OWEN AND MARTIN MEET OLD FRIENDS, AND OWEN SHOWS HOW HE CAN USE A RIFLE.
Owen and Martin trudged along the river bank for some minutes without
uttering a word. Just as they were crossing a ravine, a large
fox-squirrel sprang upon the trunk of a tall oak and ran to the top of
the tree, which was so high that any but a practised eye would have
looked for the animal in vain. After a short but careful search Owen
discovered the bushy tail, and, changing his position a little, could
see the squirrel looking down at him from its dizzy height. More for the
sake of breaking the monotony of the walk than for the value of the
squirrel, he raised his rifle and fired. There was a slight buzzing
noise, and the ball fell on the ground in front of him.
"Powder wet!" he exclaimed. "That's what the rain does for a fellow's
rifle."
"I had better try mine," said Martin, at the same time cocking his rifle
and discharging it without raising it to his shoulder. "All right!" he
continued, as the clear, sharp report echoed back from the cliffs.
"Halloo, youngstars! Any turkeys up in that there tree!" exclaimed some
one from the top of the hill.
The boys looked up and saw Jolly Jerry. They had met the old trapper
before, and were glad to find that they were not alone in the forest.
"No!" answered Owen. "It's only a fox-squirrel. I was trying my rifle."
"You are early this mornin', boys," said Jerry, coming down the hill.
"We were out all night," replied Martin.
"You was! I reckon you was almost frozed," replied the trapper. "Did you
sleep under a tree?"
"We did at first; but it soon began to rain, and we went up under--under
the--the bluffs," answered Owen with some hesitation, little dreaming of
the importance of the answer.
Jerry put several other questions to see whether either of the two boys
would say anything about the cave. But now that they were on their
guard, they answered promptly and evasively. Jerry was satisfied--to
press them farther might lead to suspicion; he therefore terminated the
conversation abruptly, and began to look among the branches of the tree
for the squirrel. Owen offered to point it out to him, but he motioned
the boy aside, adding that he had not trapped in the forest twenty years
for nothing. He continued his search for ten minutes, shifting his
position continually. "Boys," he finally asked, "are you dead sure
thare's a squirrel in that thare oak?"
"Yes, sir," said Owen, "just where it was when I first saw it."
Jerry looked a second time; much to the amusement of the two boys, he
was again unsuccessful.
"Youngstars!" he concluded, "if thare's a squirrel in that thare oak,
I'll eat him--bones, hair--and all, sure as my name's Jerry the
Trapper."
"Wait until I load my rifle," said Owen, "and I'll bring it down for
you." He had already dried his rifle, but could not use his powder, for
the water had penetrated into the horn.
"Now I am ready," he continued, having used some of Martin's powder and
loaded with great care; "do you want it barked, half-barked, or shot
through the head?"
Owen's terms may need a short explanation. Frequently when a squirrel
was in a high tree, with only a leg or a bushy tail visible among the
thick branches, the huntsman could judge its position, and aim in such a
way as first to pierce the bark and then the squirrel; this was called
half-barking. But if he sent the ball under the squirrel, and killed it
by the force of the shock without drawing blood, it was called barking
or whole barking.
The trapper, who was not a little surprised at Owen's liberal offer,
answered in his brusk, good-natured way: "Not partic'lar, youngstar, not
partic'lar."
"Mother always prefers them shot through the head; she says that they
are better when they bleed as soon as they are killed," said Owen.
"That's where we disagree; I'll take the feller barked. Bark him,
youngstar, bark him if you can," said Jerry, at the same time getting in
position to shoot the squirrel after Owen had fired, for he was
convinced that only a champion marksman could touch it at such a height.
"I reckon I've got to eat him--hair, bones and all!" exclaimed the
trapper, as the report of the rifle died away and the squirrel came
tumbling through the branches of the oak.
"Did it touch a hair?" said Martin, holding up the squirrel and showing
it to the astonished trapper. This was followed by a prolonged whistle
from the latter, who continued for some time to examine the squirrel
carefully, scarcely crediting the evidence of his senses.
"It's all luck! huntsman's luck! comes once in a lifetime! just like
settin' a dead-fall for a weasel and catchin' a wildcat! I only seen it
done once," expostulated Jerry. "Youngstar," he continued, "do you see
that yeller-hammer off yonder through them there bushes?"
"Yes, sir," said Owen, looking in the direction indicated.
"If you send a ball through his right eye I'll eat him whole--head,
feathers, and all."
"That's a hard shot," replied Owen. "The bushes are thick; then,
besides, a yellow-hammer can't keep in the same place long enough for
one to take aim. Look at it; its head is moving as fast as the spindle
of a spinning-wheel."
"Try it, Owen," put in Martin. "I have seen you make harder shots than
that."
While Owen was loading his rifle, the yellow-hammer flew, passing over
the head of the trapper. Up went his rifle--crack--and the bird
fluttered to the ground.
"I reckon you can't beat that, youngstars!" exclaimed Jerry, with
evident satisfaction. "I've been practicin' for the shootin'-match next
month. I ain't been there since Coon-Hollow-Jim, as they calls him, is
been takin' the prizes; but I am goin' to out-shoot him, sure as my
name's Jerry the Trapper."
"It would take a good marksman to beat that shot you just made," said
Martin.
"That it would! that it would!" said Jerry, evidently pleased with the
compliment.
"Owen, here, can shoot on the wing," continued Martin. "I've seen
him"--here Martin paused for a moment, then added: "I've seen him hit
them now and then." For Owen, too, had been practicing for the
shooting-match to which Jerry referred. It was, as yet, a secret,
however, which had been confided to no one but Martin.
"I say, youngstars, has you seen any notice of the shootin'-match?"
inquired Jerry.
"No, sir," said Owen, "and I passed the cross-roads yesterday."
Jerry had accomplished his mission by detaining the boys for nearly half
an hour, and, as they were anxious to continue on their way homeward, he
parted with them without further display of his prowess with the rifle.
"Good mornin', youngstars," said he, putting the squirrel into his game
sack and starting down the river. "I'll keep part of my promise by
making my dinner on this here feller."
"Good morning!"
"Good morning!" said Owen and Martin almost simultaneously.
When Jerry had gone some distance down the river he turned and yelled to
the boys: "If you meet my friend Stayford, tell him he'll find me near
old Bowman's shipping place!"
"Why didn't I ask him about that dead-fall?" said Owen, looking down the
narrow path where Jerry had disappeared.
"What dead-fall?" inquired Martin.
"One that will catch weasels and foxes. A weasel has been stealing our
chickens every night."
"And can't you trap him in the ordinary dead-fall?" asked Martin.
"No! he is too sharp for them. The common dead-fall is good enough for
wildcats and wolves. All that you need then is a heavy beam of wood,
supported by a smaller piece, to which the bait is fastened; but this is
too clumsy for a weasel, for he can make his escape before the trap
falls."
"If we meet Stayford we'll ask him how Jerry fixes his small traps. I
have caught foxes, but always used the long box-trap."
"I captured a weasel about two weeks ago," said Owen, "and what do you
think he did? Gnawed his foot off and escaped."
While the boys were conversing about the sly little marauder of the
chicken-coop and planning its destruction, they were hailed by Walter
Stayford. He affected surprise to find them out in the woods so early,
then questioned them as Jerry did, and received the same answer. The
boys on their part had no suspicion of his being the man whom they had
met in the cave, as it was too dark for them to see his features when he
first appeared there. At Owen's request, Stayford explained how Jerry
constructed his dead-falls for minks, weasels and other small rodents,
whose skins possessed a market value. Instead of the one large log used
for crushing the animal to death, he substituted four smaller ones,
arranged parallel to each other, and about two inches apart. The trigger
which supported these logs did not consist of a single strip of wood,
but of three thin pieces shaped like the figure four, the bait being at
the end of the horizontal piece and directly under the center of the
dead-fall. The trigger thus set was very delicate, and fell if it was
but slightly touched.
When Stayford had explained to the boys how to construct the trap he
pushed on toward the place which Jerry had appointed for their meeting.
"Ha, ha!" he laughed to himself, as he walked along; "that was my plan,
and it worked like one of Jerry's dead-falls."
It was indeed a good scheme to ascertain whether or not the boys would
divulge the secret. No sooner had they left the cave than Jerry, who had
already donned his hunting coat and cap, passing out into the forest by
one of the secret entrances, and making a detour through the wood,
reached the path about a mile up the river. Here he entertained the boys
until Stayford could gain the path still farther up the Beech Fork. For
this reason he pretended to look for the red-squirrel, and proposed to
devour it whole if Owen succeeded in bringing it to the ground.
When Jerry and Stayford met they congratulated each other on the happy
success of the ruse by which they had just tested the veracity of the
two prisoners whom they had restored to liberty.
"They're all correct," said the trapper. "They ain't none of your gray
foxes what one hound can ketch; but genuine red foxes, what can't be
cornered by a whole pack."
"I watched them closely while I questioned them," said Stayford, "but
not a word they uttered, nor any expression of their faces could give a
clue to the fact that they were in the cave."
Returning to their underground home, the two men secured the rock door,
threw themselves upon their beds of straw, and were soon fast asleep.
The boys hastened homeward, discussing excitedly their strange adventure
so long as their way permitted them to go together, and even when their
paths separated, Martin's following the river, and Owen's leading over
the hills, their thoughts were much the same. Was there connected with
that cave a secret which they did not know? Did this dark, weird,
treacherous cavern shelter beneath its gloomy arches some strange
occupant? They felt that there was a mystery in the history of the cave
yet to be revealed.