"I say," said George, slapping Guy on the shoulder, the moment after
his father bade them "good-night" and went to his wagon, telling them
to go to theirs, "I say, I have got the best thing to tell you, and
we'll have the greatest fun, if you don't turn sneak and try to get out
of it."
"I'm not likely to turn sneak!" retorted Guy very indignant that he
should be thought capable of such a thing. "What are we to have such
fun at? I don't think you will find that I shall shirk it."
Now, Guy never would have said that without knowing what George's fun
was to be, had he not been vexed at Aggie's cool reception of his
story, and at some other things that had happened through the day. He
was in a very restless, dissatisfied temper, and, as many other boys do
under those circumstances, he felt like doing any wild thing that was
suggested to him, without inquiring whether it was right or wrong.
George saw that, and, greatly delighted, said: "I told Gus I didn't
believe you would back out, and we will have such a jolly time! You
know there are numbers of antelopes on the plains here, and I heard
James Graham say this morning, that there would be sure to be a great
many of them go down to that little creek to drink just as soon as the
moon rose."
"Well," said Guy, wondering greatly what the herd of antelopes had to
do with their fun.
"Well," returned George, "I have been reading a book that tells all
about hunting them. That was what I was doing when pa thought me so
studious to-day, and I found out how to hunt them at night, and it's
just as easy as can be. You have only to creep up to them silently, and
you can shoot them down by dozens."
"Like partridges?" commented Guy, in a tone of doubt.
"You needn't laugh at what I say," returned George. "You can ask Gus if
it isn't so, and if you don't believe him, I'll show you the book."
"Oh! I believe it all, of course!" said Guy, hastily; "but I don't see
what difference it makes to us, for we have nothing to hunt antelopes
with."
"There are plenty of guns in the wagon," said George, in a low voice,
"and I don't see why we shouldn't use them."
Guy was greatly startled at this speech, for Mr. Harwood had told all
the boys never to touch one of the guns. He reminded George of that,
but he only laughed, and began a glowing account of the glorious time
they would have in creeping toward the creek, in the moonlight, and
shooting down the antelopes as they bent their heads to drink.
Guy's imagination was highly excited by George's words, and from being
the most unwilling, he became the most anxious that the midnight
hunt should be attempted, quite forgetting Mr. Harwood's commands in
thinking of the triumph they might have in the morning, in exhibiting
two or three dead antelopes.
He readily assented to George's proposition, that they should then
proceed to the wagon, and choose their guns. No inducements or threats,
even to the breaking of his bones, would induce Gus to touch one.
"Then," said George, "you shall carry this small hatchet, and a knife,
so that we shall be able to cut the horns and tails off the antelopes
that we can't bring home with us. I don't suppose we shall be able to
carry more than one apiece."
After securing their guns, they left the camp very cautiously, each
one going a different way, and all meeting at a point about a quarter
of a mile from the camp, on the banks of the little stream, where they
expected the antelopes would come to drink.
They stayed there in silence for some time, for Guy, remembering his
former experience on the prairie, was afraid to venture for even a
moment out of sight of the camp-fires. But at last they all became
so impatient at remaining so still and seeing nothing, that they
ventured, very cautiously, a little farther up the stream. Guy took the
lead, and very often would stop, and motion to his companions to do
likewise, whenever he fancied he heard any noise.
Thus two very tiresome hours passed away, and Gus was very crossly
protesting against staying any longer, when Guy motioned him very
eagerly to be still, and with great triumph pointed to a number of
animals that, one by one, very slowly and cautiously, were going down
to the water to drink.
They were very slender and graceful, about the size of a small deer,
and covered with coarse, wiry hair, and bearing upon their small,
well-formed heads a pair of branching horns.
They descended to the water, without exhibiting any signs of suspicion
or fear, for the boys, quite by accident, had got to the leeward
of them--that is, where the wind would not pass from them to the
antelopes, and give to the keen animals notice of their presence.
"Now," whispered Guy, excitedly, "wait until you see them stoop their
heads to drink, and then fire at them! Now--ready!"
Both boys raised their guns and fired. There was a terrible concussion.
Both were thrown flat upon their backs, with the idea that their
heads, or at least their noses, were shot off, and away stampeded the
antelopes, as fast as their slender legs would carry them.
Gus began to howl and cry most wildly, believing that his brother and
Guy were both killed. They, however, soon convinced him that they
were both alive, by rising, each declaring his nose was broken, and
pointing to the flowing blood as proof of it.
George was terribly enraged, chiefly at the gun, which he declared had
"kicked" him. Guy, on his part, was very much vexed with George, for
having brought him on such a profitless adventure; but though he was
suffering very much from his rashness, the whole thing appeared to him
so ridiculous, that he laughed long and heartily.
"I believe you would laugh if you were dying," grumbled George, as they
stood together by the side of the creek, washing their face. "Pretty
figures we shall make to-morrow, sha'n't we? And pa will give it to you
to-morrow, too, for taking the guns."
"You told me to do it!" retorted Guy, sullenly, but quite alarmed at
the thought of Mr. Harwood's impending wrath, as well as angry at
himself for having done anything to incur it.
George answered him very rudely, and then followed a quarrel between
the two, which was at last brought to an abrupt termination by a
terrible scream from Gus. They looked toward him, and saw, with horror,
an immense panther, but a short distance off, making ready for a spring.
The boys were transfixed with horror, as they saw his glaring eyes
fixed upon them.
They saw him crouch like an immense cat, preparing to spring upon its
prey. They saw a sudden flash of fire before their eyes, heard the
report of a gun, and, with as much fear as joy, beheld the terrible
monster spring high into the air, and fall to the ground, tearing up
the ground with its claws, and foaming at the mouth, in agony. Another
shot ended its struggles and its life together.
The boys uttered cries of joy for their delivery from the terrible
death with which the panther had threatened one, or perhaps even all,
of them; but they were very much frightened to see that their deliverer
was Mr. Harwood.
He looked at them very sternly and said--
"You may be very thankful that I heard the reports of your guns and
came in search of you, or your disobedience might have been punished
most fearfully."
With great sorrow and shame they felt that his words were true, as they
stood beside the dead panther, and looked at his long claws, and the
firm white teeth in his large mouth.
Gus burst into tears, and said he knew the horrible creature was making
straight for him, and eagerly assured his father that he would never
disobey him again in his life.
George and Guy were quite ready to make the same promise, but Mr.
Harwood looked so stern that they dared not speak to him, and Guy felt
utterly wretched when, instead of scolding him, Mr. Harwood looked at
him very sorrowfully, and said:
"I am disappointed in you, Guy! I thought I could trust you."
"The next thing, I heard the reports of the guns, and immediately
surmised where you were. I was so anxious about you, that I would not
call one of the others, but came immediately in pursuit of you, and it
is well that I did."
"How was the baby, when you left?" asked the conscience-stricken Guy.
"Dying," returned Mr. Harwood, emphatically.
Guy waited to hear no more, but darted forward, reaching the camp
some minutes before his companions. He saw that several in the train
were up, and some called after him, asking where he had been. Without
stopping to answer them, he ran on to Mrs. Harwood's wagon, and seeing
it all alight within, sprang to the front, and hastily putting the
canvas door aside, asked how the baby was.
His mother came over to him, crying and wringing her hands--
"Oh, Guy!" she cried, "where have you been? How wicked you were to
leave us so, when the baby was dying!"
Guy knew not what to say--he had no excuse to offer, for he never
thought of putting the blame on George. He, therefore, kept silent, and
in a most miserable state of mind, followed Mr. Harwood and his sons to
the camp.
Gus kept close to his father all the way, crying out every minute or
two that he saw another panther, and at last asking how it was that
their absence from camp was discovered.
"The baby was very ill," answered Mr. Harwood, gravely. "He was in
convulsions, and your mother wanted to put him in a hot bath. I went to
call Guy to help us, and then found you were gone."
"And what did you do then?" asked Gus.
"Oh, mother!" he cried, "is he dead!"
"Yes," she answered. "He died while you were laughing and sporting.
I should think you would never enjoy yourself again, while you can
remember that."
Guy looked at the little babe, lying dead on its mother's lap, and
thought, indeed, that he never should be happy again. Aggie added to
his distress by looking at him sternly, with her widely-opened eyes,
and crying:
"Go away, you bad, bad boy! I will never love you again."
"And Mr. Harwood will never trust me," thought Guy, bitterly, as he
left the wagon, and passed Mr. Harwood and his sons, who were about to
enter it.
Guy slept but very little that night; in the first place, his bruised
face was very painful, and he was, besides, haunted by the remembrance
of Mr. Harwood's reproachful glance, when he had said he had been
deceived in him; and he wondered if he would carry into execution the
threat he had made before they left home, and greatly feared that he
would, for he felt that he had been quite disobedient, and seemingly
ungrateful enough, to be left alone on the prairie.
The train did not move on as early the next morning as usual, for the
poor little baby was buried upon the banks of the little stream where
the boys had so nearly lost their lives.
Guy thought he had never witnessed so sad a scene as when they laid the
beautiful baby, that looked as pure and sweet as a white lily, in the
rough coffin that some of the young men had hastily made, and carried
him to a lonely spot, that perhaps no feet had ever trod before, and,
breathing a prayer over him, left him to his long sleep, far from the
place of his birth, or that for which his kindred were bound, and where
never a tear would be dropped above him, or a sigh breathed.
Guy's only comfort was, and, perhaps, too, that of the poor baby's
father and mother, that he could not be quite alone, even when they
left him, for God would watch over him; and he could not but rejoice
that they had not been forced to leave him in the shifting sands of the
desert, but that a green tree bent over him, and grass would spring
above the sod in which he lay.
Poor little Aggie was quite brokenhearted at the loss of her poor
little playfellow, and, quite forgetting her anger went to Guy for
comfort.
After he had said all he could to cheer her, he told her of his own
troubles, and how sincerely sorry he was, for having disobeyed her
father. Aggie listened very attentively, and at last said:
"Perhaps papa will forgive you. I know he will, if you go to him and
tell him how sorry you are, and promise him you will never be so wild
and disobedient again."
"That I will," said Guy readily. "I would do anything to merit his
kindness once more."
But it was several days before Guy could summon courage to speak to Mr.
Harwood, who treated him very coldly, seldom asking him to do anything,
and never intrusting the care of even the slightest article to him.
Guy every day grew more and more miserable, while Gus and George
congratulated themselves upon their father's silence, and almost forgot
that they had ever incurred his displeasure.
"But, if the baby hadn't died, wouldn't he have 'whaled' us, though!"
ejaculated George, one day.
Guy was shocked and surprised to hear him speak so lightly, and,
without more ado, left him, and going to Mr. Harwood, told him how
grieved he was for his disobedience, and begged him to forgive him, and
restore him to his confidence again.
"I will forgive you, Guy," said Mr. Harwood, kindly; "but I cannot
place any trust in you again, until you show yourself worthy of it.
"I will show myself worthy!" exclaimed Guy, firmly. "I will, indeed,
Mr. Harwood, and at the same time show my gratitude for your kindness."
And scarcely a week passed before Guy fulfilled his promise.