One event in the life of Jacob Lohr qualified him, in my opinion, to be
mustered into the army of "Wide Awakes." Let me tell the children the
incident and see if they agree with me.
He was a native of the Mohawk Valley near Schenectady, New York, and
when about twenty years old, with his young wife, Polly, emigrated to
the wilds of Western Pennsylvania. This was more than seventy years ago,
when the magnificent forests of that region afforded some of the finest
hunting-grounds in America. Here Jacob began clearing a farm, built a
log dwelling-house, planted corn and potatoes, and in a few years became
a thriving pioneer.
But the pride of his forest farm was his pigs. He had built a strong pen
of logs, with a heavy door, in order to protect them in the night from
wild animals. It stood about five rods from the house, near the brook,
just across which, and not thirty feet from the sty, was the edge of the
dense natural forest.
During the day they were permitted to roam at large in the woods eating
nuts, by which they fattened for the larder; but when night approached,
they were called and zealously secured in the pen, a practice which soon
taught the pigs the habit of early retiring. Gradually, however, Mr.
Lohr's punctuality in this matter abated, until one evening it had
become fairly dark ere he went to shut them in. As he walked down the
beaten path, a rustling in the adjacent bushes made him think that the
pigs might still be out; and to satisfy himself on the point, he entered
the pen and felt around, saying as he did so, "One two, three--all
here." Then as he turned to the door, he wondered what caused the
rustling across the brook. But as he stooped to go out, his wonder was
threateningly answered by a low growl from a dark crouching object, only
two or three steps in front of him.
With swift hands he closed the door, shutting himself in; and none too
soon, for instantly a heavy animal leaped on the roof over his head and
began fiercely scratching at the cover. At the same time a mewing at
the door, and a snuffing at the side of the pen, showed him that he was
a prisoner, with at least three panthers as his jailors. But unlike
jailors generally, these were more eager to get their captive out than
to keep him in; while the prisoner, instead of wishing to "break jail,"
was anxious not to do so.
All night long he was a "Wide Awake," as were also the pigs, for the
panthers were growling and screaming, scratching and digging around and
upon the pen, trying to tear it to pieces and seize the occupants.
Although feverishly excited, he felt quite secure, because the sty was
so substantially built.
Yet such lodgings and neighbors, within and without, would not tend to
produce very placid slumbers, even if the walls were cannon-proof.
Various plans were tried by Polly, his wife, who had become aware of the
situation, to drive away the creatures, but in vain.
She held a torch where it shone toward the pen; she screamed through the
narrow casement, and rattled a tin pan at the animals; but she did not
know how to load and fire the gun; and as to going outside the door, it
is doubtful if even the boldest hunter, well armed, would have dared so
much at night, in the face of a whole family of hungry panthers.
Meanwhile, Jacob kept up a lively interest among his jailors.
Discovering that they had scratched at some of the larger cracks between
the logs, until they could thrust in their noses, he peeled a piece of
tough bark from the side of the pen, and began striking at them, giving
them many stinging blows.
And afterward, when relating the story, he would laugh heartily at
remembering the sneezing, snarling and grumbling this occasioned.
Although he had so much to keep him excited, the night seemed very long.
At last, however, the daylight began to dawn, and he heard his jailors
mewing and purring together as if in council, and then all was silent
all around the pen.
Half an hour later, Polly called to him that they were gone away.
It was with extreme caution, however, that he opened the door a little
and peered out.
A panther is like a cat in slyness or cunning, watching stealthily for
prey and springing upon it in the most unexpected way.
And so, before he ventured out, he scanned with sharp eyes the edge of
the woods across the brook; for he did not fancy being the mouse for
these three great cats. Satisfying himself as well as he could, that
the way was clear, he sprang forth, closed the door quickly behind him,
and rushed for the house. But no panthers appeared; they had probably
retired into the deep shadows of the hemlocks.
His "Wide Awake" night was ended.
Upon investigating the scene of the night's operations, he found the sty
amazingly scratched and gnawed in many places, proving the strength of
tooth and nail and the ferocity of his jailors. Several long deep gashes
on one of the pigs showed where a panther had thrust in his paw by a
crack and tried to seize a victim.
But my story is only half told.
* * * * *
An old adage says, "It is a poor rule that won't work both ways;" and so
thought Jacob. He resolved in the morning, that if the creatures should
come back the next night, as they would be quite apt to do, he would
turn the tables and try to teach them the pleasure of being imprisoned
in a pig-sty.
Anybody who has lived in a region infested by carnivorous animals, knows
how they prowl around the settler's cabin the night after any fat
animal, cattle or swine is killed, for the meat. They snuff the blood
from afar in the forest, and hasten to the place to have a tooth, or a
paw, in the division of the spoils. Knowing this peculiarity of
panthers, Jacob and Polly held a consultation, and as it was about time
in the autumn to make pork of the pigs, they decided to perform that
work during the day. The scent of blood would serve as a double
inducement for his visitors to return.
So, in the afternoon, the task was done, the pen and vicinity being the
scene of the slaughter, and all the bloody tidbits placed inside the
door. Every such thing was arranged to attract the animals into the sty
if possible. The meat was placed safely in the garret of the house.
The door of the pen was so constructed as to open and shut something
like the lower sash of a window, by sliding up and down, a peg holding
it open by day and closed by night. When the door was open, this peg had
only to be pulled out, to let it shut down like a flash; and being shut
no animal could open it. Jacob went along the brook and obtained a
quantity of bark from the moosewood, (_Dirca palustris_,) of which he
made a strong cord, long enough to reach from the pen to the house. One
end of this he tied tightly to the peg that supported the door, and the
other he made fast inside the house.
When night came, he was ready for visitors.
Stationing themselves at the window, he and Polly watched and listened.
Hardly had it become dark, when they heard the mewing of the panthers at
no great distance in the forest. Persons who are familiar only with the
mewing of cats, have little idea how a panther's stronger, but similar
voice will ring through the woods.
In a little time they distinctly heard one of them leap upon the pen and
begin scratching as the night before; and in a moment more, by the
confined sound of purring and growling, it was evident they had entered
the sty and were disputing over the morsels of meat.
Then Jacob gave the bark cord a vigorous jerk and they heard the door
drop.
I suppose it would be impossible to describe the excitement of Polly and
Jacob at this moment, but the girls and boys can imagine something of
it.
They did not dare to go out to see if they had caught the _panthers_,
lest, having failed, the panthers might catch _them_.
Before morning, however, they were sure enough that one or more was
captured, for there was a great deal of smothered howling, just as it
would sound from animals shut in a pen.
Previous wakefulness made sleep necessary during most of the night, but
at daybreak they were astir and at the casement to catch the first
possible glimpse of the situation. As it became light enough, they
discovered a huge, handsome panther stretched out on the roof of the
pen, her head lying across her paws, like a cat asleep. By this they
knew that others were confined inside, for whose escape this one was
waiting. It was but a brief task for Jacob, who was a good marksman, to
point his rifle through the window and give her its contents. Without a
struggle the splendid animal straightened her powerful limbs and died.
Reloading his gun, Jacob walked cautiously toward the pen, watching in
every direction, lest there might be another one outside ready to spring
upon him, but seeing none, he went up and peered through a crack.
At once two pairs of eyes flashed at him, and fierce growls remonstrated
against the state of affairs.
Had Barnum flourished in those days, Jacob might have found a market for
the animals alive, but as it was he regarded it safer to shoot them as
quickly as possible, through a crevice between the logs.
Upon placing the dead animals side by side near the house he discovered
that they were mother and full-grown kittens, all very large and plump,
with thick, glossy fur.
I have only to add, that he was paid by the state a bounty of
twenty-four dollars apiece for killing the panthers, which was quite a
fortune for a pioneer in those days. Their red-brown skins, sewed
together, made a larger and nicer lap-robe than the hide of any buffalo;
and years after, with Jacob's children, I took many a sleigh-ride under
this warm covering.
All in favor of numbering Jacob among the "Wide Awakes," say _aye_!