CHAPTER XXXIV.A CLIMAX.
At daylight the next morning breakfast had been eaten, and the two wolfers were on their way to their new hunting grounds, Lish leading his pony, which was loaded with their outfit and the skins they had secured, and Tom bringing up the rear.
If the latter had been as skilled in woodcraft as his brother was he would not have been long in finding out that Lish had told him a falsehood regarding his movements of the previous day.
There were no signs of a trail in the gorge which they followed from one valley to the other, and that proved conclusively that the wolfer had not been along there during the last twenty-four hours.
But Tom took no note of the fact. He was utterly indifferent to everything around him,and it is hard to tell how he would have lived if he had not been cheered and sustained by the hope—which sometimes amounted to positive conviction—that there were brighter days in store for him, and that his affairs would soon take a turn for the better.
He was in a very repentant frame of mind, and promised himself over and over again that, if he ever got back among civilized people, he would lead an honest and respectable life, in spite of all the temptations that could be thrown around him.
His first hard work should be to return every cent of Mr. Smith’s money, and when that was done he would once more be able to look honest men in the face.
The valley, which they reached at noon that day, was by no means as fine a hunting ground as Tom had expected to find it. It was not so well watered or so effectually protected from the storms as the one in which they had first taken up their abode, and consequently the deer, and the wolves that preyed upon them, were not found in any great numbers.
Their want of success of course had its effectupon the temper of his partner, and for three long weeks he never spoke a civil word to Tom, who lived in constant apprehension of open violence.
Lish grumbled every time the firewood gave out before morning, and swore whenever he looked at the very small supply of bacon and cracker they had left.
Finding that he grew worse every day, Tom, who feared an outbreak above all the other evils that threatened him, gradually gave up wolfing and devoted himself to his camp duties; but not even the sight of the nice fat grouse that were set before him every night, and which Tom had snared in the neighboring woods, could put Lish in good humor.
From this time forward Tom provided all the fresh meat that was served up in that camp, for Lish would not expend his ammunition on anything smaller than a deer, and that was an animal he did not often see.
When Tom stopped putting out bait for the wolves he gave the wolfer another cause for displeasure, and the man took his own way to show how mad he was over it.
One afternoon, when Tom came in from making the round of his snares, he was surprised to see that the skins they had captured, which were piled in one corner of the lean-to after being cured, had disappeared.
Believing that the camp had been robbed during his absence, and that he would be sure to suffer for it when his partner returned at night, Tom threw down the grouse he had captured and made the circuit of the lean-to, looking for the robber’s trail.
He found it after a short search, and the moment he saw it he knew that it had been made by Lish himself. He followed it up for a few hundred yards, taking care to step exactly in the wolfer’s tracks, and presently came within sight of a tree, which had been partly uprooted by the wind.
Among the branches, about twenty feet from the ground, was a small platform, built of poles, and on this platform was something covered with a blanket.
To scramble up the inclined trunk, raise the blanket, and see what was under it was scarcely two minutes’ work. The blanket wasone of his own, and the objects it concealed and protected from the weather were the skins he and Lish had captured.
At the sight of them Tom uttered a low whistle; and, after looking all around to make sure that his partner was nowhere in sight, he backed down the trunk and set out for camp at a rapid walk, being careful, as before, to step squarely into the wolfer’s tracks.
Arriving at the lean-to, he replenished the fire; and, picking up one of the grouse, began plucking it, working as fast as he could in order to make up for lost time.
He knew that Lish would be sure to take him to task for something the moment he returned, and if he did not find a cup of hot coffee waiting for him, supplemented by as good a supper as Tom’s limited means would allow him to prepare, something disagreeable might happen.
“What object could Lish have had in view when he stole those skins out of the camp and hid them in that tree?” Tom asked himself over and over again. “I can’t think of any unless he intends to clear out and leave me toshift for myself. If he should do that, what in the world would become of me?”
While Tom was turning this alarming thought over in his mind he heard somebody coming toward the camp at a rapid pace, stamping furiously through the crust as if to give emphasis to some words he was muttering to himself, but which Tom could not catch.
The next moment the wolfer came round the side of the lean-to. In one hand he carried his rifle and in the other a stout switch, which he was brandishing wildly over his head. His face was fairly black with fury.
“Look a-yere!” he yelled, as he leaned his rifle up in one corner and approached the place where Tom was sitting. “What ye bin a-snoopin’ round out thar in the timber fur to-day? Don’t be long in speakin’ up, kase this hickory is gettin’ heavy, an’ it will have to drop somewhar purty soon!”
Tom was surprised, and greatly alarmed besides. He was alarmed by the expression of almost ungovernable fury he saw in thewolfer’s face, and surprised to learn that his movements had been so readily detected, after all the pains he had taken to cover his trail.
But there was nothing surprising in that, for if he had carefully examined his trail he would have seen that there were the prints of two boot heels in each one of the tracks that had been made by the wolfer’s moccasined feet.
“What ye bin a-pokin’ yer nose into my business fur?” shouted Lish, making the switch whistle as he whirled it around his head. “What made you go out an’ hunt up them skins?”
“What made you hide them?” asked Tom, as soon as he could speak. “It looks as though you were trying to rob me of my share. Some of those skins belong to me.”
“I hid ’em kase I aint a-goin’ to have ye slip inter the camp when I aint here, an’ go off to find yer brother.”
“If my brother was anywhere within reach of me it would take a better man than you to keep me here,” was the thought that passed through Tom’s mind.
But he knew better than to give utterance to it.
“Thar don’t none of them pelts b’long to ye, an’ I don’t want ye to fergit it, nuther!” exclaimed Lish. “Ye haven’t pizened a dozen varmints since we come to this yere place.”
“That’s because I can’t do all the work about camp and put out baits too,” replied Tom. “If you will cut the wood I’ll do the cooking and catch as many skins as you do into the bargain.”
“Yer so powerful lazy yer don’t ’arn yer salt,” said the wolfer, paying no attention to this proposition. “Now I’ll jest tell ye what’s a fact. If ye don’t mind yer own business an’ let mine be I’ll lay that hickory over yer head till ye see more’n a hundred stars. Ye hear me? I’ll put it here in this corner, so’s to have it handy. Ye’ve been a-spilin’ for a trouncin’, an’ I’m jest the feller to give it to ye.”
Tom drew a long breath of relief, but made no reply.
He had been expecting something like this for a long time, and he was glad to know thathis punishment was to be postponed for a few hours at least.
He did not go near the skins again (if he had he would not have found them in the tree, for they had been removed to other and safer quarters), but gave all his time to his camp duties and to keeping Lish supplied with fresh meat, which the latter was sure to call for every night and morning.
Tom’s object was to put off the day of his “trouncin’” as long as he possibly could.
One afternoon, about two weeks after the occurrence of the events we have just described, Tom had the misfortune to cut his foot while he was chopping wood.
The wound would have been considered a serious one under any circumstances, but situated as he was it became positively dangerous.
Lacking the forethought as well as the means to provide for such accidents as this, he had brought no bandages or liniment with him, and all he could do was to pull off his boot, apply some ice-cold water—which was about the worst thing he could have put onit—wrap the injured member up in one of his extra shirts, and crawl to his bed under the lean-to.
Lish swore loudly when he came in. He fairly surpassed all his previous efforts in this line; and one, to have heard the abuse he heaped upon the head of his unfortunate partner, would have supposed that Tom had been guilty of some great crime.
The wolfer now had to cook for himself and cut his own wood. A short experience must have disgusted him with this sort of work; for, on the third morning after the accident, Tom awoke from a troubled slumber to find his last blanket and his partner missing. If it had not been for the fact that the pony was standing near the dying embers of the fire, he would have believed that Lish had deserted him in his trouble.
The wolfer was gone two whole days and a part of another, and when at last he came within sight of the camp he was followed by a very small pony, which fairly staggered under the weight of a huge pack he bore upon his back.
Where he had been, and what he had been doing, of course Tom did not know; but he could see by the expression on his face that Lish was highly elated over something. He really looked good-natured.
“Hello, pard!” he exclaimed as he came to a halt in front of the lean-to. “How ye makin’ it by this time? If we aint struck it rich now we never will! That thar pony is jest loaded down with jest the finest lot of——”
Lish stopped and looked about him, evidently not at all pleased with the gloomy appearance of things. A few green boughs sputtered on the fire, giving out a dense smoke, but no flame; Tom was flat on his back, just as he had left him, and there was no dinner waiting for him.
“Why didn’t ye get me nothin’ to eat?” demanded Lish.
“Why didn’t you send a messenger on ahead to tell me that you were coming?” replied Tom, driven almost desperate by the pain of his wound, which was growing worse, in spite of the best care he could give it.
“Wal, ye see me here now, don’t ye?” retorted Lish. “Git up from thar an’ make me a cup of coffee.”
“I can’t; the coffee is all gone.”
“Then give me a partridge an’ some bread!” commanded the wolfer, beginning to grow angry.
“I can’t do that either. I haven’t been able to visit my snares since you went away, and there is not a crumb of cracker left.”
“Thar aint?” shouted Lish, while an ominous light shone in his eyes. “An’ ye aint done nothin’ but lay thar an’ stuff yerself till our coffee an’ grub’s all gone! Git up from thar, I tell ye, an’ go out an’ ketch me a partridge!”
“I can’t,” replied Tom, who, seeing that an outbreak was not very far distant, began to be terribly alarmed. “I can’t walk a step. You have no idea how I suffer all the time.”
“’Taint nothin’ on ’arth but laziness that is the matter of ye!” said Lish as he laid down his rifle and picked up the switch. “If ye won’t move, I’ll have to move ye. Git upfrom thar! Git up, ye lazy wagabone, an’ git me sunthin’ to eat! Do ye reckon yer goin’ to git up?”
These words were accompanied by a shower of blows, which fell upon Tom’s head and shoulders with such force that the sound of them could be, indeedwas, heard a considerable distance away.
If his life had depended upon it, poor Tom could not have maintained an upright position for half a minute. He had tried it often enough to know. Whenever he attempted it the blood rushed into his foot, causing him the most intense anguish.
He could only lie there and make feeble, but unavailing, efforts to shield his face, which seemed to be the mark at which his tormentor aimed his blows. His shrieks of agony fell upon deaf ears, the wolfer having determined to beat him until he got upon his feet.
They were both so completely engrossed—Lish in raining his blows upon his helpless victim, and Tom in trying to ward them off—and the hubbub they occasioned was so great, that they did not hear the sonorous bray whichawoke the echoes of the hills, nor the noise made by rapidly advancing hoofs.
Just as Tom was about to give up in despair, and allow the wolfer to beat him to death—if he had made up his mind to do so—a large mouse-colored mule, without saddle or bridle, but carrying a rider on his back, suddenly appeared upon the scene.
The mule was coming at a furious pace directly toward the lean-to, and for a moment it looked as though he was going to run right through it; but he stopped when he reached the side of the pony, and his rider swung himself to the ground.
No sooner was he fairly landed on his feet than he dashed forward with an angry exclamation, and planted his fist so squarely and forcibly against the wolfer’s neck that he doubled him up like a piece of wet cloth, and brought the fracas to a close in an instant.