Every section has some laws of its own that are not written in books; and this is especially true of a new country, concerning the sharing of the proceeds of a hunt. For example, a hunter sets out on the trail of a deer that has travelled all night. A second hunter strikes the trail in advance of him, and follows up the game and kills it. The first man, if he comes up before the game is removed, and can prove that he was on the trail at an earlier hour than his rival, can claim half the deer, although he may have been miles away when it was killed. Game was so abundant at the time of which we write, that there was seldom any difficulty in regard to the division of the spoils. If the successful hunter was generous, the other let him off very easily, perhaps taking only a few steaks for his next morning’s breakfast; but if he showed a disposition to be stingy, his rival always insisted on his rights, and got them, too. In this case theClub thought they saw a chance for trouble. Every one in that region knew that there was a standing reward of twenty-five dollars offered for the scalp of every panther killed in the parish, and they were afraid that the hunters who were then approaching might endeavor to establish a claim to a portion of the money. That was something they did not intend to allow. They found the trail first, followed up the panther, and finding him in company with another, killed them both, before any one, except Mr. Gaylord, knew that they were in the neighborhood. They hurriedly discussed the matter while they were awaiting the approach of the rival hunters, and resolved that they would stand up for their rights.
The noise of the chase continued to grow louder every moment, and presently a pack of hounds, perhaps a dozen of them in all, emerged from the woods, and leaping the fence came close upon the young hunters before they discovered them. Then they ceased their baying, smelt of the panthers, and tried to scrape an acquaintance with Rex and the rest of the Club’s hounds; but their advances not being very graciously received, they ran back to the fence to await the arrival of their masters.They came at length, and when the foremost horseman appeared in sight, our heroes exchanged significant glances and drew a little closer together, while Eugene rested his gun against the nearest tree and began to pull off his overcoat. “It is just as I expected,” said he, in great disgust. “We’ll see fun now, for Bayard and his crowd are mean enough for anything.”
As Eugene spoke, a magnificent coal-black charger arose in the air, and, sailing over the fence like a bird, came toward the thicket at a rapid gallop. He carried on his back a dark sullen-looking boy about seventeen years of age, who wore a military cloak and cap, heavy horseman’s boots and gauntlet gloves, and carried a light rifle slung over his shoulder by a broad strap. This was Bayard Bell, Walter’s rival in everything except his studies. Close behind him came four other boys—Will and Seth Bell, Henry Chase and Leonard Wilson—all finely mounted, neatly dressed, and armed with shot-guns and rifles. These five boys had a society of their own, something like the Sportman’s Club, and somehow they were always opposing the members of the Club, and were invariably worsted by them. They had claimed tobe the champion oarsmen of the Academy, and in the attempt to establish that claim, had been so badly beaten that their friends were ashamed of them. Bayard and Henry Chase had been candidates for the position of Commodore and Vice-Commodore of the Academy squadron; but Walter and Featherweight had carried off the honors. Bayard also wanted to be president of one of the literary societies of the institution, and had worked hard for certain academic honors that he thought he ought to have; but rattle-brained Eugene Gaylord had snatched one of the prizes from his grasp, and the studious little Featherweight had walked off with the other. As Bayard and his friends had been confident of success in every one of these instances, their failures were sore disappointments to them. They looked upon their defeats as direct insults, and declared that they would never forget them. They had generally tried to treat the Club with civility as long as they remained at the Academy, but now that they were out from under the eyes of their professors and away from the rest of the students, they thought they had no reason to conceal the real state of their feelings.
The attention of the new-comers was so fullyoccupied in guiding their horses through the thicket and over the rough, uneven ground, that they did not discover the members of the Club until they had dashed into the very midst of them; and then they checked their horses so suddenly that every one of them was thrown back upon his haunches. The encounter was plainly unexpected, and very much of a surprise to them. They gazed first at our heroes and then at the panthers, and taking in the position of affairs at a glance, looked inquiringly at one another, as if to ask: “What shall we do about it?” Bayard must have been able to read the thoughts that were passing in the minds of his friends, or else he received some sign from them indicative of their desires, for he immediately assumed a swaggering, bullying air, which told the Club plainly enough what was coming.
“Well,” he snarled (he always talked in a snappish sort of way, as if he were angry about something), “Who’s work is this? Who killed these panthers?”
“We did,” replied Eugene.
“You!” echoed Bayard. He looked at the young hunters in amazement, and then smiled derisively. “You can’t crowd any such story asthat down our throats,” said he, at length. “Your father and your uncle Dick killed them, and you’re watching them while they go after a wagon to haul them home. That’s the way the thing stands.”
“You are nice-looking fellows to kill two panthers, are you not?” said Seth, with a sneer. “You would run crying home to your mammas if you saw the track of one.”
“Have it your own way,” replied Walter, good-naturedly. “We killed them without help from anybody, but there’s no law that I know of that compels you to believe it.”
“They’re done for, anyhow,” said Bayard, “and we are saved considerable trouble and hard riding. We’ve been following them for more than an hour—we found their trail down there on the banks of the bayou—and we would have got them if we’d had to follow them clear to New York. If you can prove that you shot them you will take a few dollars out of our pockets.”
Bayard and his men dismounted and proceeded to examine the animals very closely. They looked at their teeth, lifted their paws, guessed at their weight, and finally Bayard drew a hunting-knife from his boot, and after trying the edge on histhumb, walked up to one of the panthers and took hold of his ear.
“Hold on, there!” exclaimed Eugene. “What are you about?”
“What am I about?” repeated Bayard, as though he regarded the question as a very strange one; “I am going to take this animal’s scalp—that’s all. It is worth twenty-five dollars to us. We don’t care for the money, but we have rights here, and we intend to enforce them. You can take the other scalp—it belongs to you, or to whoever killed the panthers—and, as we are not disposed to be mean, we will give you both the skins.”
“Now, let me tell you something,” said Perk. “Keep away from there.”
“Eh!” ejaculated Bayard, opening his eyes to their widest extent. “Doesn’t half the fifty dollars these scalps are worth belong to us? It does, and we’re going to have it.”
Perk very deliberately pulled off his overcoat and threw it across his saddle, and Bayard put up his knife and stepped back. Perk coolly seated himself on the head of the largest panther, crossed his legs over the other, and placed his hat beside himon the ground. When the Club witnessed these movements, they told themselves that if they had belonged to Bayard’s party, knowing their friend as well as they did, the offer of double the value of the panthers’ scalps would not have induced them to interfere with him then.
“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 howto 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 himup 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 yourheads 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,” exclaimedBayard; “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 theircourage 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 anduncle 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 rememberthat 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 fromhis 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 asfrequent. If a hunter says that wild animals “use” any particular portion of the woods, he means that they are generally to be found there.
[1]In the South and West this word is used in the same sense asfrequent. If a hunter says that wild animals “use” any particular portion of the woods, he means that they are generally to be found there.
[1]In the South and West this word is used in the same sense asfrequent. 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 hadmade 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 unusualdidhappen, 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 tothe 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 skyProclaim 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!”
“A southerly wind and a cloudy skyProclaim 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!”
“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.”
“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 andfed 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 taketo 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.
There are times when nothing in the world does one so much good as giving vent to half a dozen terrific yells in quick succession, and we have always thought that the occasion of a hog hunt is one of them. When the sport first begins, and you hear the game, which is to you invisible, crashing through the bushes on all sides of you; when you see your eager dogs flying over the ground like “coursers in the race” (we never could understand how any healthy boy can live without at least one good dog); when your horse, hearing the sounds of the chase, pricks up his ears and fairly trembles under the saddle with impatience; when you feel your muscles growing rigid, and your heart swelling within you with excitement;—in circumstances like these, is there anything that lets off the surplus steam so easily and completely as a few good yells given with yourwhole soul? It is one of the very best things in the world for the health—at least the Club thought so; and if you could have heard the yells they gave on that particular morning, you would have said that they were blessed with extraordinary lungs.
In less time than it takes to tell it, after the hounds gave them notice that the game had been discovered, the young hunters had scattered in all directions, and Walter found himself being carried through the bushes with a rapidity that endangered not only his clothing but his skin, also. His white charger, Tom, had engaged in wild-hog hunting so often that he well understood his business, which was to follow Rex wherever he went, and keep as close to his heels as possible; and Walter had nothing to do but to lie flat along his neck, to avoid being swept out of the saddle by the branches of the trees, shut his eyes and hold on like grim death. This was not the most comfortable position in the world, for the horse, which entered into the sport with as much eagerness as though he possessed the soul to appreciate it, was not at all careful in picking his way. He went like the wind, dodging around this stump, jumping over that, plunging through thickets of briers and cane that seemedalmost impassable, and finally, without any word from his rider, suddenly stopped.
Walter looked up and found himself in a clear space about ten feet in diameter, in which the bushes had been beaten down and trampled upon until they presented the appearance of having been cut with a scythe. Near the middle of this clear spot stood the faithful Rex, holding by the ear the largest wild hog it was ever Walter’s fortune to put eyes on. His attention was first attracted by a wound on the greyhound’s shoulder, from which the blood was flowing profusely, and then his eyes wandered to the enormous tusks that had made that wound.
These tusks are two teeth in the lower jaw, one on each side, sometimes represented as growing above the snout, as you see them in the pictures in your geography and natural history. You may have regarded these pictures as exaggerations, but if you could have seen the hog Rex caught that morning you would have had reason to think differently. His tusks were five inches in length. These teeth are not used in chewing the food, but in fighting; and they are dangerous weapons. A wild hog does not bite his enemy, as one might suppose;but strikes and wounds him with his tusks; and wherever they touch they cut like a knife.
A wild hog is the wildest thing that ever lived, not even excepting a deer or turkey. He inhabits the darkest nooks in the woods, and, like some other wild animals, feeds at night and sleeps in the day time. He has one peculiarity: no matter how tight a place he gets into or how badly he is hurt, he never squeals. More than that, a dog which has often hunted wild hogs seems to fall into their habits, for during the hunt he seldom growls or barks.
Walter was highly enraged when he found that Rex was wounded, and told himself that if he had had his double-barrel in his hands he would have put an end to that hog’s existence then and there. But he was entirely unarmed, and not possessing the courage to attack such a monster with empty hands, he sat quietly in his saddle and watched the contest. He had seen Rex in many a battle before that, and he saw him in some desperate scrapes afterward, but he never knew him to fight with greater determination than he exhibited that morning. Have you ever seen an ant carrying off a grain of corn? If you have, you will gain someidea of the great odds Rex had to contend with when we tell you that there was as much difference in size between him and the hog, as between the ant and the kernel of corn. He looked altogether too small to engage so large an enemy; but his wound had enraged him, and when he once got his blood up, he feared nothing.
The hog was no coward, either. He had evidently made up his mind to win the battle, and his movements were much more rapid than you would suppose so large a mountain of flesh capable of. He struck at Rex repeatedly, and tried hard to bring him within reach of those terrible tusks, one fair blow from which would have ended the battle in an instant and left Walter to sing:
“No dog to love, none to caress.”
“No dog to love, none to caress.”
“No dog to love, none to caress.”
But Rex understood all that quite as well as his master did. He sustained his high reputation even in that emergency, holding fast to the hog’s ear, keeping out of reach of the deadly teeth, and now and then giving his antagonist a shake that brought him to his knees. It was genuine science against Kentucky science—main strength and awkwardness. Neither of the combatants uttered a sound;both fought in silence and with the energy of desperation.
Walter had watched the contest perhaps two or three minutes, not yet having made up his mind what he ought to do, when he heard a crashing in the bushes on the opposite side of the clearing, and presently a large iron-gray horse appeared and stopped as his own had done. On his back he bore an object that was almost covered up by a broad-brimmed planter’s hat; and the removal of that hat revealed the flushed face and black head of Phil Perkins. He gazed about him for a moment with a bewildered air, and when his eyes rested on the greyhound and his huge antagonist, he straightened up and prepared for action. His first move was to throw back his head and give utterance to a yell that would have done credit to a Choctaw brave in his war-paint, and his second to spring off his horse and run to the hound’s assistance. He stopped for a moment to push back his sleeves and settle his hat firmly on his head, and before Walter could tell what he was going to do, he caught the hog by his hind legs and with one vigorous twist lifted him from the ground and threw him on his side. Holding him down with one hand, he fumbledin his pockets with the other, and finally drew out a piece of rope, with which he proceeded to confine the hog’s feet.
Now, Perkins was quite as famous for his reckless courage as for his strength, and when he appeared on the scene Walter knew that something was going to happen to that hog; but he little thought his friend would attack him with empty hands. “Perk!” he exclaimed, in great alarm, “get away from there. Don’t you know you are in danger?”
“No, I reckon not,” was Perk’s reply. “If I can’t manage any hog that ever ran wild in Louisiana, when once I get a good hold of him, I will make you a present of my horse.”
“But, Perk, you’ve got hold of a varmint now. That fellow is as big as two common hogs.”
“No difference if he is as big as four. I am man enough for him.”
At this moment, just as Walter was about to dismount to go to Perk’s assistance, Cuff, one of the negroes, hurried up breathless and excited. “Marse Walter!” he exclaimed, “I’se mighty glad I’se found you. Marse ’Gene say come dar right away. We got one cotched, but we needs help mighty bad.”
Thinking that his brother might be in trouble (Walter told himself that that boy could not be easy unless he was in some sort of difficulty), and not doubting that Perk, with the greyhound’s help, would be able to manage his captive, Walter put spurs to his horse and followed Cuff, who led the way to a ravine about a quarter of a mile distant, and there he found the mate to the hog Rex had caught. He was almost as large, quite as furious, and as fully determined to have things all his own way. Eugene had thrown a rope around one of his hind legs and fastened it to the nearest tree. He was assisted by Bab, the four negroes, and six hounds; but the hog seemed in a fair way to whip them all.
These hounds were unlike Rex in more respects than one. Not possessing one quarter of his courage, they were out of place in a rough-and-tumble fight—they could not be depended upon. When Eugene shouted to them they would catch the hog and pull him to the ground, and the negroes would run up to throw their ropes over his head and around his legs; but he fought so desperately that the hounds would let go their hold, and then there would be a scattering that would have been amusinghad the struggle been unattended with danger. The hog seemed to care nothing for the dogs. He tried hard to reach his human enemies, and the only thing that protected them from his fury was the rope—a piece of clothes-line—with which he was tied to the tree. But even that would not long avail them, for, to Walter’s intense horror, he saw that some of the strands had parted.
“Eugene! Bab!” he cried, in a voice which he could scarcely raise above a whisper, “that rope is breaking. Run for your lives!”
The words were scarcely spoken when the hog made a savage lunge at Eugene, who happened to be nearest him, and the rope, no longer strong enough to sustain his weight, parted with a loud snap. Eugene’s face grew as pale as death. He stood for an instant as if paralyzed, and then turned and took to his heels, but before he had made a half dozen steps a root caught his foot, and he fell heavily to the ground.
A cry of horror burst from all who witnessed the peril of the unlucky young hunter, and Bab stood motionless, while Walter sat in his saddle looking fixedly at his brother without possessing the power to move hand or foot. There was but one thing hecould do, and that was to encourage the hounds to catch the hog. That might delay him until Eugene could reach his horse, and then he would be safe. As soon as he had recovered the use of his tongue he set up a shout, and the dogs being well trained and accustomed to obedience, seized the hog and pulled him to the ground.
“Now, then, run in and catch him—all of us,” cried Walter, throwing himself from his saddle. “Be in a hurry, and if you once get a good hold of him, hang on with all the strength you’ve got.”
But before Bab or any of the negroes had time to move, the hog scrambled to his feet, and shaking off the dogs as easily as a giant would shake off so many school-boys, again started after Eugene. So quickly had all this been done that his intended victim had not yet arisen from the ground, and before he could think twice the hog charged upon him like a runaway locomotive. O! if Rex had only been there, or if Walter had had his trusty double-barrel in his hands!
The only weapon he could find was a short club which happened to be lying near him on the ground, which, even had he been within striking distance of the hog, would no more have checkedhim in his headlong rush than a straw would stem the current of Niagara; still he caught it up and sprang forward, determined to save his brother or share in his peril, when, just in the nick of time—not one single instant too soon—help arrived, and from a source from which he least expected it. He heard a yell of delight from Bab, a gray streak flashed before his eyes, and just as Eugene put up his arm to ward off the blow from those terrible tusks, which were now almost within an inch of his face, the hog was jerked backward and thrown struggling on the ground. It was out of his power to hurt anybody then, for Rex the infallible had him.
“Hurrah!” shouted Eugene, jumping to his feet, “he’s our hog now. Shake him up a little, old fellow, to pay him for the scare he gave me.”
Rex did shake him up, not only a little but a great deal; and in five minutes more the hog was secured, his feet having been fastened together so that he could not get up, and his mouth tied with ropes to prevent him from using his teeth. But even then Walter could not help trembling. What would have become of his brother if Rex had been one minute later? His timely arrival had savedEugene from death, or at least from horrible mutilation, and do you wonder that he threw his arms around that greyhound’s neck and actually hugged him? Eugene did not seem to mind it in the least. With him the danger being out of sight, was out of mind. The fight was over; he had come out of it without serious injury; and if there had been another wild hog about he would have been the first to start after it.
“I am all right, Walter, don’t look so sober,” said he, rolling up his sleeve to examine his arm, which had been pretty severely bruised by his fall. “Now, then, where are Perk and Featherweight?”
“I haven’t seen Featherweight,” replied Walter, “but I left Perk and Rex attending to the mate of this hog. We’ll go and meet him. Bring up the cart, Cuff, and take care of the game.”
The three hunters mounted their horses and rode back to find Perk. As they were considerably wearied by their recent exertions, they allowed their horses to walk leisurely along, and they were probably a quarter of an hour in reaching the spot where Walter had first discovered Rex and his huge antagonist. They saw no signs of Perk, and neither did they hear anything of him; and they concludedthat he had tied his hog and sat down to wait for them. They soon learned, however, that their friend was not taking matters quite so easily as they had imagined, and that there were things in the world against which even Perk, with all his strength, activity and courage could not prevail; for, when they reached the clearest space in the thicket of briers and cane where Walter had left him, they saw a sight that filled them with amazement and alarm. It was nothing less than a fight between Perk and the hog. The young hunter was holding his antagonist by both hind feet, and the hog was kicking and struggling and trying hard to get at Perk to strike him. The latter’s face was white with terror, the perspiration was streaming from his forehead, and the boys saw that it was with the greatest difficulty that he could retain his hold. He looked up when he heard them approaching, but was too exhausted to speak.