THE TWO ORPHANS.
The day was bright and beautiful, there was a fair wind, and The
Rolling Stone, bending gently away from the breeze, sailed gayly over
the rippling water. Adam was at the helm, and the boys were making
themselves comfortable in various parts of the little craft, and
enjoying to the utmost the delightful air and the bright sunshine.
“I tell you what it is, boys!” cried Chap, who was stretched at full
length on top of the little cabin, relying on Adam to give him notice
when the boat was to be put about and the boom would swing around, “do
you know I’d be as happy as a king if I felt sure our folks wouldn’t be
worried about us?”
“I don’t think we need worry about them,” said Phil, “for that hunting
man said he’d be at Sanford before long, and then all our folks will
hear from us just as quick as the telegraph can carry word to them.”
“There’s a comfort in that,” said Chap.
And Phœnix suggested that they might as well be as jolly as the law
allowed.
Adam made no remark upon the subject. He knew very well that it might
take the sportsman a week, or perhaps longer, to reach the point
from which he was to send the telegram he carried, but he wisely
concluded that it would be of no use to dampen the spirits of his young
companions, and that it would be better for all hands that they should
be lively and cheerful.
“Look here,” he said, “you boys can be happy as kings, if you like, but
you needn’t think you’re goin’ to be lazy. I’m goin’ to teach you how
to lend a hand to the sails, and make yourselves useful aboard ship.”
“Lazy?” cried Chap. “Rolling stones are never lazy. Boys,” he
exclaimed, struck by a sudden inspiration, “let’s call ourselves ‘The
Rolling Stones.’ It’s as good a name for us as it is for the boat, and
we expect to roll on till we get home.”
“Agreed!” cried Phil and Phœnix.
And the name was adopted.
They sailed all day, eating a slight lunch about noon, and it was
decided to anchor toward the close of the afternoon, and eat their
evening meal on shore.
The boys were anxious to have wild duck for supper, and they shot three
or four of these birds, Adam skilfully steering the boat so close to
the floating game that it could easily be picked up. Some fish were
caught, and a fine fire was kindled on the beach.
Cups, saucers, and a few cooking utensils had been procured from Mr.
Brewer, and with roast duck, fish, some bacon, corn-bread and biscuit,
and hot coffee, the party made an excellent meal.
They sat round the camp-fire on the river bank until it was nearly
dark, and then they went on board The Rolling Stone, and having tied
her up securely, and made all things tight and right, they stowed
themselves away in the cabin, which was divided into two compartments
by the centre-board, and were soon asleep on the plain but sufficient
bedding with which Mr. Brewer had furnished the boat.
The next morning there was no wind at all. The surface of the river
was as smooth as glass, and was only rippled by the water-fowl, which
rose from or settled down upon it, or by the schools of little fish,
which occasionally sprang a short distance out of the water, and fell
pattering back like a shower of gravel-stones.
“It’s no use to set sail till the wind rises,” said Adam; “so we might
as well try to make ourselves contented on shore for a while. About
ten or eleven o’clock p’rhaps we’ll have a breeze.”
“All right!” said Chap. “We can pole the boat out into deep water and
fish.”
“Yes,” said Adam, “you boys can do that, if you like; but I think I’ll
take the gun and go into the woods, and see if I can’t find some game.
I noticed this mornin’ a kind o’ path back there which looked to me
like a bear track. I’ve seen bear tracks afore, and, though I ain’t
certain about this one, I think I’ll foller it up a little way.”
“Good!” cried Phil; “and I’ll go with you.” Adam hesitated.
“I dunno about that,” he said. “If we was to meet a bear, you wouldn’t
have any gun, and you might feel sort o’ helpless. I’d tell you to take
the gun and go by yourself, but I guess I know more about the ways of
these wild critters than you do.”
“I don’t want to go alone,” said Phil, “and I’m not afraid to go
without a gun. There are two barrels there, and you can use one for me
and one for yourself.”
“Very well,” said Adam, “you can come. This shot-gun isn’t the right
thing to take along if we expect to meet bears, but I’ll put half a
dozen buckshot into each barrel, and I guess that’ll do for anything we
get a crack at.”
Phœnix would have been glad to go with Phil and Adam, but in that case
Chap would have been left alone; and, besides, it would not do to make
a bear-hunting party too large. So he got out his fishing-lines, and
helped Chap pole the boat into deeper water, where they anchored her,
and set comfortably to work to fish. The sport was not very exciting,
for the large fish are only found in certain portions of the river, but
the biting was lively, and the fish they hauled up were a good deal
larger than those they used to catch at home.
Adam and Phil made their way slowly along a path which the former had
taken to be a bear track. Sometimes they got through the underbrush
quite easily, and then, again, it would be very difficult and
unpleasant to push through the thorny shrubbery and under low-hanging
branches of small trees.
“If we went on all-fours, like a bear,” said Adam, “it would be easy
enough; but as we don’t, we’ve got to make the best of it.”
They made the best of it for some time, occasionally losing the track,
and then, finding it again, or supposing they had found it, they would
bravely press forward.
At last, to their great relief, they came to a place where the way was
much more open; the bed of a very small stream, now dry, wound before
them through the forest, and, as it was free from underbrush, it made
a very convenient pathway.
There was nothing in the appearance of this dry bed to indicate that
a bear had been in the habit of walking in it; but, as it made a very
good passage through the forest for a man and a boy, Phil and Adam
cheerfully took their way up the stream.
It did not matter much whether they saw a bear or not; for, if they did
catch sight of one, Adam very much doubted if he could get it within
range of a shot-gun. But they were both fond of the woods, and were
glad to explore a semi-tropical forest like this.
Adam was a hunter, as well as a sailor, for his adventurous experiences
had been both on land and sea.
On either side of them was a mass of vines and bushes, out of which the
shorter or cabbage palmettos arose, wherever they could find room to
spread their long and drooping leaf-stalks, which not only grew from
their crests, but sprang out of the sides of their trunks, while, high
above was the vast and impenetrable canopy of the leaves of the tall
palmettos, each umbrella-like tuft supported by a long and slender stem.
The forest thus appeared to be covered by a roof of green, held up by
innumerable gray columns of pillars.
Sometimes the monotony of the palmettos was broken by great live-oak
trees, which reached high into the air, and whose massive branches,
often curiously grotesque and crooked, bore not only their own bright
and glossy leaves, but were covered throughout their length with vines
and various fern-like growths, while from the lower part of these
limbs, and from the trunks and branches of many other trees, hung long
and graceful festoons of the silver-gray Spanish moss.
The bark of many of the palmetto trunks was relieved by splotches of
bright red, and here and there, sometimes on dead trees and sometimes
on living ones, there were air-plants, their roots fastened in the dry
wood, and their long, bending leaves stretching out into the air for
the nutriment which most plants draw up from the earth.
Phil was greatly interested in all these things, and Adam gazed about
him with much satisfaction, although he had often walked in such woods
before. He had been so long on ships and steamboats that this woodland
ramble was a pleasant change.
Phil stopped to cut some of the red patches of bark from a palmetto
near him, hoping to be able to carry the pieces home to show as
curiosities, and thus his companion had got some distance ahead of him.
Adam was walking quietly along, when suddenly he heard, from a clump
of thick bushes to his right, a low but very peculiar sound. It was a
series of little whimpers and sniffs, that would not have been heard at
all if the woods had not been so quiet.
Instantly Adam stopped. He was sure he recognized that sound. Turning
to the point whence it came, he peered earnestly into the shrubbery.
Just above a low, heavy bush, not a dozen feet away from him, he saw
the top of a round, black head, and a pair of glistening eyes.
Without hesitating for a moment, he cocked both barrels of his gun, and
taking a quick aim just above the eyes he saw before him, he pulled
both triggers. A loud report rang through the forest, and the head
disappeared.
Phil, astounded by the discharge of the gun, started to run toward
Adam, but the latter waved him back, and retreating a short distance,
began rapidly reloading.
When this was done, he waited a few minutes, and then, closely followed
by Phil, he approached the bush at which he had fired.
Hearing nothing but the little whimpers which had before attracted his
attention, he cautiously made his way around the bush, his gun cocked
and ready for instant use.
But there was no occasion to use it. Upon the ground lay a large
she-bear, dead, with twelve buckshot in her brain. In a
slightly-hollowed place in the ground behind her were two young
bears, about a foot long, round and fat, and rolling and pawing each
other, while they continually sniffed and whimpered as if they wanted
something, but did not know what it was.
[Illustration: Adam tucking the other under his left arm.]
Phil gave a shout of triumph when he hurried up behind Adam and saw the
dead bear.
“Why, this is glorious!” he cried. “Who could have thought you would
have shot a real wild bear? Are you sure it’s dead?”
“Oh, yes,” said Adam, cautiously punching the animal with the end of
the gun; “bears don’t play ’possum. I put both loads into her head. And
I didn’t do it any too soon, either. In two seconds more she’d a’ been
out after me.”
“Can’t we skin her?” cried Phil. “It would be a splendid thing to take
home a bear-skin that we got ourselves.”
“I’d like well enough to have the skin,” said Adam, “but I ain’t goin’
to stop to take it off. If the old he-bear comes home while we are
here, he’ll make it hot for us. Just you pick up one of them young
cubs, and I’ll take the other, and the quicker we’re off the better.”
Phil had been so delighted at seeing the dead bear that he had scarcely
noticed the young ones, but he now picked up one of them, while Adam,
tucking the other under his left arm, hastily led the way to the bed
of the stream, down which they hurried as fast as they could go.
When Phil and Adam reached the point where they left the bed of the
stream, which here turned to the south, and began to force their way
through the bushes and vines, and over the uneven ground, they went
more slowly.
To push through and under the tangled maze on each side of the
barely-discernible track, to hold securely the struggling cub which
each of them carried, and to keep an ear open all the time for the
approach of an enraged bear, which might be in pursuit of them, was as
much as they could do.
[Illustration]