BEN COMEE HEAP BIG PALEFACE--TRAPPING BOB-CATS IN PRIMEVAL WOODS
When we arrived at camp we had something to eat. Rogers came to us and
questioned Amos, first as to the number of troops at Fort Ticonderoga,
and how they were arranged, and afterward he inquired about his
adventures. When Amos told how Morin rushed in and freed Major Putnam,
Rogers said:--
"Morin? I know him well. I scalped him and carved my name on his breast
with my knife."
"Well, I wished you h-hadn't. Then he m-might have given us something to
eat."
Rogers turned and went off.
"Ugh! I don't like that man. You remember the time Lord Howe was
k-killed. Well, that day I saw Rogers hit a poor wounded Frenchman on
the head with his hatchet. It was the meanest thing I ever saw done by a
white man, and I can't abide him."
"No, he's cruel and hard as nails. I wish John Stark was the commander
of the Rangers. He has all Rogers's good points as a fighter, is a
better man, and has better judgment. He never makes mistakes."
"Hello!" said Amos. "There's old Captain Jacob. I thought I'd n-never
want to see an Injun again. But it's kind of good to see the old fellow.
I wonder what makes him seem different from the Injuns on the other
side."
"Probably because he's a Christian Indian."
"I guess not. I d-don't think his religion struck in very deep, and it
don't worry him much. And when you come to that, they say those French
Indians are Christian Indians too. I n-never noticed m-much religion
about them. I guess we like him because he's on our side and shows his
good points to us, and those other Injuns are agin us and show their
ugly natures. It makes all the difference in the world whether the
Injun's with you or agin you."
[Sidenote: BEN SENDS PRESENTS]
I had been feeling bad about the Indian that I wrestled with. He was
such a fine fellow. How Jonas Parker would have delighted in him. Just a
bundle of steel springs. There must have been a great deal that was good
in a man like that.
I walked over to Captain Jacob, and said: "I had a wrestle with an
Indian in that Fort Anne fight, Captain Jacob, and I killed him. I'm
sorry, for he was a fine fellow."
"Yes, I heard! Big fight. Big Injun."
"Well, I should like to show those Indians that I thought well of him,
and want also to do something for his wife and children, if he has any.
Now, I have ten Spanish dollars. I should like to buy some present, and
send it to them, and tell them how much I thought of him and that I'm
sorry I killed him."
"Oh, yes! Me send Injun. Me send what you call 'em--Injun flag of truce.
Me send presents. Tell 'em you heap sorry. Me tell 'em you think him
heap big Injun."
"That's it. That's the talk, Captain Jacob. Here's the ten dollars. Buy
what you think are the right presents for his wife and children, and I
shall be much obliged to you."
"All right! Me do it!"
Some days later, Captain Jacob came to me and said:--
"All right, Ben Comee. Me send Injun. He see them Injuns. He give 'em
your words. Injuns feel heap proud. They say that Injun, him big chief
of Canawaugha Injuns. His name Gray Wolf. Best man they have. They feel
glad you think heap of him. My Injun give 'em presents for his squaw and
children. Give 'em rum, tobacco, and chocolate."
"Rum, tobacco, and chocolate?"
"Yes, heap rum, heap tobacco, heap chocolate!"
"Well, that was a mighty good idea, Jacob. There's lots of comfort in
all three of those things. But I should never have thought of giving
them to the widow and the orphans."
"Injuns ask, 'What that man's name?' 'Ben Comee in Captain Rogers's
company. They give my Injun, pipe, wampum, and powder horn with carving
on it for you.' They say: 'Ben Comee heap big paleface to kill Gray
Wolf. We think as much of his scalp as of Captain Rogers's or John
Stark's.'"
[Sidenote: LOUISBURG FALLS]
Edmund and Amos, who were standing near by, grinned, and Edmund said:--
"You seem to be pretty popular with those Indians, Ben. Don't get
stuck-up over it."
"I don't see anything very funny about it, and hope that all three of us
shall pass through the fiery furnace, like Shadrach, Meshach, and
Abednego, without a hair of our heads being touched."
While we were being whipped by the French at Ticonderoga, another army
under General Amherst and General Wolfe was besieging the fortress of
Louisburg, on the island of Cape Breton. That army had good generals;
and on the 28th of August we heard that the fortress had surrendered.
Edmund came out of Rogers's hut. We were waiting for him.
"Come along with me. Louisburg has fallen, and I've got to take some
orders to the officers, about to-night. The four companies of Rangers
with that army did well. Rogers is mightily pleased over it, and is
going to celebrate their good behaviour. Rangers to be at the
breastworks at six, and fire a salute. There's going to be high jinks
to-night. I've got to go in here and see Stark."
The regiments were all under arms at the breastworks at six o'clock. It
was the King's birthday, and the Royal Artillery began with a royal
salute of twenty-one guns. Then the regiments fired in turn, till all
had fired three times. After that the ranks were broken, and the fun
began.
More good news came soon after, and this time our own army had a
success. For Colonel Bradstreet with two thousand men had set out on an
expedition against Fort Frontenac, and early in September he sent back
word that he had taken and destroyed the fort.
These victories put new life into our men, and they became cheerful, and
did not continually harp on our defeat.
Through Hector and Donald we came to know the men of the Black Watch
well, and spent much of our leisure time with them, listening to their
tales of cattle-lifting and of fighting in the Border.
[Sidenote: BORDER TALES]
Most of their talk was about the Rebellion of 1745, for the regiment was
largely made up of Highlanders that had been "out" with Charlie. And
when they drank the King's health, it was to King James they drank, and
not to King George.
Their conversation was very interesting to Edmund and to me, for our
family had lived together like a clan in Lexington, and the older people
still kept certain Scotch customs and used queer expressions. As the
Highlanders talked, a strange feeling would occasionally come over us,
as if we had led that life and seen those sights at some dim, remote
period.
In our own camp with the Rangers we heard stories of adventures in the
woods with Indians, bears, and lucivees.
Old Bill McKinstry said, "I wish we had some good strong traps, and we
could go off and trap bob-cat."
"And why shouldn't we have traps? What am I a blacksmith for? Just find
me some old iron, and I will get the use of the armourers' forge."
They procured the iron, and I made eight big traps with strong jaws and
a chain for each trap.
McKinstry, John Martin, Amos, and I got a furlough for a week, and so
did Hector Munro, whom we asked to go with us. We packed up our traps
and provisions on an Indian sled.
The winter had set in. The river was frozen over, and the snow was deep.
We fastened on our rackets and started to the southwest, where there was
little likelihood that we should be disturbed by Indians. We went down
the river, and turned off into a path that led to the west, and followed
it till well into the afternoon, when we came to a good-sized pond. On
the way, we shot several rabbits with which to bait the traps. McKinstry
killed a hedgehog, which he said was just what he wanted. We chose a
place where there were a couple of good-sized saplings, some twelve feet
apart in a level and sheltered spot, not far from the pond.
[Sidenote: BUILDING A CAMP]
We cleared away the brush behind them, and fastened a pole from one tree
to the other, some eight feet from the ground. Then we cut a number of
long poles, and laying one end of them on the cross pole, and the other
on the ground, made the skeleton of a lean-to hut. McKinstry had built a
fire. He threw the hedgehog into it, and let him stay till the quills
were well singed. Then he pulled him out and tied a string to him.
"What are you doing that for?"
"For a scent. I'll show you."
McKinstry and I set out with the traps and bait, leaving our companions
to cut fir boughs, with which to thatch the roof and sides of the hut,
and make a bed. He held the hedgehog up by the string, and we walked
down to the pond, and along the edge of it.
"There's tracks enough, Ben. Must be game here. I'll scoop out a little
snow, and you open the trap, and lay it in the hollow. Now, we'll cover
it with twigs and leaves, to hide it. Cut up a rabbit, and lay the
pieces on the twigs for bait. Bring me that log over there, and I'll
fasten it to the chain for a clog. He'd gnaw, or pull his foot off, if
we tied the trap to a tree. He'll haul the clog along, but he won't get
many miles with it. Now we'll drag the hedgehog round, and the burnt
quills will make a strong scent on the snow. That will do. We'll go on
and pull the hedgehog through the snow behind us. When the animals
strike that trail, they'll be apt to follow it to a trap."
We set all our traps along the edge of the pond, at quite a distance
from each other; and at the last trap, cut up the hog, and baited the
trap with it.
When we got back to camp, we found the roof and sides of the hut well
thatched with boughs, and a good thick layer of them on the ground for a
bed. The boys had collected a lot of wood, and piled it up near by. In
front of the hut was a fire, at which Martin was baking some rye and
Injun bread, and frying a large mess of pork.
When we had eaten our supper, it was solid comfort to sit in our hut,
after our long day's work, to look at the fire blazing in front, to feel
the heat, and watch the smoke curl up through the tree. On the further
side of the fire they had built up a wall of green logs, so that the
heat was thrown into the hut. We were snug and warm.
[Sidenote: JOHN McNEIL]
"Boys," said McKinstry, "when we get through with this war, you must
come to the Amoskeag Falls, and visit your old friends. We've got some
fine men there,--one's a great wrestler. I don't think your Jonas Parker
could have stood up very long against him. His name is John McNeil. He
is six feet six inches high, and used to be strong as a bull. He is a
North of Ireland man, and had a quarrel with some big Injun over there,
who came along on horseback, and struck at him with his whip. John
pulled him off his horse, gave him a pounding, and had to leave the
country. He settled at the Falls, and no man, white or red, could stand
up against him for a minute. His wife, Christie, is a good mate to him,
a big, brawny woman. One day a stranger came to the house and asked: 'Is
Mr. McNeil at home?'
"'No,' says Christie; 'the gude man is away.'
"'That's a pity; for I hear that McNeil is a very strong man, and a
great wrestler; and I've come a very long distance to throw him.'
"'Troth, man,' says she, 'Johnny is gone. But I'm not the woman to see
ye disappointed, and I think if ye'll try me, I'll thraw ye myself.'
"The man didn't like to be stumped by a woman and accepted the
challenge. Christie threw him, and he cleared out without leaving his
name."
"That's a braw couple," says Hector. "I hope there were no quarrels in
that household."
"No, indeed; as nice, peaceable, and respectable a couple as you could
find in the whole Province. It's a fine sight to see the old man and his
wife seated in front of the fire, smoking their pipes, and their big
sons around them."
"I'd like to see them. But what I do want to see is a panther or
catamount. There's very little game left in Lexington. Now and then a
bear, but the catamounts went long before my day. I suppose you have
killed them."
[Sidenote: A HAZARDOUS ADVENTURE]
"Yes, I've killed some; but Martin's brothers did about the best thing
in that way that I know of. Tell them about it, Martin."
"All right. We lived on the Merrimac, at a ferry that they called after
us, Martin's Ferry. Father died when we were little chaps. Mother was
strong, and we got along farming, hunting, and running the ferry. One
day in winter, when I was about thirteen years old, my brothers, Nat and
Ebenezer, went up to Nott's Brook, to see if they could find some deer
yarded in the swamp. They came on a big track, followed it, and saw a
catamount eating a deer it had killed. Nat had an axe, and Eben a club.
Nat said, 'Let's kill him, Eben.'
"'All right. It's a pretty slim show, but I'm in for it. How'll we do
it?'
"'You go up in front of him and shake your club to take his attention,
and I'll creep up behind and hit him with the axe.'
"'I don't think there's much fun shaking a club in a panther's face; but
if you're sure you'll kill him, I'll try it.'
"Eben walked up in front with his club, and Nat crept up behind. When
the cat saw Eben, it growled and switched its tail round, and raised up
the snow in little clouds. It lay there with its paws on the deer and
its head raised, growling at Eben, who felt pretty shaky. Nat crept up
behind the cat and gave it a blow with his axe that cut its backbone in
two."
"That was an awful p-plucky thing to do."
"It was a most unfortunate thing for my mother."
"How's that?"
"Why, it made me just wild to go bear-hunting with them. I kept plaguing
mother to let me go. She used to say, 'Pshaw, boy, you'd run if you saw
a bear.' One night I had been pestering her worse than usual. She left
the room, and soon after I heard something bumping round outside. The
door flew open, and in walked a bear, which came at me, growling. I
grabbed a pine knot that was handy and hit the beast on the head, and
over it rolled. The bearskin fell off, and there lay my mother stretched
out on the floor. I was afraid I had killed her, and ran and got a pail
of water and threw it on her. She came to, and sat up in a kind of a
daze.
[Sidenote: MARTIN'S MOTHER PLAYED BEAR]
"'What's the matter? Have I been in the river?'
"'No, mother, you played you was a bear, and I hit you over the head;
I'm awful sorry.'
"'Don't say a word more, Johnny. Don't say a word more. I was an old
fool. Serves me right.'
"She got up, threw the bearskin in the corner, and went about her work.
In the morning I asked her again if I could go bear-hunting with the
boys.
"She put her hands on her hips, looked at me, and laughed to herself,
and then she said:--
"'Yes, Johnny, you can go. But be sure and take a club with you. I think
you'll be a great help.'"
Just as Martin had finished his story we heard a series of the most
terrific screeches and caterwauls.
"Heavens and earth, man," said Hector, "what's that? That must be the
father of all cats."
"That's just what he is, and you'll think so to-morrow when you see him.
That is, if he don't get away. That's what we call a bob-cat. The French
call them lucivees; and he's the biggest cat in the country, except the
catamount. It's just as well to leave him alone over-night. We don't
want to go fooling round him in the dark."
"Weel, mon, generally speaking I have nae fear of a cat; but if this one
has claws and teeth like his screech, I think we'd better defer our
veesit till the morrow. And it's surprising to me how comfortable we all
are out here in the forest in the dead of winter. 'Deed, if Donald and I
were out here alone, we'd be freezing; and here we are as happy as
kings."
"Yes, and a bagpiper at hand with his music."
"Now, Benny, don't run the bagpipes down. They're a grand instrument.
Our friend down there does very well in his way; but he hasna the
science. And I was thinking that all we'll be wanting is a little gude
peat in the fire. The peat makes a bonny fire. We're no so wasteful of
wood as you are."
[Sidenote: THE LAIRD OF INVERAWE]
"Well, Hector, we burn peat in our fires at Lexington, too."
"Then you're more civilized than I thought."
"Oh, all we really lack are the bagpipes and some of those second-sight
men and Scotch ghosts, who foretell what is going to happen. It's
strange some of them didn't tell Nabby Crombie he ought to take his
cannon with him when he attacked Ticonderoga."
"We kenned more about Ticonderoga than you think, Comee. Didn't every
mother's son in the Black Watch know that our major, Duncan Campbell,
would meet his death there? He had his warning years ago."
"A wise man don't do anything great if he tells a soldier that he's
likely to be killed some time. But as you seem to think there is
something remarkable in your story, you'd better give us a few solid
facts. We might not look at it just as you do."
"Duncan Campbell was the laird of Inverawe Castle in the Highlands, and
with us was called, from his estate, Inverawe. One evening he heard a
knocking at his door, and, opening it, saw a stranger with torn clothes
and his hands and kilt smeared with blood. He said that he had killed a
man in a quarrel and that men were after him in order to slay him. He
asked for shelter. Inverawe promised to conceal him. The man said,
'Swear it on your dirk,' and Inverawe did so. He hid the man in a secret
room in his castle. Soon after there was a knocking at his gate, and two
men entered.
"'Your cousin Donald has just been murdered, and we are looking for the
murderer.' Inverawe couldna go back on his oath, and said he kenned
naught of the fugitive; and the men kept on in pursuit. He lay down in a
dark room, and went to sleep. Waking up, he saw the ghost of his cousin
Donald by his bedside, and heard him say:--
"'Inverawe! Inverawe! Blood has been shed. Shield not the murderer.'
When the morning came, he went to the man and told him he could conceal
him no longer.
"'You have sworn on your dirk,' the man replied. The laird didna know
what to do. He led the man to a mountain, and hid him in a cave, and
told him he wouldna betray him.
[Sidenote: INVERAWE'S FATE FORETOLD]
"The next night his cousin Donald appeared to him again, and said,
'Inverawe! Inverawe! Blood has been shed. Shield not the murderer.'
"When the sun came up, Inverawe went to the cave, but the man was gone.
That night the ghost appeared again, a grewsome sight, but not so stern.
'Farewell! Farewell! Inverawe!' it said. 'Farewell till we meet at
Ticonderoga.'
"Inverawe joined the Black Watch. They were hunting us down in the
Highlands, after we had been out with Charlie. When this war came on,
the King granted us a pardon if we would enlist; and right glad we were
to get out of the country. We reached here and learned that we were to
attack Ticonderoga. All of us knew the story. When we reached there, the
officers said: 'This is not Ticonderoga. This is Fort George.' On the
morning of the battle, Inverawe came from his tent, a broken man, and
went to the officers, ghastly pale. 'I have seen him. You have deceived
me. He came to my tent last night. This is Ticonderoga; I shall die
to-day.'"
"But he didn't die that day," said Martin. "He was hit in the arm, and
didn't die till ten days after."
"If you're going to split straws about it," said McKinstry, "the ghost
didn't tell him he would be killed there. He got his death wound, at any
rate; that was near enough. A good deal better guess than you could
make. Between the yelling of that bob-cat and Hector's grisly story,
we're likely to have a good night's sleep. I think we'd better frighten
the ghosts off, and then turn in."
In the morning, Hector, Amos, and I wanted to go to the traps at once to
examine them; but Martin said, "It may be hours before we get back, and
if you were to start without your breakfast, you might be calling
yourselves pretty hard names later in the day."
We cooked breakfast, and after we had eaten it, took our guns, and went
to the pond. Our first trap was gone; but there was a big trail where
the clog had been dragged through the snow and bushes.
We followed it for nearly half a mile, till Martin stopped us and said,
"There he is."
[Sidenote: THEY KILL A BOB-CAT]
We looked into a clump of bushes, and saw a pair of fierce blue eyes,
which looked like polished steel. As we gazed, they seemed to grow
larger and flash fire.
"'Deed, mon," said Hector, "a more wicked pair of eyes I never saw."
Martin raised his gun and fired at the bob-cat; but though he wounded
it, the cat jumped at us, pulling the clog after it. McKinstry gave it
another shot, which knocked it over. It died hard.
When the animal was dead, we examined it. It was over three feet long
and about two feet high. Its tail was about six inches long. Its head
was about as big as a half-peck measure. Its ears were pointed, with
little black tassels at the ends. It had whiskers on its cheeks and
smellers like a cat. The fur was gray, except that on the belly, which
was white.
Hector was looking at its claws, which were nearly two inches long.
"McKinstry, what do these animals eat?"
"Well, if you were alone here in the woods, I think likely they'd eat a
Scotchman."
"I was a thinking that same thing myself."
We skinned the bob-cat, and cut off some of his flesh with which to bait
the trap, and then we carried the trap back, and set and baited it
again.
We found nothing in our other traps till we came to the spot where the
seventh one had been, and that had disappeared.
We followed the trail, and finally saw the cat on a stump among some
bushes. McKinstry shot it. It jumped at us, but fell dead.
It was like the other, and weighed something over thirty pounds, though
it looked much heavier on account of its long fur.
We skinned it, and set and baited the trap again. The last trap had not
been touched.
As we were going back, Amos said: "What a p-pity Davy Fiske c-couldn't
have been with us. He'd have talked of this all his life."
"Well, the only difference is, that Amos Locke will, instead."
Just before we left the pond, we saw that an animal had turned in on
our tracks, and had followed them up toward the camp.
[Sidenote: A FISHER]
"That's a black cat or fisher," said Martin. "His tracks look like a
little child's. I'd like to get him, for a black cat's fur is worth
something."
The tracks kept along with ours, and when we got to the camp, we found
that he had eaten up one of three partridges we had left there.
"I'll fix him," said McKinstry, and the next day he brought up a trap
and set it near the hut, and baited it with partridge. The following
day, while we were away, the black cat came again, passed by our trap
and bait, and though there was a fire burning, went to the hut and ate
some baked beans which were there. He made two more calls on us, but
scorned the trap.
On the second day out, Martin shot a deer, so that we had plenty of
fresh meat; and we cut holes in the ice on the pond and caught pickerel.
When the week was up, we had eight bob-cats and an otter. We packed our
traps and skins on the sled, started back, and reached Fort Edward in
the evening.
Edmund had been unable to go with us on this trip, as Major Rogers was
at Albany, and Edmund's duties as adjutant kept him in camp.