WHY RALPH WAS CALLED THE “HUNTER HERCULES.”
How the naturalist happened to think of this very extraordinary idea,
none of the others knew. They saw, however, that it had proved a
success, and that was enough just then.
Monsieur Tierney was not hurt in the least, for the big umbrella had let
him down as softly as though it had just been made for that purpose. The
three others soon had hold of the Frenchman, but they could not hold him
long.
Breaking away, he rushed over to where his case lay, and opening it, he
began to laugh with joy when he found the precious herb just as he had
left it. The guide soon explained the curious (to the young hunter and
Barry) antics of his patron.
“Ye see, boys, he cum out to find an ’arb that he sed would make him
famous, an’ I guess he’s found it. Ye must excuse him, for ye know he’s
only a Parley Voo, frog-eating Frenchman.”
At length they managed to get the “mounseer,” as Ralph called the
naturalist, over to where the fire was burning.
The guide cut off the choice portions of the defunct bear, and then
followed them. The naturalist held his case under his arm, as if it was
a loving friend, and in truth was it not?
Did it not contain that which was a mine of wealth to the “mounseer?”
The Frenchman was right in guarding the case closely.
Already he saw in his mind the astonishment and joy of the renowned
professors, whose equal he was to become, and the chagrin and rage of
his hated rival, when he appeared once more in Paris, bringing the
precious and long-sought-for herb.
While the Frenchman was sitting at the foot of a tree, doting upon his
treasure, the others were lounging around the fire.
All at once a thought struck Chauncy, and he turned to the guide who lay
near the fire smoking his pipe with evident relish.
“Ralph,” said he, “I’ve a favor to ask of you. My father told me that
you was called the _Hunter Hercules_ by the Indians and hunters, but
refused to tell me the story. He told me to ask you to give it, and I do
so now. Come, toe the mark, old boy, and begin.”
“Wal, boy, I might az well come to the scratch, I see, for ye’re bound
to hev it out o’ me, an’ az it ain’t a very big yarn, though a true one.
The kurnel, or major, I forget which he is now, boy, but I mean yer
daddy, always said that the name was very appropriate, an’ I must
acknowledge myself that I am some on the lift, in fact I never seen my
equal. Wait till I get in a fight, an’ then I’ll show ye how I came to
git the name. But ye want to know how I got the name on me first. Wal,
then, I lay myself out to it an’ begin.
“Ye see I haven’t always been a hunter an’ a trapper, a guide an’ an
army scout. I used to be a merchant once, and was pretty well off, but a
blarsted feller az I took in az a pardner, he run off wid every thing he
c’u’d lay hands on, an’ left me ter pay the debts, an’ to do this I had
to sell every thing.
“Seein’ az a feller widout money couldn’t get on very well in the city,
I started for the prairies, an’ for the last twenty years I have been
out West. I made a heap o’ money at the gold mines in California, an’ I
might go to the East now if I wanted, an’ live like a gentleman. But to
go on wid my yarn.
“Ye see, I jined teams wid an old hunter, an’ for a cupple o’ years we
roamed over the prairies, a-huntin’, trappin’ an’ doin’ a little o’
Injin-fightin’.
“My chum, a feller named Buck Rawson, hed never seen me in a
hand-to-hand fight, an’ so he didn’t think I was much.
“One time we were up at Fort Laramie, an’ it war there that I got the
name ye talk about. There was a strappin’ big feller, a head taller than
me, an’ he was reckoned more than a match for any feller in the fort,
an’ there war some well-known Injin-fighters around at that time too.
This feller war az big a bully az ever I seen, an’ the way he made
soldiers, miners, hunters an’ reds obey him would have made any one
believe that _he_ war the kurnel that had command o’ the fort.
“He had a terrible fist on him, and was reckoned a dead fighter. I
always had been a well-known wrestler an’ a very strong man, an’ the
very minnit I set eyes on this ‘Red’ Lawson, I resolved that he wouldn’t
come any o’ his tricks over ‘yours truly.’
“If he tried it on me, he’d find himself in hot water an’ there would be
a fight, for I had made up my mind to go for him. Some of the hunters
an’ trappers knew Buck an’ me, an’ we war not long in gettin’ rid o’ our
pelts.
“The fort warn’t much then; a sorter tradin’-post, wid a few blue-coats
in it, so ye see this ‘Red’ Lawson had it just his own way. I made up my
mind that he had had his way long enough, an’ that I would be the one
that was to polish him off.
“Buck Rawson war the feller that could give ye a good description o’
that fight, but, poor feller, he’s rubbed out. Got shot by a cussed
Navajo, while we were rescuing a woman from ’em.
“Wal, the way the fight come about, war az follows:
“The second day after I arrived at the fort, I war goin’ along the
street, where the log hut air, when I heerd a woman squeal. That is a
sound I never could resist. If a woman yelled for help, an’ certain
death stared me in the face, I would always run to the rescue. The sound
came from a log hut, an’ I dashed open the door an’ rushed in. There, in
the middle o’ the only room it contained, was that villain, ‘Red’
Lawson, a-tryin’ to kiss a pretty woman, while her husband, scared
e’en’most out o’ his life, stood lookin’ on. That man war wuss nor a
coward.
“A coward will always fight for one he loves, but this baby just stood
an’ looked on, while the ruffian tried to kiss his wife, too scared to
raise a hand in her behalf.
“Wid one blow I knocked the feller senseless, an’ ye may be sure that
blow war a pretty hard one. It cum straight from the shoulder, an’ them
kind o’ blows _are_ generally killing.
“I dragged him out o’ the house and left him in the street, an’ wid the
thanks o’ the pretty woman yet in my ears, I walked off. Thet arternoon
Buck came rushin’ inter the hut we occupied.
“‘Jewhilikens!’ sez he, nearly out o’ breath; ‘thar’s goin’ ter be great
doings hyur this evenin’. Some foolish cuss went for ‘Red’ Lawson, an’
he’s goin’ to keelhaul him this evenin’. He’ll do it too, I b’lieve, for
he’s in a terrible rage.’
“‘Do yer know who the man is?’ I asked.
“‘No,’ sed he.
“‘I do,’ sez I.
“‘Ye do. Who is it?’ exclaimed Buck.
“‘Ralph Bison,’ I replied, az quietly az I could. Buck instantly wanted
me to gather up my traps an’ clear out, ‘fur,’ sez he, ‘ye’ll never see
the light o’ another day.’ I refused to move a step, an’ then Buck told
me he would see fair play.
“‘If,’ sez he, ‘“Red” Lawson tries foul play, I’ll put an ounce o’ lead
in his black heart, an’ do a good deed.’
“Toward evenin’ we went out, an’ soon I saw ‘Red’ comin’ toward me wid a
crowd follerin’ him.
“When he got close up, he drew a knife an’ made a rush at me. Nothin’
loth, I drew mine, but at the first strike both o’ the weapons flew from
our hands. We daren’t draw our pistols at that short distance, so ‘Red’
he struck at me wid his fist.
“I dodged, an’ guv him a blow behind the ear that kind o’ made him see
stars an’ smell the ground.
“Up he got an’ made another rush at me, but went down ag’in. The third
time he closed, thinking that he might lift me up from my feet an’ throw
me down. Ha! ha! he found himself in az tight an’ lovin’ a clasp az if a
grizzly had hold o’ him.
“His breath came in gasps, an’ I might have squeezed the life out o’ him
then and thar, but I didn’t want to kill the crittur.
“Then I astonished the heathens, by liftin’ the heavy feller above my
head an’ pitchin’ him twenty feet off as though he was a five-pound
weight. Thar’s a heap o’ strength left in these arms yet, though I am
well on to fifty-five. Arter that I became known as the _Hunter
Hercules_, an’ have gone by that name ever since. Now ye’ve got the
yarn, boy, an’ though it ain’t an all-fired bloody one, like some I
could tell ye, but not vouch for, it’s true, az fifty fellers az seen it
kin swear,” and the hunter proceeded to light his pipe which had gone
out during his recital, with a burning brand taken from the fire near
which he sat.