AN UNEXPECTED LESSON.
As it was the height of the hunting season, the reports of guns were
heard at varying distances through the woods, so that Sam could only
judge when they were fired by his friends from their nearness to him.
He was well satisfied that the last shot was from the Remington of
Herbert, while the one that preceded it a few minutes, he was convinced
came from the muzzle-loader of Nick Ribsam, owned by Mr. Marston.
"The boys seem to have found something too do, but I don't believe they
have seen anything of the bear--hallo!"
His last exclamation was caused by his unexpected arrival at a clearing,
in the center of which stood a log cabin, while the half acre
surrounding it showed that it had been cultivated during the season to
the highest extent.
There was that air of thrift and cleanliness about the place which told
the lad that whoever lived within was industrious, frugal, and neat.
"That's a queer place to build a house," said Sam, as he surveyed the
scene; "no one can earn a living there, and it must make a long walk to
reach the neighborhood where work is to be had."
Prompted by a natural curiosity, Sam walked over the faintly marked path
until he stepped upon the piece of hewed log, which answered for a
porch, directly in front of the door.
Although the latch string hung invitingly out, he did not pull it, but
knocked rather gently.
"Come in!" was called out in a female voice, and the boy immediately
opened the door.
A pleasing, neatly-clad young woman was working with her dishes at a
table, while a fat chub of a boy, about two years old, was playing on
the floor with a couple of kittens.
The mother, as she evidently was, turned her head so as to face the
visitor, nodded cheerily, bade him good afternoon, and told him to help
himself to one of the chairs, whose bottoms were made of white mountain
ash, as fine and pliable as silken ribbons.
Sam was naturally courteous, and, thanking the lady for her invitation,
he sat down, placing his cap on his knee. He said he was out on a hunt
with some friends, and coming upon the cabin thought he would make a
call, and learn whether he could be of any service to the lady and her
child.
The mother thanked him, and said that fortunately she was not in need of
any help, as her husband was well and able to provide her with all she
needed.
Without giving the conversation in detail, it may be said that Sam
Harper learned a lesson, during his brief stay in that humble cabin,
which will go with him through life: it was a lesson of cheerfulness and
contentment, to which he often refers, and which makes him thankful that
he was led to turn aside from his sport even for a short while.
The husband of the woman worked for a farmer who lived fully four miles
away, on the northern edge of the woods, and who paid only scant wages.
The employee walked the four miles out so as to reach the farm by seven
o'clock in the morning, and he did not leave until six in the evening.
He did this summer and winter, through storm and sunshine, and was
happy.
He lived in the lonely log cabin, because his employer owned it and gave
him the rent free. It had been erected by some wood-choppers several
years before, and was left by them when through with their contract, so
that it was nothing to any one who did not occupy it.
The young man, although now the embodiment of rugged health and
strength, had lain on a bed of sickness for six months, during which he
hovered between life and death. His wife never left his side during that
time for more than a few minutes, and the physician was scarcely less
faithful. At last the wasting fever vanished, and the husband and father
came back to health and strength again.
But he was in debt to the extent of $200, and he and his wife determined
on the most rigid economy until the last penny should be paid.
"If Fred keeps his health," said the cheery woman, "we shall be out of
debt at the end of two years more. Won't you bring your friends and stay
with us to-night?"
This invitation was given with great cordiality, and Sam would have been
glad to accept it, but he declined, through consideration for the brave
couple, who would certainly be put to inconvenience by entertaining
three visitors.
Sam thanked her for her kindness, and, rising to go, drew back the door
and remarked:
"I notice you have a good rifle over the mantle; I don't see how your
husband can get much time to use it."
"He doesn't; it is I who shoot the game, which saves half the cost of
food; but," added the plucky little woman, "there is one game which I am
very anxious to bring down."
"What is that?"
"_A bear._"
"Do you know whether there are any in the woods?"
"There is one, and I think more. My husband has seen it twice, and he
took the gun with him when going to work, in the hope of gaining a
chance to shoot it; but, when I caught sight of it on the edge of the
clearing, he thought it best to leave the rifle for me to use."
"Why are you so anxious to shoot the bear?" asked Sam.
"Well, it isn't a very pleasant neighbor, and I have to keep little
Tommy in the house all the time for fear the brute will seize him. Then,
beside that, the bear has carried off some of Mr. Bailey's (that's the
man my husband works for) pigs, and has so frightened his family that
Mr. Bailey said he would give us twenty dollars for the hide of every
bear we brought him."
"I hope it may be your fortune to shoot all in the woods," said Sam, as
he bade her good-day again, and passed out and across the clearing into
the forest.
"That's about the bravest woman I ever saw," said the lad to himself, as
he moved thoughtfully in the direction of the limestone-rock, where it
was agreed the three should meet to spend the night; "she ought to win,
and if this crowd of bear hunters succeed in bagging the old fellow we
will present him to her."
The thought was a pleasing one to Sam, who walked a short way farther,
when he added, with a grim smile, "But I don't think that bear will lose
any night's sleep on account of being disturbed by _this_ crowd."