WILD-HOG HUNTING.
“Well, this beats anything I ever heard of,” said Will Bell, angrily. “I
shouldn’t wonder if we had to fight for our share.”
“That would be a bad job for you,” said Bab. “Now, Bayard, let me ask you
a question: when did you start the trail of these animals?”
“At daylight,” was the prompt reply; “and you couldn’t have found it any
sooner than that, I guess. They were around our house all night, both of
them.”
“That’s a—good morning,” said Featherweight.
“It’s a truth, and I can prove it,” shouted Bayard, glaring savagely at
Featherweight. “Get away from there, Phil Perkins.”
“Now, Bayard, if you will listen to me a moment I will tell you
something,” answered Perk. “I won’t budge an inch.”
Bayard hesitated a moment as if undecided how to act, and then made a
sign to his men, who unslung their guns, and after hanging them upon the
horns of their saddles, pulled off their coats and came up around their
leader, while the Club moved up to support Perk. A collision seemed
imminent, and Walter, who did not believe in fighting, tried to reason
with his rival.
“Look here, Bayard,” said he; “when you first came up you told us that
you had followed the trail of these two panthers for more than an hour,
and that you found it on the bank of the bayou.”
“So I did, and I’ll stick to it.”
“And a moment ago you declared that you discovered it at daylight,
somewhere near your house.”
“Eh!” exclaimed Bayard, who could not help seeing that he had
contradicted himself. “I mean—you see—that’s the truth, too.”
“Your stories don’t agree,” continued Walter. “The facts of the case are
that these two animals did not come together until this morning. The
larger one was prowling about our house until midnight, and our dogs
treed him. We cut the tree down, but he escaped; and at the first peep of
day we put our hounds on his track, and followed him up and killed him.
You struck the trail behind us, and consequently are not entitled to a
share of the reward.”
This proved to Bayard’s satisfaction that the Club understood the matter
quite as well as he did. He and his men had been out coon-hunting, most
likely (their reputation as hunters did not warrant the supposition that
they were in search of larger game), and having stumbled upon the trail
of the panthers they had followed it up out of curiosity, and not with
any intention of attacking the animals if they had overtaken them. When
they found the Club alone with their prizes, they thought it would be
a good plan to pay off some of their old scores by robbing them of a
portion of their game. They were noted bullies and fighting characters,
and they thought the knowledge of this fact would awe the young hunters
into submission to any demands they might make upon them; but they had
reckoned without their host. Walter saw that what he had said made Bayard
and his friends very angry, and he was glad that he was not alone.
“I see just how it is!” exclaimed Seth Bell, in a voice choked with
passion. “You have beaten us at so many things that you have got it into
your heads that you can ride over us rough-shod at any time you please;
but you will find that you can’t do it. We’ve got things fixed for one of
you, if you only knew it, and in less than two days—”
“Hold on, Seth,” interrupted Bayard; “you’re talking too much. Get away
from there, Perkins.”
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d as soon sit here as anywhere else,” was
the reply. “If you had any claim we wouldn’t say a word. It isn’t the
twenty-five dollars we care for. If you were in need of it we would give
it to you gladly; but you might as well understand, first as last, that
you can’t bully us out of our rights. If you don’t get anything to eat
until we surrender one of these scalps to you, you’ll be hungry—that’s a
fact.”
This speech was delivered with the utmost good nature, but the Club knew,
and so did Bayard and his men, that it was quite useless to argue the
matter further. The actions of the latter indicated that they did not
intend to waste any more time in words, but had made up their minds to
try what virtue there was in their muscles; for they took off their caps,
rolled up their sleeves, and made other preparations to attack the Club
and drive them from the field. “Come on, fellows,” exclaimed Bayard;
“and every time you put in a blow think of that boat-race, and of the
election that was carried against us by fraud.”
“I really believe there’s going to be a skirmish here,” said Perk, rising
to his feet and drawing himself up to his full height. “Now let me tell
you something: I am going to take the two biggest of you and knock your
heads together. Pitch in.”
Bayard and his men, not in the least intimidated by this threat, took
Perk at his word. They set up a yell and sprang forward like a lot of
young savages; but before they had made many steps they were suddenly
checked by an unlooked-for incident that happened just then. A score
of hounds in full cry burst from the woods, and leaping the fence
came dashing into the thicket, following the trail of the panthers. A
half-dozen horsemen, two of whom were Mr. Gaylord and Uncle Dick, and the
rest negroes, followed close at their heels, and at the sight of them
the ardor of Bayard and his men cooled directly. They paused in their
headlong rush, and, acting with a common impulse, caught up their coats,
retreated quickly to their horses, and mounted with all possible haste.
When they found themselves safe in their saddles their courage returned,
and while the others contented themselves with shaking their fists at the
members of the Club, Seth stopped to say a parting word to them.
“You haven’t seen the last of us, my young friends!” he exclaimed, in a
very savage tone of voice. “In less than two days one of you will find
himself——”
Just then Bayard’s heavy glove came across Seth’s mouth with a sounding
whack, and the latter’s horse starting off with the others carried him
out of sight, to the great disappointment of the Club, who had listened
eagerly to his words, hoping to obtain some clue to the plans Bayard had
laid against them. They found out in due time what those plans were, and
in a way that one of their number, at least, did not like.
“What’s the matter here, boys?” cried Uncle Dick, reining in his horse
with a jerk. “You did not come to blows with those—well, I declare!”
Uncle Dick did not finish what he had to say. He glanced down at the game
and opened his eyes in amazement, and so did Mr. Gaylord; and for a few
seconds neither of them spoke. Eugene, however, was very talkative, and
while his father and uncle were examining the panthers, he entertained
them with a glowing description of the manner in which the Club had
accomplished their destruction and told what had passed between them and
Bayard.
“I wouldn’t have anything to do with those fellows,” said Mr. Gaylord,
when Eugene had finished his story. “I would keep out of sight and
hearing of them as much as I possibly could. They are a hard lot, and as
you have been unfortunate enough to incur their enmity, they will seek
every opportunity to be revenged upon you. Bob,” he added, turning to one
of the negroes, “put these animals on your mule, and take them to the
house. Come, boys, you have done enough for one day.”
The Club mounted their horses, and, accompanied by Mr. Gaylord and Uncle
Dick, rode toward the house, the negroes and the hounds bringing up the
rear. The panthers were left on the floor of the gin-house, and two
of the negroes were instructed how to remove and stretch the skins so
that they could be preserved; for Uncle Dick, who was very proud of the
exploit the boys had performed, although he had had but little to say
about it, declared that they ought to have something to remember that
morning’s hunt by, and announced that it was his intention to send the
skins to a taxidermist in New Orleans, and have them stuffed and mounted.
After Uncle Dick left the gin-house, the boys stood for a long time
holding their horses by the bridle, watching the operation of skinning
the panthers, and wondering what they should do next. It was not yet
twelve o’clock, and there was a whole afternoon before them to be passed
in some way. Eugene, who did not care much what he did so long as he was
in motion, suggested that hunting wild-turkeys was fine sport; but as the
snow that had fallen the night before had already disappeared, and the
chances of tracking turkeys on the bare ground were slim indeed, the Club
said they would rather not attempt it. Featherweight reminded them of the
’coon-hunt they had decided upon the night before; but Walter declared
that it was not to be thought of. After killing two panthers, and defying
Bayard Bell and his crowd of fellows, ’coon-hunting would be very tame
sport. They must have something more exciting.
“Well, den, I tells you what you kin do, Marse Walter,” said one of the
negroes, looking up from his work; “you ’members dem wild hogs that
wasn’t druv up last fall kase we couldn’t cotch ’em?”
“Yes!” cried the boys in concert.
“I knows right whar they uses,”[1] continued the negro.
[1] In the South and West this word is used in the same sense
as _frequent_. If a hunter says that wild animals “use” any
particular portion of the woods, he means that they are
generally to be found there.
“Now, that’s the very idea!” said Perk, excitedly. “There’s plenty of
sport in wild-hog hunting, and I move that we start out at once. Where
shall we go to find the hogs, uncle?”
“You knows whar de ole bee-tree is?” replied the negro. “It’s holler, you
know. Well, dar dey is—fo’ on ’em—mighty big fellers, too, an’ savage,
kase I seed ’em yesterday when I went out fur to fotch up the mules.”
“Let’s be off, fellows,” repeated Perk, impatiently.
“Wouldn’t it be better to wait until to-morrow and make a day of it?”
asked Walter. “We’ll get some of the darkies to help us, and take the
cart along to haul the game home in.”
“But what shall we do this afternoon?” asked Perk. “That’s the question
now before the house.”
“As far as you are individually concerned,” replied Bab, “I will promise
you that the time shall not hang heavily on your hands. I’ll beat you at
playing backgammon.”
The majority of the Club were in favor of Walter’s proposition, and,
after some remonstrance from Eugene, who couldn’t see how in the world he
was going to pass the rest of the day, as he was not much of a backgammon
player, and had no new book to read, it was finally adopted. The boys
then, suddenly remembering that they had eaten no breakfast and that they
were very hungry, put their horses in the stable and walked toward the
house. Sam speedily served them up a cold lunch, and at three o’clock
they were summoned to dinner, to which they did ample justice.
Bab kept his promise to Perk, and during the whole of the afternoon,
and until late at night, made things exceedingly lively for that
young gentleman, beating him at every game of backgammon. Walter and
Featherweight passed the time with reading and studying; and Eugene,
after he had made all the necessary preparations for the hog-hunt on the
morrow, went up to the “cabin,” as Uncle Dick’s room was always called,
and, finding the old sailor absent, took possession of his sofa and went
to sleep.
There were no panthers to prowl about and disturb their rest that night,
and the young hunters did not know that anything unusual happened on the
plantation. But, for all that, something unusual _did_ happen, and if the
boys had witnessed it, they would have been much more excited and alarmed
than they had been at any time during the day or previous night. About
eight o’clock two horsemen, one wearing a cloak and riding a white horse,
and the other wearing an overcoat and mounted on a bay horse, galloped
down the road and drew rein in front of the gate which opened into the
carriage-way leading to Mr. Gaylord’s dwelling. There they stopped and
held a long and earnest consultation, after which they opened the gate
and were on the point of riding toward the house, when two men suddenly
sprang from the thick bushes that grew on each side of the carriage-way,
and while one caught the bridle of the white horse and held fast to it,
the other seized his rider and pulled him to the ground. A few gruff
words were addressed to the other horseman, who sat motionless in his
saddle for a moment, then faced about and tore down the road as if all
the wolves in the parish were close at his heels, followed by the white
horse, which was riderless; and before the sound of their hoofs had
died away, the men had disappeared as quickly as they had come, taking
their prisoner with them, and the carriage-way was once more silent and
deserted.
The Club, little dreaming that such a proceeding as this had taken place
almost within sight of their window, slept soundly all night, and bright
and early the next morning might have been seen with their overcoats,
comforters and gloves on, walking up and down the back porch of the
house, waiting for their horses to be brought out. In front of the
door stood a light two-wheeled cart, which, besides two large baskets
of eatables, contained the four negroes who were to assist the boys in
securing the wild hogs—three of them curled up among the straw on the
bottom of the vehicle, and the other sitting on the driver’s seat holding
the reins over a very old and infirm pony, which stood with his head down
and his eyes closed, as if fast asleep. Gathered about the foot of the
steps that led to the porch were the hounds, some lying down, others
walking restlessly about, and all of them showing by unmistakable signs
that they were impatient at the delay. Conspicuous among them stood
Rex, who was the Club’s main dependence that day—as indeed he was every
day—the other hounds not being considered of much service in wild-hog
hunting.
“Cuff,” said Eugene, addressing himself to the driver of the cart, “you
might as well go ahead, and when you pass the stables hurry up those
horses. We’re tired of waiting for them. Let’s sing something, fellows.”
Perk, Bab and Featherweight pulled their mufflers down from their faces
and moved up closer to Eugene, who coughed once or twice and sang in a
clear soprano voice:—
“A southerly wind and a cloudy sky
Proclaim it a hunting morning;
Before the sun rises away we’ll fly,
Dull sleep and a downy bed scorning.
To horse, my brave boys, and away!
Bright Phœbus the hills is adorning;
The face of all nature looks gay;
’Tis a beautiful scent-laying morning.
Hark! hark! forward!
Tan-ta-ra! tan-ta-ra! tan-ta-ra!”
The song was not exactly appropriate to the occasion. The sky was not
cloudy, but perfectly clear; and instead of a “southerly wind” there was
a keen north wind blowing, which was so searching that the boys were
glad to pull their comforters up around their faces again as soon as the
song was finished, and walked up and down the porch beating their hands
together to keep them warm. But, for all that, it was well sung and worth
listening to; for these four boys understood music and delighted in it.
Eugene was a good soprano, Featherweight carried the alto, Bab sang a
fine tenor, and Perk’s bass was something better than common. Walter
was the only one of the Club who had no music in his soul. He generally
joined in the singing, and always made a discord; but on this particular
morning he held his peace, having something else to think about. He had
drawn back into the doorway to get out of the wind, and stood with one
hand in his pocket, and the other holding a newspaper, at which his right
eye, which was the only part of his face that could be seen over his
muffler, was looking intently. When the song was finished he uttered an
exclamation, and without stopping to explain read as follows:—
“_Lafitte Redivivus._—A gang of desperate smugglers have taken
up their abode among the dark bayous and pestilent swamps of
that portion of Louisiana bordering on the Gulf coast. They
are composed of Chinamen, Malays, Portuguese and Creoles, and
are led by two Americans. The New Orleans Collector of Customs
expects soon to accomplish their detection, although he has
thus far been unable to gain the slightest clue to their
haunts, or to the manner in which their nefarious trade is
carried on.”
“What do you think of that?” asked Walter, turning toward his companions
to observe the effect the reading of this article would have upon them.
He expected them to be astonished, and their actions indicated that they
certainly were.
“I’ll tell you what I think about it,” said Perk, who was the first to
speak. “I don’t doubt the existence of such a band, for some of the
settlers have suspected it for a long time, and the presence of the
revenue cutters along the coast shows that the government suspects
it also; and I think that if we had got into a fight with those boys
yesterday, we would have whipped three of the relatives of the ringleader
of this organization.”
The arrival of the horses at this moment put a stop to the conversation;
but when the young hunters had mounted and ridden into the lane that ran
across the cornfield toward the swamp, it was resumed, and the matter
discussed most thoroughly. But at the end of an hour, after each boy had
expressed an opinion and brought forward his arguments to establish it,
they knew no more about the smugglers than they did when they began the
debate. Their horses, however, had made better use of their time, for
while the discussion was in progress they had accomplished the four miles
that lay between the house and the swamp, and brought their riders within
a short distance of the old bee-tree. There the Club dismounted to await
the arrival of the cart and the negroes, and to decide upon the plan of
the hunt. They dropped the smugglers now, and talked about nothing but
wild hogs.
At the time of which we write farming was carried on on an extensive
scale at the South. Mr. Gaylord had more than three thousand acres under
cultivation. He owned two hundred working mules and horses, double that
number of young cattle which ran loose in the swamp, and two thousand
hogs. These hogs were not managed as Northern farmers manage theirs.
They were allowed to roam at will in the woods from one year’s end to
another’s—all except those he intended to fatten, which were penned up
during the latter part of the autumn and fed until just before the
holidays, when they were slaughtered. Those that were permitted to run
at large fared sumptuously on beech-nuts, acorns, and hickory-nuts.
Mr. Gaylord’s neighbors all owned immense droves, which also ran loose
in the swamp, and, of course, it was necessary to have some way of
distinguishing them, so that each planter would know his property when he
saw it; consequently the hogs were all marked—that is, their ears were
cut in different ways. Mr. Gaylord marked his by cutting the left ear
entirely off; so whenever he found a one-eared hog in the woods, he was
pretty certain that it belonged to him.
Catching these hogs was as much of a jubilee with Southern boys as a
corn-husking is with you fellows who live in the North. A planter set
a certain day for the business, and needing all the help he could get,
sent invitations to his neighbors, who responded by coming themselves
and bringing some of their negroes. The most of the hogs, being tame and
gentle, could be driven anywhere, and before night they would be confined
in pens previously made for their reception; but there were always some
wild ones among them that would take to their heels and seek refuge in
the deepest parts of the swamp. Then came the fun. These hogs must be
secured, and that could be done only by catching them with dogs and tying
them—an undertaking in which there was plenty of excitement, but which
was sometimes attended with considerable danger, as you will presently
see. The hogs of which Walter and his friends were now in pursuit, had
escaped from Mr. Gaylord’s drove during the previous autumn, and had
remained at large in spite of all the efforts made to capture them.
In a few minutes the cart came up, and after a short consultation with
the driver the plan of the attack was decided upon. The pony was tied
to a sapling, the boys and negroes formed themselves into a line, and,
after sending the dogs on in advance, began to move toward the old
bee-tree, gradually lengthening the line as they approached it, in
order to surround the game. The dogs did not give tongue and run about
among the bushes, as they usually did, but, led by Rex, walked straight
ahead, as if they understood the matter in hand as well as their masters
did, and moved so slowly that the boys easily kept them in sight. They
had gone perhaps half a mile in this order, when the hounds suddenly
uttered a simultaneous yelp, which was followed by a loud grunt and a
violent commotion in the bushes directly in advance of them. The game was
started, and now the hunt began in earnest.