-of-the-woods, but the name was twisted around until it became
woodcock, and some people believe that he is the gamey little bird we
so much delight to shoot and eat. But they belong to different
orders, one being a climber and the other a wader. Lester speaks of a
rabbit, not knowing that there is no such thing as a wild rabbit in
our country, and calls it _Ortyx Virgiana_, when he should have
called it _Lepus Virginianus_, the name he uses being the one by
which our quail is known to ornithologists. A deer, which he calls a
dog-wolf, is _Cervus Virginianus_. O, he's a naturalist as well as a
sportsman," shouted Don, as he laid back upon the sofa and laughed
until his sides ached.
"Then he didn't get one of the names right?"
"Not a single one. After all, his ignorance on these points is not so
astonishing, for everybody is liable to make mistakes; but that any
boy living in this day and age should imagine that, by simply getting
up a club and adopting a constitution, he could imprison or fine
another boy because he didn't do just to suit him, is too ridiculous
to be believed. That particular paragraph was probably copied after
some old game law Lester read years ago; but he ought to know that
before a sportsman's club, or any other organization, can have
authority to prosecute persons for trapping birds and sending them
away, there must first be a law passed prohibiting such trapping and
sending away; and there's no such law in this state. It doesn't seem
possible that he could have been in earnest."
But Lester was in earnest for all that--so very much in earnest that
he was willing to run a great risk in order to punish Don for
refusing to join his society. Of course he was angry. He and Bob had
felt sure of obtaining the contract, had laid many plans for the
spending of the money after it was earned, and it was very provoking
to find that their scheme had been defeated, and that they were to be
pushed aside for the sake of such a fellow as David Evans. Lester was
sorry now that he had not given David a good thrashing when he met
him in the road that morning, and told himself that he would do it
the very next time he put eyes on him and risk the consequences. The
thought had scarcely passed through his mind when the opportunity was
presented. He met David coming along the road in company with his
brother Dan. David did not seem to remember that any sharp words had
passed between Lester and himself, for he looked as cheerful and
smiling as usual, and, following the custom of the country, bowed to
the horseman as he rode past. Lester did not return the bow, and
neither did he dismount to give David the promised thrashing. He was
afraid to attempt it; but, coward-like, he had to take vengeance upon
something, and so he hit his horse a savage cut with his riding-whip.
"Dave can afford to be polite and good-natured," thought Lester, as
he went flying down the road. "He is rejoicing over his success and
my failure; but if he only knew it, this thing isn't settled yet.
I'll write to that man to-night, telling him, that the parties to
whom he gave the contract can't catch the birds, and then Bob and I
will go to work and make it true. If we don't earn that money, nobody
shall. As for those stuck-up Gordons--I'll show them how I'll get
even with them."
The spirited animal on which he was mounted made short work of the
two miles that lay between Don's home and Bob's, and in a few minutes
Lester dismounted in front of the wagon-shed, where his crony was
waiting for him.
"I've had no luck at all," said he, in reply to Bob's inquiring look.
"I might as well have stayed at home. Don says he can't join a club
of this kind, because, having got David the job of trapping the
quails, he can't go back on him. He says he's a poacher and
pot-hunter himself; and what surprised me was, he did not seem to be
at all ashamed of it."
"Of course he wasn't ashamed," said Bob. "He thinks that everything
he and his pale-faced brother do is just right. Did he say anything
about what passed between Bert and myself at the post-office?"
"Not a word."
"I was afraid he would," said Bob, drawing a long breath of relief,
"for he knows that you and I are friends."
Yes, Don knew that, but there were two good reasons why he had not
spoken to Lester about Bob's threat of slapping Bert over. In the
first place, he was not aware that Bob had made any such threat. Bert
was one of the few boys we have met, who did not believe in telling
everything he knew. Do you know such a boy among your companions? If
you do, you know one whom nobody is afraid to trust. Bert wanted to
live in peace, and thought it a good plan to quell disturbances,
instead of helping them along. He knew that if he told his brother
what had happened in the post-office, there would be a fight, the
very first time Don and Bob met, and Bert didn't believe in fighting.
But even if Don had known all about it, he would not have said
anything to Lester. He would have waited until he met Bob, and then
he would have used some pretty strong arguments, and driven them home
by the aid of his fist. How much trouble might be avoided, if there
were a few more boys like Bert Gordon in the world!
"I am not sorry I went down there," continued Lester, "for I had the
satisfaction of showing those conceited fellows that there are some
boys in the settlement besides themselves who know a thing or two. I
read the constitution to them, and it would have made you laugh to
see them open their eyes. Bert was so astonished that he couldn't say
a word, and Don never took his gaze off my face while I was reading.
When I got through he asked me to read that clause with the Latin and
Greek in it over again, so that he could copy the names in his
note-book. He'll learn them by heart, and use them some time in
conversation and so get the reputation of being a very smart and a
very learned boy. If he does it in your presence, I want you to let
folks know that he is showing off on the strength of _my_ brains. I
don't suppose the ignoramus ever knew before----"
"Well, who cares whether he did or not?" exclaimed Bob, impatiently.
"That's a matter that doesn't interest me. Is Dave Evans going to
make that hundred and fifty dollars and cheat me out of a new
shot-gun? That's what I want to know!"
"Of course he isn't," replied Lester. "We can't stop him by the aid
of the Sportsman's Club, and so we will stop him ourselves without
the aid of anybody. Let him go to work and set his traps, and we'll
see how many birds he will take out of them. We'll rob every one we
can find and keep the quail ourselves. In that way we may be able to
make up the fifty dozen without setting any of our own traps. We'll
write to that man, as you suggested, and when Dave finds he can't
catch any birds, he'll get discouraged and leave us a clear field.
But first I want to touch up Don and Bert Gordon a little to pay them
for the way they treated me this evening. That shooting-box shall be
laid in ashes this very night. I expected an invitation to shoot
there last spring, but I didn't get it, and now I am determined that
they shall never ask anybody there. What do you say?"
"I say, I'm your man," replied Bob.
And so the thing was settled. Lester put his horse in the barn, went
in to supper, which was announced in a few minutes (Bob found
opportunity before he sat down to the table to purloin a box of
matches, which he put carefully away in his pocket), and when the
meal was over, the two boys went back to the wagon-shed, where they
sat and talked until it began to grow dark. Then Bob brought a couple
of paddles out of the corner of the wagon-shed, handed one to his
companion, and the two walked slowly down the road. When they were
out of sight of the house they climbed the fence, and directed their
course across the fields toward the head of the lake. Then they
quickened their pace. They had much to do, and they wanted to finish
their work and return to the house before their absence was
discovered.
Half an hour's rapid walking brought them to the road just below
General Gordon's barn. The next thing was to make their way along the
foot of the garden until they reached the jetty, and that was an
undertaking that was not wholly free from danger. Don Gordon's hounds
were noted watch-dogs, and any prowlers they discovered were pretty
certain to be severely treated. But there was no flinching on the
part of the two boys. Bob led the way almost on his hands and knees,
stopping now and then to listen, and finally brought his companion to
the place where the boats were moored. There was only one of them
available, however, for the canoe, which they had intended to take,
was secured to a tree by a heavy padlock.
"Did you ever hear of such luck?" whispered Bob.
"Couldn't we paddle the other up there?" asked Lester, feeling of the
chain with which the sail-boat was fastened to the wharf, to make
sure that it was not locked.
"O, yes; but why is this canoe locked up? That's what bothers me.
Perhaps Don suspects something and is on the watch."
"Who cares if he is?" exclaimed Lester. "I've come too far to back
out now. I wouldn't do it if Don and all his friends stood in my
way."
"All right. If you are not afraid, I am not. Be careful when you cast
off that chain. You know that sound travels a long way on a still
night like this."
Lester was careful, and the boat was pushed off and got under way so
noiselessly that a person standing on the bank would not have known
that there was anything going on. Bob, who knew just where the
shooting-box was located, sat in the stern and did the steering, at
the same time assisting Lester in paddling. The heavy boat moved
easily through the water, and before another half hour had passed
they were at their journey's end.
"Hold up now," whispered Bob, "and let's make sure that everything
is all right before we touch the shore."
Lester drew in his paddle and listened. He heard a whistling in the
air, as a solitary duck flew swiftly up the lake, and that was the
only sound that broke the stillness. The trees on the shore loomed up
darkly against the sky, and presented the appearance of a solid wall
of ebony. Lester could not see anything that looked like a
shooting-box, but Bob knew it was there, and when he had listened
long enough to satisfy himself that there was nobody in it or about
it, he brought the bow of the boat around and paddled toward the
shore.
"Which way is it from here?" asked Lester, when the two had
disembarked. "I can't see anything."
"Hold fast to my coat-tail," replied Bob, "and I'll show it to you
in a minute."
Lester being thus taken in tow was safely conducted up the bank.
Presently he heard a door unlatched and opened, a match was struck
and he found himself inside the shooting-box. He could scarcely have
been more surprised if he had found himself inside a little palace.
The shooting-box was not a shanty, as he expected to find it, but a
conveniently-arranged and neatly-constructed house. He borrowed a few
matches of Bob and proceeded to take a thorough survey of it. "Don
must have spent a good deal of time in fixing this up," said he.
"He certainly has," replied Bob, "and he handles tools like a born
carpenter, too. I suppose this is a nice place to get away to when
the fellows are here shooting over their decoys. Joe Packard says so,
at any rate. They have mattresses and bed clothes in the bunks, a
carpet and rugs on the floor, camp chairs and stools enough for the
whole party, and they sit here of evenings and crack hickory-nuts
and tell stories and have boss times."
"It's almost a pity to break up their fun."
"It's a greater pity that Don should take money out of our pockets
and put it into those of that beggar, Dave Evans," answered Bob,
spitefully.
"That's so," said Lester, who grew angry every time he thought of it.
"Set her agoing!"
That was a matter of no difficulty. There was an abundance of dry
fuel and kindling wood in the little closet under the chimney, and
some of the latter was quickly whittled into shavings by the aid of
Bob's pocket knife, Lester standing by and burning matches to light
him at his work. More kindling wood was placed upon the shavings,
dry stove wood was piled upon the top of this, then the slats in
the bunks, the table and every other movable thing in the cabin
that would burn was thrown on, and Bob took a match in his hand
and extended another to his companion.
"You light one side and I'll light the other," said he. "Then you
can't say I did it, and I can't say you did it!"
The matches blazed up on opposite sides at the same instant. The
flames made rapid progress, and by the time the boys had closed the
door and got into the boat, they were roaring and crackling at a
great rate. They quickly shoved off and laid out all their strength
on the paddles, but before they could reach the jetty the flames
burst through the roof of the shooting-box, and the lake was lighted
up for a quarter of a mile around. But no one saw it, and Lester and
his companion put the boat back where they found it, made their way
across the road into the fields, without alarming the hounds, and
started for home on a keen run, no one being the wiser for what
they had done.
[Illustration: The Burning of the Shooting-Box.]