HOW JOE ENTERTAINED HIS GUESTS.
After supper the boys prepared to take leave.
“Go!” cried Joe; “you ain’t a going to do any such thing. You’re going
to stay a week. What did you come for--just to aggravate a fellow? It
is like showing a horse an ear of corn out of the garret window.”
“But we want to go and see Flour, and Fred, and lots of folks,” said
John.
“Flour’s over to Wiscasset: besides, you mustn’t call him Flour; he’s
Peterson, now.”
“But you want to be clearing land, and we shall only hinder you.”
“I tell you you _can’t_, nor _shan’t_ go; so say no more about it. I
want you to help me make a bear-trap to-night, and shoot some pigeons
in the morning on the stubble.”
“Then I’m sure I shan’t stir a step,” cried Charlie.
“Nor I, either,” said John.
“I thought I should bring you to your senses. Have you seen the pig?”
“Yes; he’s a beauty!”
“Well, you haven’t seen the garden.”
“A garden on a burn! Who ever heard of such a thing?” said Charlie.
“You don’t know everything, if you have been to Portland, and worked in
a ship-yard. Come ‘long o’ me.”
He led them to the south side of the log barn, and there they beheld a
sight that astonished them not a little. Right among the stumps were
growing, in the greatest imaginable luxuriance, beans, peas (second
crop), squashes, cucumbers, potatoes, cabbages, watermelons, and
flat-turnips. The peas and squash-vines had completely covered the
stumps, and large squashes were hanging from them, and lying between
the great forked roots of the trees in all directions.
“Didn’t take many sticks for the peas,” said Joe, “stumps are so thick.
What do you think of that for a cowcumber?” pointing to a very large
one. “Just see the watermillions!” taking up one as large as a large
pumpkin. “All this kind of truck grows first-rate on a burn--squashes,
turnips, peas, and especially watermillions. But come, if we are going
to set that bear-trap, it’s time we were at it.”
When they arrived at the place Joe had selected, he cut a large log,
three feet in diameter and about fifteen feet long, rolled another of
the same length and size on top of it, then set two large stakes at
each end where the two logs were to touch each other, driving them down
with his axe. These were to keep the top log from rolling off the under
one. They now lifted the top log up. It was as much as the three could
lift, and John held it with a handspike, while Joe and Charlie set the
trap, which was done in this manner: A round stick was laid across the
bottom log, and a sharpened stake set under the upper one, the end of
it resting on this round stick, and the bait fastened to the round
stick. The moment the bear pulled the bait towards him, it caused the
round stick to roll, and down came the great log on his head.
“I could have set it more ticklish,” said Joe, “but I was afraid the
wind would spring it; and these plaguy coons, that eat whatever a bear
eats, will do it.”
It is evident, that as the trap is now arranged, the bear might
approach on the side, pull the bait out, and spring the trap without
being caught. In order to prevent this, a row of strong stakes is set
in the ground on the side where the bait is, forming a pen enclosing
the bait placed upon the end of the round stick, which projects into
the pen; thus the bear, in order to reach the bait, must crawl between
and across the logs, and by pulling the bait, brings down the top log
upon him.
“Charlie, I’ve forgot the bait,” said Joe. “Run up to the house, and
ask Sally to give you the quarter of lamb Uncle Isaac gave me. Don’t
you think the wolves killed ten sheep last night for him and the
Pettigrews!”
“How did they get at them?”
“There hadn’t been any wolves round for some time, and they left them
out of the fold. Uncle Isaac sent the meat of one to me.”
It may be well to inform our readers that in those days sheep were
folded every night, to protect them from the wolves. A log pen was
built on a piece of land where some one of the neighbors intended to
plant corn the next year, and a number of flocks of sheep were driven
in every night. After a while the pen was moved to another spot, and
the land was thus thoroughly enriched.
The next year, the sheep were folded upon another person’s land.
Sometimes, as in the present instance, through neglect, or not being
able to find them, they were left out, and fell a prey to the wolves,
who not only killed what sheep they wanted to eat, but would bite the
throats and suck the blood of all they could get at.
When Charlie came with the meat, Joe fastened it to the round stick,
taking several turns with the rope around the stick, in order that it
might roll when the bear pulled the meat towards him.
“Now,” said Joe, “all that’s wanting is the bear, and there’s just time
enough before dark to set a spring-gun. Did you know I’ve got Ben’s big
gun over here?”
“No.”
“I have. He said I might have it a while if I would make a handsome
stock to it. It’s just the thing for bears. Come, go with me and get
it, right in my shop. You haven’t seen my work-shop yet.”
“Have you got a work-shop?”
“To be sure I have. Not quite so nice as yours on the island, but it
answers the purpose very well.”
Joe led the way to the house. On the side of it he had built a lean-to
of logs, quite large, and in it a stone fireplace, with a chimney of
sticks of wood, filled in with clay; but he had an excellent set of
tools, of the kind used in that day, and a bench. Here Joe worked for
others, not for himself, and made yokes, harrows, ploughs, and other
utensils for his neighbors, who did not possess the tools, or the gift
to use them, and received his pay in labor or provisions, and a little
money.
In his proceedings was realized the proverb, “The shoemaker’s wife and
the blacksmith’s mare always go bare;” for while he made all kinds of
conveniences for others, he had none for himself, but intended to have
them all by and by, when the land was cleared, the place stocked, and
he built a frame house.
“Look here, Charlie,” said Joe, showing him a piece of wild cherry-tree
wood, in which the veins were very much diversified, “won’t that be
handsome when it is worked off and polished? I mean to make a stock of
that for the old gun, that will come to a fellow’s face like a duck’s
bill in the mud; but the old one is just as good for me to knock round
in the dirt, and set for bears.”
Joe threw the gun on his shoulder, and they started for the cornfield.
He had planted the corn somewhat regularly in rows, though they were
often broken by stumps.
He showed the boys a gap in the fence, where a bear had come in a few
nights before.
“Why don’t you stop it up?” asked Charlie.
“What would be the use of that? You can’t fence against a bear. You
might as well fence against a cat. Besides, when a bear has come into a
field once, he will most always take the same road next time, and I’m
going to plant my battery on that calculation.”
It so happened that the gap in the fence through which the bear had
made his entrance on previous nights ranged between two rows of corn.
In the centre, between these rows, Joe drove two stout stakes into the
ground, and splitting their ends with the axe, forced the gun, heavily
loaded with ball and shot, into the splits, the muzzle directed towards
the gap in the fence. At the breech of the gun, near to, and a little
behind the trigger, he placed a crotch, in which he laid a stick, one
end of it resting in the ground before the trigger, to the other end
he fastened a stout cod-line, thus forming a lever purchase. This line
was conducted by crotches driven into the ground directly in front of
the gun, then ran across the row back again, and was fastened to the
stake which supported the muzzle of the gun. If the bear trod upon or
leaned against this line, he would discharge the piece, shoot himself,
and thus his blood be upon his own head. If he came through the gap, or
along between the rows, he could not well help stepping on the line.
“There ain’t much likelihood of shooting a bear with a spring-gun,”
said Joe, when he had made his preparations. “They have got to come
right before it. If he don’t come through this gap to-morrow night,
I’ll put some bait before the gun to tole him.”
They now returned to the house.
“It must be nice to have bears!” said Charlie. “What a good time I
might have if I was on my place, making traps, setting guns, and
hunting!”
“It ain’t so very nice,” said Joe, “to work hard, and raise a piece of
corn, then just as it is in the milk, and growing as fast as it can,
have a whole army of bears and coons waiting to destroy it the moment
you shut your eyes.”
The boys, when they retired, thought they should certainly hear the gun
if it went off in the night; but instead of this, they slept so soundly
they did not wake till Joe called at sunrise.
“Has the gun gone off?” cried Charlie, almost before his eyes were
open.
“Don’t know. Didn’t hear it. Didn’t calculate to.”
“Is there any bear in the trap?” cried John.
“Haven’t been to see.”
The boys were quickly dressed, and all three were on their way to the
cornfield.
“It’s sprung! Hurrah! The trap’s sprung!” shouted Charlie, standing on
tiptoe, and looking ahead.
The boys broke into a run, leaving Joe, more cool and probably less
sanguine, to follow at his leisure. When at length he reached the spot,
he found them standing with blank faces before the trap, in which was
the head and shoulders of a coon, the remaining portion of the body
having been eaten off.
“You mean, miserable little rat you!” exclaimed Charlie. “Nobody wanted
you. What business had you to get into a bear-trap?”
“What do you suppose eat the coon?” asked John. “Foxes?”
“Foxes? no,” replied Joe. “A bear. Look at that corn,” pointing to
a place where the bear, after eating the corn, had broken down the
stalks, eaten some ears, bitten others, and apparently lain down and
wallowed.
“Look there,” said Charlie, taking up a stalk of corn that was bloody;
“that was the first one he bit, and some of the coon’s blood is on it.”
“He hasn’t done much hurt,” said Joe; “didn’t get in till most morning,
or he would have done more; he’ll be sure to come back again, as he got
part of a bellyful, and didn’t get enough.”
They now went to the place where they had set the gun.
“It’s gone,” screamed the boys, who had gone ahead; “there’s no gun
here.”
When Joe came to the place, he found the gun gone, the stakes that had
held it upset, the crotches torn from the ground, and the cod-line
wound around the hills of corn, which was trampled down in all
directions.
“Here’s the gun,” cried John; “it’s gone off.”
“Here’s blood,” said Charlie, who had gone to the gap in the fence;
“here’s blood all over this log, where he bled getting over.”
“Look here,” said John, holding up the gun; “only look at the stock.”
“That’s where he bit it,” said Joe; “he was mad, and so he bit the
thing that hurt him.”
“I don’t blame him,” said Charlie, “if he got all that buck shot and
those balls in him.”
“I guess he’s hurt bad; he’s got some of ’em in him.”
“Let’s go right after him this minute: we’ll have him.”
“Not so fast, my boy; we’ll have some breakfast first; we may have to
follow him miles.”
Breakfast was soon despatched. Joe loaded up the big gun, gave John his
own rifle, and Charlie an old Queen’s arm that belonged to Henry.
“There’s been two of ’em in the corn, I know as well as I want to,”
said Joe. They were able to track him by the blood and a peculiar mark
like a scratch on the leaves, and wherever the ground was soft.
“He must have one leg broke or hurt,” said Joe: “see there! every
little while he drags it.”
Thus they followed for hours, sometimes losing the track, and then,
after a long search, finding it again, which consumed a great deal of
time. The trail led them in the direction of Charlie’s place.
“It’s one of your bears, Charlie; they are breachy. I wish you would
keep them at home out of my corn.”
“You must put them in pound, Joe.”
Pursuing till they came to the brook, they lost the track altogether.
Thinking he might have gone into the brook, they followed along the
banks on each side to the pond, hoping to regain his track when
he left the water, but without success. They were now hungry and
discouraged,--it was the middle of the afternoon,--and were about to
abandon the search and return, but sat down under a short, butted,
scrubby hemlock to rest and consult.
“If we only had Tige,” said John, “he would take us right to him.”
For the last hour they had seen no blood, and Joe reckoned that the
blood had clotted in the wounds, or he had stuffed them with moss.
“We shall have to give him up; he’s got into his den,” said Joe.
“Why couldn’t we go home and get Tige on the track, and start, early in
the morning?”
While they were conversing, a drop of blood fell on the back of
Charlie’s hand. Looking up, he saw the bear in the tree right over his
head.
Worn out with fatigue and loss of blood, and unable to reach his den,
with the last efforts of remaining strength he had crawled up the
tree, with the design of ascending to the thick top, and escaping
the notice of his pursuers; but having tangled the cod-line, to which
the stake which supported the muzzle of the gun was attached, round
one of his hind legs, he had dragged it after him, and catching it in
the lower limbs, he, being exhausted, was brought to an anchor. The
exertion of climbing the tree had made the wound bleed afresh.
“Good afternoon, friend,” said Joe, who was greatly elated at this
unlooked-for success; “see what you did,”--holding up the long gun, and
showing the bear the marks of his own teeth on the stock. “Who do you
think is to pay for that, eh? Don’t you wish you’d kept out of my corn?”
“See how guilty he looks,” said John, pointing to the creature, who lay
with his fore paws on a large branch, gravely regarding his foes with
the stoicism of an Indian at the stake.
“Come, boys, which of you want to shoot him?”
They both were silent.
“John does,” said Charlie, at length.
“Charlie does,” replied John.
“Both of you do. Well, both of you fire at him.”
[Illustration: THE LAST OF THE BEAR.--Page 101.]
Scarcely were the words uttered when their guns made a common report,
and the bear tumbled to the ground perfectly dead.
“Ain’t you glad you didn’t go home yesterday?”
“Guess we are.”
“Ain’t a bit hungry, nor tired, now?”
“Not a bit.”
“It’s nearer five o’clock than four, and that bear must be got home and
dressed to-night. I thought his leg was broken, but it was that stake
dragging that made the trail, and helped greatly to tire him.”
Joe tied his legs together with the cod-line, and finding a dead
spruce, they broke it down, and thrust it between his legs; Joe taking
one end on his shoulders and the boys the other, they carried the
carcass to the shore.
“This is a big one,” said Joe, drawing a long breath: “he weighs every
bit of three hundred. Well, I’ve kept him well; he’s had all the corn
he’s wanted, and the best of corn too; and there’s been any quantity of
blueberries this year. Now let us take a drink at Cross-root Spring,
leave our guns here, go home and get supper, then take the boat, come
up and get the bear.”
“We are going to call it Quicksilver Spring now,” said Charlie: “you
know what happened here.”
“Well, Quicksilver Spring, then.”
“It was a noble day’s work Uncle Isaac did that day.”
“He saved that young man; but we are not a going to have to fight the
battle, a handful of us, with liquor much longer.”
“Why not?”
“Because people that have got larning, and that are looked up to,
are beginning to take it up. James Welch sent a newspaper to Uncle
Isaac that has printed what Dr. Franklin said about it long ago; and
there’s a long piece that the College of Doctors in Philadelphia sent
to Congress, about it, saying something ought to be done; that rum
was ruining the country, and upsetting all we had done in getting our
liberty: the paper’s at the house; you can read it. Now, when the
papers take anything up, it’s a sartain sign that there are a good many
people thinking about those matters, and want to hear about them; they
never bark till the deer’s afoot; it will spread just like ile when you
drop it on the water to spear a flounder.”
Thus beguiling the rough journey through the forest, they arrived home
just before sundown.
“Now, boys, while Sally’s putting supper on the table, we’ll just set
the trap again.”
After resting a while, and eating a substantial meal, having eaten
nothing since six o’clock that morning, they took the boat, and being
favored with a fair wind and tide, sailed leisurely up the bay under a
bright starlight.
“We’ve got the night before us,” said Joe, “so needn’t hurry.”
“This is easier than walking,” said Charlie; “the tide will turn by the
time we get there, and if we do have to beat or row back, we shall have
a fair tide.”
They were favored in this respect; for by the time they had placed the
bear in the boat, and were ready to start, it fell calm, and they rowed
leisurely home with the tide.
It was much nearer morning than midnight, when, having dressed the
animal and hung him up in the barn floor, they went to bed.