THEnext morning, after breakfast, the trapper took down his long rifle, saying, as he did so:
“Now, youngsters, I’m goin’ off into the woods, about twenty mile or so, to camp out for a week, an’ see if I can’t find some otter. If you want good sport, you had better go, too. The game is gettin’ too scarce around here to suit me.”
The boys readily agreed to this proposal, and began to talk of packing their sleds; but the trapper scouted the idea.
“You’ll never larn to be what I call woodsmen,” said he, “until you get rid of some of your city notions. You must larn to tote all your plunder on your backs. Just fill your possible-sacks[1]with coffee and bread; take plenty of powder an’ shot, a change of clothes, an ax or two, an’ some blankets, and that’s all you need.”
[1]Haversack.
[1]Haversack.
These simple preparations were soon completed, and, after bidding Uncle Joe good-by, they set out, accompanied by their dogs.
Dick carried the “Old Settler,” and had his blanket strapped fast to his belt. Frank and George each carried an ax. Archie had several of his fox-traps, which he could not think of leaving behind; and Harry brought up the rear, carrying a large bundle of blankets. Besides these necessary articles, the boys carried their shot-guns, and the trapper his long rifle.
Dick led the way directly up the creek, following the same course they had taken the day before in pursuit of the Indians, for about ten miles, and then struck off into the woods. About noon they halted in a little grove of evergreens, and the trapper said:
“We’ll camp here for awhile, youngsters, an’ eat our dinner.”
The boys were very glad to hear this; for, strong and active as they were, they found that they were no match for Dick in traveling. Archieand George leaned their guns up against a tree, took the axes, and commenced to clear away a place where they could build a fire.
“Now,” said the trapper, turning to the others, “we’ll leave them here to ’tend to the camp, an’ make a good cup of coffee for us agin we come back, an’ the rest of us will take a tramp through the woods, an’ see what we can get for dinner. Take different directions now, so as to scare up more game.”
The boys immediately set out as directed, each accompanied by his dog. Brave ran on ahead of his master, beating about through the bushes, but not a rabbit or squirrel showed himself. But Frank kept on, taking good care to remember the points of the compass, determined that he would not go back to the camp empty-handed. At length Brave’s well-known bark caused him to start forward at a more rapid pace, and the next moment he heard some heavy animal crashing through the underbrush, just in advance of him, at a tremendous rate. The woods were so thick that Frank could not see the game, but the angry yelping of the dog told him that it was being closely pursued. Guided by the noise they made,he followed after them as fast as his legs could carry him, keeping a sharp look-out on all sides, for he did not know but that it might be a bear which the dog had started. He remembered his meeting with the wild-cat, but felt no fear now, for he had his trusty gun in his hand, heavily loaded with buck-shot, and knew, from experience, that, at short range, it was a very efficient weapon. His first care was to find the trail which the game had made, and, upon examination, he found that Brave had started, not a bear, but several moose. He knew their tracks in a moment, for he had often seen them in the woods; but he could not tell how many of them there were, for their trails crossed each other in every direction. He had never had the fortune to meet one of these animals, and his feelings were worked up to the highest pitch of excitement by the discovery. He started forward again at the top of his speed. The rapid pace of the game soon carried all sounds of the chase out of hearing; but Frank had no difficulty in following the trail. He had run nearly a mile, when the angry yelps of the dog sounded through the woods in fiercer and more abrupt echoes. Frank hurriedforward, and soon came in sight of the game. The moose—a huge bull, with wide-spreading antlers—was standing at bay, and the dog was bounding around him, watching an opportunity to seize him, but was met at every point. Now and then the moose would lower his head, and rush upon his enemy, but the latter nimbly kept out of his way.
Frank did not pause long to witness the battle, but immediately ran forward, holding his gun in readiness for a shot. The moose, upon discovering him, suddenly wheeled, and started off at a rapid trot. The snow in that part of the woods was nearly three feet deep, and was covered with a crust strong enough to sustain the hunter and his dog, but the moose sank into it at every step, and his trail could be easily traced by the blood which was running from numerous wounds on his legs, made by the sharp crust. He ran heavily, and Frank, who was exerting himself to his utmost, had the satisfaction of finding that he was gaining on him. Brave easily kept pace with him and finally succeeded in bringing the moose at bay again. This was what Frank wanted. Just as the deer was about to make a charge upon thedog, he fired, and the huge animal tumbled to the ground. The young hunter ran forward, intending to give him the contents of the other barrel, but, before he could fire, the moose staggered to his feet, and disregarding the attacks of the dog, which were renewed with redoubled fierceness and vigor, rushed straight upon the hunter, and bore him to the ground.
In falling, Frank lost his gun. The enraged animal pressed upon the young hunter, burying his antlers in the snow on each side of him, holding him fast to the ground. Frank gave himself up for lost; but he determined that he would not yield his life without a struggle. He was unarmed, and the contest must be one of strength and endurance. Before the moose could draw back to make another charge upon him, Frank seized him by the antlers, and clung to them with all his strength. Brave seemed to understand the perilous situation in which his master was placed, and fought more furiously than ever. But the moose, although severely wounded by the teeth of the dog, did not appear to notice him in the least, but struggled desperately to free himself from the young hunter’s grasp. Frank wasdragged about through the snow, and pressed down into it, until his clothing was almost reduced to tatters; and he was severely wounded by the sharp crust and the hoofs of the enraged deer, which cut through his garments like a knife. It required all his strength to retain his hold. He did not seem to be in the least frightened; but the manner in which he clung to the moose, and cheered on the dog, showed that he well knew the danger of his situation. But he was growing weaker every moment, while the moose appeared to be growing proportionately stronger, and his struggles became more furious and determined. Frank knew that the animal would soon succeed in freeing himself, and then——. It was a horrible thought!
At this moment he heard the noise of approaching feet on the crust, and a voice exclaimed, “Bars and buffaler! Hang on to the creetur jest a minute longer, youngster! Take ’em, dog! take ’em!” And the next instant a dark object bounded lightly over him, and commenced a furious battle with the moose. Benumbed and exhausted, Frank could hold out no longer. As the moose tore himself from his grasp, the young hunter saw him pulled to the ground by the trapper’s dog, and then a mist gathered before his eyes, and he sank back on the snow insensible.
When his consciousness returned, he found himself in a rudely-constructed hut, lying in front of a blazing fire, and so tightly wrapped up in blankets that he could scarcely breathe. Dick sat in one corner of the hut, smoking his pipe, and gazing vacantly into the fire. Brave lay stretched out by his master’s side, with his head resting on his shoulder, gazing into his face with every expression of concern. As soon as Frank opened his eyes, the faithful animal announced the fact by a joyful bark, which brought all the boys into the hut.
“How do you feel, Frank?” inquired Archie, whose pale face showed that he had more than a common interest in his cousin’s well-being.
“O! I’m all right,” answered Frank, in a weak voice. “But you’ve got me bundled up so tight I can hardly breathe. I wish you would take a dozen or two of these blankets off.”
“No, you don’t,” said Dick, as the boys crowded up around Frank. “I believe I’ve got the bossin’ of this yere job. Here,” he continued, as hearose from his seat and approached his patient, “drink this;” and he raised Frank from his blankets with one hand, and, with the other, held to his lips a cup containing some of the most bitter stuff he had ever drank. The young hunter made wry faces over it, but succeeded in draining the cup. “Now,” resumed Dick, “lay down agin an’ go to sleep. Shut up! No back talk!” he continued, as Frank essayed to speak. “You musn’t talk till I say you may;” and the rough but kind-hearted trapper laid him back on his bed, and, drawing the blankets more closely about him, left him to his meditations.
He soon fell off into a refreshing slumber; and when he awoke it was dark, and his companions were seated around the fire, eating their supper.
“Wal, youngster,” said Dick, “how do you feel now?”
“O! I’m much better,” answered Frank; “and hungry as blazes. Won’t you give a fellow some thing to eat?”
“In course,” said Dick; and he brought Frank some pieces of toast and a cup of coffee.
“I don’t like your style of doctoring a bit,” said Frank, as the trapper carefully removed theblankets with which his patient was enveloped. “The remedies you use are worse than the disease. You’ve kept me wrapped up so tight that I am sore all over.”
“I shouldn’t wonder,” said the trapper, laughing heartily; “but that doesn’t come of bein’ wrapped up in the blankets. You war purty well chawed up when me an’ Useless diskivered you.”
Dick raised Frank to a sitting posture, and, in spite of his objections, once more drew the blankets about him, allowing him, however, the free use of his arms; and the young hunter soon discovered that he was not quite so well as he had imagined, for sharp pains shot through his body, and he was so weak he could scarcely sit up.
“I believe I had something of a fight with that moose, didn’t I?” he inquired, as he broke off a piece of the toast.
“I believe you did, judging from the looks of your clothes,” answered Harry, as he laid down his plate, and took from a peg in one corner of the hut all that remained of Frank’s garments.
The coat and pants were torn almost into shreds, and covered with blood, and the sole of one of his boots had been pulled off by the sharphoofs of the deer. Brave had also suffered severely, judging from the bloody bandages that he wore.
“It was a narrow escape, wasn’t it?” said Frank, as he gazed in astonishment at his tattered garments.
“Yes, indeed,” said Archie; “I shouldn’t have cared about being in your boots just then. How you ever made out to get out of those clothes alive, is more than I can tell.”
“It war a careless trick,” said Dick, “tacklin’ that animal in that ar way. You ought to knowed better.”
“Well, we got the moose, didn’t we?” inquired Frank.
“Yes,” answered George, chewing away at a large piece of meat; “and we are eating him up as fast as we can.”
As soon as Frank had finished his toast and coffee, he was glad to lie down again, for he was still very weak from the loss of blood. The others, after putting away the supper-dishes, replenished the fire, and stretched themselves out on their blankets.
“How do you feel now, youngster?” asked thetrapper, as he drew a brand from the fire and lit his pipe.
“O! I guess I shall get along.”
“It’s a’most time for you to take some more of your medicine.”
“I don’t care about taking any more of it,” answered Frank. “It’s the meanest stuff I ever tasted.”
“It’s Injun medicine,” answered the trapper, as he sank back on his blanket, and puffed away vigorously at his pipe. “I remember,” he continued, after a few moments’ pause, “of doctorin’ up my chum, Bill Lawson, an’ that war the way me an’ him come to get acquainted. But he war used to Injun doctorin’, and didn’t growl as much as you do. I’ve heered him tell of that scrape a hundred times; an’ he used to tell it in this way:
“‘The way me an’ Dick Lewis come to get together,’ he used to say, ’war this. I war onct trappin’ among the mountains on a little stream called Muddy Creek. It war about the wust bit of Injun country in the world; but they didn’t bother me, an’ I tuk mighty good care not to meddle with their corn an’ beans, an’ for a longtime I had jest the best kind of luck in trappin’. Beaver were plenty as black flies in summer, an’ the woods war chuck full o’ otter, an’ the mountains of grizzly bars an’ black-tails, so I had plenty to do.
“‘I had made my camp in the woods, about a mile back from the creek where I war trappin’, so as not to skeer away the game. Beaver is mighty skeery animals, an’ don’t like to have a feller trampin’ around them all the while; and when a man sets a trap, he musn’t go to it agin afore arly the next mornin’, for if he does, the game soon gets mighty shy, an’ the first thing the trapper knows, he’ll have to hunt somewhere else for beaver. You see I knowed all this, an’ so kept out of their way. I got along first-rate, until arly in the spring, jest as the ice begun to break up, an’ hadn’t seed nothin’ of the Injuns. But one mornin’, while I war on my way to ’tend to my traps, I seed the prints of some moccasins, where three or four fellers had crossed the creek. I knowed in a minit, from the looks of them, that they wasn’t white fellers’ tracks; so I begun to prick up my ears an’ look around me a little. I examined the trail agin, an’ I knowed therecould be no mistake. The Comanches had been along there, sure. I begun beatin’ keerfully around through the bushes, for I didn’t know but that the tarnal red-skins war watchin’ me all the time; when all to onct I come acrost another trail, which war as different from the first as a muskrat is different from a grizzly. It war a white feller’s track. The tracks looked as though he had been crawlin’ along on his hands an’ knees, an’ onct in awhile I could see the place where the butt of his rifle had trailed on the ground. I knowed in a minit that the white hunter, whoever he war, had been follerin’ up the Injuns.
“‘“Wal,” thinks I, “Bill Lawson, you had better keep an eye out for them traps o’ yourn.” So I begun to draw a bee-line through the woods toward the place where I had sot one o’ my traps, keepin’ my gun ready to put a chunk of lead into the first thing in the shape of an Injun that I should see. But instead o’ goin’ up to my trap in the way I generally did, I went round so as to come up on the other side. Purty soon I begun to come near the place where the trap was sot; so I dropped down on all-fours, an’ commenced to crawl throughthe thick brush. I knowed I should have to be mighty keerful, for an Injun has got ears like a painter, an’ he allers keeps ’em open, too. Wal, purty soon I poked my head over a log, an’ peeked through the bushes; an’ what do you think I seed? There war my trap, with a big beaver in it, ketched fast by the hind leg; an’ right behind some big trees that stood near the trap war three Injuns, listenin’, an’ watchin’, an’ waitin’ for me to come an’ get my game.
“‘“That’s the way you painted heathen watch for a white gentleman, is it,” thinks I; “I’ll fix some o’ you.” So I drawed my knife an’ tomahawk, an’ laid them on the ground beside me, an’ then, arter examinin’ my rifle to see that it war all right, I drawed a bead on the biggest Injun, an’ fired. He rolled over, dead as a door nail, an’ the others jumped up an’ yelled like two screech owls. I didn’t stop to ax no questions; but, throwin’ away my rifle, I grabbed up my knife an’ tomahawk, an’ walked into ’em.
“‘They both fired as I came up—one missed, an’ the other tuk me in the leg, an’ kerflumux I come to the ground. The Injuns thought they had me now, sure, an’ they came toward me,drawin’ their knives an’ yellin’ like mad. But I war on my pins agin in less than no time; an’, standin’ as well as I could on my broken leg, I swung my tomahawk around my head, an’ let fly at the nighest Injun. It tuk him plumb atween the eyes, an’ I knowed that the work war done for him. But the next minit the other heathen clinched me, an’, liftin’ me off my legs, throwed me to the ground like a log. He had two legs to use, an’ I had only one; there war where he had the advantage of me. But I had the use of my hands; an’ I jest made up my mind that if he wanted my scalp he would have to work for it; so, quick as lightnin’, I grabbed the hand that held the knife, an’ give it a squeeze that actooally made the bones crack, an’ the rascal give one yell, an’ let go the weapon. Then, with the other hand, I ketched him by the scalp-lock, an’ done my best to turn him, knowin’ that if I could onct get on top of him, I would be all right; but I couldn’t use my leg; so, thinks I, I’ll hold him here awhile, an’ I pulled his head down close to me. But I had bled so much that I begun to give out; an’ the Injun, who hadn’t made a move arter I got hold of his har, knowed that I wargrowin’ weak, an’ the first thing I knowed, he broke away from me, an’ sprung to his feet. I tried to get up too, but the Injun grabbed up his knife, an’ pinned me agin. I fit as well as I could, but the rascal knowed I couldn’t do nothin’; and, placing one knee on my breast to hold me down, he put one hand to his mouth, an’ give a loud yell.
“‘It war answered close by, an’ somebody come out o’ the bushes. At first I thought it war another Injun comin’ up to help rub me out; but another look showed me that it war a white feller. He didn’t stop to ax no questions, but made a dash at the Comanche, who got off me in a tarnal hurry, an’ callin’ out some name that showed that he knowed who the white feller war, he begun to make tracks; but he hadn’t gone ten foot afore the trapper had him by the neck. The fight war mighty short, for the Comanche wasn’t nowhere—the trapper handled him as though he had been a baby, an’ in less than two minits he war a dead Injun.’
“That’s the way ole Bill used to tell his story,” continued Dick; “an’ he allers used to pint me out as the man that saved him. Thewhite feller’s trail that he seed by the creek war my own, an’ I war follerin’ up the Comanches. Wal, I tuk the old man back to his camp, an’, arter two months’ doctorin’, I got him all right agin. When he got well, he wouldn’t let me leave him, nor I didn’t want to, for he war jest the kind of a man I wanted for a chum. He hated an Injun as bad as I did, an’ I used to like to listen to the stories he told of his fights with them. How do you come on now, youngster?”
“O! I feel pretty well,” answered Frank, “only I’m a little weak.”
“You can thank your lucky stars that you wasn’t rubbed out altogether,” said the trapper, as he approached the young hunter. “Me an’ Useless got there jest in time. But you won’t allers be so lucky.”
After wrapping Frank up carefully in the blankets again, he knocked the ashes from his pipe, and sought his own couch.
ITwas a week before Frank was able to travel, during which time George and Archie had been sent back to Uncle Joe’s after supplies of bread, coffee, and salt. Early one morning they again set out, the trapper leading the way more slowly than at the former part of the journey, so as not to weary his young companion. They halted at noon for dinner, and about four o’clock in the afternoon they reached a dilapidated cabin.
“This yere is to be our camp for awhile,” said Dick, throwing his rifle into the hollow of his arm. “I camped here last winter; but I see the shantee is well-nigh broke down. But we can soon set it to rights agin.”
They leaned their guns against the logs of thecabin, and Archie and George cut down some saplings with which to repair the roof; while the others cleared out the old pine boughs that covered the floor, and erected a new crane over the fireplace, which was a hole about four feet in diameter and a foot and a half deep, that had been dug in the middle of the floor. An opening in the roof directly over this did duty both as chimney and window. Before dark the cabin was put in order again, and the hunters began to prepare their supper.
The next morning the trapper, after giving Frank emphatic directions to remain quiet during the day, set out, with Useless at his heels, to look for “otter signs.” George and Archie followed him with their fox-traps; and Frank and Harry, being left to themselves, shouldered their guns, and strolled slowly through the woods, and amused themselves in shooting rabbits, which were very abundant. In a short time they had secured game enough for dinner, and were about to retrace their steps toward the cabin, when the dog, which was some distance in advance of them, suddenly stopped, and, after listening a moment, uttered a low whine, ran back to his master, and took refuge behind him.
“What’s the matter with the dog, I wonder?” said Frank, patting the animal’s head, and endeavoring to encourage him.
“I don’t know,” answered Harry, clutching his gun more firmly; “he must have seen or scented some wild animal. Perhaps it would be safer to go back a little way. I shouldn’t like the idea of meeting a bear or panther;” and Harry began to retreat.
“Hold on,” said Frank; “don’t be in a hurry. If it is a panther, we are certainly a match for him. Our guns are loaded with buck-shot.”
“I know it; but if I should see one of the ‘varmints,’ as Dick calls them, I should be so excited that I couldn’t shoot at all. I think we had better”—
“Hush!” interrupted Frank. “Don’t you hear something?”
The boys listened, and a faint cry, like the yelping of a pack of hounds, was borne to their ears.
“It can’t be dogs,” said Frank, “for if it was, Brave would not have been so frightened; besides, it does not sound exactly like them, and I know of no hunter in this part of the country that keeps hounds.”
“I wonder if that is what Brave heard?” said Harry.
“It must be,” replied Frank, watching the motions of his dog, which appeared to grow more excited as the sound came nearer. “I would like to know what it is.”
“We shall soon find out, for it seems to be coming this way. Let’s hide behind some of these trees.”
The boys, accordingly, concealed themselves, and waited impatiently, with a great deal of anxiety, for the animals to come in sight. Louder and louder grew the noise, and Harry, turning to his companion, with blanched cheeks, exclaimed:
“It’s the cry of a pack of wolves. Let’s get away from here.”
“O, no,” said Frank. “They must be in pursuit of something. Let us wait and see what it is.”
There was something appalling in the sound, which now began to echo loudly through the woods, and it was no wonder that Harry wished to retreat. Even Brave, although he was a very courageous dog, seemed struck with terror, andcrept up behind his master, as if endeavoring to get out of sight. But Frank, with his usual recklessness, determined to stand his ground as long as possible.
The wolves seemed to be running directly toward them, and the boys held their guns to their shoulders, ready to shoot the first one that appeared. In a few moments there was a crashing in the bushes, and a white object was seen gliding among the trees, while behind him followed a pack of a dozen wolves. They ran with their ears laid close back to their heads, and their mouths open, displaying frightful rows of teeth. Frank gazed at them a moment, and then turned his attention to the game. Could he believe his eyes! It was awhite buck. He was running at the top of his speed; but his tongue was hanging out of his mouth, and his legs were horribly lacerated by the sharp crust, into which he sank at every step. He was evidently almost tired out, and the wolves were gaining on him rapidly. Frank had often heard of white deer, but had never seen one before, and he determined to take a hand in the affair, and, if possible, rescue the buck from his pursuers.
“Shoot the wolves, Harry,” he exclaimed, “and save the deer. We want him ourselves.”
“Don’t shoot—don’t,” urged Harry. “The wolves will turn on us.”
But it was too late. Frank’s gun was at his shoulder in an instant, and the foremost of the pack leaped high in the air, and fell to the ground, dead. The others stopped and ravenously attacked their fallen comrade, and in a moment every vestige of him had disappeared. The white buck kept on his way, and soon disappeared from their sight.
“Shoot ’em, Harry,” exclaimed Frank, excitedly, turning to his companion, who stood holding his gun in his hand, and gazing at the wolves as though he had suddenly been deprived of all action; “shoot ’em, and don’t be standing there like a bump on a log. They’ll pitch into us, sure, and the more we kill now, the less we shall have to deal with by-and-by.”
This seemed to bring Harry back to his senses, and he hurriedly raised his gun to his shoulder and endeavored to cover one of the wolves with the sight. But he was trembling violently, and his gun swayed about like a leaf in a storm.
“Why don’t you shoot?” exclaimed Frank.
Harry pressed the trigger, and the loud yell that followed showed that the shot had not been thrown away. One of the wolves was severely wounded. Maddened by the pain, he dashed toward the place where the boys were standing, followed by the whole pack.
“Take to a tree, quick!” exclaimed Frank, who began to be surprised at his own coolness; “it’s our only chance. Be sure and keep a good hold of your gun.” Suiting the action to the word, he swung himself into the lowest branches of a small pine that stood near, and, reaching down, seized Brave by his long hair and pulled him up after him. It was slow climbing among the thick branches, with a gun in one hand and a dog nearly as heavy as himself in the other; and he had scarcely ascended out of reach before the wolves were around the tree. Several of the pack leaped among the branches, and made desperate efforts to reach him, while their dismal howls made his blood run cold.
“Hold on, down there,” muttered Frank. “Wait until I get Brave fixed, and then I’ll soon be even with you.”
After feeling in all his pockets, he found a stout strap, with which he tied his dog fast to the branches, so that he would not fall down among the wolves.
“I say, Frank, where are you?” shouted Harry, from his tree.
“Here I am,” answered Frank. “Are you all right?”
“Yes; but I had a narrow escape, I tell you. The wolves pulled off one of my boots as I was climbing up this tree. You’re always getting a fellow into some scrape or other, ain’t you?”
“I don’t call this much of a scrape,” answered Frank. “We’re safe, at any rate.”
“I know it,” replied Harry, who seemed to be regaining his courage. “But we may have to stay up here a week.”
“No we won’t—not if our ammunition holds out,” answered Frank, pushing his gun through the branches of the tree. “I’m going to commence shooting them.”
“That’s a good plan; I did not think of that.”
The report of Harry’s gun followed his words, and feeling safe in his tree, he made a good shot, the largest of the wolves receiving the entirecharge in his head. The boys continued to load and fire until the last wolf was killed, when they dropped down from the trees, and took a survey of their work. Nine wolves were lying dead on the snow, which was saturated with blood, and a tenth was endeavoring to crawl away on two legs. Brave immediately commenced a battle with him, but the wolf had plenty of fight left in him, and was killed only after a hard struggle.
“Now,” said Frank, “let’s follow up that white buck. I would give almost any thing to catch him alive. He is pretty well tired out, and can’t run far.”
“Lead on, then,” said Harry; “but, if Dick was here, he would say it was no use. You know hunters are inclined to be superstitious about such things.”
The boys had often heard extravagant stories told about the incredible speed and tenacity of life possessed by white deer, and had heard old hunters say that it was impossible to kill or capture them. But Frank was not superstitious. He could not see why a white deer should be so widely different from one of the ordinary color. At all events, he determined to make an attemptto capture the white buck—which would make a valuable addition to his museum. So, leaving the wolves where they had fallen, he led the way along the trail, which could be easily followed by the blood on the snow. They had run nearly a mile, when they discovered the white buck a short distance ahead of them, making his way slowly through the snow, and staggering as though he were scarcely able to keep his feet.
“There he is,” exclaimed Frank, joyfully. “Catch him, Brave.”
The dog was off in an instant, and although the buck made an effort to run, he was speedily overtaken, and pulled down without a show of resistance. The boys hurried forward to secure their captive, which struggled desperately as they approached. But at length Frank succeeded in fastening his belt around his neck. The buck staggered to his feet, and, after a few ineffectual attempts to escape, seemed to submit to his fate, and suffered himself to be led toward the cabin. He was one of the most noble specimens of the common deer that the boys had ever seen. He stood nearly five feet high at the shoulders, and his head was crowned with antlers, whichFrank had learned, from experience, would prove no mean weapons in a fight. He was evidently an “old settler,” and had seen some stirring times during his life, for his body was almost covered with scars. They reached the camp without any mishap, and Harry brought from the cabin a long rope with which the captive was fastened to a tree. After a short struggle, during which the boys received some pretty severe scratches from the buck’s sharp hoofs, his legs were rudely bandaged, and he was left to himself.
After a hastily-eaten dinner, the boys returned to the scene of their late fight with the wolves, to procure some of the skins, which Frank wished to mount in his museum. They got back to the cabin just before dark, and found Dick leaning on his long rifle, and closely examining the buck. Useless was seated at his side, and near him lay three otter-skins, which they had captured during the day.
“See here, youngsters,” exclaimed the trapper, as the boys came up, “what’s all this yere?”
“O, that’s our day’s work,” replied Frank.
“Give us your hands, youngsters,” continued Dick. “Shoot me if you hain’t done somethin’that I tried all last winter to do an’ couldn’t. If I shot at that buck onct, I shot at him twenty times. Do you see that scar on his flank? I made that. An’ there’s another on his neck. When I hit him there I thought I had him sure; for he war throwed in his tracks, an’ when Useless come up to grab him, he war up an’ off like a shot. If you war with some trappers I know, they would tell you to cut that rope an’ let him get away from here as fast as he could travel. Some fellers think these yere white deer have got the Evil One in ’em.”
“O, that’s all nonsense,” said Frank; “a white deer isn’t a bit different from any other, only in the color.”
“That’s what I used to tell ’em,” said Dick. “But this yere is my day’s work,” he added, lifting the otter-skins from the ground; “and a good one it is, too. But five mile back the woods are full of otter, an’ a little further on is a beaver-dam—eight houses in it—forty beaver at the least kalkerlation.”
As the trapper finished speaking, he shouldered his rifle and led the way into the cabin, where a fire was soon started, and some choice pieces ofvenison, which had been brought in by him were laid on the coals to broil. In a few moments, George and Archie entered, and the latter inquired:
“Who caught that white buck?”
Frank gave him the desired information, and also related their adventure with the wolves; when Archie continued:
“I’m glad you caught him, for you always wanted one for your museum. We came near catching a black fox for you.”
“A black fox!” repeated the trapper.
“Yes; the largest one I ever saw,” said George. “He’s black as a coal—hasn’t got a white hair on him, except the very tip of his tail.”
“I know him,” answered the trapper. “Him an’ Useless had more’n one race last winter. You found his trail down by that little creek that runs through that deep hollow.”
“Yes,” answered Archie.
“An’ lost it up here in the woods but two mile back.”
“Yes,” said Archie again.
“An’ that’s the way you’ll keep doin’ as often as you chase him. You can’t ketch him. He’san ole one in these parts, an’ I guess he’ll stay here till he dies a nat’ral death.”
“No, I’ll be shot if he does,” said Archie, decidedly, as he deposited his gun on a couple of pegs in one corner of the cabin, and began to divest himself of his overcoat. “I’ve got a dog that was never fooled yet. There was a fox that used to live on Reynard’s Island, a short distance from Lawrence, and he had been chased by all the best dogs in the country; but the first time he got Sport on his trail, he was a gone sucker. I’m going to start out early to-morrow and try that black fox again, and if I don’t catch him the first day, I’ll try him the next, and keep it up till I do succeed. I don’t mean to leave these woods without him.”
“Then you’d better send home for plenty of grub,” said the trapper, “for you’ll have to stay here all winter.”
“Supper’s ready,” said Frank; and this announcement cut short the conversation.
AFTERsupper, the hunters stretched themselves out on their blankets around the fire; but the usual evening conversation was omitted. Their day’s work had fatigued them all, and soon their regular breathing told that sleep had overpowered them.
About midnight Frank, who slept away from the fire, and almost against the door, was aroused by a slight noise outside the cabin, like the stealthy tread of some animal in the snow. He had begun to acquire something of a hunter’s habits, and the noise, slight as it was, aroused him in an instant. The dogs had also heard it, for they stood looking at the door, with every hair sticking toward their heads, but without uttering a sound. Frank reached for his gun, whichhung on some pegs just above his head, and at that moment he heard a sound resembling the “wheeze” of a glandered horse.
“Bars and buffaler!” exclaimed Dick, suddenly arousing from a sound sleep, and drawing his long hunting-knife, which he always carried in his belt; “there’s a painter around here somewhere—I’m sartin I heered the sniff of one.”
“I heard something,” replied Frank, “but I didn’t know what it was.”
By this time all the inmates of the cabin were aroused, and there was a hurried reaching for guns, and a putting on of fresh caps.
“Lend me your rifle, Dick,” said Frank, “and I’ll shoot him. I have never killed a panther.”
“Wal, don’t be keerless, like you generally are,” said the trapper, handing him the weapon. “Be keerful to shoot right between his eyes. Hist—I’ll be shot if the varmint ain’t a pitchin’ into the white buck—he are, that’s sartin!”
As Dick spoke there was a violent rustling in the bushes, and a sound as of a heavy body falling on the snow. Then there was a slight struggle, and all was still again. Frank quickly threw open the door, and hunters and dogs all rushedout together. It was very dark; but Frank, who was in advance of his companions, could just distinguish a black object crouching in the snow near the tree where the white buck had been fastened. In an instant his rifle was at his shoulder, and as the whip-like report resounded through the woods, the panther uttered a howl that sounded very much like the voice of a human being in distress, and, with one bound, disappeared in the bushes.
The quick-scented dogs found his trail in a twinkling. Guided by their barking, the hunters followed after them as rapidly as possible, in hopes that the dogs would soon overtake the panther and compel him to take to a tree. Running through a thick woods in a dark night is not a pleasant task; and the hunters made headway very slowly. But at length they came up with three of the dogs, which were standing at the foot of a large tree, barking furiously. Brave was nowhere to be seen.
“I shouldn’t wonder if the varmint war up here,” said the trapper, walking around the tree and peering upward into the darkness. “No he ain’t, neither,” he continued. “Useless, ye’re fooled for onct in your life. You see, youngsters,where that big limb stretches out? Wal, the painter ran out on that, an’ has got out of our way.”
“I wonder where Brave is?” said Frank, anxiously.
“That ar is a hard thing to tell,” answered the trapper. “The varmint may have chawed him up too, as well as the white buck.”
“If he has,” said Frank, bitterly, “I won’t do any thing all the rest of my life but shoot panthers. Hold on! what’s that?” he added, pointing through the trees.
“It looks mighty like somethin’ comin’ this way,” said Dick. “Turn me into a mullen-stalk if I don’t believe it’s the painter! He’s creepin’ along a’most on his belly.”
In an instant four guns were leveled at the approaching object, and the boys were about to fire, when the trapper, who had thrown himself almost flat on the snow, to obtain a better view of the animal, heard a suppressed whine. Springing to his feet, he knocked up the weapons, and quietly said,
“I guess I wouldn’t shoot, boys. That’s the dog comin back. I shouldn’t wonder if hehad been follerin’ the painter all alone by himself.”
The boys lowered their guns, and, in a few moments, to the infinite joy of Frank, Brave came up. He crawled slowly and with difficulty toward his master, and the hunters could see that he had been severely handled. He had several long, ugly wounds on his body, which were bleeding profusely.
“Wal, I’ll be shot!” exclaimed the trapper, “if that ar fool of a dog didn’t tackle the painter! He ought to knowed better. The varmint could chaw him up in two minits. Useless here wouldn’t have thought o’ doin’ sich a thing. But it’ll do no good for us to stay here, so we might as well travel back to the shantee. Ye’re minus a white buck, Frank,” he continued, as he led the way through the woods.
The young naturalist made no reply, for it was a severe blow to him. He had anticipated a great deal of pleasure in taming the white buck, and in showing him to his friends, and relating the circumstances of his capture. But the panther had put an end to these anticipations; and Frank determined, as long as he remained in thewoods, to wage a merciless war against all his tribe.
A few moments’ walk brought the hunters to the cabin, and they went at once to the place where they had left the white buck. The panther had torn an ugly-looking hole in his throat, and he was stone dead. It was evident, from the position in which he lay, that the panther had endeavored to drag him away, but was prevented by the rope and the timely interference of the hunters. As regrets were useless, Frank and his cousin carried the remains of the buck into the cabin. After fastening the door and replenishing the fire, the hunters again sought their blankets.
The next morning they were stirring long before daybreak, and Archie busied himself in removing the skin of the white buck, while his cousin, who was impatient to commence his war upon the panthers, was employed in cleaning his gun and sharpening his hunting-knife. Brave seemed to understand that something unusual was on hand. In spite of the rough treatment he had received the night before, he appeared to have plenty of spirit left in him still, and acted as though he were impatient to be off.
“Dick, will you lend me your trap?” inquired Frank, after he had finished his breakfast, and was preparing to set out.
“The ‘Ole Settler’ do you mean?” asked the trapper. “Sartin I will. Goin’ to ketch the painter, ain’t you?”
“Yes; I’m going to try. I must have at least three panther-skins to make up for the killing of the white buck. He was worth more to me than my entire museum.”
“Wal,” said Dick, as he handed Frank the trap, “if you can get him to stick his foot in the ‘Ole Settler,’ he’s yourn, an’ no mistake. That ar trap sticks tighter nor a brother when it gets a hold o’ any thing. Now, be mighty keerful o’ yourself.”
“All right,” answered Frank. “I’ll have something to show you when I come back.”
He set out, with Brave as his only companion. The trapper did not accompany him, for the reason that he had work of his own to attend to; and besides, although he was constantly scolding and finding fault with Frank for his “carelessness,” he was proud of his courage, and admired the spirit that prompted this somewhat hazardousundertaking, and wished to allow him to reap all the honors himself. Archie and George did not go, for they were very anxious to visit their traps, and see whether there were any foxes in them. They did not like the idea of panther-hunting, and had tried every means in their power to induce Frank to abandon his project. Harry thought at first that he would be delighted to go, but, on reflection, he remembered his adventure with the wolves, and was fearful of another similar “scrape.” So, as we have said, Frank started out alone, with nothing on which to depend except the faithful Brave, and his own courage and skill as a marksman. He was well enough acquainted with the woods, and the animals that inhabited them, to know that there was danger in the undertaking; but he thought only of the disappointment he had suffered in the death of the white buck, and the pleasure there would be in seeing the panther that had killed him stuffed and mounted in his museum.
He followed the same course the panther had taken the night before, until he reached the place where the animal had taken to the tree and escaped, Here the trail, of course, ended; butBrave had no difficulty in finding it again, and from this Frank concluded that he must have seen the panther jumping from tree to tree, and had followed him, until the latter, seeing that he was pursued by only one of his enemies, had descended to the ground and given battle, which had, of course, ended in Brave’s defeat.
After a careful examination, Frank could discover but three foot-prints in the trail, which looked as though some one had endeavored to obliterate it, by drawing a heavy stick over it. He could not account for this, but he knew, by the blood on the snow, that the panther had been severely wounded by the shot he had fired at him; so, without stopping to make any more observations, he ordered Brave to “Hunt ’em up.”
The dog immediately set off on the trail, and Frank kept as close to him as possible. The panther had made good use of his time, for they followed the trail until almost four o’clock in the afternoon, without coming up with him. In the excitement of the chase, Frank had not thought of stopping to eat his dinner, and he was both tired and hungry. A few moments’ rest, and a piece of the cold venison and bread, with whichhis haversack was well stored, he thought would enable him to follow the trail until dark. He began to look around to find a good place to build a fire, when a loud bark from Brave drove all such thoughts out of his mind, and he ran forward to the place where the dog was standing, and suddenly came in sight of the panther, which had killed a wild turkey, and was crouching at the foot of a tree, just ready to begin his meal.
One of his hind-legs was entirely useless, having been broken by the shot from the rifle; and that it was which had given that peculiar look to his trail. How he had managed to climb so many trees, and travel such a distance, with his leg in that condition, Frank could not imagine. But he was not allowed much time to make observations, for the panther crouched lower over his prey, and lashed his sides with his tail, as if about to spring toward him. He was within easy range, and Frank cocked both barrels of his gun, and slowly raised the weapon to his shoulder. His hand could not have been more steady if he had been aiming at a squirrel. He glanced along the clean, brown tubes for a moment, and fired both barrels in quick succession. The gun had beenheavily loaded, in order to “make sure work” of the panther, and the immense recoil threw Frank flat on his back. When he recovered his feet, he saw the panther stretched out motionless on the ground. The buck-shot had done its work.
FRANKwas a big-feeling boy just then. He knew that he had done something that many an older person than himself would hesitate to undertake. He was fast becoming accustomed to scenes of excitement and danger, and he thought only of the feat he had accomplished, and not of the perilous position in which he had placed himself but a few moments before. What if his gun had missed fire, or he had only wounded the panther? How long could he and Brave have withstood his attacks? The panther would certainly have conquered them. And what could he have done if he had been disabled in the depths of those woods, so far from any human being? Such questions as these passed through the reckless young hunter’s mind, but hedismissed them with the thought that the panther was dead, and that he had nothing to fear.
The animal was one of the largest of his kind, measuring, as near as Frank could judge, fully seven feet in length, including the tail. The rifleshot which had broken his leg had made an ugly-looking wound, and he had received both charges of buck-shot in his head; but the skin was not spoiled, and Frank’s first thought was to take it off and cure it for stuffing.
Around the tree was a little space, which was clear of bushes, and was probably as good a camping-ground as he could find. So he placed his gun where he could put his hand upon it at a moment’s warning, and removed his haversack, hanging it up on a small tree that stood near. He then unfastened his belt, and took from it his blanket and a small tin pail, which was to do duty as a coffee-pot. With the aid of his heavy hunting-knife, he soon erected a hut—rude-looking, indeed, but sufficiently strong and tight to protect him from the wind. Over the floor he spread hemlock branches to the depth of four or five inches, and the camp was finished. He then kindled a fire in front of the hut, and filled hispail with snow, and hung it on a crane to boil. In a little while the turkey, which the panther had killed, was dressed, and cooking as fast as a hot fire could make it. Before his supper was cooked, the panther was hauled into the cabin, and his skin taken off, and hung upon a frame to dry.
The turkey was equally divided between master and dog; and as neither had eaten any dinner, not a vestige of the fowl was left. While Frank was building his camp, he had heard a faint ripple, like the noise of a small water-fall; and he was somewhat surprised thereat, for the intensely cold weather had formed ice, even in the swiftest water, almost two feet in thickness. As soon as he had finished his supper, he started out to see what had occasioned the noise, taking the trap with him, intending to find a good place to set it. When he arrived at the stream, he found it had its source in a salt spring, or, as the hunters would call it, a “deer-lick.” The snow on the banks was trodden as hard as a floor, and the paths that the animals had made, in going to and from the stream, ran up into the woods in all directions. These springs are favorite resorts of deer and other wild animals, which delight to taste their brackishwaters; and it is a common way of killing deer, in places where they are scarce, to watch one of these “licks” during the night, and shoot the animals as they approach.
Frank walked up one of the paths that led to the spring, and began to make preparations to set his trap. It was just the place for it, as he would be certain to catch something before morning. He first dug a hole with his hunting-knife, directly in the middle of the path, and the next job was to set the trap. He knew how it ought to be done. But the powerful jaws of the “Ole Settler” had often resisted the efforts of a stronger person than himself. After half an hour’s work, during which time the skirts of his coat had been cut almost entirely off by the long, sharp teeth, he succeeded in getting it set, and placed safely in the hole which he had dug for its reception. Then, with his hunting-knife, he cut down a good-sized sapling that stood near, and to this he fastened one end of a short, heavy chain; the other end of the chain he fastened to the trap. After he had placed every thing to his satisfaction, he carefully covered the trap and chain withsnow, removed all the twigs and leaves he had scattered about, and returned to his camp. He employed himself until dark in gathering his evening’s supply of fire-wood, and then lay down on his bed of boughs, well satisfied with his day’s work.
As it grew dark, it seemed to him that his camp became the center of attraction to every wild animal in the woods for a circle of ten miles around. The owl flew down around his fire, uttering his dismal scream; the barking of foxes was heard in all directions; and, now and then, a dark object would come out of the bushes, and gaze at him a moment with eyes that shone through the darkness like coals of fire, and then beat a hasty retreat. Once or twice he heard a sound that made him reach, rather hurriedly, for his gun—the same sound that the trapper, the night before, had pronounced the “sniff of a painter.”
Frank did not feel exactly safe in going to sleep, and sat for a long time with his gun in his hand. Several times he was half inclined to shoot at some of the animals that came around the camp; but he finally concluded to keep thepeace as long as they would. In a few moments after he had made this resolution, he sank back on his blanket, and was soon fast asleep.
Near midnight he was awakened by a chorus of loud yells. Starting up, he found his camp surrounded by wolves. The fire had almost gone out, and the wolves appeared to be growing bolder by degrees, having already approached quite close to the cabin. Frank started to his feet and threw a firebrand among them, when they scattered in every direction, and were out of sight in a moment. He was not disturbed again, and when he awoke it was daylight. After putting a good supply of wood on the fire, and hanging his coffee-pot on the crane, he shouldered his gun, and started toward the place where the trap had been set, hoping to find something in it that would make a breakfast for him.
Therewassomething in it, beyond a doubt, for both trap and clog were gone; and the way Brave growled and showed his teeth led him to believe that he had caught something besides a deer. The hole in which he had placed the trap was trodden down as though a flock of sheep had passed over it. It was a matter of some difficultyto follow the trail of the animal that had been caught in the trap, for he had moved directly up the path, and the only “sign” that Frank had to guide him was, now and then, a slight scraping in the snow, which he knew had been made by the clog, as the animal dragged it after him. He followed the trail in this manner for nearly half a mile, when it suddenly turned off into the woods, where he could follow it up considerably faster. Here he discovered that there was a bear in the trap, for the prints of his great feet were in the snow. His progress had evidently been retarded a good deal, for, at intervals along the trail, the broken bushes and trodden snow showed where the clog had caught and held him fast.
Brave led the way, but they had not gone far before he began to show signs of uneasiness. A little further on, he suddenly came to a halt, and stood gazing steadily before him, toward a thicket of bushes, that looked as though it would afford a splendid hiding-place for a wild animal.
Frank began to be excited now, and his hand was none of the steadiest as he cocked his gun and stooped down to caress his dog. He had faced the wounded panther without flinching, buthe did not like the idea of attacking that bear in his den, for such it undoubtedly was, as under an immense pile of limbs and bushes Frank could see something dark, that looked like a cave.
Brave ran around the bushes, with every hair on his body sticking toward his head, and now and then making a dash at the den, as though challenging the bear to come out. But the cave was as silent as death. Frank could not see how he could attack the bear in there, and the question was, how to get him out into open ground, so that he could have a fair shot at him, and a good opportunity to retreat, if that shot should not prove fatal. After waiting nearly half an hour for the bear to come out and give them battle, Frank grew impatient, and determined to commence fight himself. Grasping his gun firmly in one hand, he set to work with his hunting-knife to cut a passage through the bushes, so that he could get a fair view of the mouth of the cave.
While thus employed, he heard a slight rustling of leaves in the den, accompanied by a low, wailing cry, and followed by a hoarse growl. He bravely stood his ground, holding his gun in readiness; but, as the bear did not come out, Frankwent on with his work, more determined than ever to effect the destruction of the animal, for that wailing noise was the cry of a cub, which he was determined to have. He knew that this would be no boy’s play, for, of course, the old bear must be killed before he could venture down into the cave. He was also well aware that she would fight for her young with a ferocity and stubbornness, against which only the most determined courage and a steady hand and quick eye could avail. He had heard Uncle Joe relate a story of a man, and one not wanting in courage either, who, upon discovering a couple of young bears playing together in the woods, had shouldered his rifle and made for home at the top of his speed. The least cry from one of those clumsy little fellows would have brought upon him an enemy that the bravest hunter would not care to encounter.
But Frank had great confidence in himself, and worked away industriously, now and then pausing to look down into the cave and listen. He had cut away most of the bushes before the opening, and as soon as he could get a good view of the interior, threw himself flat upon the snow and looked in. It was dark as midnight inside thecave, but he could see two fiery eyeballs glaring upon him through the darkness, which appeared to be approaching the opening. This afforded a fine mark, and one that he thought he could not possibly miss; so, throwing forward his gun, he took a steady aim, and fired.
The report was followed by a howl that made the cold sweat start from every pore of his body; but, without hesitating a moment, he discharged the other barrel, and then, springing to his feet, rapidly retreated, just as the enormous head and shoulders of the bear rose out of the opening. After running a little distance, and finding that he was not pursued, he turned and looked behind him, and saw the bear, in front of the cave, rolling over and over in the snow. The “Ole Settler” was fast to one of her hind-legs, and the clog had caught and was holding her fast.
Frank immediately commenced to reload his gun, keeping his eye on the bear, ready to retreat again if she should succeed in freeing herself. He hastily rammed down the charges, and poured a handful of buck-shot into each barrel, and then crawled toward the bear, which, almost beside herself with rage and pain, was tearing at herwounds, and pulling up all the bushes within her reach.
Frank felt comparatively safe now, knowing that the bear could not escape; and besides, if she should succeed in getting the clog loose, she could not overtake him, incumbered as she was with the heavy trap. He waited until a fair mark was presented, and then fired again. The wound was mortal. After a few struggles, the bear lay motionless on the snow.
The next work was to draw her away from the mouth of the cave and take off the trap. This was no easy task, for the animal was very heavy, and, as Dick had predicted, the “Ole Settler” “stuck tighter nor a brother.” After much exertion, this was accomplished, and Frank was about to commence skinning the bear, when, all at once, the thought struck him, Where was the father of the family? This thought made him spring to his feet rather hurriedly, and cast anxious glances at the cave.
“The old fellow can’t be in there,” he soliloquized, “or he would certainly have come out before this time; but I’ll just keep an eye open for him, and if he shows himself, and undertakesto interfere in this business, he’ll get the worst of the bargain.”
He was not disturbed, however. The old bear, if he was about, probably thought that his family was capable of taking care of itself and fighting its own battles.
As soon as he had taken off the bear’s skin, he began to make preparations to enter the cave and bring out the cubs, which, all the while, had kept up an impatient cry. He first cut down a stout sapling, and, after he had lopped off all its branches, fastened his hunting-knife firmly to it. This he intended to use as a spear, in case he should be attacked while in the den. Grasping it in one hand, and his gun in the other, he crawled down into the cave. It was so dark that he could scarcely see his hand before him; but, after a few moments’ search, he discovered the cubs, nicely covered up in a bed of leaves. There were two of them, and they were about the size of a cat. They fought and screamed furiously as Frank took them up, but he unceremoniously thrust them into the capacious pockets of his hunting-shirt, and crawled out of the cave.
When he reached his camp he found that the fire had gone out. It was soon rekindled, when, after wrapping the cubs up in his overcoat, and putting them carefully away in one corner of the tent, he sat down on his bed of boughs, and made a hearty breakfast on cold venison and bread. While he was eating, he began to think seriously of setting out for “home,” as he called the encampment where he had left his companions. He had accomplished much more than he had expected he could during the two days that he had been in the woods, and now had about as much on hand as he could conveniently attend to. The skins of the panther and bear must be prepared for stuffing, which would require his close attention; the cubs, also, must be taken care of and watched, for they would escape, if left to themselves. If he was at home, they could be shut up in the cabin while he was off hunting, and he could have his cousin’s assistance in curing the skins. So, after resting an hour, he pulled on his overcoat again, stowing the cubs away in his pockets, folded up his blanket, strapped it fast to his belt, shouldered his gun, and set out.
It was dark before he reached the cabin.His companions had just finished eating their supper, and had not expected his return that night.
“Why, Frank, how are you?” exclaimed Archie, springing to his feet and seizing his cousin’s hand. “I’m glad to see you back safe. What kind of a time did you have?—rather lonesome, I guess. What have you got?” he continued, as one of the cubs, thinking that something unusual was going on, again set up a furious yelping.
“I’ve the skin of the panther that killed the white buck,” answered Frank, “and also a bearskin, and two young cubs.” As he spoke, he drew the cubs from his pocket.
“You keerless feller!” exclaimed Dick, who had not yet spoken; “I know’d you’d be in some scrape or other.”
“So did I,” chimed in Harry, “and that’s the reason why I wouldn’t go with him. It’s a wonder you ain’t all clawed to pieces.”
“Hain’t had any supper yet I reckon?” said the trapper. “Come an’ set down here, an’ tell us all about it.”
Frank was quickly relieved of his gun and overcoat, while a plateful of venison, some breadand butter, and a cup of hot coffee were passed over to him. Stretching his feet out toward the fire, he related the details of his adventures, while the trapper sat by, smoking his pipe, apparently deeply interested in his story.