"I say," says Rory, "isn't it getting duskish!"
"Bless me!" cried Allan, looking at his watch, "I declare it is long
past seven o'clock. Let us start for the brook at once and find our
boat."
"You mustn't shout," said Rory, "till you're out of the wood."
"We came this way, I know," said Allan.
They went that way, but only seemed to get deeper and deeper into the
forest. They tried another direction with the same result; another and
another, but all to no purpose. Then they looked at each other in
consternation.
"We're lost!" cried Allan. "How could we have been so mad?"
"We can gain nothing, though," said Rory, "by crying about it;" and down
_he_ sat.
"I see nothing for it but to follow your example," said Allan,
dolefully; and down he sat also.
"What a pretty little pair of babes in the wood we make, don't we?"
continued Allan, after a pause.
"What a pity we ate all Peter's pie, though," says Rory; "but we won't
let down our hearts. The moon will be up ere long, but sleep here
to-night we'll have to. If we tried now to find our way we'd only be
going round and round, with no more chance of finding our way than a dog
has of catching his tail."
Presently there was a whirring noise, and a great black bird, apparently
as big as a Newfoundland, alighted on an adjoining tree.
"It is an eagle," said Rory. "Down with him."
"It's a wild turkey," said Allan, coming back with the spoil.
He had hardly laid it down when an immense, great, gaunt, and
hungry-looking wolf seemed to start from the very earth in front of
them. Rory fired, but missed.
"In case," said Allan, "we have a visit from any more of these gentry,
let us light a fire."
This was soon done, and the blaze from the burning wood caused the gloom
of the forest to close around them like a thick black pall, and, lit up
by the glare of the fire, their faces and figures stood out in bold
relief. It was like a picture of Rembrandt's.
"In the morning, you know," Allan remarked, "we will find our way out of
the wood by blazing the trees."
"What, would you set fire to the forest?" laughed Rory.
"No, Mr Greenhorn," said Allan, "only chip a bit of bark here and there
off the trees' stems to prevent us from going round in a circle."
"Well," said Rory, "you know how the thing is done, I don't."
The night wore on; it was very quiet in that gloomy pine-wood. The moon
rose slowly over the horizon, but her beams could hardly penetrate the
thick branches of the spruce firs. The fire burnt low, only starting
occasionally into a fitful blaze; the two friends from talking fell to
nodding, then their weary heads dropped on their arms, and they slept.
But is this forest quite so deserted as the two friends imagined? No;
for behold that dark figure gliding swiftly from tree to tree through
the chequered moonlight; and now the branches are pushed aside, and he
stands erect before them. Tall he is, gaunt and ungainly, dressed from
the crown of the head to his moccasined feet in skins, and armed with
gun, dagger, and revolver. He stands for a moment in silence, then
quite aloud, and with a strong Yankee nasal twang,--
"Well, I'm skivered!" he says.
Rory rose on his feet first, and had his rifle at the stranger's neck in
the twinkling of an eye.
"Who are you?" he cries. "Speak quick, or I fire!"
"Seth," was the reply. "Now put aside that tool, or see if I don't put
a pill through you."
"What seek you here?"
"Well!" said Seth, "I _do_ like cheek when it is properly carried out.
Here you two chaps have been a-prowling round my premises all day, and
a-potting at my pigeons; you've been and shot my pet turkey, and you've
fired at my mastiff, and now you ask me what I want on my own property.
I've heard of cheek before, but this licks all."
"Well, well, well!" cried Allan, laughing, "I declare we thought the
land uninhabited."
"So it is," said the Yankee; "there ain't a soul within three days'
journey o' here, bar old trapper Seth that you see before you."
"And we took your mastiff for a wolf," said Rory, "and your turkey for a
gaberlunzie. Troth, it's too bad entirely."
[Gaberlunzie, _Scottice_ for an old beggar man. Rory no doubt meant to
say capercailzie, the wild turkey of the Scottish woods.]
"You see there are no game laws in this land, and no trespass laws
either," said Seth, "else I'd take you prisoners; but if you'll come and
help old Seth to eat his supper, it'll be more of a favour than anything
else, that's all."
"That we will, with pleasure," said Rory and Allan, both in one breath.
Seth's cottage was about as wild and uncouth as himself or his mastiff.
No wonder, by the way, they took the latter for a wolf, but the trapper
made them right welcome. The venison steaks were delicious, and
although they had to "fist" them, knives and forks being unknown in
Seth's log hut, they enjoyed them none the less. After supper this
solitary trapper, who felt civilised life far too crowded for him,
entertained them with tales of his adventures till long past midnight;
then he spread them couches of skins, and their slumbers thereon were
certainly sweeter than they would have been in the centre of the cold
forest.