A Couple of New Pets.
Frank was a big-feeling boy just then. He knew that he had done
something that many an older person than himself would hesitate to
undertake. He was fast becoming accustomed to scenes of excitement and
danger, and he thought only of the feat he had accomplished, and not
of the perilous position in which he had placed himself but a few
moments before. What if his gun had missed fire, or he had only
wounded the panther? How long could he and Brave have withstood his
attacks? The panther would certainly have conquered them. And what
could he have done if he had been disabled in the depths of those
woods, so far from any human being? Such questions as these passed
through the reckless young hunter's mind, but he dismissed them with
the thought that the panther was dead, and that he had nothing to
fear.
The animal was one of the largest of his kind, measuring, as near as
Frank could judge, fully seven feet in length, including the tail. The
rifleshot which had broken his leg had made an ugly-looking wound, and
he had received both charges of buck-shot in his head; but the skin
was not spoiled, and Frank's first thought was to take it off and cure
it for stuffing.
Around the tree was a little space, which was clear of bushes, and was
probably as good a camping-ground as he could find. So he placed his
gun where he could put his hand upon it at a moment's warning, and
removed his haversack, hanging it up on a small tree that stood near.
He then unfastened his belt, and took from it his blanket and a small
tin pail, which was to do duty as a coffee-pot. With the aid of his
heavy hunting-knife, he soon erected a hut--rude-looking, indeed, but
sufficiently strong and tight to protect him from the wind. Over the
floor he spread hemlock branches to the depth of four or five inches,
and the camp was finished. He then kindled a fire in front of the hut,
and filled his pail with snow, and hung it on a crane to boil. In a
little while the turkey, which the panther had killed, was dressed,
and cooking as fast as a hot fire could make it. Before his supper was
cooked, the panther was hauled into the cabin, and his skin taken off,
and hung upon a frame to dry.
The turkey was equally divided between master and dog; and as neither
had eaten any dinner, not a vestige of the fowl was left. While Frank
was building his camp, he had heard a faint ripple, like the noise of
a small water-fall; and he was somewhat surprised thereat, for the
intensely cold weather had formed ice, even in the swiftest water,
almost two feet in thickness. As soon as he had finished his supper,
he started out to see what had occasioned the noise, taking the trap
with him, intending to find a good place to set it. When he arrived at
the stream, he found it had its source in a salt spring, or, as the
hunters would call it, a "deer-lick." The snow on the banks was
trodden as hard as a floor, and the paths that the animals had made,
in going to and from the stream, ran up into the woods in all
directions. These springs are favorite resorts of deer and other wild
animals, which delight to taste their brackish waters; and it is a
common way of killing deer, in places where they are scarce, to watch
one of these "licks" during the night, and shoot the animals as they
approach.
Frank walked up one of the paths that led to the spring, and began to
make preparations to set his trap. It was just the place for it, as he
would be certain to catch something before morning. He first dug a
hole with his hunting-knife, directly in the middle of the path, and
the next job was to set the trap. He knew how it ought to be done. But
the powerful jaws of the "Ole Settler" had often resisted the efforts
of a stronger person than himself. After half an hour's work, during
which time the skirts of his coat had been cut almost entirely off by
the long, sharp teeth, he succeeded in getting it set, and placed
safely in the hole which he had dug for its reception. Then, with his
hunting-knife, he cut down a good-sized sapling that stood near, and
to this he fastened one end of a short, heavy chain; the other end of
the chain he fastened to the trap. After he had placed every thing to
his satisfaction, he carefully covered the trap and chain with snow,
removed all the twigs and leaves he had scattered about, and returned
to his camp. He employed himself until dark in gathering his evening's
supply of fire-wood, and then lay down on his bed of boughs, well
satisfied with his day's work.
As it grew dark, it seemed to him that his camp became the center of
attraction to every wild animal in the woods for a circle of ten miles
around. The owl flew down around his fire, uttering his dismal scream;
the barking of foxes was heard in all directions; and, now and then, a
dark object would come out of the bushes, and gaze at him a moment
with eyes that shone through the darkness like coals of fire, and then
beat a hasty retreat. Once or twice he heard a sound that made him
reach, rather hurriedly, for his gun--the same sound that the trapper,
the night before, had pronounced the "sniff of a painter."
Frank did not feel exactly safe in going to sleep, and sat for a long
time with his gun in his hand. Several times he was half inclined to
shoot at some of the animals that came around the camp; but he finally
concluded to keep the peace as long as they would. In a few moments
after he had made this resolution, he sank back on his blanket, and
was soon fast asleep.
Near midnight he was awakened by a chorus of loud yells. Starting up,
he found his camp surrounded by wolves. The fire had almost gone out,
and the wolves appeared to be growing bolder by degrees, having
already approached quite close to the cabin. Frank started to his feet
and threw a firebrand among them, when they scattered in every
direction, and were out of sight in a moment. He was not disturbed
again, and when he awoke it was daylight. After putting a good supply
of wood on the fire, and hanging his coffee-pot on the crane, he
shouldered his gun, and started toward the place where the trap had
been set, hoping to find something in it that would make a breakfast
for him.
There _was_ something in it, beyond a doubt, for both trap and clog
were gone; and the way Brave growled and showed his teeth led him to
believe that he had caught something besides a deer. The hole in which
he had placed the trap was trodden down as though a flock of sheep had
passed over it. It was a matter of some difficulty to follow the
trail of the animal that had been caught in the trap, for he had moved
directly up the path, and the only "sign" that Frank had to guide him
was, now and then, a slight scraping in the snow, which he knew had
been made by the clog, as the animal dragged it after him. He followed
the trail in this manner for nearly half a mile, when it suddenly
turned off into the woods, where he could follow it up considerably
faster. Here he discovered that there was a bear in the trap, for the
prints of his great feet were in the snow. His progress had evidently
been retarded a good deal, for, at intervals along the trail, the
broken bushes and trodden snow showed where the clog had caught and
held him fast.
Brave led the way, but they had not gone far before he began to show
signs of uneasiness. A little further on, he suddenly came to a halt,
and stood gazing steadily before him, toward a thicket of bushes, that
looked as though it would afford a splendid hiding-place for a wild
animal.
Frank began to be excited now, and his hand was none of the steadiest
as he cocked his gun and stooped down to caress his dog. He had faced
the wounded panther without flinching, but he did not like the idea
of attacking that bear in his den, for such it undoubtedly was, as
under an immense pile of limbs and bushes Frank could see something
dark, that looked like a cave.
Brave ran around the bushes, with every hair on his body sticking
toward his head, and now and then making a dash at the den, as though
challenging the bear to come out. But the cave was as silent as death.
Frank could not see how he could attack the bear in there, and the
question was, how to get him out into open ground, so that he could
have a fair shot at him, and a good opportunity to retreat, if that
shot should not prove fatal. After waiting nearly half an hour for the
bear to come out and give them battle, Frank grew impatient, and
determined to commence fight himself. Grasping his gun firmly in one
hand, he set to work with his hunting-knife to cut a passage through
the bushes, so that he could get a fair view of the mouth of the cave.
While thus employed, he heard a slight rustling of leaves in the den,
accompanied by a low, wailing cry, and followed by a hoarse growl. He
bravely stood his ground, holding his gun in readiness; but, as the
bear did not come out, Frank went on with his work, more determined
than ever to effect the destruction of the animal, for that wailing
noise was the cry of a cub, which he was determined to have. He knew
that this would be no boy's play, for, of course, the old bear must be
killed before he could venture down into the cave. He was also well
aware that she would fight for her young with a ferocity and
stubbornness, against which only the most determined courage and a
steady hand and quick eye could avail. He had heard Uncle Joe relate a
story of a man, and one not wanting in courage either, who, upon
discovering a couple of young bears playing together in the woods, had
shouldered his rifle and made for home at the top of his speed. The
least cry from one of those clumsy little fellows would have brought
upon him an enemy that the bravest hunter would not care to encounter.
But Frank had great confidence in himself, and worked away
industriously, now and then pausing to look down into the cave and
listen. He had cut away most of the bushes before the opening, and as
soon as he could get a good view of the interior, threw himself flat
upon the snow and looked in. It was dark as midnight inside the cave,
but he could see two fiery eyeballs glaring upon him through the
darkness, which appeared to be approaching the opening. This afforded
a fine mark, and one that he thought he could not possibly miss; so,
throwing forward his gun, he took a steady aim, and fired.
The report was followed by a howl that made the cold sweat start from
every pore of his body; but, without hesitating a moment, he
discharged the other barrel, and then, springing to his feet, rapidly
retreated, just as the enormous head and shoulders of the bear rose
out of the opening. After running a little distance, and finding that
he was not pursued, he turned and looked behind him, and saw the bear,
in front of the cave, rolling over and over in the snow. The "Ole
Settler" was fast to one of her hind-legs, and the clog had caught and
was holding her fast.
Frank immediately commenced to reload his gun, keeping his eye on the
bear, ready to retreat again if she should succeed in freeing herself.
He hastily rammed down the charges, and poured a handful of buck-shot
into each barrel, and then crawled toward the bear, which, almost
beside herself with rage and pain, was tearing at her wounds, and
pulling up all the bushes within her reach.
Frank felt comparatively safe now, knowing that the bear could not
escape; and besides, if she should succeed in getting the clog loose,
she could not overtake him, incumbered as she was with the heavy trap.
He waited until a fair mark was presented, and then fired again. The
wound was mortal. After a few struggles, the bear lay motionless on
the snow.
The next work was to draw her away from the mouth of the cave and take
off the trap. This was no easy task, for the animal was very heavy,
and, as Dick had predicted, the "Ole Settler" "stuck tighter nor a
brother." After much exertion, this was accomplished, and Frank was
about to commence skinning the bear, when, all at once, the thought
struck him, Where was the father of the family? This thought made him
spring to his feet rather hurriedly, and cast anxious glances at the
cave.
"The old fellow can't be in there," he soliloquized, "or he would
certainly have come out before this time; but I'll just keep an eye
open for him, and if he shows himself, and undertakes to interfere in
this business, he'll get the worst of the bargain."
He was not disturbed, however. The old bear, if he was about, probably
thought that his family was capable of taking care of itself and
fighting its own battles.
As soon as he had taken off the bear's skin, he began to make
preparations to enter the cave and bring out the cubs, which, all the
while, had kept up an impatient cry. He first cut down a stout
sapling, and, after he had lopped off all its branches, fastened his
hunting-knife firmly to it. This he intended to use as a spear, in
case he should be attacked while in the den. Grasping it in one hand,
and his gun in the other, he crawled down into the cave. It was so
dark that he could scarcely see his hand before him; but, after a few
moments' search, he discovered the cubs, nicely covered up in a bed of
leaves. There were two of them, and they were about the size of a cat.
They fought and screamed furiously as Frank took them up, but he
unceremoniously thrust them into the capacious pockets of his
hunting-shirt, and crawled out of the cave.
When he reached his camp he found that the fire had gone out. It was
soon rekindled, when, after wrapping the cubs up in his overcoat, and
putting them carefully away in one corner of the tent, he sat down on
his bed of boughs, and made a hearty breakfast on cold venison and
bread. While he was eating, he began to think seriously of setting out
for "home," as he called the encampment where he had left his
companions. He had accomplished much more than he had expected he
could during the two days that he had been in the woods, and now had
about as much on hand as he could conveniently attend to. The skins of
the panther and bear must be prepared for stuffing, which would
require his close attention; the cubs, also, must be taken care of and
watched, for they would escape, if left to themselves. If he was at
home, they could be shut up in the cabin while he was off hunting, and
he could have his cousin's assistance in curing the skins. So, after
resting an hour, he pulled on his overcoat again, stowing the cubs
away in his pockets, folded up his blanket, strapped it fast to his
belt, shouldered his gun, and set out.
It was dark before he reached the cabin. His companions had just
finished eating their supper, and had not expected his return that
night.
"Why, Frank, how are you?" exclaimed Archie, springing to his feet and
seizing his cousin's hand. "I'm glad to see you back safe. What kind
of a time did you have?--rather lonesome, I guess. What have you got?"
he continued, as one of the cubs, thinking that something unusual was
going on, again set up a furious yelping.
"I've the skin of the panther that killed the white buck," answered
Frank, "and also a bearskin, and two young cubs." As he spoke, he drew
the cubs from his pocket.
"You keerless feller!" exclaimed Dick, who had not yet spoken; "I
know'd you'd be in some scrape or other."
"So did I," chimed in Harry, "and that's the reason why I wouldn't go
with him. It's a wonder you ain't all clawed to pieces."
"Hain't had any supper yet I reckon?" said the trapper. "Come an' set
down here, an' tell us all about it."
Frank was quickly relieved of his gun and overcoat, while a plateful
of venison, some bread and butter, and a cup of hot coffee were
passed over to him. Stretching his feet out toward the fire, he
related the details of his adventures, while the trapper sat by,
smoking his pipe, apparently deeply interested in his story.