A MIGHTY NIMROD.
“Again! give him another shot!”
Giraffe heard this shouted close to his ear, and mechanically working the
pump action of the heavy repeating rifle which his father had carried for
quite some years on his hunting trips up in the Adirondacks, he again
fired.
“Once more, quick! you’ve got him going; but he’s getting up again!”
cried Allan, and so Giraffe did as he was told.
Then he did not see the black hairy mass move any more, though he could
hardly believe that he had done what he had expressed such a great
ambition to accomplish—shoot a real black bear in his native wilds.
“Good! you’ve finished him, Giraffe!” exclaimed Allan, reaching for the
quivering hand of his chum, which he squeezed most heartily. “I’m ever so
glad I didn’t have to butt in, and spoil it all. That’s your game for
keeps, Giraffe. You’ve got to cut a notch in the stock of your gun after
this, because you’re no longer a greenhorn. Come along, and let’s see
what he looks like.”
The bear was undoubtedly dead. That last bullet had evidently finished
him, although very likely he would never have left that spot after
receiving the first and second shots.
“Whew! but ain’t he a buster, though?” ejaculated the delighted hunter,
as he cautiously felt of one of the forepaws of the animal.
“We ought to get him out of this before morning,” said Allan; “because
the bees will be apt to make it good and warm for us, if we poke in here
by daylight. Let’s all get hold, and see if we can’t budge the old
critter.”
They found it all they were able to do, to move the bear a few inches at
a time; but once clear of the branches of the trees, the task proved
easier. By throwing all their weight into each pull, as Jim sang out: “yo
heave-o!” they finally managed to get the prize where they wanted him.
“How about leaving him here through the night, Jim?” asked Allan.
“I’d say as how it war safe, if it hadn’t be’n fur thet howl we heard
last night,” replied the guide. “If so be wolves is aroun’, they’d clean
up this carcase right smart between now an’ daylight.”
“Oh! but I want that hide the worst kind,” declared Giraffe. “Why,
whoever’d believe me, if I couldn’t show the skin of the bear I shot?”
Jim took out his knife, and felt the edge.
“Somebody make a fire, so I kin see, and we’ll fix things afore a hour
goes past,” he said, simply.
“Let me do it, Allan; you know nobody knows how to build fires as well as
I do!” Giraffe exclaimed, laying his gun aside.
He was as good as his word, and had a splendid fire working inside of a
very few minutes. The Maine guide was already busily engaged, and Giraffe
watched him taking the bear’s hide off with more than common interest;
for was it not _his_ bear, and did he not have the right to feel proud?
Why, if he had shot poorly, the big beast, rendered savage through pain,
might have charged the party; and then there would have been plenty of
excitement. Even Allan might have missed, since he could hardly manage to
see while trying to hold the torch, and his rifle at the same time; and
there would be no telling what must have happened.
After Jim had very deftly taken the hide off, he started in to carve up
some of the carcase, taking the choicest portions; for they could only
carry a certain amount with them, and the wolves or foxes were quite
welcome to the balance.
Indeed, from the grin on Jim’s face, as he used his knife, Allan fancied
that the bear was bound to prove about as tough as the moose. But then,
hungry boys can masticate what would prove a difficult task to one whose
teeth were less sharp; and besides, as that was Giraffe’s bear; of course
it would taste especially fine to him.
“Where’d I hit him, Jim?” Giraffe asked, after a time.
“One shot took him on the shoulder,” said Allan, before the guide could
reply. “I think that must have been your first. It kind of knocked him
over. Then, as he was getting up again, you gave him a second clean
through the heart. He kicked after that, but could never have done you
any hurt. That was a dandy shot, fired at the time he was moving, too.
The last one came in his side, and didn’t amount to so much. But taken in
all, you did finely, Giraffe. It speaks well for your nerve.”
“Huh!” grunted the other, who was plainly pleased by Allan’s words
nevertheless; “they always did own I had plenty of nerve, you know. Eli
Bangs said I had, when I stepped up and took his best girl away from him
at that school dance we held out in Epply’s big barn last winter.”
“Got enough, Jim?” asked Allan, as the guide wiped his knife, and put it
back in the leather sheath at his belt.
“All we kin kerry,” replied the other, “an’ p’raps twice as much as we’ll
eat, I reckons. If so be them wolves is still around, let ’em come ter
the feast. I’d like ter git a crack at one of the critters, myself. A
wolf I never yet shot, ’cause you see, they be’n so skeerce ever sence I
got to totin’ a gun.”
“Well, we might as well head back to the cabin,” Allan remarked. “I see
you’ve made that up in two packs, Jim—the hide in one, and the meat in
the other?”
“Yep, I thort as how _he’d_ like to kerry the skin, ’cause it’s his’n;
I’ll tackle the bundle o’ bear meat,” and the guide slung the heavy load
up across his back with the air of one accustomed to making trips across
many a _carry_, toting boats, duffle and bedding, as well as tents.
“All right, that leaves the three guns to me; and if either of you get
tired, why, just call on me to take a turn. You’ll find me willing,” said
Allan.
But that did not happen. Jim was tough, and accustomed to doing all sorts
of burden bearing in his work as a guide, summer and winter, year in and
year out. And as for Giraffe, catch him asking anybody else to lug _his_
bearskin along, so long as he was able to put one foot before the other.
He may have grunted from time to time; but when Allan asked if he wanted
any assistance Giraffe indignantly denied being weary. And so he carried
that heavy green hide all the way to camp.
When they arrived at the cabin they could see by the light through the
window that those within still kept the fire going, evidently
anticipating the arrival of the bear hunting expedition. They jumped up
as the three new arrivals entered, and seeing their packs, with the long
black hair of the pelt showing plainly, Step Hen and Bumpus were
especially vociferous in their congratulations.
Allan noticed one thing as soon as he had taken his first peep into the
cabin. This was that Thad, Davy and Eli had not come back as yet. But he
saw no reason to be worried. Thad had taken the pains to notify them that
possibly he and his companions might be away longer than a single day;
and if they failed to show up after night set in, perhaps they would stay
out a second day.
“That settles one thing, anyway,” remarked Bumpus. “We ain’t going to
starve, as long as we have such mighty hunters as Thad and Giraffe along
with us; even if the meat is tough.”
“It settles a number of things,” remarked Giraffe, fastening his “eagle
eye,” as Bumpus liked to term those orbs of the tall scout, severely on
Step Hen.
“Oh! I know what you’re talkin’ of now,” declared the other, quickly.
“It’s all about that rifle of your dad’s, an’ how it c’n shoot. Now, I
never said that it couldn’t do the trick, all right. Goodness knows it’s
heavy enough for anything. It was you always pokin’ fun at my little
thirty-thirty, and callin’ it a popgun, a squirtgun, and all such things.
But I take notice, with all that’s said, it took just three bullets for
you to kill that poor bear, that was nearly ready to turn up his toes,
an’ die from old age; when Thad, he just fired once, and gave a bull
moose in a fighting frame, his walking papers. And think how much easier
to tote a light gun like mine twenty miles a day. Ask Jim here, and he’ll
tell you he means to get one like mine the next time he finds thirty
dollars in the road.”
“I suppose that bear is tough, but don’t you say a thing about him being
so old he would have soon kicked the bucket You know better than that,
Step Hen. Don’t all of us believe that this is the same bear we chased
out’n the cabin here, only last night; and say, what did he do to you and
Bumpus? Seems to me you wanted us all to know that you’d been thrown ten
or twenty feet outside the door, when that poor weakly old sinner as you
call him, just breezed past you. Now, that will be quite enough from you,
Step Hen. The tougher he was, the more glory for the feller that shot
him.”
After this broadside from Giraffe the other scout relapsed into silence;
indeed, he could find nothing to say.
“It’s gettin’ pretty late, seems to me,” Bumpus remarked, with a yawn.
“Yes, it is, for kids,” added Giraffe, a little contemptuously; for
somehow Step Hen had aroused his fighting blood and he seemed to have a
chip on his shoulder, daring any one to knock it off.
“But what’s the use waitin’ up to see if Thad gets back?” argued the
short scout.
“There’s no use at all,” remarked Allan, just then; “because I think I
hear them coming along right now. How about it, Sebattis?”
“Three come, Thad, Davy, Eli,” replied the Indian, gravely; for Allan had
first had his attention called to the slight sounds without by noticing
that Sebattis was sitting with his head cocked in a listening attitude.
“I’d like to understand how he knows that,” muttered Giraffe, who had
edged over toward the corner where his gun stood, as though a little
suspicious of the identity of those who were even now at the door; for he
remembered that there were exactly three of those lawless hoboes loose in
the woods, and not far away.
But immediately the door opened, to admit Thad; and after him came Davy;
while the weather-beaten face of the old Maine guide, Eli Crooks, showed
up in the rear.
Each of the three hunters carried some sort of burden, though not of any
great size, Allan noticed. These they tossed down in a corner, with the
air of being more or less tired from a long tramp.
And Allan, accustomed to reading faces more than might the average boy,
believed that he saw something like a frown upon all three countenances,
that certainly must have been caused by something besides fatigue.
“Venison?” questioned Giraffe, just itching to have the newcomers ask
what luck had fallen to the share of the bee hunters, when he could hold
up that prized bearskin, and tell how he alone had shot the monster
Bruin.
“Yes, what little of it was left to us,” replied Davy, crossly.
“Why, whatever happened?” demanded Bumpus. “I wonder now, did you run
across any of those savage wolves we heard howling last night?”
“Oh! not much,” replied Thad, smiling; “that would have been a picnic—for
us. But we had an experience that beat that all hollow. Fact is, we were
fired at by some of those hoboes who are up here in the woods for their
health, and safety!”