CHARLEY'S SECRET EXPEDITION.
While Charley sat in the tree-top scanning the island in search of
possible squatters who might interfere with the gathering of the rice,
he saw something else that put a new idea into his head, and before his
watch was done he had quite made up his mind to do something brilliant
which would surprise and delight his companions.
What he saw was nothing more remarkable than a calf, or rather a young
bull, perhaps a year old, browsing in the edge of a thicket half a mile
or more to the west of the camp, and not many hundreds of yards from the
shore. There is nothing remarkable in such a sight as that, but the
circumstances of this case were peculiar, and so the sight set Charley,
thinking.
In the first place, he remembered what Ned had told him and Jack about
the wild cattle on the island, and reflecting that it had been a good
many years since the original stock of animals were abandoned, he could
not help regarding this yearling bullock as something more than a mere
bullock. It was game; a wild animal roaming at will over unoccupied
lands, and to kill it would be quite as good sport as deer-stalking or
bear-hunting.
Then, too, Charley and his companions were really in sore need of meat.
An exclusive diet of fish, oysters, and other such things soon wearies
the palate, and becomes exceedingly distasteful. It is true that Ned's
turtle had somewhat broken this monotony, but the relief had been only
partial, and the boys very eagerly craved meat--beef, mutton, or pork.
They had made no effort to get such meat, only because they had no idea
that any such was to be had.
The snake dinner had never been repeated. It is true that the snake was
savory, and the boys had spoken truthfully when they declared themselves
pleased with it. But that was while their hunger lasted, and when they
had finished they had no longer a keen appetite to oppose to prejudice,
so that, with full stomachs, the old objections returned, and all three
boys were seized with a peculiar loathing for the food they had eaten.
Perhaps it was only because they had eaten too much; but, whatever the
reason was, the fact remained that they were all sickened by the thought
of what they had eaten, and, while they said nothing about this feeling,
no one of them ever proposed to repeat the experiment of eating snake.
Now Charley meant to have an abundance of meat against which no such
objection could be urged. Here was a fat young steer whose beef was to
be had for the taking. How to get it was at first a perplexing question.
There was no gun with which to shoot the bullock, and there were no dogs
in camp with which to chase it; but after some reflection Master Charley
was confident that he could kill the animal with the means at disposal.
He said nothing about either his discovery or his purpose when his
companions returned to camp, because he wished to give them a complete
surprise.
He merely said that he wanted to make a little hunting expedition, and
that perhaps he might succeed in knocking over a rabbit or some other
animal good to eat. His companions had little hope of any such good
luck, but they offered no objection, and Charley, arming himself with
the hunting-knife and the hatchet, set forth on his quest.
He found the bullock not far from the place at which he had seen it
before, quietly browsing in the edge of the timber. After carefully
reconnoitering the position, Charley went into the woods and crept upon
the animal very cautiously through the thick undergrowth. His plan was
to creep up in this way until he should be within a few feet of his
prey, and then, springing forward suddenly, to strike the bullock
between his young horns with the hatchet. Charley had seen a butcher
kill a large steer by a comparatively slight blow, delivered at the
right place on the animal's head, and he was very sure that he knew
where to strike.
As he crept up he carefully avoided making any kind of noise, but when
within a dozen feet of the place from which he meant to spring, he made
a misstep, broke a stick, and alarmed the bullock, which quietly trotted
away.
Charley was disappointed, but by no means disheartened. He had only to
begin over again, and proceed more cautiously next time. He crept very
slowly and consumed nearly half an hour in his approach. This time he
broke no sticks and made no noise of any kind. Nearer and nearer he
drew. He could hear the bullock's breathing, but still he must get
nearer. A log lay just in front of him, and he could not well spring
over it before striking, without alarming the animal and missing his
aim. He must creep around this obstruction first, and this he did
successfully, but the bullock, though not alarmed, moved away just
before Charley reached a position from which to strike. It did not run,
but quietly walked away to nibble some grass which grew at a spot a
dozen paces distant.
This second disappointment shook Charley's already strained nerves
considerably, but, impatient as he now was, he controlled himself and
resumed his silent advance. Luckily the animal's head was turned
directly away from him, and that fact greatly lessened the danger of his
discovery. His chance was now so good, indeed, that a few moments more
might have brought his attempt to a completely successful issue, if he
had been content to follow his original plan. But just as he was in the
act of springing forward to deliver his blow, with every prospect of
success, a new thought struck Charley. It was easy to spring upon the
bullock's back, and from that point Charley thought he could deal not
one, but many successive blows, thus making sure work of what might not
otherwise be sure.
Accordingly he leaped upon the animal's back, and as he did so the
startled creature sprang forward through the bushes, nearly unseating
his rider. The blow which Charley tried to deliver was a disastrous
failure. He missed the brute's head, and the hatchet slipping from his
hand, was hurled into the thicket.
Charley had no time to think of the hatchet, however. The infuriated
bullock plunged headlong through the thicket and then across an open
glade and into the woods again, going in the direction of the camp, and
Charley had all that he could do to keep his seat. He was beaten black
and blue by the saplings encountered; his face was scratched, and his
clothes torn almost to shreds. Still, seeing that the bullock was going
toward the camp, he held on, with an unreasoning impression that, once
at the camp, the animal would be secured.
Jack and Ned happened to be outside the stockade when Charley came
dashing past, but of course they could do nothing, and a moment after
they caught sight of their companion, he was swept from his seat by an
overhanging branch of a tree, and the frightened bullock continued his
impetuous flight alone.
Jack and Ned hastened to their friend's assistance. For a moment Charley
seemed stunned, but he soon came to himself sufficiently to ask in a
querulous tone:
"Why didn't you head him off?"
It was not easy to convince Charley that they had been entirely
powerless to capture the bullock, so fixed had been his determination to
secure so valuable a prize; but after a while he began to see matters in
their true light, and to understand that Ned and Jack could not have
stopped the animal, even if they had been prepared for his coming, as in
fact they were not.
Then Charley examined his own bruises, which were pretty severe, though
no bones were broken.
"The worst of the damage," he said, after awhile, "is the loss of the
hatchet, and I suppose we shall find that."
[Illustration: THE END OF CHARLEY'S ADVENTURE.]
"Did you lose the hunting-knife too?" asked Jack.
"There!" exclaimed Charley; "what an idiot I am, to be sure! I had that
in my belt all the time, and I might have got the beef if I had only
thought to use it!"
This was true enough. While going through the thicket, Charley had
enough to do to cling to the back of the bullock, but while crossing the
open glade he might easily have drawn and used the long hunting-knife if
he had thought of it. But he had not thought of it, and it was now too
late for the thinking to do any good.
"It is just as well as it is," said Ned.
"Just as well!" exclaimed Charley; "well, I don't see that. I don't know
how it is with you, but for my part, I'd relish a beefsteak just now."
"So would I," answered Ned; "but that yearling isn't ours, and we've no
right to kill it, I suppose."
"Why not? It's a wild animal, isn't it?"
"I hardly think so. The squatters must have killed all the wild cattle
long ago, and this tame calf probably belongs to them."
"Well, they helped themselves pretty freely to our things, so I
shouldn't be a bit sorry if I had killed the animal while I thought it a
wild one," said Charley, rather ruefully.
The search for the hatchet was a somewhat protracted one, but that
important tool was found at last, and so, if Charley's effort to
replenish the camp larder did no good, it at least did no harm beyond
bruising that young huntsman's limbs, scratching his face, and tearing
his clothes.