Produced by Annie McGuire
[Illustration: HARPER'S ROUND TABLE]
Copyright, 1895, by HARPER & BROTHERS. All Rights Reserved.
* * * * *
PUBLISHED WEEKLY. NEW YORK, TUESDAY, JULY 9, 1895. FIVE CENTS A COPY.
VOL. XVI.--NO. 819. TWO DOLLARS A YEAR.
* * * * *
[Illustration]
THE RALEIGH REDS.
BY JULIANA CONOVER.
"Attention! Right dress! Front! Order arms! Carry arms! Present arms!
Right shoulder arms! Carry arms! Stand straighter, Billy. Can't you
fellows keep in line? Right face! Left face! About face! Oh, all right,
I won't go on with the drill if you don't try harder than that."
"Let us off this afternoon, Tommy? There's a good fellow," begged Billy
Atkins, a fat little chap of twelve, who, between the heat and his
exertions to keep his round body erect, was nearly used up.
"You won't ever learn to drill decently, then," answered the discouraged
Sergeant.
"Oh, yes, we will, in double-quick time; but it is so hot, and we all
want to be in good shape for to-morrow."
"What do you say, fellows?" asked Tommy, turning to the other panting
recruits.
"Let's stop," they all responded, briskly, "and try to fix up some
scheme for the Fourth."
"Very well," answered the Sergeant, a little reluctantly. "I did want to
try the bayonet exercise; but I suppose we can do that some other time."
Then drawing himself up in true martial style: "Port arms! Dismissed!"
The boys took instant advantage of the command, and hastily stacking
their arms, they squatted on the grass to try and cool off by means of
mumble-the-peg and a discussion of Fourth-of-July plans.
Tom Porter, aged twelve, had spent a year at a military academy, and had
come home for his summer holidays burning with military ardor, and
primed with tactics from the latest manual of arms.
He soon fired the ambition of the other boys, and in a week had
organized a company--or "squad," as he decided it really was--composed
of ten raw recruits and a band of two, mustered under the banner of the
Raleigh Reds.
They drilled faithfully day after day under the command of their
enthusiastic Sergeant, and the discordant sounds from the fife and drum
became a nuisance to the neighborhood.
But now that the novelty of the drill was wearing off, the boys began to
pine for active service, and wild plans of campaigns, with long
marches, bloody battles, and glorious victories, floated through Tommy's
brain, as he nightly revolved the future of the Raleigh Reds.
* * * * *
"Well, how are we going to celebrate the Fourth?" asked Lilly Atkins,
throwing down the knife in disgust, after failing ignominiously in the
delicate operation known as "eating oysters." "It's no fun just marching
at the tail end of a parade."
"We might make another raid on old Jones's cattle," suggested Herbert
Day; "we know a lot more tactics and manoeuvres now."
"Not much, unless Tommy teaches us some slick barbed-wire-fence drill,"
said Dick. "I'm on my last pair of trousers."
"That _was_ a pretty big fizzle," Tommy said, shaking his head. "And how
they did jolly me at home! Did you ever hear the poem my sister wrote
about it?"
"No; what was it?"
"Well, it was sort of like 'Half a League,' only different, about us,
instead of the 'Six Hundred.' It's pretty good," modestly.
"Can't you say it?" asked Herbert.
"Yes, go ahead, Tommy," chimed in the others.
Tommy blushed. It seemed conceited to recite his sister's verses, and
yet he was genuinely proud of them.
"It's a grind on us, you know," he said, warningly.
"Oh, that's all right; we're used to it; fire away."
Thus pressed, Tommy began:
"'Half a mile, half a mile,
Dust-choked and solemn,
Straight for old Jones's field
Marched the brave column.
"Forward, the Raleigh Red!
Charge for the bull!" he said.
Into the grazing herd
Marched the firm column.
"'Forward the squad brigade.'
"That's wrong, you know," he stopped to explain, "but Alice wouldn't
change it; she said it didn't matter."
"It doesn't a bit," Dick answered. "Go on; it's great!"
"'Forward the squad brigade.'"
Went on Tommy.
"'Was there a man afraid?
Not though the privates knew
Jones's bull's bad manners.
Theirs not to make a row,
Theirs not to question how,
Theirs but to charge the cow,
Into the grazing herd
Marched the red banners.
"'Cows to the right of them.
Cows to the left of them,
Cows still in front of them,
Peacefully chewing.
Gazed at in wild surprise,
Boldly, with steady eyes,
Marched on at double-quick
Shouting their battle-cries,
To their undoing.'
"'Whisked all the tails so bare,
Whisked in the sultry air,
Staring, as cows do stare,
Chewing the cud the while.
When from the close ranks
Broke forth a muffled beat.
_Not_ of bass drums, but feet,
Jersey and Alderney
Gazed on this mad retreat,
Gazed on the gay pranks
Of the old bull, who had
Broken the phalanx.
"'Fence to the right of them,
Fence to the left of them,
Jones's bull behind them.
Pawing and bellowing.
What need commands to tell?
Boldly they ran and well,
Not one small private fell.
"'Out of the horns of death,
Sergeant and squad pellmell,
Through the barbed-wire fence
Crawled the torn column.
When can their glory fade,
Oh, the retreat they made,
All Raleigh applauded!
Honor the Sergeant's feet,
Honor the squad's retreat,
Long be it lauded!'"
"Guy, that's fine!" ejaculated little Billy. "Isn't it, Dick?"
enthusiastically.
"Slickest thing I've ever heard," answered Dick.
"We did get to that fence quick, and no mistake. And, George! I woke up
every night for a week dreaming that the old bull was just running his
horns into me."
"We'll have to do something to get a better 'rep,'" said Tommy; "we've
done nothing but retreat so far. Old Farmer Applegate sent us flying,
when he had nothing but cow-hide boots and a pitchfork."
"It was his garden," reflected Fatty Simmons; "that was why I ran."
"Well, what are we going to do to-morrow, that's what I want to know?"
said Jack Green.
"I have it!" exclaimed the Sergeant, his eyes sparkling. "The very
thing, fellows! I heard Davis and Jim White talking yesterday (they
didn't know I was there), and they were arranging a scheme for the
Fourth, which it would be dandy fun to break up."
"What was it?" the others asked, eagerly.
"You know the little cannon in Mr. Scott's field? He thinks no end of
it; it's a Revolutionary relic or Waterloo or something. Well, those
fellows are going to steal it to-night and have a great time to-morrow.
Five of them are in it."
"Whew!" whistled Herbert Day. "I shouldn't like to be in their shoes
when Mr. Scott finds it out; he'll make it hot for them! But how's that
going to help us, Tommy; we're not in it?"
"I know; but what we want to do," answered the Sergeant, "is to guard
the cannon and spoil their little game. It would be great to get ahead
of Davis for once."
"Wouldn't they punch our heads?" said Billy, doubtfully; "they're
bigger."
"I'd like to see them," blustered Fatty; "we'd run them through with our
bayonets."
"What time did they agree to take the cannon, Tommy?" asked Bert.
"After dark, about nine, I suppose. They said they could drag it across
the field to Davis's barn, and that nobody would catch on."
"What sport!" chuckled Green. "We'll go early, then, and form in single
file round the old cannon, and I'd like to see the man who could take it
from us."
"Mr. Scott has a big mastiff, hasn't he?" asked Billy.
"What of that?" scornfully, and Billy was silenced. The boys forgot
their heat and fatigue in their eagerness to prepare for such a great
undertaking, and over and over again the Sergeant's commands rang out:
"Load! squad, ready! aim! _fire!_ Order arms! Load! ready! aim! recover
arms! _fire!_" etc., for a full hour.
At half past eight that same evening the Raleigh Reds, with fife and
drum silent, marched through the lane leading to Mr. Scott's field.
"Squad, halt!" was the command when they reached the fence. Then after a
whispered consultation and a stealthy glance round, lest the enemy might
attack them in the rear, they climbed carefully over the rails, and came
down cautiously on the other side.
"Forward, march!" ordered the Sergeant, and his squad started by twos up
the field.
The cannon was mounted at the other end, and the shadows which the moon
cast across their path looked to the boys' excited fancy like figures
rising from the ground.
"A little faster step--hep, hep!" urged the Sergeant, as they lagged.
"Double time!" he commanded; but alas! a low ferocious growl, followed
by a loud bark, caused a sudden panic in the dauntless Reds.
"The mastiff!" cried Joe Morris; "cut for your lives!"
"Don't you do it! Charge bayonets!" shouted Tom, dismayed by this
breaking of the close-locked ranks.
"About face!" yelled Fatty Simmons, assuming the command in his terror:
"quick to the fence, fellows--run!" and as the big dark object bounded
towards them, the squad for the second time in its short history took to
its heels without waiting further orders. Before the Sergeant could
collect his scattered wits, a rough hand seized him by the collar, and a
grim voice said, "I've caught you, hev I? You'll just come to Mr. Scott,
young man; he's waitin' for you."
"Call that dog off; he'll chew them fellows up," gasped Tommy, trying to
wriggle away from the tight grip.
"Sarve 'em right for sneaking in after dark and stealing the old cannon
that's stood here over a hundred years."
"We didn't steal it," said the indignant Sergeant. "We came to guard
it!"
"To guard it! Well, you didn't have much luck, then, for it's been gone
this half-hour. Mr. Scott, he's in a terrible way about it."
"My, how early they must have come!" exclaimed Tom.
"They? Who?"
"Why, the fellows we came to keep from taking it." And then he explained
to the astonished farmer.
The result was that the "Raleigh Reds" were recalled, trembling, from
their refuge behind the rail breastwork. Dom Pedro was quieted down, and
the demoralized squad was marched sheepishly to the house as prisoners
of war of the tall farmer.
Mr. Scott interviewed them, and his anger gave way to amusement as the
boys told, in shamefaced confusion, of their part in the evening's work.
"What your men need, Captain, is experience," he said; "so I will make a
bargain with you. If you manage to bring the cannon back by twelve
o'clock to-morrow morning, I will promise to furnish the finest display
of fireworks ever seen in this town, to celebrate the valor of the
'Raleigh Reds.'"
The boys blushed as crimson as their colors at these words, but Tom
replied, stoutly:
"We'll do it, Mr. Scott. Just see if we don't. I know we deserve to be
locked up in the guard-house for desertion; but give us one more chance,
and if we can't do anything but retreat, and in disorder too, then we'd
better give up the soldier business altogether."
And so Mr. Scott clinched the bargain.
How the little Sergeant racked his brains that night, as he tossed from
side to side, trying to hit upon some plan by which they could get the
field-gun away from its triumphant capturers!
It would be no easy matter to drag the heavy cannon so far even if they
had a fair field; but when it was held by the enemy--five big
boys--Tommy shook his head in doubt, for he had no longer confidence in
the courage of his squad.
The more he thought of it, the more he felt convinced that the only
thing to do was to decoy the guard in some way; but how? Suddenly he sat
up in bed and looked out of the window. It was moonlight, and he could
see some distance through the trees into a large field at the end of the
garden.
"Yes, that will work," he murmured. "I don't want to do it, but it's the
only thing I can think of, and we've _got_ to get that field-gun
somehow."
So, having at last made up his mind, he turned over and fell asleep.
* * * * *
"Fire! fire! fire!" clanged the great iron bell, putting all the toy
cannons to shame.
"Fire! fire!" shouted the men and boys as they dropped their pipes and
their fire-crackers, and started in the direction from which a volume of
smoke rose black and dense against the clear sky. There were not many
fires in Raleigh, and this looked like a promising one. From all parts
of the little town the people swarmed, eager for any excitement that
would help to celebrate the holiday.
"Now's our chance," whispered Tommy to the "Reds," as, ensconced behind
a hedge, they watched the crowd assemble. "We've got to hustle, for the
fire won't last long."
"The fellows are all there, except Jim White," returned Dick, "and there
he comes, puffing like a steam-engine."
"Then we're safe. Have you got the rope all ready, Billy?"
"Yes, slip-knot and all."
"Then come on, fellows."
And the boys cast one lingering glance at the crackling flames, the
fire-engine, and the crowd, then turned round and started heroically in
the opposite direction. They knew well where the cannon was, for had not
the victorious party jeered at them from the top of the shed, when they
went to reconnoitre early in the morning? They looked cautiously over
the gate of Davis's barn-yard. All was quiet. They opened the gate, and
walked softly in. Yes, there stood the bone of contention, alone,
unguarded, its mouth pointed towards the barn.
"Hurry up, Bert; you understand about putting on the rope," said the
nervous Sergeant, as he watched the smoke against the sky growing
perceptibly less.
"They'll suspect us, sure," replied Joe, "when they find we're not
there."
"Think of missing a fire!" groaned Bert; "and such a beauty too!"
By the time the boys were ready to start the smoke had almost died away,
and the shouts had entirely subsided.
"We must fight to-day, fellows, or break up the company," said Tommy, as
they toiled up the field dragging the gun after them over the rough
ground.
"Does Pat Kinney know we're coming?" asked Dick.
"Yes; and he's going to bring Dom Pedro to back us up," answered
"Fatty," straining away on the rope.
"Lucky for us," said Billy, his spirits rising.
Just as they reached the end of the field where the cannon always stood,
a shout from the fence made them grasp their arms and fall quickly in
line with bayonets fixed.
"Steady!" cried the Sergeant, his knees beginning to shake--"steady,
fellows; don't run."
On the big boys came. Six or seven of them, headed by Davis, bearing
down on the trembling squad with yells like wild Indians.
"Steady," said the Sergeant again, and immovable as the Inchcape Rock
the line received the charge.
"Get out of here or we'll break your necks!" cried White, as the squad
closed in round the cannon.
"Throw a pack of big crackers at them," said a rough-looking boy; "that
will break their ranks," and a shower of fire-crackers followed these
words.
Still the squad stood firm.
"All right, then," said Harvey, solemnly; "if you don't surrender we'll
have to wade in and do you up. Won't we, Davis?"
"Yield!" shouted Davis, flourishing a big stick; "the cannon or your
life!"
"Come on," cried the undaunted little Sergeant, as a twenty-five-cent
cracker went off under his nose. "We'll never surrender!"
"We'll never surrender!" echoed the rest of the squad, spurred on to
resistance by their leader. "Come on!"
And the next moment the bayonets were shattered by the charge, the guns
wrenched from the boys' hands, and down they went on the ground a
wriggling mass of arms and legs.
It began to look very bad for the Raleigh Reds, when, to their great
relief, the reserve force came up on a full gallop, urged on by the
command of, "At 'em, Pedro, at 'em!"
This time Dom Pedro discriminated between his allies and the foe, for he
dashed at Davis with a growl that struck terror to the stoutest heart.
"Here comes Mr. Scott, boys!" cried White, scrambling up from Dick's
prostrate form; "we'd better skip;" and leaving the still unconquered
squad fighting manfully on their backs, the big boys made for the fence,
with Dom Pedro in hot pursuit.
The Reds picked themselves up, and looked ruefully for their scattered
arms. They were pretty well battered and broken, but the cannon was
safe.
"Fall in," commanded the Sergeant, as Mr. Scott walked up, holding Pedro
by the collar.
"Good for you, boys," he said, smiling; "you held your own well. I
watched from behind the fence, and was delighted with the way you stood
up to those big fellows."
Tommy blushed with pride and pleasure. "They would have whipped us," he
replied, modestly, "if Dom Pedro hadn't scared them off."
"At any rate you brought the field-gun back, and you deserve great
credit for the way you stuck to your colors. But what is this that
Kinney tells me about setting a barn on fire?"
"It belonged to Tommy," said the others. "It was an old tool-house which
his father gave him to keep our things in. It made a beautiful fire."
Regretfully.
"And you burnt it up just so as to decoy the boys?" Incredulously.
"It was the only way to get the cannon," Tommy answered. "And the roof
leaked, anyway."
"It certainly was a clever scheme, though rather a risky one," said Mr.
Scott.
"I asked my father," Tommy hastened to explain. "And first he said no,
we mustn't do it, but when I told him that it was military tactics, and
how we wanted to prove to you that we were not such miserable cowards,
he gave in and said to go ahead."
"Well, you certainly have proved it, and fulfilled your part of the
contract with honor, so now I want to do my part. So you may invite
everybody you want--the whole town, if you wish--in my name, to a grand
exhibition of fireworks in honor of the Raleigh Reds."
The little Sergeant beamed from ear to ear. "Guy!" he ejaculated,
fervently, "what a slick old time we'll have!" Then, turning to the
smiling and embarrassed line, he cried, "Squad, _salute_!" and every
hand went up while the demoralized fife and drum favored Mr. Scott with
their wildest and most discordant tones.
Then down the field they marched triumphantly, with torn banner flying,
and Dom Pedro stalking gravely on ahead.
THE LITTLE MINUTE-MAN.
BY H. G. PAINE.
All during the winter Brinton had been saying what he would do if the
redcoats came, and grieving because his age, which was eight, prevented
him from going with his father to fight under General Washington.
Every night, when his mother tucked him in his bed and kissed him
good-night, he told her not to be afraid, that he had promised his
father to protect her, and he proposed to do it.
His plan of action, in event of the sudden appearance of the enemy,
varied somewhat from day to day, but in general outline it consisted of
a bold show of force at the front gate and a flank attack by Towser, the
dog. Should these tactics fail to discourage the British, he intended to
retire behind a stone fort he had built on the lawn, between the two
tall elms, and to fire stones at the invaders until they fell back in
confusion, while his mother would look on and encourage him from the
front porch.
When the redcoats unexpectedly appeared in the distance, one afternoon
in May, what Brinton really did was to run helter-skelter down the road,
up the broad path to the house, through the front hall into the library,
close the door, and then peep out of the window to watch them go by.
When he first caught sight of the soldiers Brinton was sure that there
was at least a regiment of them, but when they were opposite the front
gate all that he could see were a corporal and three privates. Instead
of keeping on their way, however, they turned up the path toward the
house, and then it seemed to Brinton that they were the most gigantic
human beings that he had ever seen.
His mother was away for the day, and had taken Towser with her. This,
together with the fact that the enemy were now between him and his fort,
entirely spoiled Brinton's plan of campaign, and he decided to seek at
once some more secluded spot, and there to devise something to meet the
changed conditions. But when he started to run out of the room, he found
that in his hurry he had left the front door open, so that any one in
the hall would be in plain sight of the soldiers, who were now very
near.
Unfortunately there was no other door by which Brinton could leave the
room. What was worse, there was no closet in which he could hide. The
soldiers were now so close at hand that he could hear their voices, and
a glance through the window showed him that two of them were going
around to the back of the house, as if to cut off any possible escape in
that direction.
And his mother would not be back until six o'clock. Instinctively his
eyes sought the face of the tall time-piece in the corner. It was just
three; and he could hear the soldiers' steps on the front porch!
The clock!
Surely there was room within its generous case for a very small boy.
[Illustration: THE MINUTE-MAN TAKES HIS POSITION.]
In less time than it takes to write it Brinton was inside, and had
turned the button with which the door was fastened. As he pressed
himself close against the door, so that there should be room for the
pendulum to swing behind him, he heard the corporal enter the room. He
knew it must be the corporal, because he ordered the other man to go up
stairs and look around there, while he searched the room on the other
side of the hall.
Brinton could hear the footsteps of the men as they walked about the
house, and their voices as they talked to each other. Then all was quiet
for a long while. He was just on the point of peeping out, when all four
men entered the room.
"Well," said a voice that he recognized as the corporal's, "it is plain
there is no one at 'ome. Me own himpression is that the bird's flown.
'E's probably started back for camp, and the wife and the kid with 'im.
I don't believe in payink no hattention to w'at them Tories says, nohow,
goink back on their own neighbors--and kin, too, like as not. It's just
to curry favor with the hofficers, it's me own hopinion. 'Ow did 'e know
the Major was comink 'ome to-day, anyhow?"
Nobody answered him. Perhaps he didn't expect any one to.
The Major! Brinton's own father! He was coming home! This, then, was the
surprise that his mother had said she would bring him when she went off
with Towser in the morning to go to Colonel Shepard's. And now those
redcoats were going to sit there and wait until he came, and then--
Brinton did not know what would happen, whether he would be shot on the
spot, or merely put in prison for the rest of his life.
Oh, if he could only get out and run to meet his father and warn him!
But the men seemed to give no signs of leaving the room.
"Perhaps he haven't come at all yet," suggested one of the privates.
"Perhaps 'e hasn't," answered the voice of the corporal; "but w'y, then,
wouldn't his folks be 'ere a-waitink for 'im? 'Owever, I'll give 'im
hevery chance. It's now five-and-twenty minutes after three. I'll give
'im huntil six, but if 'e doesn't turn hup by then, we'll start away for
the shore without 'im."
"Six o'clock!" thought the boy in the clock. The very time his mother
had told him she was going to be home again "with something very nice
for him." And now she and his brave papa would walk right into the arms
of these dreadful English soldiers, and he could not stop them!
_Whang!_
What a noise! It startled Brinton so much that he nearly knocked the
clock over; and then he realized that it was only the clock striking
half past three.
Half past three! He had been in there only half an hour, and already he
was so tired he could hardly stand up. How could he ever endure it until
four, until half past four, five, six?
"If only something, some accident even, will happen to detain papa and
mamma!" he thought. But how much more likely, it occurred to him, that
his father, having but a short leave of absence, would hasten, and
arrive before six.
"Tick-tock," went the clock.
"How slow, how very slow!" thought Brinton, and he wished there were
only some way of hurrying up the time, so that the soldiers would go
away.
Still the soldiers staid in the room, all but one, who had gone into the
kitchen to watch from there.
"Tick-tock," went the clock, and "whang-whang-whang-whang!" Only four
o'clock. Brinton began to fear that he could not hold out much longer.
"Tick-tock," went the clock. Each swing of the pendulum marked one
second, Brinton's mother had told him. If he could only make it swing
quicker, so that the seconds would fly a little faster!
"Why not try to?" Brinton was on the point of breaking down. He was
desperate. He felt that he must do something. He took hold of the
pendulum and gave it a little push. It yielded readily to his pressure.
None of the soldiers seemed to notice it. He gave it another push. The
result was the same. Brinton began to pick up courage, and he pushed the
pendulum to and fro, to and fro, to and fro.
He tried to keep it swinging at a perfectly even rate, and apparently he
succeeded. At any rate, the soldiers appeared to notice nothing
different. Yet Brinton was sure that he was causing the old clock to
tick off its seconds at a considerably livelier gait than usual. Half
past four came almost before he knew it, but by five o'clock Brinton
began to realize that he was very, very tired. He had already stood
absolutely still in that cramped, dark, close case, and he had pushed
the pendulum first with one hand and then with the other in that narrow
space until both felt sore and lame. Yet now that he had once begun, he
did not dare leave off, and still it did not seem possible that he could
keep it up.
The soldiers had kept very quiet for a long time. Brinton thought that
two of them must be napping.
At five o'clock the soldier who was awake aroused the corporal and the
other private, whom the corporal sent to relieve the man on guard in the
kitchen.
"I must 'ave slept mighty sound," remarked the corporal. "I'd never
believe I'd been asleep an hour, if I didn't see it hon the clock."
"No soigns av any wan yit," reported the man who had been in the
kitchen, whom Brinton judged to be an Irishman. "Be's ye going to wait
till six?"
"Yes," answered the corporal. "But no longer."
Then they began talking about the British fleet that was cruising in
Long Island Sound, and about the ship on which they were temporarily
quartered until they could join the main body of the army, and how a
neighbor of Brinton's father's and mother's had been down at the store
when a ship's boat had put in for water, and how he had told the officer
in charge that Major Hall, Brinton's father, was expected home for a few
hours that day, and what a fine opportunity it would be to make an
important capture.
The clock struck half past five.
"H'm!" grunted the corporal. "It doesn't seem that late; but, you know,
you can't tell anythink about anythink in this blaisted country."
Brinton now began to be very much afraid that his father would come
before the soldiers left. He wanted to move the pendulum faster and
faster, but after what the corporal had said he did not dare to. Then,
when the men lapsed into silence, it suddenly came over Brinton how
dreadfully weary he was, how all his bones ached, and how much, how very
much, he wanted to cry. But he felt that his father's only chance of
safety lay in his keeping the pendulum swinging to and fro, to and fro.
At last, however, came the welcome sound of the corporal's voice bidding
the men get ready to start.
Whang-whang-whang-whang-whang-whang!
"Fall in!" ordered the corporal. "Forward, march!"
As the sound of their footsteps died away, Brinton, all of a tremble,
opened the door of the clock and stumbled out. He knelt at the window
and watched the retreating forms of the redcoats. As they disappeared
down the road he heard a noise behind him, and jumped up with a start.
There stood his father!
The next instant Brinton was sobbing in his arms.
Brinton's mother came into the room. "Dear me!" she said; "what ever can
be the matter with the clock? It's half an hour fast."
SNOW-SHOES AND SLEDGES.[1]
BY KIRK MUNROE.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
BIG AMOOK AND THE CHILKAT HUNTERS.
"A goat is a good thing so far as it goes," remarked Phil, gravely, "but
one goat divided among one man, two boys, a little chap, and three
awfully hungry dogs isn't likely to last very long. With plenty of goats
ready to come and be killed as we wanted them, we might hold out here,
after a fashion, until the arrival of a tourist steamer. Wouldn't that
be fun, though? And wouldn't we astonish the tourists? But how we should
hate goat by that time! Still, I don't think there is the slightest
chance of our having that experience, for I understand that the
mountain-goats are among the shyest and most difficult to kill of all
wild animals.
"Which being the case," continued Phil, "it won't do for us to live as
though we had goats to squander. Consequently, we must make an effort to
get out of here before our provision is exhausted. As we have no boat in
which to go to Sitka, and the nearest point at which we can obtain one
is Chilkat; that is the place we have got to reach somehow. So I propose
that Serge and I take a prospecting trip into the mountains to-morrow
and see what chance there is for our crossing them."
As no better plan than this was offered, Phil and Serge started early
the following morning on their tedious climb. Each carried a gun, and
they took Musky and Luvtuk with them in the hope of getting a bear, as
Serge had heard that bears were plentiful in those mountains. Nel-te was
left to take care of the hospital, in which Jalap Coombs, with his many
aches, and Amook, with his cut feet, were the patients.
That afternoon was so warm that the door of the little cabin stood wide
open. Before a fire that smouldered on the broad hearth Jalap Coombs
dozed in a big chair, while Nel-te romped with Amook on the floor. Now
the little chap was tantalizing the dog with the fur-seal's tooth,
which, still attached to its buckskin thong, he had taken from his neck.
He would dangle it close to Amook's nose, and when the dog snapped at
it, snatch it away with a shout of laughter.
While the occupants of the cabin were thus engaged the heads of several
Indians were suddenly but cautiously lifted above the beach ridge. After
making certain that no one was in the vicinity of the house, one of
their number swiftly but noiselessly approached it. Crouching under a
side wall, he slowly raised his head.
This Indian was one of a party of Chilkat hunters who had come to
Glacier Bay in pursuit of hair seals, which in the early spring delight
to float lazily about on the drifting ice-cakes. They had camped at the
mouth of Muir Inlet the night before, and during the day had slowly
hunted their way almost to the foot of the great glacier. While there
they discovered a thin spiral of smoke curling from the cabin chimney.
This so aroused their curiosity that they determined to investigate its
cause. They imagined that some of the interior Indians, who were
strictly forbidden by the Chilkats to visit the coast, had disobeyed
orders, and come to this unfrequented place to surreptitiously gather in
a few seals. In that case the hunters would immediately declare war, and
the prospect of scalps caused their stolid faces to light and their dull
eyes to glitter.
When it was discovered that a white man was in the cabin, the Indians
were greatly disappointed, but concluded to withdraw without allowing
him to suspect their presence, for the Chilkats have no love for white
men. But for Nel-te and Amook they would have succeeded in this, and our
travellers would never have known of their dusky visitors, or the chance
for escape offered by their canoes.
If the fur-seal's tooth had been able to speak just then, it would have
said, "I am disgusted with the ways of white people. In their hands I am
treated with no respect. They lose me and find me again with
indifference. They even give me to children and dogs as a plaything. How
different was my position among the noble Chilkats! By their Shamans and
chiefs I was venerated; by the common people I was feared; while all
recognized my extraordinary powers. To them I am determined to return."
With this the fur-seal's tooth, which was at that moment dangling from
Nel-te's hand, gave itself such a vigorous forward swing, that Amook was
able to seize the buckskin thong, which immediately slipped into a
secure place between two of his sharp teeth. As Nel-te attempted to
snatch back his plaything, the dog sprang up and darted from the open
doorway.
At that moment the Indian who had inspected the cabin was just
disappearing over the beach ridge. At sight of him Amook uttered a yelp,
and started in pursuit. The Indian heard him, and ran. He sprang into
the canoe, already occupied by his fellows, and shoved it off as Amook,
barking furiously, gained the water's edge. Lying a few feet away, and
resting on their paddles, the Indians taunted him. Suddenly one of their
number called attention to the curious white object dangling from the
dog's mouth. They gazed at it with ever-increasing excitement, and
finally one of them began to load his gun with the intention of shooting
the dog, and so securing the coveted trophy that so miraculously
appeared hanging from his jaws. Ere he could carry out his cruel
intention little Nel-te appeared over the ridge in hot pursuit of his
playmate. Without paying the slightest heed to the Indians he ran to the
dog, disengaged the buckskin thong from his teeth, slipped it over his
own head, tucked the tooth carefully inside his little parka, and
started back toward the cabin. Amook followed him, while the Indians
regarded the whole transaction with blank amazement.
Both Nel-te and Amook regained the cabin, and were engaged in another
romp on its floor before Jalap Coombs awoke from his nap. An hour later,
when he was surprised by the appearance of half a dozen Indians before
the door, he thrust the child and dog behind him, and standing in the
opening, axe in hand, boldly faced the newcomers. In vain did they talk,
shout, point to Nel-te, and gesticulate. The only idea they conveyed to
the sailorman was that they had come to carry Cap'n Kid back to the
wilderness.
"Which ye sha'n't have him, ye bloody pirates! Not so long as old Jalap
can swing an axe!" he cried, at length wearied of their vociferations
and slamming the door in their faces.
In spite of this the Indians were so determined to attain their object,
that they were planning for an attack on the cabin, when all at once
there came a barking of other dogs, and, looking in that direction, they
saw two more white men, armed with guns, coming rapidly toward them.
"Hello in the house! Are you safe? What is the meaning of this?" cried
Phil, in front of the closed door.
"Ay, ay, sir!" replied Jalap Coombs, joyfully, flinging it open. "We're
safe enough so far; but them black swabs overhauled us awhile ago, and
gave out as how they'd got to have Cap'n Kid. I double-shotted the guns,
stationed the crew at quarters, and returned reply that they couldn't
have him; then they run up the black-flag and allowed they'd blow the
ship out of water. With that I declined to hold further communication,
cleared for action, and prepared to repel boarders."
In the mean time Serge was talking to the natives in Chinook jargon.
Suddenly he exclaimed:
"They are Chilkats, Phil, and they want something that they seem to
think is in Nel-te's possession."
"In Nel-te's possession?" repeated Phil, in a puzzled tone. "What can
they mean? I don't see how they can know anything about Nel-te, anyway.
They can't mean the fur-seal's tooth, can they?"
"That is exactly what they do mean!" replied Serge, after asking the
natives a few more questions. "They say it is hanging about his neck,
inside of his parka."
"How long have these people been here, Mr. Coombs?" queried Phil.
"Not more 'n ten minutes."
"Have they seen Nel-te?"
"No, for he hain't been outside the door."
"Could they have seen him at any time during the day?"
"Not without me knowing it; for he hain't left my side sence you boys
went away."
"Then it is more certain than ever that there is magic connected with
the fur-seal's tooth, and that the Chilkats are in some way involved in
it. How else could they possibly have known that it was in our
possession, just where to find us, and, above all, the exact position of
the tooth at this moment?"
"It surely does look ridicerlous," meditated Jalap Coombs; while Serge
said he was glad Phil was becoming so reasonable and willing to see
things in a true light.
"How did these fellows get here?" asked Phil.
"They say they came in canoes," replied Serge.
"Ask them if they will take us to Sitka, provided we will give them the
fur-seal's tooth."
"No; the Indians could not do that."
"Will they give us a canoe in exchange for it?"
"They say they will," replied Serge, "if we will go with them to their
village and allow their Shaman (medicine-man) to examine the tooth, and
see whether or not it is the genuine article."
"Won't that be awfully out of our way?"
"Yes. I should think about seventy-five miles; but then we may find a
steamer there that will take us to Juneau, or even to Sitka itself."
"It would certainly be better than staying here," reflected Phil. "And I
know that neither Serge nor I want to try the mountain trail again after
what we have seen to-day. So I vote for going to Chilkat."
"So do I," assented Serge.
"Same here," said Jalap Coombs; "though ef anybody had told me half an
hour ago I'd been shipping for a cruise along with them black pirates
before supper-time, I'd sartainly doubted him. It only goes to prove
what my old friend Kite Roberson useter say, which were, 'Them as don't
expect nothing is oftenest surprised.'"