BUG IN THE BAR--VISIT TO PORT BROOKE--EVADING BLOODHOUNDS--CONTEST WITH
DOGS AND MEANS OF DEFENCE--AMUSING ESCAPE FROM A WILD BULL AND
CONVERSATION ON THE SUBJECT
While Riley was at Bellevue the workmen succeeded in raising the frame
of the new house, and in completing the most laborious part of the work.
On the last days of his stay he was dispatched with a message to Fort
Brooke, to say that on the following Tuesday Dr. Gordon and family would
make their promised visit.
During the interval nothing of special interest occurred, except a
painful accident that happened to Harold. He was awakened in the night
by a sudden tickling in his ear. This was caused by a harvest bug--a
black hard-winged insect, nearly an inch long. When first feeling it,
and uncertain what it was, he sprang up in bed, and struck the ear
violently from behind, in the hope of jarring it out. Failing in this,
he poured his ear full of water; but still not succeeding, he felt along
the wall for a large needle he recollected seeing there the evening
before, and with that endeavoured to pick it out. The frightened bug
finding itself so energetically pursued into its unnatural hiding place,
went deeper, and began to scratch with its clogged feet, and to bite
upon the tender drum of the ear. The pain it caused was excruciating.
Harold, feeling that he must soon go into spasms, unless relieved,
wakened his uncle, and entreated earnestly for help. To his
inexpressible delight Dr. Gordon said he could relieve him in a minute;
and seizing the night lamp he poured the ear full of oil. Scarcely had
this fluid closed around the intruder, before it scrambled out, and
reached the external ear just in time to die.
Harold could not find words for his gratitude.
"Uncle," said he, "you may think me extravagant, but I assure you the
pain was so intense, that I was thinking seriously, in case you could
not relieve me, of making Sam chop my ear open with a hatchet. This I
suppose would have killed me; but it must have been death in either
case."
On the day appointed, they went to Fort Brooke in the pleasure boat, Dr.
Gordon being at the helm, and Robert and Harold taking turns in managing
the sails. The wind was fair, and the light ripple of the water was
barely sufficient to give a graceful dancing to their beautiful craft.
Far below the transparent waves, they could see the glistening of bright
shells upon the bottom, and every now and then the flash of a
silver-sided fish.
At the fort they were received with the courtesy that so generally marks
gentlemen of the army; and the three days of their stay passed off very
pleasantly. The reveille and tattoo, the daily drill, and the
practising with cannon, were novelties to the young back-woodsmen. Frank
was exceedingly surprised, as well as amused, to see cannon-balls making
"ducks and drakes," as he called them, upon the water. He had often
thrown oyster-shells, and flat stones, so as to skim in this way, but he
had no idea that it could be done with a cannon-ball.
On the last day of their visit, Harold escaped from an unpleasant
predicament, only by the exercise of cool courage and ready ingenuity.
He had gone with Frank to visit a cannon target, a mile or more distant.
Wandering along the bank of the Hillsborough river, which flows hard by
the fort, and then entering the woods on the other side of the road, he
was suddenly accosted by a man on horseback, who had been concealed
behind a bower of yellow jessamines.
"Good day, my young friend. Have you been walking much in these woods
today?"
Harold said that he had not, and inquired why the question was asked.
The man replied, "I am watching for a villainous Indian-negro, who was
seen skulking here this morning. He has been detected in stealing, and
several persons will soon come with blood-hounds to hunt him. If you
see his track" (and he described its peculiarity), "I hope you will let
us know."
Harold consented to do so, and walked on, unwilling to be the spectator
of the scene. Returning to the road, and walking some distance, the
thought flashed into his mind that possibly the dogs might fall upon his
own trail. It was certain that they would naturally take the freshest
trail, and he was confident that the man did not know which way he went.
The dogs were probably fierce, and it would be exceedingly difficult, in
case of an attack, to defend himself and Frank too. Becoming every
moment more uneasy, he went to the roadside and cut himself a stout
bludgeon. Frank watched the operation, and suspected that something was
wrong, though he could not conjecture what.
"Cousin," said he, "what did you cut that big stick for?"
"A walking-stick," he replied: "Is it not a good one?"
"Yes, pretty good; but I never saw you use a walking-stick before."
At that moment, Harold heard afar off the deep bay of the blood-hounds,
opening upon a trail. The sound became every moment more distinct. He
could distinguish the cry of four separate dogs. They were evidently
upon his scent. He clutched his club, and looked fiercely back. It was
a full half mile to the place where, having left the man, he emerged
into the road; and there were several curves in it so great that he
could neither see nor be seen for any distance. Necessity is the mother
of invention. A bright thought came into his mind. "Stay here," said
he to Frank, "and don’t move one peg till I come back."
He was at a sharp bend of the road, on the convex side of which lay a
little run of water, skirted by a thick undergrowth. He took a course
straight with the road, and hurrying as fast as possible into the wet
low ground, returned upon his own track; then, taking Frank in his arms,
sprang with all his might, at right angles, to his former course, and
ran with him to a neighbouring knoll, which commanded a view of the
road, where he stopped to reconnoitre. He had _doubled_, as hunters
term this manoeuvre, practised by hares and foxes when pursued by
hounds; and his intention was, if still pursued, to place Frank in a
tree, and with his club to beat off the dogs until the hunters arrived.
It was soon proved that the hounds were actually upon his track. They
came roaring along the road, with their tails raised, and their noses to
the ground. Arriving at the spot where Frank had stood, they did not
pursue the road, but plunged into the bushes, upon the track which
Harold had doubled, and went floundering into the mire of the stream
beyond, where they soon scattered in every direction, hunting for the
lost trail. The boys did not pursue their walk; having made so narrow
an escape, they turned their steps, without delay, towards the fort.
"Cousin," inquired Frank, on their way back, "did not those dogs come
upon our track!" Harold replied, "Yes."
"And did you cut that big stick to fight them?"
"Yes."
"And did you intend to cheat them by going into the bushes, and coming
back the same way, and then jumping off, with me in your arms?" Harold
still said, "Yes."
"Well, now, cousin," inquired Frank, "where did you learn that nice
trick?"
"From the rabbits and foxes," he answered. "I did not know who could
tell me better than they, how to escape from dogs."
Frank said he always knew that foxes were very cunning, but he never
before heard of any one’s taking a fox for his teacher.
On returning to the fort, Dr. Gordon applauded the ruse, and
congratulated Harold upon his escape; but, at the same time, informed
him that his plan was not to be relied upon. "A well trained hound,"
said he, "is as competent to nose out a doubled track as you are to
devise it. I attribute your escape, partly to the fact that the dogs
are not staunch, and partly to the help afforded you by the miry bottom,
on which your scent could not lie."
The conversation now turned naturally upon contests with dogs, and
different methods of escape. Dr. Gordon related the story of his having
defended himself and his little brother against three fierce dogs, when
he was about Robert’s age, by putting his back against a wall, and
beating off the assailants with a club.
"But were you ever forced to fight them when you had no stick?" asked
Harold.
"Fortunately not," his uncle replied. "Though I knew a person once who
was caught as you describe, and who devised at least a show of defence.
He took off his hat and shoved it at the dog, with a fierce look,
whenever it approached. But I presume that his success depended more
upon the expression of his countenance than upon the threatening
appearance of his weapon. A _fearless eye_ and _a quiet resolute
manner_, is the best defence against _any enemy_, human or brute, that
can be devised.
"I did, however, witness one expedient adopted by a sailor, which goes
to show what can be accomplished in an emergency of the kind, by a cool
head and a steady hand. A large dog rushed at him, without provocation,
on the public wharf. The sailor spoke to him, looked at him, shoved his
hat at him, but in vain. The dog flew at his legs. Quietly drawing his
knife, as a last resource, and holding his hat in his left hand, he
stooped, and allowing the dog to seize his hat, passed his knife
underneath it, into his throat. The dog staggered back, mortally
wounded, not having seen the hand that slew him."
On Friday, September 24th, the company returned to Bellevue; and on the
week following, had the opportunity of witnessing an act of cool
courage, which Harold declared to evince far more ingenuity and
composure of mind, than his own escape from the blood-hounds.
Riley had made them another visit, and was engaged at work upon the
house, under the direction of Sam, the carpenter. Dr. Gordon took the
young people in the pleasure boat, to spend an afternoon in the
agreeable occupation of obtaining another supply of fish. After trying
for some time, with poor success, they saw Riley coming along the bluff;
his object being, as was afterwards shown, to point out the reason of
their failure, and to tell them what to do.
As he approached, a fierce looking bull rushed from a grove of live
oaks, and made furiously at him. Had Riley been near the shore he
might, and probably would, have sprung into the water, and thus escaped;
but the enraged beast was between him and his place of refuge. The
company in the boat felt seriously anxious for his safety, since there
appeared little chance of his escaping without a contest. But Riley
took the matter very coolly. He glided to a little clump of saplings,
and holding to one of them at arm’s length, seemed to enjoy the evident
mortification of the bull in being so narrowly dodged. He was very
expert in keeping the small tree between him and it; and as the circle
in which he ran was much smaller than that in which the bull was
compelled to move, his task was easy. The furious animal pushed first
with one horn then with the other; he ran suddenly and violently; he
pawed the earth, and bellowed with rage; his eyes flashed and his mouth
foamed, but it was in vain. Soon Riley watched his opportunity, and
glided nimbly from that tree to one nearer the boat; then to another and
another; the bull following with every demonstration of impotent rage.
This was done merely to teaze. Finally becoming wearied with this
profitless, though amusing sport, he gathered a handful of sand, and
provoking the bull to push at him again, forced a part of the sand into
one eye, and the remainder into the other, and then left him perfectly
blinded for the time, and rushing madly from place to place, while Riley
came laughing to the beach, and delivered his message.
"Coolly and cleverly done!" said Dr. Gordon, at the end of the contest.
"That is certainly a new idea, in the way of involuntary bull baiting,
which is worth remembering. But I advise you young folks not to try it,
except in case of a similar necessity. It is safer to climb a tree or
fence, or even to plunge into the water."
"Riley had no other chance," remarked Harold.
"He had not," Dr. Gordon rejoined, "and therefore I regard his expedient
as valuable. Should you be pursued in an open field, the danger would
be still greater. Then the best plan would be to _detain_ the beast by
something thrown to attract his attention. Cattle are made very quickly
angry by the sight of a red garment. If anything of this colour, such
as a shawl or pocket handkerchief can be dropped when you are pursued by
one, it will be almost certain to catch his eye, and to engage him
awhile in goring it. If nothing red can be dropped, then let him have
something else from your person--a hat, coat, or a spread umbrella--in
fact anything calculated to attract his eye."
"I have heard," observed Robert, "of jumping upon a bull’s back, as he
stooped his head to toss."
"So have I," his father added, "but spare me if you please, the
necessity; none but a monkey, or a person of a monkey’s agility can do
it successfully. I should sooner risk the chance of springing suddenly
behind him, and seizing his tail. At least I should like to administer
that sound belabouring with a stick which he would so richly deserve,
and which might teach him better manners."
"Or to twist his tail," said Harold merrily. "I believe that will make
a bull bellow, as soon as putting sand into his eyes. And what is
better, you can keep on twisting, until you are sure than his manners
are thoroughly taught."