CONCLUSION
*THE
BOY HUNTERS OF KENTUCKY.*
*CHAPTER I.*
*A YOUNG PIONEER.*
There was no happier boy in all Kentucky than Jack Gedney on the morning
that completed the first twelve years of his life, for on that day his
father presented him with a fine rifle.
Now, you must know that some of the best riflemen in the world have been
born and reared in Kentucky, where the early settlers had to fight not
only the wild beasts, but the fierce red men. The battles between the
Indians and pioneers were so many that Kentucky came to be known as the
Dark and Bloody Ground.
Some of you may have heard that the most famous pioneer in American
history was Daniel Boone, who entered all alone the vast wilderness
south of the Ohio, and spent many months there before the Revolution
broke out. The emigrants began flocking thither as soon as it became
known that the soil of Kentucky was rich, and that the woods abounded
with game.
Among those who went thither, towards the close of the last century,
were Thomas Gedney and his wife Abigail. With a dozen other families,
they floated down the Ohio in a flat boat, until a short distance below
the mouth of the Licking, when they landed, and, taking the boat apart,
used the material in building their cabins.
It happened at that period that there was less trouble than usual with
the red men. Some of the settlers believed that the Indians, finding
themselves unable to stay the tide of immigration that was pouring over
the west, would move deeper into the solitudes which stretched beyond
the Mississippi. Instead of putting up their cabins close together, a
part of the pioneers pushed farther into the woods, and began their
houses where they found better sites. Most of them were near natural
"clearings," where the fertile soil was easily made ready for the corn
and vegetables, without the hard work of cutting down the trees and
clearing out the stumps.
Thomas Gedney and his wife were among those who went farther than the
spot where they landed from the flat boat. Indeed, they pushed deeper
into the woods than any one else who helped to found the little
settlement that was planted a hundred years ago on the southern bank of
the Ohio. Their nearest neighbours were the members of the Burton
family, who lived a mile to the eastward, while a mile farther in that
direction were the little group of cabins that marked the beginning of
one of the most prosperous towns of to-day in Kentucky.
Mr. Gedney was fortunate enough to find a clearing of an acre in extent,
with a small stream running near. Since he had helped his neighbours to
put up their cabins, they in return gave him such aid that in a few days
he had a strong, comfortable structure of logs, into which he moved with
his wife and only child, Jack, then but six years old.
The sturdy men who built their homes in the depths of the wilderness a
century ago were never in such haste that they forgot to make them
strong and secure. The red men might be peaceful, and might make
promises to molest the white people no more, but the pioneers knew
better than to trust to such promises. There are no more treacherous
people in the whole world than the American Indians, and no man is wise
who places much faith in their pledges.
But I have not started to tell you the history of the pioneers who came
down the Ohio in the flat boat, but to give an account of some strange
adventures that befell Jack Gedney, shortly after his rifle was given to
him by his father. Jack had been trained in sighting and firing a gun
as soon as he could learn to close his left eye while he kept the other
open. His father's rifle was too heavy for him to aim off-hand, but
kneeling behind a fallen tree, or a stump, or rock, his keen vision was
able to direct the little bullet with such precision, that Daniel Boone
himself, who one day watched the little fellow, gave him much praise.
In those days there was nothing in which a Kentuckian took more pride
than in his skill with his rifle. Thomas Gedney had never met his
superior, and he meant that if his boy Jack lived the same should be
said of him. And so, while the mother gave the boy instruction in
reading and writing, the father took many long tramps with him through
the woods, and taught him how to become a great hunter. He showed him
the difference between the tracks of the various game, and told him of
the peculiar habits of the wild animals and the best method of
outwitting them. More than all, he did his best to teach Jack how to
guard against his most dangerous of all foes--man himself.
Mr. Gedney was a man who took great precautions when constructing his
cabin. He built it just as strongly as it was possible to make it. The
windows were so narrow that no grown person could force his body
through, the roof was so steep that the most agile red man could not
climb it, and the heavy door, when closed and barred inside, was really
as stout as the solid walls of logs themselves.
I have not time to tell you about several incidents that proved his
wisdom in taking so much pains to guard himself and family against their
dusky foes the Indians, but the time came when the woodcraft thus taught
to the boy proved of the greatest value to him.
Among the important rules laid down by the father for the son's guidance
was that the very first thing to be done after firing his rifle was to
re-load it; that in tramping through the woods he should bear in mind
that he was always in danger, and that he must look not only in front
but beside and behind him; that he must take all pains to hide his trail
whenever there was the least cause to fear the red men; that he must use
the utmost precaution when lying down to sleep for the night; that in
communicating with his friends he must do so by means of signals that a
foe could not understand; that he must always be on the watch for signs
of an enemy's presence; and that, when brought face to face with a foe,
he must remember that a second's forgetfulness or impatience was almost
certain to give the other the decisive advantage over him.
These were but a few of the rules that were impressed upon Jack by his
father, who, as I have already told you, spent many hours with him in
the woods, the two afterwards coming back to the cabin laden with game
that kept the family well provided with food for many days.
Mr. Gedney had sent eastward for the gun which he gave to his son on his
birthday. It was of fine make and somewhat lighter than his own, for
several years must pass before Jack would be strong enough to handle a
man's weapon. The piece would not have been looked upon in these days
as of much account, for it was a muzzle-loader with a flint-lock. When
Jack wished to load it, he emptied the charge from his powder-horn into
the palm of his hand; this was carefully poured into the muzzle of his
gun, and then the round bullet, enclosed in a piece of greased cloth or
a damp bit of paper, was rammed down upon it. The ramrod was afterwards
pushed back in place on the under-side of the barrel, and, raising the
clumsy hammer, which clasped the piece of yellow flint, the pan beneath
was filled with powder, connecting by means of a touch-hole with the
powder in the barrel behind the bullet.
The hammer was let down so as to hold the powder in place. When the
owner wished to fire the gun he drew back the hammer, sighted, and
pulled the trigger. The flint nipped against a piece of steel, giving
out a spark of fire, which set off the grains in the pan, the latter
also touching off the powder in the breech of the barrel, which drove
out the bullet.
*CHAPTER II.*
*TRAINING A KENTUCKY RIFLEMAN.*
I really think that if Jack Gedney had not known of the present his
father meant to make him he would have been too delighted to act like a
sensible boy. As it was, he could hardly keep from hugging the handsome
little gun when his father placed it in his hands, and told him that it
was his so long as he proved that he knew how to use it, and that he had
enough sense to be trusted alone in the woods.
Unwilling to accept Jack's promises, his father took down his own weapon
from the deer's antlers over the broad fireplace, and went a short
distance with him to test the new piece. On the edge of the clearing he
paused until the lad loaded the weapon with powder and ball (for, of
course, the cow's horn and bullet pouch went with the present), and
then, looking among the branches overhead, where several grey squirrels
were whisking along the limbs, he told Jack he might take his choice.
During the few seconds that the boy was darting his quick glances at the
lively creatures his father quietly cut a piece of hickory as thick as
his thumb, and three or four feet long. Jack looked askance at him; he
knew well what it meant.
Since the youth had not yet fired his new gun, he decided to make his
task as light as he could. He raised his piece and sighted at a
squirrel less than a hundred feet away, but before he could make his aim
sure his father spoke sharply--
"Take the black one on the tree beyond."
It was a long and difficult shot, but Jack's nerves were steady, and a
few seconds after he raised his rifle he pressed the trigger. The gun
"hung fire" scarcely a moment, when a jet of flame shot from the muzzle,
and Mr. Gedney, who had his eyes fixed on the squirrel, saw it vanish
over the limb, and then come tumbling and overturning through the
branches to the ground.
"Fetch it here," commanded his father.
Without moving a step, Jack deliberately began re-loading his piece,
never pausing until the powder was poured in the pan and the hammer let
down in place. The father half smiled, for he had expected his boy to
forget in his natural excitement the rule about re-charging his gun.
Having finished, Jack walked forward to the foot of the tree, picked up
the small furry body where it lay among the leaves, and brought it to
his parent. The latter took it from his hand, glanced down, and then
flung it aside, tossing the hickory after it.
Shall I tell you why he cut that stick just before his boy fired at the
squirrel? When he looked at the little animal he saw that its head had
been shot off. Had the bullet missed the head and struck any other part
of the body he would have plied that stick about the legs and back of
his boy until he yelled for mercy. He had done it more than once, and
he, like many another Kentuckian, considered that that was the right way
to train his child how to shoot.
"Bark that one up there," said Mr. Gedney, pointing at another of the
creatures that was skurrying along one of the upper limbs, its bushy
tail spread out like an angry cat.
Crack!
As the sharp report rang out among the trees the squirrel at which the
boy fired flew up nearly a foot above the limb along which it was
running, as though thrown aloft by a steel spring, and then it dropped
through limbs and leaves to the ground, where it lay stone dead.
An examination showed no wound upon it. The bullet had been sent
directly beneath the body so as to chip off some of the bark, which flew
against the squirrel with such force as to knock the life out of it.
This is called "barking," and is sometimes practised for the fun of the
thing by skilful marksmen.
Having viewed the work of his boy, Mr. Gedney could find no fault.
Indeed, he did not expect him to do so well, knowing his agitation over
his present. He did not seem to think it worth while to praise Jack,
but, with a twinkle of his eye, he merely said--
"You'll do; off with you!"
And without another word, Mr. Gedney, with his heavy rifle slung over
his shoulder, strode off to his cabin, leaving his boy to spend the day
as he chose, well knowing how he would pass it.
As I have told you, the nearest neighbours to Mr. Gedney were the Burton
family, who lived about a mile to the eastward. Mr. Burton was more
fortunate than Mr. Gedney in the way of children, for he had two boys,
William and George, the one a year younger and the other a year older
than Jack, while Ruth, the daughter, was a sweet girl of seven years.
It was natural that the two families should become fond of each other,
and that there should be much visiting on the part of the parents as
well as by the children. There was hardly a night that Jack was not at
the Burton cabin, or his friends were not at his own home. They did a
good deal of hunting together, and the Burton boys were skilful with
their guns, each one owning a weapon light enough to be handled by its
youthful owner. I must add, however, that neither of them was the equal
of Jack, as was proven in many contests between them.
Now Will and George Burton had known for several weeks of the present
that was to be made to Jack, and they were as pleased as they could be
over his coming good fortune. What could be more natural, therefore,
than that Jack should set out for the home of his young friends, that
they might rejoice with him over the prize that had fallen to his lot?
It was a bright sunshiny day in October when the proud boy set out over
the winding but well-worn path that led to the cabin of the Burtons a
mile away. The leaves on the trees were beginning to turn yellow and red
before, aflame with the beauties of autumn, they fluttered to the
ground. It was a royal time for hunting, for the deer, bears,
buffaloes, and indeed all kinds of game, were in prime condition. The
heart of the boy beat high with the thought that many of these prizes
must fall before that splendid weapon of which he had just become the
owner.
I am sure you would have said that Jack Gedney was a fine fellow, could
you have seen him as he strode along the path through the Kentucky
forest a hundred years ago. In the first place, he was rather large for
his years, and erect, sturdy, and strong. His brown eyes sparkled with
high health, and his round cheeks glowed like the pulpy fulness of a red
apple. The life that the young pioneers led was one that was sure to
make them strong, rugged, and vigorous.
If you had met Jack in the streets of London or New York you would have
been struck by his dress. His cap was formed by the deft fingers of his
mother. It was of brown thick cloth, without any forepiece, soft, warm,
and able to stand a great deal of wear. Its make and pattern were such
that no matter how it was put on its head, it was in place.
His coat was of the same material, and it was intended to last a good
long time. In some respects it resembled the suits often worn by
bicyclists of the present day, having a band that enclosed the body just
below the waist, while the skirt was only a few inches in length. The
coat was buttoned down the front, and contained several pockets within.
Underneath the coat was the homespun shirt, made by the spinning-wheel,
under the guidance of his mother.
The resemblance of the dress to the bicycle suit of to-day was made more
striking by the trousers ending at the knee, below which were the thick
woollen stockings and heavy shoes. During very cold weather the
stockings were protected by leggings, reaching from the knee to the
shoes. I suppose you know that the fashion of the trousers worn by you
was altogether unknown during the days of your great-parents.
Now, I am sure that none of us can blame Jack if, on this beautiful
October morning, when he slung his pretty rifle over his shoulder, he
threw his head a little farther back than usual, and stepped off with a
prouder step than he had ever shown when carrying the heavy gun of his
father.
"Ain't she a beauty?" he asked himself, stopping short and bringing the
weapon round in front, so that he could admire it. "Father thought when
I aimed at that first squirrel that I couldn't knock his head off; and,"
he added, with a smile, "I had some doubt myself, but I noticed that he
cut a bigger stick than usual, and I didn't want it swinging round my
legs. I never clipped off a squirrel's head more neatly, though I barked
the next one just as well. I wouldn't mind now if I should meet a bear
or a deer."
He had resumed his walk, and he looked sharply to the right and left
among the trees, but no game worthy of drawing his fire was to be seen,
and he kept on along the path, as alert and vigilant as ever.
About half-way between Jack's home and the cabin of his friends the path
descended into a slight hollow, through the bottom of which wound a
brook or small creek. It was some ten feet in width, and hardly half as
deep. For a short time after a violent rainfall this stream was swollen
to three or four times its ordinary volume, but for a number of years it
had not risen high enough to carry away the bridge by which people
crossed the stream.
This bridge was simply the trunk of a tree which had been felled so as
to lie with the stump across the stream. While this could not give as
secure a footing as you would like in passing over it, yet it was all
that was wanted by those who had to use it. Had the means and all the
necessary materials been at their command, they would probably not have
taken the trouble to put up a better one.
*CHAPTER III.*
*THE MEETING ON THE BRIDGE.*
Jack Gedney walked down the slight descent, and stepping upon the fallen
tree, moved to the other bank. As he came up again to the general level,
he still looked around for some game, but nothing met his eye.
"There's one thing certain," he added: "I'm not going any farther
without shooting off this gun."
A hundred yards ahead he saw the whitish trunk of a spreading beech
which grew near the path. A patch of the bark about as big as his hand
was stained a darker colour than the rest, as though some object had
rubbed against and soiled it. The target was a good one, and he took a
quick aim and fired.
"That makes three times that I have tried her," he said, with a glow of
pleasure, as he examined the tree and saw the bullet embedded in the
centre of the spot, "and she hit the eye every time."
He now walked at a more rapid pace than before, and it was not long
before he reached the log cabin of the Burton family. The two or three
acres of natural and artificial clearing had been well cultivated, and
Mr. Burton and his two boys were busy gathering corn and the produce
that yet were left out of doors. Mrs. Burton and Ruth were busy within.
As soon as Jack appeared, Mr. Burton and his boys gathered around him to
examine and praise the present, which, it may be said, they saw the
moment the owner came in sight.
"To-morrow," said Mr. Burton, "you must come over and go with the boys
on a hunt: that will be the best test for your gun."
"I had hopes that Will and George could go with me to-day," remarked
Jack, reading aright the wistful looks of his friends.
"No," was the kind but decisive reply of the father; "there is enough
work to keep them busy until dark."
The boys knew better than to plead with their father after he had once
given his decision, so, like the manly fellow that he was, Jack leaned
his rifle against a tree, and fell to work with the boys to help in the
task.
The work was finished just as the sun was setting, and Jack, declining
to stay to supper, once more slung his gun over his shoulder and set out
for home, promising his young friends that he would be ready at daylight
the next morning to join them in a big hunt.
"It's a pity I didn't get a chance to use her to-day," thought Jack, as
he turned his face homeward, little dreaming how soon he would be forced
to call upon the weapon to help him out of a peril that threatened his
very life.
It was the season of the year when the days were quite short, and Jack
knew that the night would be fully come before he could reach his home.
He cared nothing, however, for that. He had gone over the trail (or
path) many a time when the hour was much later, and it may be said that
he knew it so well that he could have walked the entire length with his
eyes shut.
The youth had advanced only a little way when he noticed that the
darkness had closed in, and, though the moon was shining above the thick
branches, the gloom was so deep in most portions of the forest that he
could see only a short distance along the path, even when it took a
straight course: which was not often the case.
You must not think that our young friend had any such emotion as fear.
Most boys who have spent their lives in the city would shrink from such
a journey after nightfall, for it was a fact that Jack Gedney was
walking through a stretch of woods in which not only wild animals
abounded, but through which the fierce red men hunted, and he was liable
to meet both the former and the latter; but he had no more hesitation
than he would have felt in climbing from the lower floor of his cabin
home to the loft where he slept every night.
You must not forget, too, that he carried his new rifle, and that made
him feel secure.
A youngster in the situation of Jack may do a good deal of thinking as
he walks briskly along, but, if he has been rightly trained he always
keeps his wits about him. So it was that his eyes and ears were always
open. He stepped as lightly as an Indian, peering as far ahead as he
could in the gloom, glancing from side to side and behind him, and now
and then halting for a moment to catch any sound that might fall on his
ear.
In this manner he had gone a third of the distance when he became sure
that something was following him. He stopped several times and looked
back, but could see nothing. His quick ear, however, had caught the
soft footfall in the trail, which left no doubt that either a man or an
animal was dogging his footsteps.
It is hard to think of a more trying situation than that of Jack Gedney,
for, aware as he was that some danger threatened, he did not know its
nature.
His first belief was that it was an Indian who was trying to steal upon
him. The stealth which marked its movements led him to think so, for
few would have been as quick as the lad to learn its presence.
But, whatever it might be, the young hunter determined that it should
not find him unprepared. He brought his gun around in front, where he
could grasp it with both hands, softly raised the hammer, and then stood
for a full minute as rigid as the trunk of one of the trees beside him.
His head was turned sideways, so that he could look in both directions.
He neither saw nor heard anything.
Then he ran lightly and rapidly for full a hundred feet, stopping short
again, and using his eyes and ears to the utmost. This time he not only
heard, but saw something.
The same soft "pit-a-pat" struck his ear, but to his amazement it came
from a point in front. While he was looking he caught the shadowy
glimpse of some animal as it whisked over a part of the trail where a
few rays of moonlight struck its body.
It was as large as a big dog, with a longer body and a sweeping tail.
It was trotting not towards, but away from Jack, who decided at once
that it was the wild beast known in the American forests as a panther,
but called on the frontier a "painter."
There could be no doubt that he meant to make a supper off the young
Kentuckian, for there are not many meals more tempting to such a
creature than a plump boy about a dozen years old.
"If you capture me you've got to have a fight," muttered sturdy Jack
Gedney, pressing his lips together and shaking his head; "but I wish the
sun was shining, so that I could have a fair chance at you."
The panther was circling around the lad, gradually drawing nearer, and
on the watch to leap upon him as soon as he dared to approach close
enough to make the spring. The boy knew all about the treacherous
animals, for he had been with his father when they were killed, and he
had shot one within the preceding three months. But on all those
occasions they had the daylight to help make their aim certain.
"He may get pretty close to me before I know it," thought Jack, "though
he will have hard work to do it; but I don't think he can land on my
shoulders at the first jump."
The boy now walked as lightly and as fast as he could. He varied his
gait, for if he advanced at a regular pace the panther would have less
trouble in securing his intended victim. Jack therefore advanced
slowly, then stopped, and then ran with all the speed he could for fifty
or sixty steps.
When he paused the third time after such a spurt, he had reached the log
lying across the stream in the little hollow of which I have already
spoken. Here the trees were so scant that the whole space was lit up by
the moonlight, and a small object could be seen quite clearly.
You may be sure that before stepping upon the rude bridge Jack peered
long and earnestly in every direction. The tall columns of trees rose
to view on each side of the stream, whose soft murmur mingled with the
deep moaning of the woods, which comes to us in the night like the
hollow roar of the distant ocean.
"Well, I don't mean to wait here all night," concluded Jack, stepping on
the smaller end of the trunk, and beginning to pick his way to the other
side; "I am ready to meet the painter whenever he wants to see me,
but----"
The boy had advanced only three steps when the beast trotted rapidly
from the gloom on the other shore, sprang upon the trunk of the tree
which supported Jack Gedney, and lashing his tail and growling savagely,
came straight towards him.
The panther did not trot after landing on the trunk, but crouched low,
and moved slowly like a cat when about to spring on its prey.
Instead of retreating, as Jack was inclined at first to do, in order to
get a more secure footing, he brought his gun to his shoulder, and
aiming at a point midway between the glaring eye-balls, let fly at the
instant the panther gathered his muscles for the leap meant to land him
on the shoulders of the lad.
As it was, the beast did leave the log, but instead of bounding forward,
he went straight up in the air, to a height as it seemed of six or eight
feet, with a resounding screech, falling across the trunk, from which,
after scratching, and clawing, and snarling for a few seconds, he rolled
with a splash into the water, still struggling furiously, and scattering
the spray upon both shores.
"I don't think you'll try to stop any more peaceable Kentucky boys on
their way home at night----"
The lad had no more than spoken these words when a warning growl caused
him to turn his head. There, no more than a dozen feet distant, and
stealthily approaching, was a second panther--no doubt the mate of the
first. And poor Jack Gedney's new rifle was empty!
*CHAPTER IV.*
*THE HOME OF JACK.*
While Jack Gedney stood on the fallen tree which spanned the stream,
watching the panther's dying struggles in the water below, he suddenly
learned that its mate was creeping upon him from the rear.
Jack did not stand still, but the next instant ran across the log to the
solid ground on the other side. There he faced about, and began
re-loading his rifle with the utmost haste, for you will admit that he
had no time to lose.
The young hunter did not lose sight of the brute for a moment while
hurrying the charge into the barrel of his weapon. He expected to be
attacked before he could ram the bullet home, and he meant in such an
event to club his gun, and using the butt once on the skull of his foe,
draw his hunting knife from his inner pocket, and then have it out with
him.
You will conclude that this was a big contract for a boy only twelve
years old. So it was indeed, but, like a young pioneer, he had learned
to depend on Heaven and himself, and he awaited the trial with as much
coolness as his father could have done, even though he knew that the
chances were ten to one against winning in a fight against such a
muscular and ferocious beast.
The panther came forward on its slow, soft walk, until one paw rested on
the log along which the lad had run only a moment before.
The animal formed an interesting figure as, placing the second paw
beside the other on the log, he pushed his head forward, so as to peer
over at the dark body drifting down stream. The action of the beast
lifted his front so that his back sloped down towards his tail, which
for the moment was motionless. The shoulder-blades were shoved in two
lumps above the line of the neck, which, because of the nose thrust
forward, looked unusually long.
Jack Gedney poured the powder from his horn into the palm of his left
hand at the moment the panther rested both paws on the log. He noted
the pause of the beast, and his heart leaped with the hope that there
was a possibility of getting his gun loaded in time. Leaning his rifle
far over, so as to make an inclined plane, he rapidly brought it up to
the perpendicular as the black, sand-like particles streamed down the
barrel.
Next he whipped out a bullet and the little square piece of greased
cloth, shoving both into the muzzle of the weapon. Still the panther
peered over the log at his lifeless mate.
As the loading of the weapon progressed Jack could hardly control his
excitement. He snatched out the ramrod with such violence that it fell
from his hand. Like a flash he stooped, caught it up, and began shoving
the bullet down the tight-fitting bore of his gun.
He saw the panther move. With a fierce jamb the bullet was stopped by
the thimbleful of powder nestling in the bottom of the barrel. Jack
made sure the ball was pressed home when he snatched out the ramrod and
let it fall to the ground: no time now to put it back in its place.
Only one more step--to pour the priming into the pan of his weapon.
Jack's hands trembled as he drew back the iron jaw which gripped the
flint, and dashed some powder into the cavity prepared for it. He was
overrunning with hope.
The panther, as if satisfied with the last sight of his mate drifting
down stream, turned his head and looked at the sturdy boy at the other
end of the log. He slowly lashed his tail, and growled savagely, his
looks and manners seeming to say--
"So you're the young gentleman who has just shot my mate! Such being
the case, it is my duty to put it out of your power ever to do anything
of the kind again. I am now going to eat you!"
All four feet were on the bridge, and the frightful beast took a couple
of steps towards his victim. Then a resounding screech broke the
stillness of the night, and the animal, leaping straight up in air,
rolled back into the water, hardly making another struggle, for the
second bullet of Jack Gedney had entered his neck and passed straight
through his heart.
Stooping to the ground, the youth picked up his ramrod, and, without
moving from the spot, re-charged his weapon. He did so with as much
coolness as when firing a match with Mr. Burton and his boys.
"I don't think there are any more painters near," was his thought; "but
I am ready for them if they will come one at a time, and far enough
apart to give me a chance to load up."
And resting his gun on his shoulder, he took to the path, and walked
steadily homeward.
His father and mother had just sat down to the supper table as he
entered. The table was of the simplest make, and was without any cloth
covering. Several pine boards rested on four legs--one at each
corner--but it was as clean as it could be, and the pewter tea-pot and
few dishes shone brightly enough to serve for mirrors. The bread was of
dark colour, but sweet and light, and the bacon might not suit delicate
palates, but those who ate of it did so with a relish as great as though
it were roast turkey.
Mr. Gedney took turns with his wife and boy in asking a blessing upon
each meal of which they partook. He nodded to Jack to signify that it
was his turn, and the boy, closing his eyes, and reverently bending his
head, begged in a few simple words the blessing of God upon the bounty
which He had given them.
"Well," said the father in his cheery voice, as the meal began, "have
you and the boys left any game in the woods for other folk?"
"Will and George had some work to do to-day, and their father could not
spare them. But they promised to go with me on a hunt to-morrow."
"How have you spent the day?" asked the mother.
"I helped the boys until near night, and then started for home."
"Then you haven't had much chance to try your gun?" was the inquiring
remark of the father.
"Not as much as I hoped, but we had a shooting match after dinner."
"A shooting match? How did you succeed?"
"Mr. Burton beat me."
"He is one of the finest shots in the West; he has actually beaten _me_
once or twice! How about the boys?"
"They have never beaten me," was the smiling answer of Jack.
"Nor must they or any one else beat you," added Mr. Gedney, with a
warning shake of his head. "But haven't you brought down any game?"
"Well, I shot a couple of painters on my way home," replied Jack, in the
most indifferent manner, as he buried his big sound teeth into a slice
of bread and butter.
"Did you kill them both?" asked the mother between her sips of tea.
"Both are so dead that they couldn't be any deader," was the reply of
Jack.
"After supper you can tell us about it," said the father, showing no
more interest than if they were talking about the "barking" of a couple
of squirrels.
Now, brave and cool as was Jack Gedney, he felt some pride in his
exploit, for it is not often that one is able to kill two such fierce
animals as the American panther without receiving a scratch himself.
But he was not the boy to force his story upon his friends, and so he
finished his meal, and finally sat down by the broad, cheerful
fireplace.
Opposite to him was his father, smoking his pipe, and his mother, having
cleared away the supper things, took up her knitting for the evening.
The only light came from the blazing logs on the hearth. This was
enough to fill the large room, and render a candle or lamp unnecessary.
The plain calico curtains were not drawn across the narrow windows, and
the latch-string was left hanging outside, so that any one who chose
could enter without knocking.
Jack waited until asked by his father to tell how it was he came to kill
two "painters." Then he gave the story as it has been given to you.
The mother did not stop her knitting during the narration, nor did the
father cease to smoke in his deliberate way, nor ask any question until
it was finished. Then he made some natural inquiries, and remarked that
he did not see how Jack could have done better than he did.
After this the conversation took a general turn, and lasted perhaps a
couple of hours. Finally, the latch-string was drawn in, a chapter read
from the Bible, prayer offered up by the father, after which the little
family went to bed.
*CHAPTER V.*
*THE YOUNG WYANDOT.*
The next morning was a perfect day for the young hunters. The sun shone
brightly from the unclouded sky, and the air was crisp and keen with the
breath of autumn. The experienced eye of the father told him that there
was not likely to be any change very soon, and in his mild way he
congratulated his son on the prospect of the pleasant hunt that was
before him and his young friends.
The agreement with the latter was that they were to wait at their home
for Jack, when the three would start into the interior on a hunt that
was likely to last two, if not more, days. Mr. Gedney was not one of
those who thought his boy was too young to work. There were always a
number of small jobs known in the West as "chores," which it was the
duty of Jack to attend to, and which he dared not slight.
Thus it came about that, although the boy rose at an unusually early
hour, and his mother hurried his morning meal for him, yet when he
started eastward along the path leading to his friends, the sun was
creeping above the horizon.
The preparations for the journey were few. All the bullets that were
likely to be needed had been made by Mr. Gedney himself several days
before; the powder-horn was filled, and nothing was lacking in that
line. Then Jack, like his father, always carried a flint and steel with
him, so as to be able to start a fire when he wanted it. (The lucifer
match was not invented until a good many years after.) Then he had a
pinch of mixed pepper and salt, wrapped in a piece of paper, and meant
to be used in seasoning the game which they ate. A few other
knick-knacks were stowed away in his inner pocket, and, kissing his
parents "good-bye," he entered the path at the other end of the
clearing, and walked briskly towards the home of his young friends.
When he reached the crossing where he shot the panthers the night
before, he naturally looked for the carcases of the animals. They were
not in sight, having been carried away by the current.
"They've got mighty sharp claws," Jack said to himself, as he looked
down at the scratches in the wood made by the beast before it dropped
into the water. "It was well for me that I was able to shoot that other
fellow before he could pounce upon me."
On the other side of the stream was a small area in the path, where the
ground was so spongy that it showed any light imprint upon it. Jack
looked at the impression left by his own heavy shoe, and then uttered an
expression of astonishment.
And well he might do so, for there, beside the imprint of his shoe, was
that of an Indian moccasin (or foot covering), made, too, since Jack had
passed that way the evening before.
"Ah, ha," he muttered, looking keenly about him, "there are Indians not
far off; I wonder whether they are Shawnees, Hurons, Wyandots,
Pottawatomies, or what? Are they hunting for scalps or wild game?"
It would seem that the most natural thing for the boy to do under such
circumstances was to turn back home and tell his father about the
discovery he had made; but Jack had no thought of that; he had started
out for a hunt, and he was not going to let such a trifle as a few
prowling Indians turn him back. The young hunter noticed that the toe of
the moccasin pointed eastward--that is, in the direction he himself was
travelling.
"Maybe the boys have seen something of him," was his thought, as he
pushed along the path; "he may be some friendly warrior who has stopped
to ask for something to eat."
Jack Gedney had not walked twenty steps beyond the bridge when he heard
a fierce threshing among the trees and undergrowth, which he knew was
made by an animal in its frenzied flight. The next moment a
noble-looking buck broke cover on his right, less than a hundred feet
away, and bounded straight across the path in front of the boy, whose
trusty rifle was at his shoulder on the instant.
As the animal turned his broad side towards Jack the latter sent a
bullet behind the fore-leg, at the point where it was sure to tear its
way clean through the heart, and shatter bone and muscle as it skimmed
into the woods beyond.
The buck took two more of his tremendous bounds, as if he were unhurt,
and he might have gone still farther had he not crashed straight against
the trunk of a tree, from which he recoiled, and sank to the ground limp
and lifeless.
Jack started to run towards his prize, but recalling the warning of his
father, checked himself, and re-loaded his gun before leaving the path.
This was soon done, and then he broke into a trot which quickly took him
to the side of the prize.
The young hunter's eyes sparkled.
"He's one of the finest animals I ever saw. Hallo!----"
He was looking at the tiny red orifice where his bullet had entered, and
from which the life current was flowing, when he saw the feathered tip
of an Indian arrow just under the fore part of the buck. Seizing the
front legs, he rolled the animal over on the other side.
As he did so he saw that an arrow had been driven into the side of the
deer, close to where his bullet had come out.
The wound thus made must have been mortal, though, as you may know, it
is almost impossible to fire a shot that will instantly bring down one
of these animals.
There could be but one meaning to this--an Indian had shot the buck
before Jack fired at it.
"Of course he will claim it," thought the young hunter; "but I am not
sure that it belongs to him, for from the way the deer was running it
looked as if he was not going to give up for a long time, if indeed he
would have fallen at all. But we shall soon know."
The cause of the last remark was the sight of the Indian who doubtless
fired the arrow. Jack, on looking at him, saw with pleasure that he was
not a full-grown warrior, but a boy who could not have been much older
than himself.
The young Indian wore the fringed hunting shirt, leggings, and beaded
moccasins of his people, had a row of beads around his neck, a quiver of
arrows over his left shoulder, and a long bow in his left hand. In the
belt which clasped the waist of his deer-skin hunting shirt were thrust
a tomahawk and hunting knife, so that he was as fully armed as most of
his people.
The face was broad, with high cheek-bones, small twinkling bead-like
eyes, broad thick nose, and retreating chin, the whole daubed with
greasy yellow, red, and black paint, in the shape of circles, dots, and
all sorts of hideous devices for which room could be found.
From a glance at the colours used in the dress of the Indian and on his
countenance, Jack formed the conclusion that he belonged to the Wyandot
tribe, many of whom he had met.
The young Indian must have believed he was a terrible-looking fellow,
and that no white lad dare dispute him, for he strode along like one who
knows he is master, and stopping a few steps away, pointed down at the
smitten buck.
"He mine," he muttered, in good English; "me shoot him."
"So I see," calmly remarked Jack. "And I shot him too."
As he spoke he pointed to the place where the ball had left the body,
close to the entrance of the arrow. The Indian stooped down, and with
some dexterity pushed the latter through the body of the deer, drawing
it out on the other side. The head of such a missile, as you can well
see, is so fashioned that it cannot be drawn back after being driven
into any body.
Rising to his feet, the young Wyandot restored the shaft to its place in
his quiver, and repeated his remark:
"He mine; me shoot him with arrow."
Now there was no cause for Jack Gedney having a dispute with the Indian.
The latter was welcome to the game, for Jack could do nothing with it,
unless to run back home and tell his father to come and claim it. It
was within convenient reach, but rather than give the time that this
would take, the youth would have preferred to lose several such deer.
He was anxious to join Will and George, who he knew were waiting
impatiently for him; but he felt very much as you would have felt had
you stood in his shoes. He thought the Indian was trying to bully him,
and he was not willing to submit. Had the Wyandot asked him to let him
have the game, he would have been glad to do so; but when it was not
clear which of the two was the rightful claimant to the prize, the
sturdy young hunter did not mean to be dictated to by a young Indian
whose face was painted like his. Before yielding he would resist him.
*CHAPTER VI.*
*THE WRESTLING BOUT.*
"Now, see here," said Jack; after the young Indian straightened up, "you
have told me more than once that that deer is yours. I don't know
whether it is or not, for the creature didn't fall till I shot him----"
"He mine! he mine!" interrupted the other, laying his hand in a
threatening manner on his knife. "My name Arowaka--me Wyandot; father,
Hua-awa-oma--he great chief!"
"He may be a great chief among his own people, but you won't find him of
much account among white folk. What I meant to say, Arowaka, is that
your saying that the game is yours doesn't make it yours. You have your
hand on your knife. I have a knife too, and I am not afraid of you."
The young Wyandot showed by his manner that he was surprised. Clearly
he did not expect such a rebuff as this, and, though his swarthy hand
still rested on his weapon, he did not draw it forth.
"What is your bow good for, any way?" continued Jack, with a smile at
the primitive weapon. "You Indians can't do half as much with your bows
and arrows as we can with our guns. I killed two painters with my rifle
last night, and I'll warrant that that's more than you ever did in all
your life."
At this point it struck Jack that he would do a foolish thing to engage
in a quarrel with the young Indian over the ownership of so small a
thing as the carcase of a deer. Since he had not only defied the other,
but forced him to pause in his demands, the white youth felt more kindly
towards him.
"See here, Arowaka," he added, "I think I have as much right to the game
as you, but I don't want it half as bad. I'll let you have it. Why
don't you pick it up and carry it off?"
The Wyandot, who must have understood these words, looked at the speaker
with a curious expression, that is, so far as it could be seen through
the paint with which his face was daubed.
"What your name?" he asked, in a lower voice than before.
"Jack Gedney, and I live only a short distance up the path yonder."
"Me know," said the other. "Jack have fine gun."
"You are right about that," was the proud answer of the lad.
"Me like see him."
Jack was too wise to trust his valuable weapon in the hands of the young
scamp, who would be glad enough to steal it. Still, he thought it safe
to let him have a better view of it than he could have so long as it was
held in the two hands of the owner.
So our young friend was foolish enough to compromise. He leaned his gun
against the nearest tree, where the eye could trace its whole beautiful
shape, from the muzzle to the lowermost corner of the ornamented stock.
Jack took care to stand quite close to the piece, so that, if the young
Wyandot should make an attempt to seize it, he could be ahead of him.
To the surprise of Jack, the Wyandot, instead of advancing towards the
weapon, moved back several paces, just as a person does when he wishes
to view all the points of some large object.
"He knows better than to try to take it from me," was the conclusion of
Jack, "for I would fight him like a painter, and I would never give up
that gun except with my life."
At this moment came the greatest surprise of Jack Gedney's life. He was
looking admiringly at his weapon when the hand of an Indian warrior
softly reached from behind the tree, and grasped the barrel. An instant
later the figure of a Wyandot stepped into sight, holding his bow in one
hand and the captured rifle in the other.
No one can imagine the consternation of Jack Gedney, who had allowed his
prize to pass from his possession without so much as raising a finger to
prevent it. It looked indeed as if the young Wyandot had been trying to
get him to do the very thing that he had done. This, however, could not
have been the case, for two Indians must have felt able to overcome so
young a lad as Jack, even with his loaded gun.
Jack could hardly keep from crying, for his grief overflowed. The next
instant he was filled with anger.
"That is mine," said he, stepping towards the Indian, and reaching out
his hand.
The savage extended the weapon, as if he meant to pass it back to the
lad; but before the latter could seize it it was withdrawn, and the
Indian grinned more than ever.
The warrior was dressed similarly to Arowaka, the paint on his face
being daubed in much the same fashion. From this, and the fact that
several glances passed between the two, Jack Gedney rightly concluded
that they were father and son, the warrior being Hua-awa-oma, who, as
his offspring claimed, was a great chief.
"Want gun?" asked the savage, speaking for the first time.
"Yes, it is mine. I must have it! I _will_ have it!"
In his indignation, Jack was ready to draw his knife, and leap at his
tantalising enemy. Such a step could not have helped him, while it
might have caused him much harm.
Hua-awa-oma showed that, like many an American Indian, he had a vein of
waggery in his composition. The race to which he belonged is probably
the most melancholy in the world, but there are times when its people
show something akin to mirth. The chief set the gun against the tree
where it was standing a few minutes before, and then beckoned to his son
to come nigher.
Arowaka walked forward until he stood near the wondering Jack Gedney.
"You wrestle, you two!" said he. "One throw other, him have gun."
The meaning of this was clear enough: the ownership of the gun was to be
decided by a wrestling bout between Jack Gedney and the young Wyandot.
The heart of the white youth gave a quick throb of delight, for there
was no boy in the settlement within two years of his age whom he could
not easily master in such a contest. He had thrown Will Burton, taller
and older than he, with as much ease as he had every lad anywhere near
his age.
The lads, having been told to begin, lost no time in doing so. It was
fortunate for Jack that his opponent proved to be left-handed, since
that gave Jack the hold which he wished. With their arms encircling
each other, and the hands clasped in front, their heads bent slightly
forward, so that they could watch each other's feet, the struggle began.
At this juncture the question came to Jack Gedney--
"If I do throw this fellow and win, will the chief keep his promise?"
It must be confessed that there was little reason to believe that
Hua-awa-oma (He who fights without falling) would show the least regard
for his pledge. This, however, did not weaken the arm of Jack Gedney,
who, bending his body slightly forward and downward, suddenly caught his
opponent on his hip and flung him on his back before the fellow could
prevent it. Jack fell so heavily across him that he almost forced the
breath from his body.
But Arowaka was on his feet scarcely a second behind Jack, who was given
no time to see how the chief took it, when he found both shoulders
seized by his opponent.
Jack was quick to do the same, so that the two contestants faced each
other. The young Wyandot took a lesson from his fall, and he was so
guarded that he defeated several efforts to catch him unawares.
All at once, like a flash, Jack, tightly grasping the arms of Arowaka,
dropped his own shoulders, kicked the feet of the other from beneath
him, and, with the most powerful effort he could put forth, lifted the
Wyandot clear from the ground.
Finding himself going, Arowaka struggled desperately, his feet beating
the air like frantic drumsticks, but he could not save himself. The
next instant he shot over Jack's head as if fired from a gun, and struck
the ground with a shock that seemed violent enough to break his neck.
*CHAPTER VII.*
*JACK RESUMES HIS JOURNEY.*
No one could have won the wrestling bout more fairly than did Jack
Gedney, who, having thrown the young Wyandot by the usual side hold, had
now tossed him over his head with such violence that the youthful
redskin must have made a big dent in the earth where his crown struck
it.
The victor was startled for a moment by the fear that he had seriously
injured his opponent, and, running forward, he stooped over him.
"Is Arowaka hurt? I am sorry," he said, kindly. "I did not really mean
to do it."
But the latter was on his feet like a flash, thus proving the toughness
of his race. He was so angered that his small black eyes flashed fire.
No doubt he ranked as a skilful wrestler among his own people, and he
was chagrined beyond bearing by his defeat.
Grasping the handle of his knife, he drew it forth with the intention of
rushing upon Jack; but before he could do so the chieftain, Hua-awa-oma,
took part in the proceedings.
You know that the American Indians show little indulgence to their
children, whom they rear much as wild animals rear their young. They
are made to suffer hardships while infants that would prove fatal to you
or me when double their age. The doctrine of forbearance, kindness, and
patience, is unknown among those peculiar people.
The chief had watched the contest between his heir and the white boy,
who was not as tall by several inches as the other. He had seen Arowaka
beaten as if he were a child in the grasp of a giant. The chief was
furious. Arowaka was in the very act of drawing his knife when his
father seized one of his arms, and began belabouring him with his long
bow, which he had caught up with the other hand.
Jack Gedney was so amazed for a few seconds that he could only stare in
silence. Then he was pleased, for the son deserved his punishment, not
because he was overthrown, but because he drew his knife upon the one
who had fairly conquered him. In the midst of the odd scene Jack Gedney
awoke to the fact that his darling rifle was leaning against the very
tree where he first placed it for Arowaka to view. The chief and his
son were closer to it than Jack, and the latter dared not make a rush to
recover it while the Indian was in such a furious mood, but he
stealthily edged that way, in the hope of getting near enough to seize
it before the Wyandot could prevent him.
But Jack was disappointed. Such a severe punishment as the chieftain
gave to his son could not, in the nature of things, last long. Probably
a score of blows descended on the back and limbs of Arowaka when they
ceased. The chief gave the youth an angry shove, as though he was
ashamed of him, and then, turning about, he took a few quick paces and
snatched up the gun.
As he seized the weapon, the Wyandot, without glancing at his disgraced
son, who stood sullenly apart, looking askance at the scene, walked
straight to Jack and handed it to him.
"Take him--brave boy--make great warrior--Hua-awa-oma love Jack."
Doubting the earnestness of the chief, the youth reached out his hand,
expecting the weapon to be withdrawn as before; but it was not; and a
thrill of delight passed through the lad when he felt that his rifle was
once more in his own possession.
"Huo-awa-oma, I thank you; you speak with a single tongue; you are a
brave warrior; you have spoken truth; we are friends for ever."
The Wyandot made no response to this, but turning his back alike on
white and red boy, he strode angrily off in the woods, taking a
direction that led him towards the clearing where stood the cabin in
which Jack Gedney was born.
Hua-awa-oma had gone only a couple of rods when his son followed him.
He did not speak, but as he moved away he turned his head for an instant
and glanced at Jack.
What that look meant was beyond the power of the boy to guess, but he
believed it was a threat--a warning that he had not yet finished with
him.
However, Jack was not alarmed by the fierce glance of the dusky youth.
He was so delighted over the restoration of his rifle that for a few
minutes he could think of nothing else.
Making his way back to the trail, he resumed his walk towards the home
of the Burton boys, who he knew were already impatient over his delay.
"It's very strange," he said, recalling the incidents that have just
been described; "I don't believe that one Indian in a thousand would
have kept his word like Hua-awa-oma. Having got hold of my gun, he
would not have let go; but I suspect, after all, the chief is not such
an honourable fellow as he seems to be from his actions. If Arowaka had
made a better fight, even though I beat him, his father would have let
him have the gun; but I threw him so easily that the chief was maddened,
and he gave the gun back to me more because he was angry with his son
than because of his promise to me."
I must say that this conclusion of Jack Gedney was worthy of one much
older than he. You may think he showed an amazing amount of wisdom for
a lad so young, but bear in mind that he was not only a bright boy, but
he had the training that gave him a knowledge of the woods often denied
to those of his years.
The presence of the two Indians in this neighbourhood could not fail to
set Jack to thinking what it meant. The Wyandots were among those who
had fought the white settlers with intense fierceness. Some of their
leaders were the most daring and skilful of the combined tribes, and the
warriors were as brave and treacherous as the Apaches of the present
time.
The natural question that Jack asked himself was as to the meaning of
the presence of this chief and his son so near to the settlement and the
few scattered cabins of that section. One alarming fact could not be
lost sight of: during the past summer and early autumn the Indians had
been unusually hostile.
Some weeks before, Mr. Gedney was on the point of moving with his family
to the settlement until the trouble should pass; but he disliked leaving
the cabin and all the gains he had made since coming to the West. About
that time, however, came news that drove away his fears, and he decided
to stay, at least until more alarming tidings should reach him.
The thought that naturally came to Jack was that a chief generally had a
number of warriors within call, and since they were Wyandots they were
hostile to the whites, who were trying to take their hunting-grounds
away from them. The chief himself had shown a friendship towards Jack
which he might extend to his relatives, but of course that was mere
guesswork.
While the boy found plenty of cause for serious thought, he took comfort
in his faith in the bravery and address of his father. He had been
through some of the most thrilling scenes on the frontier, and in all he
had carried himself so as to win the praise of every one.
So it was natural, as you will see, that, though Jack was disturbed by
his fears, he was able to find relief in his faith in his father.
"He knows all about Indians," said the youth to himself; "if they mean
anything wrong, he will find it out; they will never be able to catch
him asleep."
And with this conclusion the boy walked more briskly than before along
the trail over which he had journeyed so many times.
*CHAPTER VIII.*
*TRAVELLING SOUTHWARD.*
All of Jack Gedney's doubts and misgivings left him for the time when he
caught sight of the cabin of Mr. Burton. The moment he stepped into the
clearing, where he could be seen, he was greeted by shouts from Will and
George.
"We've been waiting more than a half-hour for you," called out the
elder; "what kept you?"
"I didn't start quite as early as I wanted to, and I was stopped on the
way by a couple of Indians."
Mr. Burton and his wife and daughter, who were within the cabin, came to
the door when they heard this remark, for it was one in which it was
natural that all should feel interest.
Jack followed the other boys into the house, where all sat down, and the
visitor gave an account of his wrestling bout with the young Wyandot.
When he came to relate how he sent the youth flying over his head, with
his legs outspread like those of a frog, and of the trouncing the parent
added to his defeat, every one of the listeners, including Mrs. Burton,
laughed right merrily.
"It was bad enough to be tossed about in that fashion," said Mr. Burton,
"but it was rough on the poor fellow to receive a whipping on that
account."
"I would have given a good deal to see it," said Will who had been
thrown more than once by the doughty Jack. "I can imagine how he felt
when he went flying over your head, for I've been there myself."
"I was thinking," said Jack, more seriously, "that it might be that the
chief and his boy are not alone in the woods. You know that a chief is
pretty apt to have his warriors near him."
"More than likely you are right: what of it?" asked Mr. Burton.
The lightness with which this question was asked lessened the fears of
Jack, and even made him ashamed that he was on the point of expressing
them.
Then, too, Mrs. Burton, who was sometimes nervous about her children,
showed no more signs of alarm than did little Ruth, standing by her
side. Jack fairly blushed to recall how much he had been disturbed by
his misgivings. He looked around at the boys, and asked abruptly--
"Well, are you ready, fellows?"
"Yes, and have been for nearly an hour."
"Then let's be off."
"How long do you think you will be away?" asked Mrs. Burton, putting her
arms around each of her sons, and kissing them "good-bye."
"That depends on many things that can't be known now," said her husband,
answering for the three. "I have no doubt they will spend one night in
the woods, and perhaps two. I prefer that they should not be away any
longer."
"We will not," said his elder boy, "unless something happens that we
can't think of, and that won't let us get back."
"I don't think _that_ is likely; but if you are not here by the close of
the third day from this I shall start to hunt you up. Then, if your
explanation is not satisfactory, I know two boys who will be made to
dance a war-dance to which that of the young Wyandot cannot be
compared."
All laughed at this remark of the father, and he himself spoke with a
smile; but the young gentlemen concerned knew, all the same, that it was
no laughing matter. Their parent would carry out his threat in spirit
and letter.
Young George Burton, who was short and stout, carried a blanket done up
in a compact bundle, and strapped to his back, that being about the only
burden of which he was given charge, the other extras being at the
command of his big brother.
You will observe that not one of the boys had a dog with him. Jack
Gedney had been the owner of a fine hunter, but that had been killed in
a fight with two bears only a month before. Mr. Burton had a good
animal, but he preferred to keep him at home, where his intelligence was
valuable. He gave notice of the approach of strangers in ample time to
take all precaution against surprise. He was especially useful at
night, when the most cautious Indian would have found it hard to steal
up to the cabin without detection.
Besides, the young hunters were in less need of such an animal than you
would think. During these later days, when the instinct of the brutes
seem to be necessary to the most skilled sportsman, that man would be
foolish who expected much success without one to help him. But a
hundred years ago game was so plentiful along the river Ohio that the
hunter could do very well without the aid of a dog. In the broad
stretches of clearing or prairie roamed droves, numbering many hundreds,
of American bison, or buffalo, as they are wrongly called; while the
bears who at that season of the year were hunting for food, and the
deer, wolves, and other animals, were so numerous that there was no
excuse for any one failing to find them.
Such a buoyant party of young hunters are not likely to linger long over
their farewells. Within the three minutes following the warning of Mr.
Burton of what would follow if they overstayed their time all three were
out of sight of the cabin.
The direction taken was almost due south where there were many miles of
forest in which some at least of the wild animals had not yet seen a
white man; more than likely many of them had not met a redskin for if
they had done so they would not have been allowed to live to remember
it.
Since there was no path to follow, the boys walked beside each other.
This was because they could talk better than in Indian file, and three
such lads as those I am telling you about could not have been persuaded
to keep still by the offer of several fortunes in gold.
It surely is unsportsman-like to go hunting in that fashion. Not only
were they without dogs (for which I have given you a reason), but they
kept together, and talked a great deal, whereas professional hunters
would have separated whenever in the neighbourhood of game, and taken
all pains to steal upon the animals before the latter could find out
their danger.
The boys, however, stepped so softly upon the dry leaves that the
rustling could be heard but a short distance, and they talked in such
low voices that they might have passed close to a camp of Indians
without discovery.
And then, too, no matter how great their interest in what they said,
they were always on the alert. They glanced from side to side, just as
Jack Gedney did when walking along the path between his home and that of
his friends.
For a time the wood was quite open, so that they were able to travel
with little trouble. Now and then came breaks in their conversation,
caused by the big tree trunks around which they had to pass. Then, too,
the undergrowth was so dense that they sometimes involuntarily dropped
into Indian file, and advanced in silence. In other parts of Kentucky
there were long stretches of cane-brake so close that an Indian has
passed within four feet of the fugitive for whom he was hunting without
seeing him.
Young George Burton suffered more than the others from the running
vines, which were not always seen. Some of these wound along the
ground, like fine wire, and, catching in front of his ankle, did not
break, but threw him forward on his hands and knees. He had so slight a
distance to fall that it did not hurt him, and he joined the others in
laughing over his slips. But all the same, it was anything but
pleasant.
"Hurrah, here is a path!" called out Will, who was several steps in
advance of the rest.
"I wonder what it means?" said Jack, as he and George hurried up beside
him.
All three, however, quickly saw the explanation. It was a track made by
animals in going to and from one of the "salt licks," as they are
called, which are quite common in many parts of that section.
You know how fond animals are of salt. Well, there are spots in the
country which I am telling you about where the water which oozes upward
through the ground is so salt that, if left alone, it makes quite a
deposit of that mineral. The wild beasts soon find it out, and lick the
ground, so as to get the salt. The spaces sometimes cover hundreds of
square feet, where the earth has been made as smooth as a planed board
by the tongues of the different creatures in their quest for salt.
In some places the salt is so plentiful that the settlers used to gather
there and spend days in getting it ready for domestic use. Daniel Boone
was once engaged in doing this when he was captured by Indians, and kept
a prisoner for a long time.
From some of the salt licks you might have seen the paths of wild beasts
radiating outward, until, as the animals fell away from the trails, they
were gradually lost in the wilderness.
"We shall be likely to find some game there," was the remark of Jack,
after the three had stood several minutes looking down at the ground,
where the imprints of hoofs and feet were so numerous that none of them
could be identified.
"That's what we have come into the woods for," replied Will, with a
laugh.
"Yes, though you know that in Kentucky we are apt to find spots where
there are more wild beasts than we can get along with comfortably."
*CHAPTER IX.*
*ROYAL GAME.*
"I wonder how far off the lick is," said George, looking along the path,
which the eye could trace for several rods.
"There is but one way of finding out," replied his brother; "and that is
to follow the trail to the lick."
Jack gazed in the other direction, where the trail could be seen for a
greater distance before it wound out of sight.
"The path is so plain," he said, "that I don't believe the lick can be
far off."
"If we should come here early in the morning we should be likely to find
more of them."
"I don't think we shall have much trouble in finding enough to keep us
busy, and to give you another trial with that fine gun of yours."
Since there was reason for believing they would soon meet some of the
animals of which they were talking, the boys were wise enough to act
like the young hunters they claimed to be.
Will took the lead, Jack coming next, with George in the rear, all
walking close together. Of course the gun of each was loaded, and,
though carried over the shoulder, was ready for instant service.
"Keep your eyes open," was the unnecessary advice of Jack to their
leader, "for we don't want you to fall over some beast before we see
him."
"You needn't fear for me," was the confident reply of Will; "and don't
you forget that some of them may be coming from the other way."
"George must attend to _them_," said Jack, glancing over his shoulder at
the youngest member of the party, who also looked behind him on hearing
the remark.
"This blanket, strapped like a knapsack behind my shoulders, is handy,"
remarked George, with a laugh. "If a painter would only use his paws on
it he wouldn't hurt _me_ much."
"A painter ain't so foolish as that," said Jack. "He knows too well how
to get at a fellow of your size to waste any time in tearing up
blankets."
"'Sh! here comes something!" exclaimed Will, in a hushed voice, stopping
short, and motioning to the others to do the same.
A second later the leader stepped quickly from the path, and ran a few
paces to a large tree, behind which he screened himself. The others
quickly did the same, for, as you may well know, the large trunks were
so handy that it was an easy thing to do.
Brief as was the time taken, it was enough to bring into sight the
animal whose approach Will had learned by the sound of his feet upon the
solid ground.
The huge bushy head of a bull bison loomed into sight, as he ambled
along the trail at a leisurely gait, on his return from his dessert of
salt. He looked frightful enough when viewed from the front, and it is
probable that he would have charged upon the whole party of boys had
they tried to stop him; but he is an animal little feared by the hunter,
and not one of the three boys felt the least misgiving on the approach
of the big beast.
His action showed that he had not observed the young hunters as they
dodged from his path, and therefore they were the bolder in peeping from
behind their shelter.
A moment after the bull came in sight, another was seen to be walking a
short distance behind him. Then another and another appeared, until
seven were counted, walking along the trail in their lazy fashion.
Nothing would have been easier for the boys than to have dropped three
of the animals in their tracks. As each one reached his fore leg forward
he exposed a portion of his body through which a bullet could have been
sent directly into his heart.
Not a shot, however, was fired. There was not enough danger in bringing
down this kind of game to suit the boys, who wanted something of a more
exciting nature. They therefore allowed the beasts to pass by unharmed,
though Jack resolved to give them a scare.
In darting among the trees to find a hiding-place, George ran in front
of Jack, so that the latter was thrown a few paces to the rear of the
brothers. Just as the fine-looking bull came opposite, Jack, leaving
his gun leaning against the tree, dashed out, threw up both hands, and
shouted.
He expected that the startled animal would plunge away at the top of his
speed, but he did not.
Those who were following the leader flung up their heads each with a
snort, and ran off among the trees; but the leader, stopping short,
looked inquiringly at the youngster, as though trying to learn his
species. Then he, too, uttered a snort, and dropping his big head,
charged straight at the boy.
It would be putting it very mildly to say that Jack was surprised. When
he saw his danger he was less than a dozen paces from the beast, which
crashed like a steam-engine through the bushes, undergrowth, and among
the trees.
"My gracious!" gasped the lad, wheeling about like a flash, and breaking
for shelter; "shoot him, boys, or it's all up with me!"
Jack, however, proved his readiness of resource by making a running leap
at a large limb, a short distance away. Seizing it with both hands, he
pulled himself out of reach, just as the bull thundered past beneath
him.
The brute was trammelled in his movements by the trees, else he would
have been likely to overtake the boy before he could secure the refuge.
Seeing that his victim had escaped, the bison looked up at him with an
angry snuff, then turned slowly about and made his way back to the path,
leaving his companions to do as they chose.
Jack wondered why, brief though the incident was, his friends had not
fired at the bull, who charged him with such fury; but when from his
perch he looked around for them, he understood very well why they held
their peace.
Seeing the beast depart, the brothers stepped from behind the respective
trees that had sheltered them. Both were still shaking with laughter to
such an extent that they could hardly stand, and they could not have
aimed a gun at the bison had he been within a rod of them.
Jack was inclined to lose his temper when, after scowling at them for a
full minute, he saw no signs of a decrease in their mirth. But
by-and-by he began to see the ludicrous side of the picture, and he too
broke into laughter. Dropping lightly to the ground, he caught up his
rifle, and joining his friends, said--
"I started out to scare that old bull, but it looks as though he scared
me."
"I should say he did, and----"
But Will dropped back against the tree, his brother doing the same, and
both unable to speak another word.
Jack coolly sat down on the ground, saying--
"When you have finished we'll go on."
There is nothing which does a person more good than a hearty fit of
laughter. That being so, it is safe to say that the Burton brothers
never before had so much good done them.
The end, however, soon came, and shaking themselves together, as may be
said, the three came back to the trail, along which they continued their
way towards the lick.
They took the same order as before, and all were on the alert. Now and
then Jack noticed the shoulders of their leader shaking in a way that
told him he was laughing again over the figure cut by Jack when he set
out to scare the bull. After a time this ceased altogether.
It was yet quite early in the day, and the boys expected when night came
to be a long way from their friends. They would have felt themselves
poor hunters if they did not spend a night in the woods, even though
within easy reach of home; and since Mr. Burton had given his boys
permission to stay a couple of nights in camp, it could be set down as a
certainty that they would do so.
The experience of the young hunters on their jaunt through the Kentucky
woods proved not only of the most stirring kind, but it was marked by a
number of adventures the like of which they had never known or heard of
before. Indeed, it may be said that this feature began with Jack's
fight with the panthers the night before, when, instead of meeting only
one, he ran against two. Of itself this was not so remarkable, but it
was the first instance known to him.
The boys naturally felt confidence in themselves, for they were three in
number, and each had a good gun. Surely they ought to be more than
enough for anything in the nature of a wild animal; and yet, when they
least expected it, they ran into a peril of which none of them dreamed.
"My gracious!" suddenly exclaimed Will, turning short around; "here
comes a hundred bears!"
Now it is not to be supposed that there was anything like the number
which the lad in his excitement declared, but what he did see was enough
to terrify any one.
Lumbering along the trail, directly towards them, was a black bear of
large size, and there were two at least behind him. These three were
discovered at the same moment, and the unusual sight led Will to believe
that it was only the head of a procession coming from the salt lick a
long distance away.
"Let's take to the trees," said Will, leading the way into the wood.
"It won't do to fight all them."
"Hold on," replied Jack, standing his ground. "I didn't come out to
hunt game, and then run away from it when found."
"You were the first one to do it, though," retorted Will. "You can stay
if you want to, but I don't."
George followed his brother, but Jack, true to his word, stood his
ground, ready to meet the bear.
*CHAPTER X.*
*HUNTING THE HUNTERS.*
It looked to the young hunters as though they had struck the popular
hour for the visitors to the salt lick. They were no more than fairly
rid of the bisons when they were met by three bears, that showed no wish
to yield the path to them. It was this fact that led Will and George to
take to their heels while Jack Gedney held his ground.
Now, it was the season of the year, as I have said, when the bears are
generally in good condition. You know that they are what are called
hibernating animals--that is, they spend most of the winter in sleep,
during which their nourishment is the fat of their own bodies, though it
is claimed that each sucks his fore paw. It is in the spring, when the
bears come forth from their winter's sleep, that they are lean, fierce,
and dangerous. In the autumn they are in such comfortable form that
they will not go far out of their way to harm any one, unless he first
provokes them.
Jack did not mean to fight the three bears single-handed. He was
impatient when he saw that there was just one apiece, and that his two
friends had fled.
"You're my game," said Jack to himself, drawing his gun to his shoulder
and aiming at the foremost.
The latter was less than twenty yards away when he observed the lads.
He halted and raised his pig-like snout, while the others, some distance
to the rear, lumbered forward, not seeing the cause that had checked
their leader.
I must do the brothers credit, however, by making haste to say that they
had run but a short distance when both stopped as if by one accord.
"This won't do," said the elder; "if Jack makes a fight with the bears
we must help him."
"That's what I think," added George, who, as he faced about, raised the
flint of his gun.
The sight was a stirring one. There stood Jack with his gun at his
shoulder, and pointed at the front of the savage-looking beast that had
paused, as if from curiosity, and was looking at him. Close behind were
the other two brutes, swinging along in their awkward fashion,
indifferent to the drama that must open within the next few moments.
Both Will and George could have sent a bullet into the body of the
leading bear without stirring from where they stood, had they been so
minded, but one or two causes restrained them.
it was clear that, so to speak, the foremost brute belonged to Jack
himself, and he might well take offence if they should open on him
before it was seen that their help was needed.
Then, too, the instant the first one should be disposed of, the others
would demand attention. The crack of the rifle, and the fall or
struggles of the brute, would tell his companions what had taken place,
even though Bruin is one of the most stupid of animals. Jack's gun
having been fired, it was more than likely that he would be unable to
re-load it in time to make defence against the others. He would have to
leave them, therefore, for his comrades to dispose of. They knew that
Jack would be able to take care of his special charge unless some slip
took place. And that slip did take place. The young hunter observed,
while his eye was running along the sights of his rifle, that a small
limb or twig, no thicker than his finger, reached across the trail
between him and the bear, so that it was in the exact line of his fire.