A HUNT FOR FRESH MEAT
"I FEEL just wild for fresh meat, and I mean to ask father if we can
take a little hunt this very afternoon," said Sandy, two days later,
while the flatboat was speeding quite merrily down the current.
"Well," remarked his brother, "I would like a chance to get ashore
and stretch my legs, just as much as you do. And I hope he says yes,
when you ask him. Fish is pretty good, but a fellow gets tired of it
as a regular thing, and I don't think that is the finest kind of fish
either, that we get. Why, when you took in that slippery mudcat, and we
had it for dinner, it tasted better to me."
"We haven't seen a solitary sign of Indians since they tried to get
us to come in to the shore," Sandy went on. "And that must have been
Girty, himself, who rumpled up his hair, and tried to look so hard
pushed. You remember we saw him that time after we got ashore, when
our boat was smashed, and when Blue Jacket told that Miami chief,
Little Turtle, why he stood up for the Armstrong boys. But I'll come
back and let you know what father says."
Ten minutes later he approached Bob again.
"You needn't say a single word," remarked the other, "for I can tell by
the look on your face that it's all right."
"Yes, he says that we have been making such good time we can afford to
lose an afternoon, or part of one, in order to try to get some fresh
meat, because we all feel the need of it. So, before the sun is more
than half-way down the sky, he will give orders for the boat to be tied
up, if everything looks safe, just like it is right now."
"I'm glad of that," declared Bob; "because, after being used to walking
nearly every day, for miles and miles, it comes pretty hard to just sit
here, push a sweep, or tramp up and down around the cabin."
"Oh! I just couldn't stand it much longer!" cried Sandy. "I was really
thinking that I'd have to jump overboard, and swim ashore, to try my
luck, if father didn't want to stop the boat, hoping to catch up with
you all below, when you hauled in for the night camp."
Bob looked uneasily at his impulsive younger brother.
"I don't know whether you are joking when you say that, or not, Sandy,"
he remarked; "but it would be a foolish move to make, and would bring
more worry to the heart of mother. I hope you won't think of such a
thing at any time. You are getting too big now to let these things have
hold of you so much. There are enough troubles to bother our parents
without you adding to the burden."
Sandy turned red, and then burst out into a confused laugh.
"Oh! I only said I was _thinking_ of doing something like that, you
know," he declared; "but that is as far as it would go, I give you my
word, Bob. Whenever I catch myself wanting to jump at things so, I
remember what Pat said that day we saw the big stag standing knee deep
in the water. Too much hurry, too sudden a move, spoils many a good
game. And I guess it's so. I'm trying as hard as I know how to think
twice, now, before doing anything."
"That sounds more like you, Sandy, and I'm glad to hear you talk so,"
continued Bob; "but did father say anything about how we were to hunt
this afternoon?"
"There is only one thing he insisted on," the other started to reply,
when Bob interrupted him by saying:
"I think I can guess what that was; we must take some one along with
us; and of course we'll be only too glad to do it, since it will be Pat
O'Mara, who knows more about hunting, and Indian fighting, and taking
all fur-bearing animals in traps and snares, than any three others on
board."
"Just what he said, I declare! Seems like you must have been close
enough to hear it all!" exclaimed Sandy, as if surprised; "and yet that
couldn't be, either, for I saw you sitting here all the time I was
speaking with father. But I'm glad it's settled. And I do hope we run
across plenty of excitement. It is getting what I call dull, with so
little happening."
To Bob there was so much to see in the new pictures presented with
every bend of the winding river, that he never found the time drag on
his hands; but then Sandy was made up along different lines, and could
not remain quiet any length, of time without getting nervous.
The time passed slowly, indeed, until they heard the order given to
edge the boat in toward the southern shore of the river, so that they
could observe it more closely, in order to make sure that enemies were
not lurking in the undergrowth.
Pat O'Mara gave it as his opinion that there seemed to be no evidence
that the Indians were near by; and, as he, too, wanted to stretch his
legs by a little side hunt, it was finally determined to land.
Of course, there must be more or less danger in leaving the protection
of the strong cabin of the flatboat, and venturing into the depths of
the forest; but, as has been said before, the life of a pioneer is so
made up of taking risks that he assumes chances without much thought or
anxiety. When the danger came along they would trust to their ability
to take care of themselves. And every one of the party felt pretty much
the same way.
Mr. Armstrong had a crude chart of the river, but it was founded on
almost guesswork, so little was the region to the westward known at
the time. The place where Cincinnati now stands was called Fort
Washington; and, an indefinite distance further down, another mark
on the map showed where Harrodsburg stood, about where the city of
Louisville can be found to-day, marking the falls of the Ohio during
low water times.
So, apparently, the early settlers had a pretty good eye for the most
advantageous natural sites, upon which to found the white man's cities
of the future.
What lay beyond Harrodsburg no one really knew. Somewhere, in some
manner, the Ohio joined forces with the mighty Mississippi; and this
bold little company of men and women were on the way to learn the
truth, taking their lives in their hands in so doing.
When the boat had been tied up, Pat and the two boys started into the
woods, bent upon bringing back fresh meat if it could be procured by
any means in their power.
"Sure," remarked the trapper, when they found themselves out of sight
of the river, and surrounded by the primeval forest, "we must be afther
kapin' clost enough till each ither to hear a signal whistle. If wees
do be afther catchin' that same, it wull mane to come tegither as
quickly as yees can. But only a cooie stands for 'all's well, kape on
a-huntin' right along wid yees, an' may the bist man win.'"
When they divided their forces, so as to cover more territory, Pat was
wise enough to station himself midway between the brothers. Here he
could keep in touch with either Sandy or Bob, a different sort of call
meaning that he wanted a response from the one it designated, and about
whom he might be getting a trifle anxious.
Pat had hunted many a time with such old frontiersmen as Jo Davies,
John Hardin and Silas Hardin. He knew pretty much all there was to be
learned about the ways of the cunning woods folks, from the little
mink up to the great buffalo that, if angered or wounded, would come
charging full at the hunter, ready to use his wicked short horns in
hurling him many feet into the air, or grinding him into the earth, if
he were so unlucky as to be caught napping.
No small game would do for them now. Birds might flush from the
thickets and offer splendid pot shots; but they had agreed not to think
of taking advantage of anything in the feathered line short of a big
wild turkey. And, with so many mouths to feed, Sandy was more inclined
to wish they might rout a buffalo out of some thicket, than anything
else.
They advanced for some time, without seeing anything that offered a
chance for a shot, and Sandy, of course, always impatient, began to
think they might, after all, be compelled to return to the boat without
any fresh meat, which would be a great pity, since every one yearned so
for a feast.
The afternoon was now waning, and they found themselves some distance
away from the place where the camp had been made. About this time Pat
called the boys to him for a little consultation. He believed that, by
altering their course, so as to come upon the river about two miles
below the spot where their friends were tied up, the prospects for game
would be vastly improved, because the country looked better to his eyes
in that quarter.
So the change in direction was made. Bob was just as well satisfied,
because he did not much like the idea of keeping on heading deeper and
deeper into the great hills that lay back from the river, and which
doubtless held more than one village of the hostile red men.
He noticed with some concern that it was even now beginning to grow a
little dusk under the tall trees that lifted their lofty heads almost
a full hundred feet in the air. And then, just when Bob was wondering
if they were to arrive at the river, which could not be more than a
quarter of a mile distant, without one single sign of game, he heard
the well-known crash of Sandy's gun away over to the left; because Pat
carried one of those long-barrelled rifles, with the small bore, that
took a patched bullet--one that was enclosed in a greased piece of
linen--and made a sharp report entirely different from that of a musket.
Hurrying that way, he found Pat and Sandy bending over a noble young
two-pronged buck that had jumped from a thicket where he had been
lying, and fallen when the young Nimrod hastily let fly; for Sandy was
a clever all-around shot.
Pat set to work, assisted by both the boys, to skin the game, and
secure all the edible portions. These parts were made up into three
packs, so that each might carry a share of the burden to camp, which
was at least two miles distant.
Wondering whether the shot had reached the ears of their friends, and
picturing their delight when they sighted all that fine fresh meat,
the three were trudging along through the gathering darkness, when,
without warning, Pat stumbled, having evidently caught his foot in some
trailing vine which he had not seen.
Bob hastened to drop his own burden, and bend over to assist Pat to
rise, for he saw that the other seemed to be having some difficulty
about doing so. When he heard the trapper groan, Bob's alarm increased.
"What has happened to you, Pat?" asked Sandy, who did not yet
understand the cause of the delay, save that their companion had
tripped.
"Bad cess to the thing; but I'm afther belavin' that I've gone an'
twisted me ankle so bad that 'tis mesilf that can't put the same to the
ground; and that manes a long time before we say camp agin, so it do,"
grumbled the trapper.
Somehow Bob began to feel a little anxiety, as though he scented new
difficulties looming up ahead.