FAREWELL TO THE HILLS.
“I say, perfessor, what in creation brung that thar brother of yours out
to this country, and throwed him into the company of such a varmint as
that Lish?” asked Big Thompson, as Oscar joined him at the woodpile the
next morning, where he stood taking an observation of the weather.
“Oh, he came out here to make his fortune; and, like a good many others
who have tried it, he spent all his money, and had to take up with the
first thing that came in his way.”
With this introduction, Oscar went on to tell as much of Tom’s history
as he was willing the guide should know. He went more into the
particulars of the matter than he would have done under almost any other
circumstances, for he saw very plainly that his companion was not at all
pleased to have Tom there.
He very naturally supposed that anyone who could willingly associate
with such a fellow as the wolfer must of necessity be as bad and
worthless as he was, and Oscar’s first task was to free his mind from
this impression. His next was to awaken sympathy for the unfortunate
Tom, and in both these efforts he succeeded beyond his expectations.
He had the gratification of seeing that, after his conversation with
him, Big Thompson was as friendly toward Tom as he was toward himself.
“He is not going home with me,” said Oscar in conclusion. “He came out
here with a good deal of money in his pocket, and I don’t blame him for
wanting to stay until that money is all replaced. When we get to the
fort I am going to see what I can do for him.”
Oscar felt better after this talk with his guide, and urged him to hurry
up the breakfast, as he was impatient to see that fine hunting dog at
work.
He made all sorts of sport of the shaggy, ill-looking little fellow, who
must have understood some of his disparaging remarks, for he promptly
and fiercely resented every attempt that Oscar made to scrape an
acquaintance with him. Big Thompson only grinned and nodded his head, as
if to say, “Wait and see,” and so confident was he of success during the
coming hunt that he told Tom to follow about a mile in their rear with
the mule, and come up to them when he heard them shoot.
Breakfast over, the two hunters set out on foot, Big Thompson carrying
his dog under his arm; and, after three hours’ rapid walking through the
willows that lined the banks of the brook, they came within sight of the
grove at the upper end of the valley. When they had approached within a
quarter of a mile of it, the boy’s heart bounded with hope, for he saw a
large elk—the very one he wanted most—walk out of the timber, take a
look about him, and then walk back again.
The guide now took the lead, moving with noiseless steps, and Oscar
followed close behind.
They approached within less than two hundred yards of the grove without
alarming the game, and there they halted. It was evident that a number
of elk were browsing in the grove, for the bushes could be heard
crashing in every direction.
“Now, then,” whispered the guide, lifting the dog in the air, so that he
could look over the thicket behind which they had crept for concealment,
“do you hear ’em in thar? If yer sartin ye do, go in and fetch ’em out.”
He placed the dog upon the ground, and the little animal was off like a
shot. He ran with surprising swiftness across the intervening space, and
disappeared in the grove, which presently began to echo with his shrill
bark.
This was followed by an increased commotion in the bushes, and Oscar’s
first thought was that the insignificant little beast was driving the
elk away; but Big Thompson must have had a different opinion, for just
then he laid his hand on the boy’s arm, and said, in a very low tone:
“He’s found ’em. Get yer we’pon ready, kase he’ll fetch ’em out in plain
sight afore long.”
And so it proved. The lordly elk, finding themselves pursued by so small
an animal—the like of which they had never seen before—stopped and
stared at him with great curiosity; and finally, becoming annoyed by his
constant yelping, they began to show their displeasure by stamping their
fore feet on the ground and making short dashes at him.
As fast as they advanced, the dog retreated in the direction of the
willows in which the hunters were concealed; and a few minutes later he
came pell-mell out of the bushes, closely pursued by one of the does.
Then Oscar saw, for the first time, what the dog’s tactics were. As soon
as the doe stopped, he wheeled about and began barking at her again,
keeping just far enough away to be out of reach of her dangerous hoofs,
and close enough to annoy her.
The rest of the herd came out, one after the other—there must have been
twenty-five or thirty of them in all—and the last one that appeared was
the big elk.
He took up a position between the doe and his companions; and, after
making one or two unsuccessful efforts to strike him with his hoofs,
stood still and shook his horns at him. The animals were all so much
interested in Pink and his movements that they did not seem to think of
anything else.
“What do ye think of that mis’able leetle cur dorg now, perfessor?”
whispered the guide, as Oscar cocked his rifle and raised it slowly and
cautiously to his shoulder. “Take all the time ye want, and don’t shoot
till yer hands is stiddy and ye kin git a fair squint. If they don’t
wind us, Pink’ll fetch ’em right into—— I say, ye done it, didn’t ye?”
While the guide was uttering these words of caution and advice, Oscar’s
rifle spoke; and the big elk, pierced through the spine, fell to his
knees and rolled over dead.
The rest of the herd fled in the greatest confusion; and Pink, alarmed
by the noise of the hoofs, and believing, no doubt, that they were about
to charge him in a body, took to his heels and made all haste to get
into the willows; but, finding that he was not pursued, he quickly
mustered up courage sufficient to run back to the prostrate elk, which
he was the first of the party to examine.
“I’ve got him at last, thanks to you, Thompson,” said Oscar, as he
leaned on his rifle and looked down at the fallen monarch. “In all my
collection there is but one specimen that I value more highly than this
one, and that is the grizzly. Pink, you’re a brick, and I’ll never make
sport of you again.”
The dog evidently did not appreciate the compliment, or else he did not
put any faith in the promise; for, when Oscar attempted to lay his hand
on his head, the little animal backed away and growled savagely at him.
Tom presently came up with the mule, and, in two hours more, the new
specimen had been carried to the cabin and Oscar was hard at work upon
it.
This was Oscar’s last notable exploit among the foot-hills. Of course
the sport did not end with the shooting of the monarch elk, for there
were still many animals in the valley that were not represented in his
collection, and Oscar’s efforts to secure them were not always
unattended by danger.
He kept on adding to his specimens, and now and then he did something in
a quiet way that made him feel good for a week.
One of these achievements was the bagging of the wolverine which had so
often robbed his traps. The animal was fairly outdone in cunning, and
knocked over when he did not know that there was an enemy near him.
The rest of the winter was passed in much the same way as were the days
whose incidents we have so minutely described. The hunters devoted a
good deal of their time to trapping, and their pile of skins grew larger
every day.
The traditional January thaw came at last, and set the eaves to dropping
and the brook to running for a few days; and then Jack Frost reasserted
his power, and shut everything up tight again.
Many a hard storm roared through the valley after that, but the weather
gradually grew warmer, the snow melted slowly away, and finally the
grass began to appear in the sunniest places, and the drifts to look as
though the wind had scattered dust over them.
It was no longer necessary to cut down trees for the pony and mule to
feed upon. They preferred the withered grass to the innutritious buds
and twigs of the cottonwood, and the change in their diet soon began to
make a change in their appearance and spirits.
Spring was coming, but so slowly that Oscar grew tired of waiting for
it. It seemed as though the deep drifts in the gorge would never melt
away; and when they did, a roaring torrent, which showed no indications
of drying up, took their place. The grass in the valley was seen before
the gorge was passable.
The day of their deliverance was close at hand, however, and one bright
morning the guide aroused the slumbering boys by shouting out the order
to “catch up.”
This meant to cook and eat the breakfast, saddle the pony, and hitch the
mule to the wagon, which had for days been loaded and ready for the
start.
These duties consumed but little of their time, for all three worked as
if they were in a great hurry.
In less than an hour the wagon, with Tom and the guide on the seat, was
on its way down the valley, while Oscar lingered behind for a moment to
make sure that nothing had been forgotten.
It was not without a feeling of sadness that he took his last look about
the cabin in which he had spent so many happy hours.
The journey to the fort was safely and quickly accomplished.
They found Ike Barker in his dug-out, and the greeting he extended to
them was cordial, indeed.
He kept Oscar busy until midnight relating the incidents of his life in
the foot-hills; but there were some things that happened there which he
did not hear from the boy’s lips, for his modesty compelled him to leave
them out.
He heard them from the lips of Big Thompson, who finished the story
after Oscar had gone to sleep. The ranchman was delighted at what the
guide told him, and took his own way to show it.
“Mr. Barker,” said Oscar the next morning at breakfast, “I am greatly
indebted to you for your kindness, and I am sorry that I can return you
nothing but my hearty thanks. There are your mule and wagon, and if——”
“Don’t want ’em!” exclaimed the ranchman. “I’ve got better. Take ’em up
to the post an’ sell ’em for what you can get. Look here, professor,” he
added hastily, seeing that the boy was about to speak, “I know I don’t
live like one of the royal blood, but I’ve got money for all that; and,
if you think you are in danger of running short of funds, say the word
and I’ll lend you all you want. You saved Thompson’s life, and whipped
Lish the Wolfer in a fair fight; and that shows that you are a boy after
my own heart.”
Oscar, who was greatly surprised at this kind offer, could only stammer
out his thanks and reply that he did not stand in any need of pecuniary
assistance.
“Then perhaps I can help you in another way,” continued the ranchman,
who was bent on showing his regard for Oscar. “I can give your brother
something to do. I have been unfortunate myself, and I know how it seems
to have a helping hand extended in time of trouble. Tom, how would you
like to herd sheep?”
“I don’t know. I never tried it. But I am willing to do anything that
will bring me an honest living.”
“That’s the sort of spirit I like. I’ll give you forty dollars a month
and board, and a pony to ride. Yes or no?”
Tom said “Yes,” of course; and, after a short consultation, it was
decided that he should go to the post to sell his furs and see his
brother off, and then come back to the ranch on foot, and assume his
duties as sheep-herder.
Oscar afterward had a private interview with the ranchman, and left him
with the feeling that Tom could not have fallen into better hands.
Oscar spent but two days at the fort—pleasant days they were, too, and
everybody seemed glad to see him—for he was impatient to be on his way
home.
Their furs, and the mule and wagon, were disposed of without the least
trouble; and, out of the money he received, Tom gave Oscar two hundred
dollars to be handed to Mr. Smith.
It wasn’t much, Tom said, but still it would show the grocer that he
intended to make all the amends in his power.
Tom and the guide assisted him to pack his specimens, which were put
into boxes and addressed to himself at Yarmouth, and placed in the
freight wagon that was to convey them to the nearest railroad station.
There was one thing that Oscar could not take back with him, greatly to
his disappointment, and that was the fawn he had captured with the
lasso.
These little animals never live long in confinement, especially if they
have been driven hard previous to their capture; and it had died during
his absence.
Lieutenant Warwick had seen to it that the skin was carefully preserved;
but, as it had been taken off in the same manner that a butcher would
remove the hide from a slaughtered ox, and was afterward tanned with the
hair on, it was not of much value as a specimen. But then, somebody
could make a rug of it, and so it was packed up to be taken to Eaton.
At last, when everything was ready for the start, and the farewells had
all been said, Tom set out for Ike Barker’s ranch, and Oscar stepped
into the stage-coach.
His heart was by no means as light as he had supposed it would be, for
the pleasure he anticipated in once more shaking hands with his friends
in Eaton was marred by the sorrow he felt at parting from those with
whom he had so long been associated.
But one thing was certain: the last few months of his life had not been
wasted. He had earned money enough to lift the mortgage from the roof
that sheltered his mother, and he had been able to assist Tom in his
extremity. The latter was on the right track now, and Oscar fervently
hoped that he would allow no temptations to switch him off.
Sam Hynes, warned by a telegram which Oscar sent from Albany, met the
returned hunter at the depot, and stuck to him night and day during the
week he spent in Eaton, where everybody made a lion of him.
His mother, of course, was overjoyed to meet him, and listened with a
beating heart to what he had to say in regard to Tom, who, during the
rest of his life on the plains, was the regular recipient of something
that did much to sustain and encourage him in his efforts to reform—a
mother’s letters.
That week passed all too quickly for Oscar, who, at the end of it, was
once more obliged to tear himself away from home and go to work.
He had months of it before him, too, for the specimens he had secured
were all to be stuffed and mounted. He was almost overwhelmed by the
attentions he received on every hand.
It was not long before everybody in the city knew who he was and what he
had done; at least it seemed so, for everybody stared at him on the
streets, and Oscar finally began to wish that he was back in the
foot-hills, out of sight.
The committee were more than pleased with his success, and with the
appearance of his specimens; and the first year he spent in their employ
was only the beginning of a long and profitable engagement with them.
THE END.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: Specimen Cover of the Gunboat Series.]
THE FAMOUS CASTLEMON BOOKS.
BY
HARRY CASTLEMON.
No author of the present day has become a greater favorite with boys
than “Harry Castlemon;” every book by him is sure to meet with
hearty reception by young readers generally. His naturalness and
vivacity lead his readers from page to page with breathless
interest, and when one volume is finished the fascinated reader,
like Oliver Twist, asks “for more.”
⁂ Any volume sold separately.
* * * * *
=GUNBOAT SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. 6 vols., 12mo. Fully
illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box $7 50
=Frank, the Young Naturalist= 1 25
=Frank in the Woods= 1 25
=Frank on the Prairie= 1 25
=Frank on a Gunboat= 1 25
=Frank before Vicksburg= 1 25
=Frank on the Lower Mississippi= 1 25
=GO AHEAD SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols., 12mo. Fully
illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box $3 75
=Go Ahead=; or, The Fisher Boy’s Motto 1 25
=No Moss=; or, The Career of a Rolling Stone 1 25
=Tom Newcombe=; or, The Boy of Bad Habits 1 25
=ROCKY MOUNTAIN SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols., 12mo. Fully
illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box $3 75
=Frank at Don Carlos’ Rancho= 1 25
=Frank among the Rancheros= 1 25
=Frank in the Mountains= 1 25
=SPORTSMAN’S CLUB SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols., 12mo.
Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box $3 75
=The Sportsman’s Club in the Saddle= 1 25
=The Sportsman’s Club Afloat= 1 25
=The Sportsman’s Club among the Trappers= 1 25
=FRANK NELSON SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols. 12mo. Fully
illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box $3 75
=Snowed Up=; or, The Sportsman’s Club in the Mts. 1 25
=Frank Nelson in the Forecastle=; or, The Sportsman’s Club among
the Whalers 1 25
=The Boy Traders=; or, The Sportsman’s Club among the Boers 1 25
=BOY TRAPPER SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols., 12mo. Fully
illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box $3 75
=The Buried Treasure=; or, Old Jordan’s “Haunt” 1 25
=The Boy Trapper=; or, How Dave Filled the Order 1 25
=The Mail Carrier= 1 25
=ROUGHING IT SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols., 12mo. Fully
illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box. $3 75
=George in Camp=; or, Life on the Plains 1 25
=George at the Wheel=; or, Life in a Pilot House 1 25
=George at the Fort=; or, Life Among the Soldiers 1 25
=ROD AND GUN SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols., 12mo. Fully
illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box $3 75
=Don Gordon’s Shooting Box= 1 25
=Rod and Gun= 1 25
=The Young Wild Fowlers= 1 25
=FOREST AND STREAM SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols., 12mo.
Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box $3 75
=Joe Wayring at Home=; or, Story of a Fly Rod 1 25
=Snagged and Sunk=; or, The Adventures of a Canvas Canoe 1 25
=Steel Horse=; or, The Rambles of a Bicycle 1 25
=WAR SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. 4 vols., 12mo. Fully
illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box 5 00
=True to his Colors= 1 25
=Rodney, the Partisan= 1 25
=Marcy, the Blockade Runner= 1 25
=Marcy, the Refugee= 1 25
=OUR FELLOWS=; or, Skirmishes with the Swamp Dragoons. By Harry
Castlemon. 16mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra 1 25
[Illustration: Specimen Cover of the Ragged Dick Series.]
ALGER’S RENOWNED BOOKS.
BY
HORATIO ALGER, JR.
Horatio Alger, Jr., has attained distinction as one of the most
popular writers of books for boys, and the following list comprises
all of his best books.
⁂ Any volume sold separately.
* * * * *
=RAGGED DICK SERIES.= By Horatio Alger, Jr. 6 vols., 12mo. Fully
illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box $7 50
=Ragged Dick=; or, Street Life in New York 1 25
=Fame and Fortune=; or, The Progress of Richard Hunter 1 25
=Mark, the Match Boy=; or, Richard Hunter’s Ward 1 25
=Rough and Ready=; or, Life Among the New York Newsboys 1 25
=Ben, the Luggage Boy=; or, Among the Wharves 1 25
=Rufus and Rose=; or, the Fortunes of Rough and Ready 1 25
=TATTERED TOM SERIES.= (FIRST SERIES.) By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4
vols., 12mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in
colors. In box 5 00
=Tattered Tom=; or, The Story of a Street Arab 1 25
=Paul, the Peddler=; or, The Adventures of a Young Street
Merchant 1 25
=Phil, the Fiddler=; or, The Young Street Musician 1 25
=Slow and Sure=; or, From the Sidewalk to the Shop 1 25
=TATTERED TOM SERIES.= (SECOND SERIES.) 4 vols., 12mo. Fully
illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box $5 00
=Julius=; or the Street Boy Out West 1 25
=The Young Outlaw=; or, Adrift in the World 1 25
=Sam’s Chance and How He Improved it= 1 25
=The Telegraph Boy= 1 25
=LUCK AND PLUCK SERIES.= (FIRST SERIES.) By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4
vols., 12mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in
colors. In box $5 00
=Luck and Pluck=; or John Oakley’s Inheritance 1 25
=Sink or Swim=; or, Harry Raymond’s Resolve 1 25
=Strong and Steady=; or, Paddle Your Own Canoe 1 25
=Strive and Succeed=; or, The Progress of Walter Conrad 1 25
=LUCK AND PLUCK SERIES.= (SECOND SERIES.) By Horatio Alger, Jr. 3
vols., 12mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in
colors. In box $5 00
=Try and Trust=; or, The Story of a Bound Boy 1 25
=Bound to Rise=; or Harry Walton’s Motto 1 25
=Risen from the Ranks=; or, Harry Walton’s Success 1 25
=Herbert Carter’s Legacy=; or, The Inventor’s Son 1 25
=CAMPAIGN SERIES.= By Horatio Alger, Jr. 3 vols., 12mo. Fully
illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box $3 75
=Frank’s Campaign=; or, The Farm and the Camp 1 25
=Paul Prescott’s Charge= 1 25
=Charlie Codman’s Cruise= 1 25
=BRAVE AND BOLD SERIES.= By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4 vols., 12mo.
Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box $5 00
=Brave and Bold=; or, The Story of a Factory Boy 1 25
=Jack’s Ward=; or, The Boy Guardian 1 25
=Shifting for Himself=; or, Gilbert Greyson’s Fortunes 1 25
=Wait and Hope=; or, Ben Bradford’s Motto 1 25
=PACIFIC SERIES.= By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4 vols., 12mo. Fully
illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box $5 00
=The Young Adventurer=; or, Tom’s Trip Across the Plains 1 25
=The Young Miner=; or, Tom Nelson in California 1 25
=The Young Explorer=; or, Among the Sierras 1 25
=Ben’s Nugget=; or, A Boy’s Search for Fortune. A Story of the
Pacific Coast 1 25
=ATLANTIC SERIES.= By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4 vols., 12mo. Fully
illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box $5 00
=The Young Circus Rider=; or, The Mystery of Robert Rudd 1 25
=Do and Dare=; or, A Brave Boy’s Fight for Fortune 1 25
=Hector’s Inheritance=; or, Boys of Smith Institute 1 25
=Helping Himself=; or, Grant Thornton’s Ambition 1 25
=WAY TO SUCCESS SERIES.= By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4 vols., 12mo.
Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box $5 00
=Bob Burton= 1 25
=The Store Boy= 1 25
=Luke Walton= 1 25
=Struggling Upward= 1 25
NEW BOOK BY ALGER.
=DIGGING FOR GOLD.= By Horatio Alger, Jr. Illustrated 12mo.
Cloth, black, red and gold 1 25
[Illustration: Specimen Cover of the Wyoming Series.]
A New Series of Books.
Indian Life and Character Founded on Historical Facts.
By Edward S. Ellis.
⁂ Any volume sold separately.
* * * * *
=BOY PIONEER SERIES.= By Edward S. Ellis. 3 vols., 12mo. Fully
illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box $3 75
=Ned in the Block House=; or, Life on the Frontier 1 25
=Ned in the Woods.= A Tale of the Early Days in the West 1 25
=Ned on the River= 1 25
=DEERFOOT SERIES.= By Edward S. Ellis. In box containing the
following. 3 vols., 12mo. Illustrated $3 75
=Hunters of the Ozark= 1 25
=Camp in the Mountains= 1 25
=The Last War Trail= 1 25
=LOG CABIN SERIES.= By Edward S. Ellis. 3 vols., 12mo. Fully
illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box $3 75
=Lost Trail= $1 25
=Camp-Fire and Wigwam= 1 25
=Footprints in the Forest= 1 25
=WYOMING SERIES.= By Edward S. Ellis. 3 vols., 12mo. Fully
illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box $3 75
=Wyoming= 1 25
=Storm Mountain= 1 25
=Cabin in the Clearing= 1 25
NEW BOOKS BY EDWARD S. ELLIS.
=Through Forest and Fire.= 12mo. Cloth 1 25
=On the Trail of the Moose.= 12mo. Cloth 1 25
By C. A. Stephens.
Rare books for boys—bright, breezy, wholesome and instructive; full of
adventure and incident, and information upon natural history. They
blend instruction with amusement—contain much useful and valuable
information upon the habits of animals, and plenty of adventure, fun
and jollity.
=CAMPING OUT SERIES.= By C. A. Stephens. 6 vols., 12mo. Fully
illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box $7 50
=Camping Out.= As recorded by “Kit” 1 25
=Left on Labrador=; or The Cruise of the Schooner Yacht “Curfew.”
As recorded by “Wash” 1 25
=Off to the Geysers=; or, The Young Yachters in Iceland. As
recorded by “Wade” 1 25
=Lynx Hunting.= From Notes by the author of “Camping Out” 1 25
=Fox Hunting.= As recorded by “Raed” 1 25
=On the Amazon=; or, The Cruise of the “Rambler.” As recorded by
“Wash” 1 25
By J. T. Trowbridge.
These stories will rank among the best of Mr. Trowbridge’s books for
the young—and he has written some of the best of our juvenile
literature.
=JACK HAZARD SERIES.= By J. T. Trowbridge. 6 vols., 12mo. Fully
Illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box $7 50
------------------------------------------------------------------------
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
1. Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in spelling.
2. Retained anachronistic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as
printed.
3. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Camp in the Foot-Hills, by Harry Castlemon