"Let's find the man and get him to shoot this chap; then we needn't
wait, but skin him right away, and eat him too."
Off they went to the camp; and catching up their things, the two hunters
hurried away in the direction of the sound, feeling glad to know that
some one was near them, for two or three hours of wood life made them a
little homesick.
They ran and scrambled, and listened and called; but not until they had
gone a long way up the mountain did they find the man, resting in an old
hut left by the lumbermen. The remains of his dinner were spread on the
floor, and he lay smoking, and reading a newspaper, while his dog dozed
at his feet, close to a well-filled game-bag.
He looked surprised when two dirty, wet little boys suddenly appeared
before him,--one grinning cheerfully, the other looking very dismal and
scared as the dog growled and glared at them as if they were two
rabbits.
"Hollo!" said the man.
"Hollo!" answered Tommy.
"Who are you?" asked the man.
"Hunters," said Tommy.
"Had good luck?" And the man laughed.
"First-rate. Got a raccoon in our trap, and we want you to come and
shoot him," answered Tommy, proudly.
"Sure?" said the man, looking interested as well as amused.
"No; but I think so."
"What's he like?"
Tommy described him, and was much disappointed when the man lay down
again, saying, with another laugh,--
"It's a woodchuck; he's no good."
"But I want the skin."
"Then don't shoot him, let him die; that's better for the skin," said
the man, who was tired and didn't want to stop for such poor game.
All this time Billy had been staring hard at the sandwiches and bread
and cheese on the floor, and sniffing at them, as the dog sniffed at
him.
"Want some grub?" asked the man, seeing the hungry look.
"I just do! We left our lunch, and I've only had two little trout and
some old berries since breakfast," answered Billy, with tears in his
eyes and a hand on his stomach.
"Eat away then; I'm done, and don't want the stuff." And the man took up
his paper as if glad to be let alone.
It was lucky that the dog had been fed, for in ten minutes nothing was
left but the napkin; and the boys sat picking up the crumbs, much
refreshed, but ready for more.
"Better be going home, my lads; it's pretty cold on the mountain after
sunset, and you are a long way from town," said the man, who had peeped
at them over his paper now and then, and saw, in spite of the dirt and
rips, that they were not farmer boys.
"We don't live in town; we are at Mullin's, in the valley. No hurry; we
know the way, and we want to have some sport first. You seem to have
done well," answered Tommy, looking enviously from the gun to the
game-bag, out of which hung a rabbit's head and a squirrel's tail.
"Pretty fair; but I want a shot at the bear. People tell me there is one
up here, and I'm after him; for he kills the sheep, and might hurt some
of the young folks round here," said the man, loading his gun with a
very sober air; for he wanted to get rid of the boys and send them home.
Billy looked alarmed; but Tommy's brown face beamed with joy as he said
eagerly,--
"I hope you'll get him. I'd rather shoot a bear than any other animal
but a lion. We don't have those here, and bears are scarce. Mullin said
he hadn't heard of one for a long time; so this must be a young one, for
they killed the big one two years ago."
That was true, and the man knew it. He did not really expect or want to
meet a bear, but thought the idea of one would send the little fellows
home at once. Finding one of them was unscared, he laughed, and said
with a nod to Tommy,--
"If I had time I'd take _you_ along, and show you how to hunt; but this
fat friend of yours couldn't rough it with us, and we can't leave him
alone; so go ahead your own way. Only I wouldn't climb any higher, for
among the rocks you are sure to get hurt or lost."
"Oh, I say, let's go! Such fun, Billy! I know you'll like it. A real gun
and dog and hunter! Come on, and don't be a molly-coddle," cried Tommy,
wild to go.
"I won't! I'm tired, and I'm going home; you can go after your old bears
if you want to. I don't think much of hunting anyway, and wish I hadn't
come," growled Billy, very cross at being left out, yet with no desire
to scramble any more.
"Can't stop. Good-by. Get along home, and some day I'll come and take
you out with me, little Leatherstocking," said the man, striding off
with the dear gun and dog and bag, leaving Billy to wonder what he meant
by that queer name, and Tommy to console himself with the promise made
him.
"Let's go and see how old Chucky gets on," he said good-naturedly, when
the man vanished.
"Not till I'm rested. I can get a good nap on this pile of hay; then
we'll go home before it's late," answered lazy Billy, settling himself
on the rough bed the lumbermen had used.
"I just wish I had a boy with some go in him; you ain't much better than
a girl," sighed Tommy, walking off to a pine-tree where some squirrels
seemed to be having a party, they chattered and raced up and down at
such a rate.
He tried his bow and shot all his arrows many times in vain, for the
lively creatures gave him no chance. He had better luck with a brown
bird who sat in a bush and was hit full in the breast with the sharpest
arrow. The poor thing fluttered and fell, and its blood wet the green
leaves as it lay dying on the grass. Tommy was much pleased at first;
but as he stood watching its bright eye grow dim and its pretty brown
wings stop fluttering, he felt sorry that its happy little life was so
cruelly ended, and ashamed that his thoughtless fun had given so much
pain.
"I'll never shoot another bird except hawks after chickens, and I won't
brag about this one. It was so tame, and trusted me, I was very mean to
kill it."
As he thought this, Tommy smoothed the ruffled feathers of the dead
thrush, and, making a little grave under the pine, buried it wrapped in
green leaves, and left it there where its mate could sing over it, and
no rude hands disturb its rest.
"I'll tell mamma and she will understand; but I _won't_ tell Billy. He
is such a greedy old chap he'll say I ought to have kept the poor bird
to eat," thought Tommy, as he went back to the hut, and sat there,
restringing his bow, till Billy woke up, much more amiable for his
sleep.
They tried to find the woodchuck, but lost their way, and wandered
deeper into the great forest till they came to a rocky place and could
go no farther. They climbed up and tumbled down, turned back and went
round, looked at the sun and knew it was late, chewed sassafras bark
and checkerberry leaves for supper, and grew more and more worried and
tired as hour after hour went by and they saw no end to woods and rocks.
Once or twice they heard the hunter's gun far away, and called and tried
to find him.
Tommy scolded Billy for not going with the man, who knew his way and was
probably safe in the valley when the last faint shot came up to them.
Billy cried, and reproached Tommy for proposing to run away; and both
felt very homesick for their mothers and their good safe beds at Farmer
Mullin's.
The sun set, and found them in a dreary place full of rocks and blasted
trees half-way up the mountain. They were so tired they could hardly
walk, and longed to lie down anywhere to sleep; but, remembering the
hunter's story of the bear, they were afraid to do it, till Tommy
suggested climbing a tree, after making a fire at the foot of it to
scare away the bear, lest he climb too and get them.
But, alas! the matches were left in their first camp; so they decided to
take turns to sleep and watch, since it was plain that they must spend
the night there. Billy went up first, and creeping into a good notch of
the bare tree tried to sleep, while brave Tommy, armed with a big
stick, marched to and fro below. Every few minutes a trembling voice
would call from above, "Is anything coming?" and an anxious voice would
answer from below, "Not yet. Hurry up and go to sleep! I want my turn."
At last Billy began to snore, and then Tommy felt so lonely he couldn't
bear it; so he climbed to a lower branch, and sat nodding and trying to
keep watch, till he too fell fast asleep, and the early moon saw the
poor boys roosting there like two little owls.
A loud cry, a scrambling overhead, and then a great shaking and howling
waked Tommy so suddenly that he lost his wits for a moment and did not
know where he was.
"The bear! the bear! don't let him get me! Tommy, Tommy, come and make
him let go," cried Billy, filling the quiet night with dismal howls.
Tommy looked up, expecting to behold a large bear eating his unhappy
friend; but the moonlight showed him nothing but poor Billy dangling
from a bough, high above the ground, caught by his belt when he fell. He
had been dreaming of bears, and rolled off his perch; so there he hung,
kicking and wailing, half awake, and so scared it was long before Tommy
could make him believe that he was quite safe.
How to get him down was the next question. The branch was not strong
enough to bear Tommy, though he climbed up and tried to unhook poor
Billy. The belt was firmly twisted at the back, and Billy could not
reach to undo it, nor could he get his legs round the branch to pull
himself up. There seemed no way but to unbuckle the belt and drop. That
he was afraid to try; for the ground was hard, and the fall a high one.
Fortunately both belt and buckle were strong; so he hung safely, though
very uncomfortably, while Tommy racked his boyish brain to find a way to
help him.
Billy had just declared that he should be cut in two very soon if
something was not done for him, and Tommy was in despair, when they
thought they heard a far-off shout, and both answered it till their
throats were nearly split with screaming.
"I seem to see a light moving round down that way," cried Billy from his
hook, pointing toward the valley.
"They are looking for us, but they won't hear us. I'll run and holler
louder, and bring 'em up here," answered Tommy, glad to do anything
that would put an end to this dreadful state of things.
"Don't leave me! I may fall and be killed! The bear might come! Don't
go! don't go!" wailed Billy, longing to drop, but afraid.
"I won't go far, and I'll come back as quick as I can. You are safe up
there. Hold on, and we'll soon get you down," answered Tommy, rushing
away helter-skelter, never minding where he went, and too much excited
to care for any damage.
The moon was bright on the blasted trees; but when he came down among
the green pines, it grew dark, and he often stumbled and fell. Never
minding bumps and bruises, he scrambled over rocks, leaped fallen
trunks, floundered through brooks, and climbed down steep places, till,
with a reckless jump, he went heels over head into a deep hole, and lay
there for a moment stunned by the fall. It was an old bear-trap, long
unused, and fortunately well carpeted with dead leaves, or poor Tommy
would have broken his bones.
When he came to himself he was so used up that he lay still for some
time in a sort of daze, too tired to know or care about anything, only
dimly conscious that somebody was lost in a tree or a well, and that,
on the whole, running away was not all fun.
By and by the sound of a gun roused him; and remembering poor Billy, he
tried to get out of the pit,--for the moon showed him where he was. But
it was too deep, and he was too stiff with weariness and the fall to be
very nimble. So he shouted, and whistled, and raged about very like a
little bear caught in the pit.
It is very difficult to find a lost person on these great mountains, and
many wander for hours not far from help, bewildered by the thick woods,
the deep ravines, and precipices which shut them in. Some have lost
their lives; and as Tommy lay on the leaves used up by his various
struggles, he thought of all the stories he had lately heard at the
farm, and began to wonder how it would feel to starve to death down
there, and to wish poor Billy could come to share his prison, that they
might die together, like the Babes in the Wood, or better still the Boy
Scouts lost on the prairies in that thrilling story, "Bill Boomerang,
the Wild Hunter of the West."
"I guess mother is worried this time, because I never stayed out all
night before, and I never will again without leave. It's rather good
fun, though, if they only find me. I ain't afraid, and it isn't very
cold. I always wanted to sleep out, and now I'm doing it. Wish poor
Billy was safely down and in this good bed with me. Won't he be scared
all alone there? Maybe the belt will break and he get hurt bumping down.
Sorry now I left him, he's such a 'fraid-cat. There's the gun again!
Guess it's that man after us. Hi! hollo! Here I am! Whoop! Hurrah! Hi!
hi! hi!"
Tommy's meditations ended in a series of yells as loud as his shrill
little voice could make them, and he thought some one answered. But it
must have been an echo, for no one came; and after another rampage round
his prison, the poor boy nestled down among the leaves, and went fast
asleep because there was nothing else to do.
So there they were, the two young hunters, lost at midnight on the
mountain,--one hanging like an apple on the old tree, and the other
sound asleep in a bear-pit. Their distracted mothers meantime were
weeping and wringing their hands at the farm, while all the men in
the neighborhood were out looking for the lost boys. The hunter on his
return to the hotel had reported meeting the runaways and his effort to
send them home in good season; so people knew where to look, and, led
by the man and dog, up the mountain went Mr. Mullin with his troop. It
was a mild night, and the moon shone high and clear; so the hunt was,
on the whole, rather easy and pleasant at first, and lanterns flashed
through the dark forest like fireflies, the lonely cliffs seemed alive
with men, and voices echoed in places where usually only the brooks
babbled and the hawks screamed. But as time went on, and no sign of the
boys appeared, the men grew anxious, and began to fear some serious harm
had come to the runaways.
"I can't go home without them little shavers no way, 'specially Tommy,"
said Mr. Mullin, as they stopped to rest after a hard climb through the
blasted grove. "He's a boy after my own heart, spry as a chipmunk, smart
as a young cockerel, and as full of mischief as a monkey. He ain't
afraid of anything, and I shouldn't be a mite surprised to find him
enjoyin' himself first-rate, and as cool as a coocumber."
"The fat boy won't take it so easily, I fancy. If it hadn't been for him
I'd have kept the lively fellow with me, and shown him how to hunt.
Sorry now I didn't take them both home," said the man with the gun,
seeing his mistake too late, as people often do.
"Maybe they've fell down a precipice and got killed, like Moses Warner,
when he was lost," suggested a tall fellow, who had shouted himself
hoarse.
"Hush up, and come on! The dog is barkin' yonder, and he may have found
'em," said the farmer, hurrying toward the place where the hound was
baying at something in a tree.
It was poor Billy, hanging there still, half unconscious with weariness
and fear. The belt had slipped up under his arms, so he could breathe
easily; and there he was, looking like a queer sort of cone on the
blasted pine.
"Wal, I never!" exclaimed the farmer, as the tall lad climbed up, and,
unhooking Billy, handed him down like a young bird, into the arms held
up to catch him.
"He's all right, only scared out of his wits. Come along and look for
the other one. I'll warrant he went for help, and may be half-way home
by this time," said the hunter, who didn't take much interest in the fat
boy.
Tommy's hat lay on the ground; and showing it to the dog, his master
told him to find the boy. The good hound sniffed about, and then set off
with his nose to the ground, following the zigzag track Tommy had taken
in his hurry. The hunter and several of the men went after him, leaving
the farmer with the others to take care of Billy.
Presently the dog came to the bear-pit, and began to bark again.
"He's got him!" cried the men, much relieved; and rushing on soon saw
the good beast looking down at a little white object in one corner of
the dark hole.
It was Tommy's face in the moonlight, for the rest of him was covered up
with leaves. The little round face seemed very quiet; and for a moment
the men stood quite still, fearing that the fall might have done the boy
some harm. Then the hunter leaped down, and gently touched the brown
cheek. It was warm, and a soft snore from the pug nose made the man call
out, much relieved,--
"He's all right. Wake up here, little chap; you are wanted at home. Had
hunting enough for this time?"
As he spoke, Tommy opened his eyes, gave a stretch, and said, "Hollo,
Billy," as calmly as if in his own bed at home. Then the rustle of the
leaves, the moonlight in his face, and the sight of several men staring
down at him startled him wide awake.
"Did you shoot the big bear?" he asked, looking up at the hunter with a
grin.
"No; but I caught a little one, and here he is," answered the man,
giving Tommy a roll in the leaves, much pleased because he did not whine
or make a fuss.
"Got lost, didn't we? Oh, I say, where's Billy? I left him up a tree
like a coon, and he wouldn't come down," laughed Tommy, kicking off his
brown bed-clothes, and quite ready to get up now.
They all laughed with him; and presently, when the story was told, they
pulled the boy out of the pit, and went back to join the other wanderer,
who was now sitting up eating the bread and butter Mrs. Mullin sent for
their very late supper.
The men roared again, as the two boys told their various tribulations;
and when they had been refreshed, the party started for home, blowing
the tin horns, and firing shot after shot to let the scattered searchers
know that the lost children were found. Billy was very quiet, and gladly
rode on the various broad backs offered for his use; but Tommy stoutly
refused to be carried, and with an occasional "boost" over a very rough
place, walked all the way down on his own sturdy legs. He was the hero
of the adventure, and was never tired of relating how he caught the
woodchuck, cooked the fish, slid down the big rock, and went to bed in
the old bear-pit. But in his own little mind he resolved to wait till he
was older before he tried to be a hunter; and though he caught several
woodchucks that summer, he never shot another harmless little bird.
[Illustration]
* * * * *
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[Illustration]
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