A HUNTER’S MISFORTUNE--RELIEF TO A SPRAIN--HOW TO AVOID BEING LOST IN
THE WOODS, AND TO RECOVER ONE’S COURSE AFTER BEING LOST--A STILL HUNT
It was remarked by Mary the next morning, that if some one did not go
out hunting they should soon be out of provision. "Which for our
character as marooners I hope will not be the case," rejoined Harold.
"Come, Robert, shall we be hunters today?"
"We cannot do better," Robert languidly replied, "unless we go fishing
instead."
"O, do let me go with you," begged Frank. "I am so tired of being
cooped up here under this oak tree, and running for ever to the spring
and to the oyster bank. I want to go either hunting or fishing."
"Perhaps we can do both," said Mary, perceiving from Robert’s looks that
he was disinclined to any great exertion. "Cousin Harold can take Frank
and go to the woods, while you and I, brother, can catch a mess of
fish."
"That will do! O, yes, that is the very plan," Frank exclaimed,
clapping his hands. "Then we can run a race to see who shall do best."
The company separated; Harold took Frank and disappeared in the forest,
where they were absent several hours, and Robert and Mary went to the
oyster bank, where they supplied themselves with bait, and then
embarking on the raft, began to fish for sheepshead, near a log imbedded
in the mud, and covered with barnacles and young oysters. The success
of the fishing party was very good; they soon had a basket half full of
fish, and the remainder filled with shrimp.
Not so with the hunters. Robert and Mary were engaged in preparing
their prizes for use, when they heard a sharp halloo, and saw Frank
emerging from a dense growth of bushes, with the rifle upon his
shoulder, followed by Harold, who was limping painfully, and beckoning
them to approach.
Washing their hands with haste, Robert and Mary ran to meet them.
Harold was seated on a log, looking very pale. Within an hour after
leaving the tent he had sprained his ankle, and ever since had been
slowly and with great suffering attempting to return. Mary was
frightened to see the haggard looks of her cousin, and inquired
anxiously what she could do to help him.
"Take the gun, sister," said Robert. "Lean on me, cousin, I will
support you to the tent, and then show you the best thing in the world
for a sprain."
Mary ran to the tent, put the gun in its place, prepared Harold’s couch,
and then at Robert’s request hurried with Frank to the spring and
brought up a bucket of water, by the time that Harold’s shoe and
stocking had been removed. The ankle was much swollen, and the blood
had settled around it in deep blue clouds.
"Now, sister, bring me the coffee pot and a basin."
The basin was placed under the foot, and the coffee pot filled with cool
water was used to pour a small stream upon the injured part. This
process was continued for half an hour, by which time the inflammation
and pain were greatly reduced. It was also repeated several times that
day, and once more before retiring to bed, the good effects being
manifest on each occasion.
This accident not only confined the whole company at home for the rest
of the day, but caused an unpleasant conviction to press heavily upon
the mind of Robert--the whole responsibility of supplying the family
with food and other necessaries would for a time devolve upon himself.
This fact almost made him shudder, for though a willing boy, he was not
robust; labour was painful to him; at times he felt a great
disinclination to bodily effort, but the greatest difficulty in the way
of his success in their present mode of life, was his ignorance of some
of the most necessary arts of a hunter.
"Harold," said he, with a rueful face, the next morning, when they had
finished talking over the various means for discovering and approaching
game in the forest; "to tell you the truth, I am afraid of _getting
lost_ in these thick and tangled woods. It is a perfect wonder to me
how you can dash on through bush and brier, and turn here and there, as
if you knew every step of the way, when, if I were left alone, I should
never find my way home at all. Now my head is easily turned, and when I
am once lost, I am lost."
"I know exactly what you mean," replied Harold, "and in former times I
used to feel the same way. But there are two or three rules which
helped me much, and which I will give to you.
"The first is, _never allow to yourself that you are lost_. Say to
yourself that you are mistaken, or that you have taken the wrong course,
or anything that you will, but never allow the _lost feeling_ to come
over you, so long as you can keep it off.
"When, however, you ascertain that you have unfortunately missed your
track, your next rule is to sit down _as quietly as possible_ to
determine your course. Most people in such a case become excited, run
here and there, at perfect random, and become worse bewildered than
before. First do you determine the points of the compass, and then
strike for the point you are most certain of reaching. For instance,
you know that anywhere on this island the sea lies to the west, and a
river to the north. You can surely find either of these places; and
when once found you will be no longer in doubt, although you may be far
from home."
"But how am I to know the points of the compass?" inquired Robert.
"Easily enough," his cousin replied. "But before speaking of that, let
me give you my third rule, which is, _never get lost_."
Robert laughed. "That is the only rule I want. Give me that and you
may have the rest."
"Then," continued Harold, "make it your constant habit to notice the
course you travel, and the time you are travelling. Watch the sun, or
else the shadows of the trees, and the angle at which you cross them.
Early in the morning the shadows are very long, and point west. In the
middle of the forenoon, they are about as long as the trees that make
them, and all point north-west. And at twelve o’clock they are very
short, and point due north. To a woodsman the shadows are both clock
and compass; and by keeping your mind on them, you can easily make what
the captain would call your _dead reckoning_."
"But," said Robert, "what would you do on such a day as this, when there
is neither sun nor shadow?"
"You must work by another rule," he replied. "Old Torgah gave me three
signs for telling the points of the compass, by noticing the limbs, the
bark, and the green moss on the trunks of trees _well exposed_ to the
sun. Moss, you know, loves the shade, while the bark and limbs grow all
the faster for having plenty of light. As a general rule, therefore,
you will find the south, or sunny side of a tree marked by large limbs
and thick, rough bark, and the north side covered, more or less, with
whatever green moss there may be on it.[#] Did I ever tell you how
these signs helped me once to find my way home?"
[#] Happening not long since to converse with an old and observant
farmer, on the subject of these natural signs, he pointed out another.
"Notice," said he, "the direction in which those trees _lean_."
We were in a pine forest, and, almost without exception, the trees that
declined from a perpendicular leaned towards the east. The severe winds
through the up country of South Carolina, Georgia and Alabama, which
start our trees and unsettle our fences, usually prevail from the west.
That is the point also from which almost invariably come our thunder
storms.
Robert replied that he had not. "I was at my uncle’s, where I had never
been before, in a newly settled part of the country. A small stream ran
near his house, and bent considerably around his plantation. Down this
stream I followed one day, in search of ducks, and walked several miles
before thinking of home. My uncle’s house lay due east, and instead of
returning the way I went, I determined to take a shorter course through
the woods. I had not gone far, however, before a fat squirrel jumped
upon a log, within good shooting distance, curled his tail over his
back, and sat there barking; he seemed to give me every invitation that
a squirrel possibly could to shoot him, and I did so. But it was really
curious to see the consequence. Such a barking of squirrels I never
heard before in my life. They were all around me, jumping, shaking their
tails, and _quaw-quawing_ at such a rate, that it was almost like
witchcraft. I killed as many as I could carry, and once more set out
for home. But I had completely lost my course; the chase had taken off
my mind, and I could tell neither which way I came into the wood, nor
how I was to go out of it. My uncle’s house I knew lay to the east, and
the stream to the north. But which way was east, and which north? The
sun was hidden, and the trees were so close and thick, that the moss
covered their large trunks on every side, and the limbs and bark for the
same reason seemed to be of equal size all round. At last I spied a
small tree, that was pretty well exposed to the sun, and the limbs of
which were evidently larger, and the bark rougher on one side than on
the other; there was also a beautiful tuft of green moss growing at its
root, on the side opposite to the large limbs. These signs satisfied
me; but to make assurance doubly sure, I cut into the tree far enough to
ascertain that the thickest bark was on the roughest side. That one
tree was my guide. I struck a straight course for home, and reached it
without difficulty. Now, if you take these rules, you can guide
yourself anywhere through these woods, in which you will never be more
than three or four miles to the east of the sea-shore."
"Thank you, cousin," said Robert; "thank you sincerely. You have
relieved my mind from the greatest embarrassment I have felt at the
thought of roaming these dark woods alone. Your rules give me
confidence; for the very trees that before caused my bewilderment shall
now become my guides."
He took his gun, called his dog, and gave a look to Frank, in the
expectation that he also would come. But Frank had listened quietly to
the preceding conversation, and had as quietly made up his mind not to
go. He sat beside the cage, watching the opossum, and took no notice of
dog, gun, or look.
"Jump, Frank," said Robert, in a cheering tone; "I am ready to go. Let
us see if we cannot find a deer."
"No, I thank you," he soberly replied; "I do not love to get lost. It
does not feel pleasant. I had rather stay at home and pour water on
cousin Harold’s foot."
"Then stay," said Robert, in a disappointed tone; "I forgot that you
were a baby."
Harold, however, who knew that Frank was an uncommon pedestrian, and
that Robert preferred to have company, whispered to him, "He is not
going to lose himself, Frank. I think, too, he will kill some deer, and
who knows but he may find another fawn to keep Dora company." Frank
seized his cap, and calling out, "Brother! brother! I am coming!"
dashed off in pursuit. Fidelle started too, but they returned to tie
her up, and to say to Mary that she must not be uneasy if they did not
return by dinner-time, as they were unwilling to come without game; then
taking some parched corn in their pockets in case of hunger, together
with Frank’s hatchet and matches, they again set off.
The first business was to visit the turkey baits; at one of which the
corn and peas had all disappeared, with evident traces of having been
eaten by turkeys. "What a pity we had not brought some more bait,"
remarked Robert; "Harold says that when they have once found food at a
place, they are almost sure to return the next day to look for more. We
must share with them our dinner of parched corn."
Renewing the bait, they proceeded in a straight course south, having for
their guide the bright clouds that showed the place of the sun to the
south-east. Frank was very anxious for Robert to kill some of the many
squirrels that frolicked around them. "May be," said he, "if you shoot,
they will quaw-quaw for you as they did for Cousin Harold, and then we
can go home loaded." But Robert replied that this would be a useless
waste of ammunition: that it would probably scare off the deer from the
neighbourhood; and that, moreover, his gun was not loaded for such small
game.
Hardly had the argument closed before Mum began to smell and snort, here
and there, intent upon a confused trail. His motion became soon more
steady, and he started off at a pace that made the hunters run to keep
in sight. Afraid that at this rate Frank would give out, and that he
himself would be too much out of breath to aim surely, or to creep
cautiously upon the deer, Robert called out, "Steady, Mum!" The
well-trained brute instantly slackened his speed, and keeping only about
a rod ahead, went forward at a moderate walk. In this way they followed
for a full quarter of a mile, when Robert observed him take his nose
from the ground, and walk with noiseless step, keeping his eyes keenly
directed forwards. He "steadied" him again by a half whispered command,
and kept close at his heels. Soon he saw a pair of antlers peering
above a distant thicket, and the brown side of a deer between the
branches. Softly ordering Mum to "come in," and noticing that what
little wind there was blew so as not to carry their scent to the deer,
he said to Frank, "Buddy, if you will remain by this large poplar, I
will creep behind yonder thicket, and see if I cannot get a shot. Will
you be afraid?"
"No," he replied, "if you do not go too far away."
"I will not go out of hearing," Robert said, "and if you need anything,
whistle for me, but do not call. Hide yourself behind this tree, and
when you hear me shoot, come as soon as you please."
It was easy to cover his advance behind the dense foliage of a viny
bower, until he was quite near. He paused to listen; the rustle of
leaves and the sound of stamping feet were distinctly heard. A short
but cautious movement gave him a commanding view of the ground. There
were three deer feeding within easy reach of his shot. He sprung both
barrels, and tried to be deliberate, but in spite of all resolution his
heart jumped into his mouth, and his hand shook violently; he had what
hunters call "the buck-ague." Steadying his piece against a stout
branch, he aimed at the shoulders of the largest, and fired. It fell,
with a bound forward. The other deer, instead of darting away, as he
expected, turned in apparent surprise to look at the unusual vision of
smoke and fire, accompanied by such a noise, when he took deliberate aim
with a now steady hand, and fired at the head of the next largest, as it
was in the act of springing away.
"Come, Frank! come!" he shouted.
Frank, however, had started at the first report, and was now running at
the top of his speed. Robert rushed forward to dye his hand for the
first time in the blood of so noble a victim; yet it made him almost
shudder to hear the knife grate through the delicate flesh, and to see
the rich blood gurgling upon the ground. Had it not been that such
butchery was necessary to subsistence, he would have resolved at that
moment to repeat it no more.
But what was next to be done? Here were two large deer lying upon the
earth. Should he skin and cleanse them there, and attempt to carry home
the divided quarters? or should he carry home one deer and return for
the other? He decided upon the last. Before proceeding homewards,
however, he blazed a number of trees, to show afar off the place of his
game; then selecting a tree, as far as he could distinguish in his way,
he went towards it, chopping each bush and sapling with his hatchet; and
making a broad blaze upon this tree, he selected another in the same
line, and proceeded thus until he reached the tent. He had learnt by
one-half day’s practice to thread the trackless forest with a steadiness
of course and a confidence of spirit that were surprising to himself.