THE FALL HUNT.
With the cries of frenzied spectators ringing in their ears, with such
wild energy in their limbs as they had never known, Norman and Rob
sent their canoe ahead of the boys of the Cohas. The next moment they
crossed the line four yards in the lead of their rivals.
The boys of Namaske had won! What cheering followed! Never was such
a scene witnessed on the banks of the Merrimack River, never, unless
in the unwritten history of the red men some such race had been made
and won by the dusky champions of the birchen skiff. The Scotch-Irish
shouted until they were hoarse, and shouted still, when hardly an
articulate sound left their lips. Let it be said to their credit, the
Tyng colonists acted a most generous part.
Johnny Goffe was the first to clasp the hands of his successful rivals,
expressing his honest congratulations.
“And to think,” said the humiliated Billy Stark, “they did it without
me. No, Johnny, I deserve none of your praise. That miserable paddle of
mine broke like a pine limb in the midst of it, when I was needed most.
Woodranger told me that knot would sometime spoil it, but I thought I
knew better than the old man, with all his cunning. I am sorry, Norman,
Rob, that I failed so, but honestly it was no fault of mine.”
“We know it, Billy,” said Rob. “But candidly I think we did better than
we could have done if you had not broken your paddle. Do you know that
put such strength into my arm as I had never felt before. It seems to
require some great crisis to bring out a feller to his best.”
“That and Woodranger’s words,” said Norman. “Do you know, Rob, it
seemed just as if he had given me his strength when he shouted to us.
Where is he now?”
“Why, there he goes up the river! What has happened? There is a great
commotion going on up by the leaning pine.”
“Some one is in the river. Looks as though he was drowning.”
“And there goes Woodranger to save him. He’s all right now. Let’s talk
some more about the match. Don’t you boys feel grand?”
“Why shouldn’t they?” asked a brawny spectator, who had elbowed his way
down to the river’s bank. “I want to get hold of their hands. Boys,”
he continued, as he held a hand of each of the victors, “I’d rather
walked a hundred miles than to miss that sight.”
That seemed to be the sentiment of all, even among the Tyng colonists.
It was noticed that day, and Archie Stark commented upon it, that there
appeared to be less bitter feeling among the younger generation than
was shown by their parents.
“It shows that this difference of opinion is going to wear away,” he
declared.
In the congratulations showered upon him from every side, and among
them the sweet praise of Rilma, Norman ought to have felt proud and
satisfied. But there was one who had not come near him or Rob, whom
he had desired to see at that time above all others. That one was the
Woodranger. So he looked and waited for the opportunity to speak to
him, as soon as Lige Bitlock had been rescued from his ducking. But no
sooner had the forester saved the half-drowned boy than he disappeared,
and no one saw him again that day.
Somewhat to Norman’s surprise, his grandfather had come to witness the
match, and he praised him as only he could. Probably no one there felt
prouder of the victory than the old Highlander.
“Yer a true MacDonald wi’ the best o’ McNiel,” he said.
After the trial was over the majority of the spectators lingered about
the place, several participating in impromptu races on the river.
Norman, Rilma, and Mr. MacDonald, however, soon sought their home.
On the whole, the match had passed off satisfactorily, and it was much
talked of for many days. No one, not even the defeated boys of Cohas,
felt worse than Billy Stark. But of course no blame was attached to
him, and in the joy of the others he soon forgot the mishap which had
robbed him of his share of the coveted glory.
In the month of October, generally during the full moon, it was
customary for many of the pioneers to take what was considered “the
fall hunt,” just as the Indians had done before them. Some did this
from a desire to lay in a stock of meat for the winter, and many others
from the pleasure they found in it. These excursions were not usually
extended to a great distance on account of the plentiful supply of game
near home.
Though this was his second season in the country, Norman had not
taken one of these trips, which he felt must be filled with sport and
adventure. He had found that his friends, the Scotch-Irish, were less
inclined, as a rule, to pursue such expeditions. But upon speaking his
wishes to Rob Rogers, the boy ranger, he at once found a congenial
spirit.
“I have been thinking of the same thing, Mac, and I have decided on
the direction to go. The rest are scurrying toward the Uncannoonucs
or up the river. We want to go to old Pawtuckaway Mountain, taking
Massabesic Pond on our way. I will tell you what else I have been
thinking of. Let’s ask Woodranger to go with us. He’s the best company
we could have. And ask the Stark boys to go.”
“Just what I would like to do. I am sure Billy and Johnny will be glad
to do so. But can we get Woodranger? I have not seen him since the
canoe match. Wasn’t it singular he left in the way he did?”
“To you it may seem so, but to me it was just like him. He has been
‘perambulating the woods,’ as he calls it, ever since, I dare say.
He’ll come in soon, and then I’ll speak to him about it. I am sure he
will go with us, so you can make your calculations accordingly.”
The boy ranger proved himself a true prophet in more ways than one. The
very next day the Woodranger appeared at Goffe’s Falls, and he readily
consented to accompany the boys on the proposed hunt. That evening Rob
came up to see Norman and tell the good news.
“I have seen the Stark boys,” said our hero, “and they are as anxious
to go as we are. Mr. Stark has consented, provided Woodranger is to go,
and grandfather has kindly promised that I may be gone four days. I
can get ready any time the rest can.”
“Then we’ll start Monday morning, and I predict that we’ll have a grand
old time. Have you got plenty of powder and ball?”
“Plenty of powder, and I will run up some balls to-morrow. I suppose we
shall want to take some skins with us, as a protection from the night
air?”
“Just a blanket apiece. Don’t want to load down with such articles. A
blanket, a bough house, a sheltered spot in the woods, and you will
sleep like a bear in winter.
“‘Oh, a rifle good,
In the merry greenwood,
And a hunter’s life for me!’”
Now that they began to get ready to go, the greatest fear of the boys
was that a storm might set in at the time they wished to start, and
last for a week or more. But the eventful Monday was ushered in with a
clear sun. Norman felt more reluctance than he had anticipated about
leaving home; but, knowing his desire to go, both his grandfather and
Rilma earnestly desired him to improve the opportunity, declaring they
would have no difficulty in getting along for a few days without him.
“It’s yersel’ I am worried ower, laddie. Ye maun be unco careful.
An’ mind ye, laddie, tak the auld horn. It’ll prove handy, always
remembering it was that which sounded the ca’ to airms in Glencoe, it
was that which rallied the lads to battle when the Britons swarmed ower
us like bees, an’ that which sounded the retreat when it was a’ ower
wi’ the bauld clan. Tak it, laddie; ye’re worthy o’ it.”
Nothing loath, Norman did as he was requested, and kissing Rilma a
tender good-bye, and clasping the old Highlander’s hand in his, he
hastened after his companions, who were waiting for him a little below
the house.
It was the first time he had met the Woodranger since the canoe race,
and the forester’s greeting was most cordial.
“Don’t think I am less glad to see you, lad, because I ran away that
day. I have always noticed that the best trait a man has is that o’
caution, and, the truth be told, I durst not meet you then. I feared
me much I had committed a blameful indiscretion in bawling out like
a loon, as I did. Tell me truly, lad, hast heerd any one speak very
bitter o’ that indiscretion o’ mine?”
“Not one has mentioned it within my hearing, Woodranger. But I want
to tell you that it saved us the match. We should have given up after
Billy’s mishap, if you had not spoken as you did.”
“I feared it, lads, I did. It seemed a sorry amazement to spoil sich
a fine race. It pleases me much to know people were so considerate
o’er my foolishness. Aweel, now’s me, lad, we are but weak mortals,
no stronger in our greatest strength than our weakest p’int. It was a
handsome race. I’m proud o’ sich lads.”