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FRANK, THE YOUNG NATURALIST,
FRANK ON A GUN-BOAT,
FRANK IN THE WOODS,
FRANK ON THE PRAIRIE,
FRANK BEFORE VICKSBURG,
FRANK ON THE LOWER MISSISSIPPI.
CHAPTER I.
THE HOME OF THE YOUNG NATURALIST
CHAPTER IV.
A RACE ON THE WATER
CHAPTER V.
A FISHING EXCURSION
CHAPTER VIII.
HOW TO SPEND THE "FOURTH"
CHAPTER IX.
THE COAST-GUARDS OUTWITTED
CHAPTER XII.
A DUCK-HUNT ON THE WATER
CHAPTER XIV.
BILL LAWSON'S REVENGE
CHAPTER XVI.
A CHAPTER OF INCIDENTS
CHAPTER XVII.
THE GRAYHOUND OUTGENERALED
About one hundred miles north of Augusta, the Capital of Maine, the little village of Lawrence is situated. A range of high hills skirts its western side, and stretches away to the north as far as the eye can reach; while before the village, toward the east, flows the Kennebec River.
Near the base of the hills a beautiful stream, known as Glen's Creek, has its source; and, after winding through the adjacent meadows, and reaching almost around the village, finally empties into the Kennebec. Its waters are deep and clear, and flow over a rough, gravelly bed, and under high banks, and through many a little nook where the perch and sunfish love to hide. This creek, about half a mile from its mouth, branches off, forming two streams, the smaller of which flows south, parallel with the river for a short distance, and finally empties into it. This stream is known as Ducks' Creek, and it is very appropriately named; for, although it is but a short distance from the village, every autumn, and until late in the spring, its waters are fairly alive with wild ducks, which find secure retreats among the high bushes and reeds which line its banks. The island formed by these two creeks is called Reynard's Island, from the fact that for several years a sly old fox had held possession of it in spite of the efforts of the village boys to capture him. The island contains, perhaps, twenty-five acres, and is thickly covered with hickory-trees; and there is an annual strife between the village boys and the squirrels, to see which can gather the greater quantity of nuts.
Directly opposite the village, near the middle of the river, is another island, called Strawberry Island, from the great quantity of that fruit which it produces.
The fishing-grounds about the village are excellent. The river affords great numbers of perch, black bass, pike, and muscalonge; and the numberless little streams that intersect the country fairly swarm with trout, and the woods abound in game. This attracts sportsmen from other places; and the Julia Burton, the little steamer that plies up and down the river, frequently brings large parties of amateur hunters and fishermen, who sometimes spend months enjoying the rare sport.
It was on the banks of Glen's Creek, about half a mile from the village, in a neat little cottage that stood back from the road, and which was almost concealed by the thick shrubbery and trees that surrounded it, that FRANK NELSON, the young naturalist, lived. His father had been a wealthy merchant in the city of Boston; and, after his death, Mrs. Nelson had removed into the country with her children, and bought the place of which we are speaking. Frank was a handsome, high-spirited boy, about sixteen years of age. He was kind, open-hearted, and generous; and no one in the village had more friends than he. But his most prominent characteristic was perseverance. He was a slow thinker, and some, perhaps, at first sight, would have pronounced him "dull;" but the unyielding application with which he devoted himself to his studies, or to any thing else he undertook, overcame all obstacles; and he was further advanced, and his knowledge was more thorough than that of any other boy of the same age in the village. He never gave up any thing he undertook because he found it more difficult than he had expected, or hurried over it in a "slipshod" manner, for his motto was, "Whatever is worth doing at all, is worth doing well."
At the time of which we write Frank was just entering upon what he called a "long vacation." He had attended the high-school of which the village boasted for nearly eight years, with no intermission but the vacations, and during this time he had devoted himself with untiring energy to his studies. He loved his books, and they were his constant companions. By intense application he succeeded in working his way into the highest class in school, which was composed of young men much older than himself, and who looked upon him, not as a fellow-student, but as a rival, and used every exertion to prevent him from keeping pace with them. But Frank held his own in spite of their efforts, and not unfrequently paid them back in their own coin by committing his lessons more thoroughly than they.
Things went on so for a considerable time. Frank, whose highest ambition was to be called the best scholar in his class, kept steadily gaining ground, and one by one the rival students were overtaken and distanced. But Frank had some smart scholars matched against him, and he knew that the desired reputation was not to be obtained without a fierce struggle; and every moment, both in and out of school, was devoted to study.
He had formerly been passionately fond of rural sports, hunting and fishing, but now his fine double-barrel gun, which he had always taken especial care to keep in the best possible "shooting order," hung in its accustomed place, all covered with dust. His fishing-rod and basket were in the same condition; and Bravo, his fine hunting-dog, which was very much averse to a life of inactivity, made use of his most eloquent whines in vain.
At last Frank's health began to fail rapidly. His mother was the first to notice it, and at the suggestion of her brother, who lived in Portland, she decided to take Frank out of school for at least one year, and allow him but two hours each day for study. Perhaps some of our young readers would have been very much pleased at the thought of so long a respite from the tiresome duties of school; but it was a severe blow to Frank. A few more months, he was confident, would have carried him ahead of all competitors. But he always submitted to his mother's requirements, no matter how much at variance with his own wishes, without murmuring; and when the spring term was ended he took his books under his arm, and bade a sorrowful farewell to his much-loved school-room.
It is June, and as Frank has been out of school almost two months, things begin to wear their old, accustomed look again. The young naturalist's home, as his schoolmates were accustomed to say, is a "regular curiosity shop." Perhaps, reader, if we take a stroll about the premises, we can find something to interest us.
Frank's room, which he called his "study," is in the south wing of the cottage. It has two windows, one looking out toward the road, and the other covered with a thick blind of climbing roses, which almost shut out the light. A bookcase stands beside one of the windows, and if you were to judge from the books it contained, you would pronounce Frank quite a literary character. The two upper shelves are occupied by miscellaneous books, such as Cooper's novels, Shakspeare's works, and the like. On the next two shelves stand Frank's choicest books—natural histories; there are sixteen large volumes, and he knows them almost by heart. The drawers in the lower part of the case are filled on one side with writing materials, and on the other with old compositions, essays, and orations, some of which exhibit a power of imagination and a knowledge of language hardly to be expected in a boy of Frank's age. On the top of the case, at either end, stand the busts of Clay and Webster, and between them are two relics of Revolutionary times, a sword and musket crossed, with the words "Bunker Hill" printed on a slip of paper fastened to them. On the opposite side of the room stands a bureau, the drawers of which are filled with clothing, and on the top are placed two beautiful specimens of Frank's handiwork. One is a model of a "fore-and-aft" schooner, with whose rigging or hull the most particular tar could not find fault. The other represents a "scene at sea." It is inclosed in a box about two feet long and a foot and a half in hight. One side of the box is glass, and through it can be seen two miniature vessels. The craft in the foreground would be known among sailors as a "Jack." She is neither a brig nor a bark, but rather a combination of both. She is armed, and the cannon can be seen protruding from her port-holes. Every sail is set, and she seems to be making great exertion to escape from the other vessel, which is following close in her wake. The flag which floats at her peak, bearing the sign of the "skull and cross-bones," explains it all: the "Jack" is a pirate; and you could easily tell by the long, low, black hull, and tall, raking masts that her pursuer is a revenue cutter. The bottom of the box, to which the little vessels are fastened in such a manner that they appear to "heel" under the pressure of their canvas, is cut out in little hollows, and painted blue, with white caps, to resemble the waves of the ocean; while a thick, black thunder-cloud, which is painted on the sides of the box, and appears to be rising rapidly, with the lightning playing around its ragged edges, adds greatly to the effect of the scene.
At the north end of the room stands a case similar to the one in which Frank keeps his books, only it is nearly twice as large. It is filled with stuffed "specimens"—birds, nearly two hundred in number. There are bald eagles, owls, sparrows, hawks, cranes, crows, a number of different species of ducks, and other water-fowl; in short, almost every variety of the feathered creation that inhabited the woods around Lawrence is here represented.
At the other end of the room stands a bed concealed by curtains. Before it is a finely carved wash-stand, on which are a pitcher and bowl, and a towel nicely folded lies beside them. In the corner, at the foot of the bed, is what Frank called his "sporting cabinet." A frame has been erected by placing two posts against the wall, about four feet apart; and three braces, pieces of board about six inches wide, and long enough to reach from one post to the other, are fastened securely to them. On the upper brace a fine jointed fish-pole, such as is used in "heavy" fishing, protected by a neat, strong bag of drilling, rests on hooks which have been driven securely into the frame; and from another hook close by hangs a large fish-basket which Frank, who is a capital fisherman, has often brought in filled with the captured denizens of the river or some favorite trout-stream. On the next lower brace hang a powder-flask and shot-pouch and a double-barrel shot-gun, the latter protected from the damp and dust by a thick, strong covering. On the lower brace hang the clothes the young naturalist always wears when he goes hunting or fishing—a pair of sheep's-gray pantaloons, which will resist water and dirt to the last extremity, a pair of long boots, a blue flannel-shirt, such as is generally worn by the sailors, and an India-rubber coat and cap for rainy weather. A shelf has been fastened over the frame, and on this stands a tin box, which Frank calls his "fishing-box." It is divided into apartments, which are filled with fish-hooks, sinkers, bobbers, artificial flies, spoon-hooks, reels, and other tackle, all kept in the nicest order.
Frank had one sister, but no brothers. Her name was Julia. She was ten years of age; and no boy ever had a lovelier sister. Like her brother, she was unyielding in perseverance, but kind and trusting in disposition, willing to be told her faults that she might correct them. Mrs. Nelson was a woman of good, sound sense; always required implicit obedience of her children; never flattered them, nor allowed others to do so if she could prevent it. The only other inmate of the house was Aunt Hannah, as the children called her. She had formerly been a slave in Virginia, and, after years of toil, had succeeded in laying by sufficient money to purchase her freedom. We have already spoken of Frank's dog; but were we to allow the matter to drop here it would be a mortal offense in the eyes of the young naturalist, for Bravo held a very prominent position in his affections. He was a pure-blooded Newfoundland, black as jet, very active and courageous, and there was nothing in the hunting line that he did not understand; and it was a well-established saying among the young Nimrods of the village, that Frank, with Bravo's assistance, could kill more squirrels in any given time than any three boys in Lawrence.
Directly behind the cottage stands a long, low, neatly constructed building, which is divided by partitions into three rooms, of which one is used as a wood-shed, another for a carpenter's shop, and the third is what Frank calls his "museum." It contains stuffed birds and animals, souvenirs of many a well-contested fight. Let us go and examine them. About the middle of the building is the door which leads into the museum, and, as you enter, the first object that catches your eye is a large wild-cat, crouched on a stand which is elevated about four feet above the floor, his back arched, every hair in his body sticking toward his head, his mouth open, displaying a frightful array of teeth, his ears laid back close to his head, and his sharp claws spread out, presenting altogether a savage appearance; and you are glad that you see him dead and stuffed, and not alive and running at liberty in the forest in the full possession of strength. But the young naturalist once stood face to face with this ugly customer under very different circumstances.
About forty miles north of Lawrence lives an old man named Joseph Lewis. He owns about five hundred acres of land, and in summer he "farms it" very industriously; but as soon as the trapping season approaches he leaves his property to the care of his hired men, and spends most of the time in the woods. About two-thirds of his farm is still in its primeval state, and bears, wild-cats, and panthers abound in great numbers. The village boys are never more delighted than when the winter vacation comes, and they can gain the permission of their parents to spend a fortnight with "Uncle Joe," as they call him.
The old man is always glad to see them, and enlivens the long winter evenings with many a thrilling story of his early life. During the winter that had just passed, Frank, in company with his cousin Archie Winters, of whom more hereafter, paid a visit to Uncle Joe. One cold, stormy morning, as they sat before a blazing fire, cracking hickory-nuts, the farmer burst suddenly into the house, which was built of logs, and contained but one room, and commenced taking down his rifle.
"What's the matter, Uncle Joe?" inquired Archie.
"Matter!" repeated the farmer; "why, some carnal varmint got into my sheep-pen last night, and walked off with some of my mutton. Come," he continued, as he slung on his bullet-pouch, "let's go and shoot him."
Frank and Archie were ready in a few minutes; and, after dropping a couple of buck-shot into each barrel of their guns, followed the farmer out to the sheep-pen. It was storming violently, and it was with great difficulty that they could find the "varmint's" track. After half an hour's search, however, with the assistance of the farmer's dogs, they discovered it, and began to follow it up, the dogs leading the way. But the snow had fallen so deep that it almost covered the scent, and they frequently found themselves at fault. After following the track for two hours, the dogs suddenly stopped at a pile of hemlock-boughs, and began to whine and scratch as if they had discovered something.
"Wal," said Uncle Joe, dropping his rifle into the hollow of his arm, "the hounds have found some of the mutton, but the varmint has took himself safe off."
The boys quickly threw aside the boughs, and in a few moments the mangled remains of one of the sheep were brought to light. The thief had probably had more than enough for one meal, and had hidden the surplus carefully away, intending, no doubt, to return and make a meal of it when food was not quite so plenty.
"Wal, boys," said the farmer, "no use to try to foller the varmint any further. Put the sheep back where you found it, and this afternoon you can take one of your traps and set it so that you can ketch him when he comes back for what he has left." So saying, he shouldered his rifle and walked off, followed by his hounds.
In a few moments the boys had placed every thing as they had found it as nearly as possible, and hurried on after the farmer.
That afternoon, after disposing of an excellent dinner, Frank and Archie started into the woods to set a trap for the thief. They took with them a large wolf-trap, weighing about thirty pounds. It was a "savage thing," as Uncle Joe said, with a powerful spring on each side, which severely taxed their united strength in setting it; and its thick, stout jaws, which came together with a noise like the report of a gun, were armed with long, sharp teeth; and if a wolf or panther once got his foot between them, he might as well give up without a struggle. Instead of their guns, each shouldered an ax. Frank took possession of the trap, and Archie carried a piece of heavy chain with which to fasten the "clog" to the trap. Half an hour's walk brought them to the place where the wild-cat had buried his plunder. After considerable exertion they succeeded in setting the trap, and placed it in such a manner that it would be impossible for any animal to get at the sheep without being caught. The chain was them fastened to the trap, and to this was attached the clog, which was a long, heavy limb. Trappers, when they wish to take such powerful animals as the bear or panther, always make use of the clog. They never fasten the trap to a stationary object. When the animal finds that he is caught, his first impulse is to run. The clog is not heavy enough to hold him still, but as he drags it through the woods, it is continually catching on bushes and frees, and retarding his progress. But if the animal should find himself unable to move at all, his long, sharp teeth would be put to immediate use, and he would hobble off on three feet, leaving the other in the trap.
After adjusting the clog to their satisfaction, they threw a few handfuls of snow over the trap and chain, and, after bestowing a few finishing touches, they shouldered their axes and started toward the house. The next morning, at the first peep of day, Frank and Archie started for the woods, with their dogs close at their heels. As they approached the spot where the trap had been placed they held their guns in readiness, expecting to find the wild-cat secure. But they were disappointed; every thing was just as they had left it, and there were no signs of the wild-cat having been about during the night. Every night and morning for a week they were regular in their visits to the trap, but not even a twig had been moved. Two weeks more passed, and during this time they visited the trap but once. At length the time allotted for their stay at Uncle Joe's expired. On the evening previous to the day set for their departure, as they sat before the huge, old-fashioned fireplace, telling stories and eating nuts. Uncle Joe suddenly inquired, "Boys, did you bring in your trap that you set for that wild-cat?"
They had not thought of it; they had been hunting nearly every day, enjoying rare sport, and they had entirely forgotten that they had a trap to look after.
"We shall be obliged to let it go until to-morrow," said Frank.
And the next morning, as soon as it was light, he was up and dressed, and shouldering an ax, set out with Brave as a companion, leaving Archie in a sound sleep. It was very careless in him not to take his gun—a "regular boy's trick," as Uncle Joe afterward remarked; but it did not then occur to him that he was acting foolishly; and he trudged off, whistling merrily. A few moments' rapid walking brought him to the place where the trap had been set. How he started! There lay the remains of the sheep all exposed. The snow near it was saturated with blood, and the trap, clog, and all were gone. What was he to do? He was armed with an ax, and he knew that with it he could make but a poor show of resistance against an enraged wild animal; and he knew, too, that one that could walk off with fifty pounds fast to his leg would be an ugly customer to handle. He had left Brave some distance back, digging at a hole in a stump where a mink had taken refuge, and he had not yet come up. If the Newfoundlander had been by his side he would have felt comparatively safe. Frank stood for some minutes undecided how to act. Should he go back to the house and get assistance? Even if he had concluded to do so he would not have considered himself a coward; for, attacking a wounded wild-cat in the woods, with nothing but an ax to depend on, was an undertaking that would have made a larger and stronger person than Frank hesitate. Their astonishing activity and strength, and wonderful tenacity of life, render them antagonists not to be despised. Besides, Frank was but a boy, and although strong and active for his age, and possessing a good share of determined courage that sometimes amounted almost to rashness, it must be confessed that his feelings were not of the most enviable nature. He had not yet discovered the animal, but he knew that he could not be a great distance off, for the weight of the trap and clog would retard him exceedingly; and he judged, from the appearance of things, that he had not been long in the trap; perhaps, at that very moment, his glaring eyes were fastened upon him from some neighboring thicket.
But the young naturalist was not one to hesitate long because there was difficulty or danger before him. He had made up his mind from the first to capture that wild-cat if possible, and now the opportunity was fairly before him. His hand was none of the steadiest as he drew off his glove and placed his fingers to his lips; and the whistle that followed was low and tremulous, very much unlike the loud, clear call with which he was accustomed to let Brave know that he was wanted and he hardly expected that the dog would hear it. A faint, distant bark, however, announced that the call had been heard, and in a few moments Frank heard Brave's long-measured bounds as he dashed through the bushes; and when the faithful animal came in sight, he felt that he had a friend that would stand by him to the last extremity. At this juncture Frank was startled by a loud rattling in the bushes, and the next moment the wild-cat sprang upon a fallen log, not half a dozen rods from the place where he was standing, and, growling fiercely, crouched and lashed his sides with his tail as if about to spring toward him. The trap hung from one of his hind-legs, but by some means he had relieved himself of the clog and chain, and he moved as if the weight of the trap were no inconvenience whatever. The young naturalist was frightened indeed, but bravely stood his ground, and clutched his ax desperately. What would he not have given to have had his trusty double-barrel in his hands! But he was not allowed much time for reflection. Brave instantly discovered the wild-cat, and sprang toward him, uttering an angry growl. Frank raised his ax and rushed forward to his assistance, and cheered on the dog with a voice which, to save his life, he could not raise above a whisper. The wild-cat crouched lower along the log, and his actions seemed to indicate that he intended to show fight. Brave's long, eager bounds brought him nearer and nearer to his enemy. A moment more and he could have seized him; but the wild-cat suddenly turned and sprang lightly into the air, and, catching his claws into a tree that stood full twenty feet distant, ascended it like a streak of light; and, after settling himself between two large limbs, glared down upon his foes as if he were already ashamed of having made a retreat, and had half a mind to return and give them battle. Brave reached the log just a moment too late, and finding his enemy fairly out of his reach, he quietly seated himself at the foot of the tree and waited for Frank to come up.
"Good gracious!" exclaimed the young naturalist, wiping his forehead with his coat-sleeve, (for the exciting scene through which he had just passed had brought the cold sweat from every pore in his body); "it is a lucky circumstance for you and me, Brave, that the varmint did not stand and show fight."
Then ordering the dog to "sit down and watch him," the young naturalist threw down his ax, and started toward the house for his gun. He was still very much excited, fearful that the wild-cat might take it into his head to come down and give the dog battle, in which case he would be certain to escape; for, although Brave was a very powerful and courageous dog, he could make but a poor show against the sharp teeth and claws of the wild-cat. The more Frank thought of it, the more excited he became, and the faster he ran. In a very few moments he reached the house, and burst into the room where Uncle Joe and Archie and two or three hired men sat at breakfast. Frank seemed not to notice them, but made straight across the room toward the place where his shot-gun hung against the wall, upsetting chairs in his progress, and creating a great confusion.
"What in tarnation is the matter?" exclaimed the farmer, rising to his feet.
"I've found the wild-cat," answered Frank, in a scarcely audible voice.
"What's that?" shouted Archie, springing to his feet, and upsetting his chair and coffee-cup.
But Frank could not wait to answer. One bound carried him across the
floor and out of the door, and he started across the field at the top
of his speed, dropping a handful of buck-shot into each barrel of his
gun as he went. It was not until Frank had left the house that Archie,
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"Boys," he exclaimed, "here comes Charley Morgan!"
"Charley Morgan," repeated Frank. "Who is he?"
"Why, he is the new-comer," answered George. "He lives in the large brick house on the hill."
Charley Morgan had formerly lived in New York. His father was a speculator, and was looked upon by some as a wealthy man; but it was hinted by those who knew him best that if his debts were all paid he would have but little ready money left. Be that as it may, Mr. Morgan and his family, at any rate, lived in style, and seemed desirous of outshining all their neighbors and acquaintances. Becoming weary of city life, they had decided to move into the country, and, purchasing a fine village lot in Lawrence, commenced building a house upon it. Although the village could boast of many fine dwellings, the one on Tower Hill, owned by Mr. Morgan, surpassed them all, and, as is always the case in such places, every one was eager to discover who was to occupy the elegant mansion. When the house was completed, Mr. Morgan returned to New York to bring on his family, leaving three or four "servants," as he called them, to look after his affairs; and the Julia Burton landed at the wharf, one pleasant morning, a splendid open carriage, drawn by a span of jet-black horses. The carriage contained Mr. Morgan and his family, consisting of his wife and one son—the latter about seventeen years old. At the time of his introduction to the reader they had been in the village about a week. Charles, by his haughty, overbearing manner, had already driven away from him the most sensible of the village boys who had become acquainted with him; but there are those every-where who seem, by some strange fatality, to choose the most unworthy of their acquaintances for their associates; and there were several boys in Lawrence who looked upon Charles as a first-rate fellow and a very desirable companion.
George and Harry, although they had frequently seen the "new-comer," had not had an opportunity to get acquainted with him; and Frank who, as we have said, lived in the outskirts of the village, and who had been very busy at work for the last week on his boat, had not seen him at all.
"What sort of a boy is he?" inquired the latter, continuing the conversation which we have so unceremoniously broken off.
"I don't know," replied Harry. "Some of the boys like him, but Ben. Lake says he's the biggest rascal in the village. He's got two or three guns, half a dozen fish-poles, and, by what I hear the boys say, he must be a capital sportsman. But he tells the most ridiculous stories about what he has done."
By this time Charles had almost reached them, and, when he came alongside, he rested on his oars and called out,
"Well, boys, how many fish have you caught?"
"So many," answered George, holding up the string, which contained over a hundred perch and black-bass. "Have you caught any thing?"
"Not much to brag of," answered Charles; "I hooked up a few little perch just behind the point. But that is a tip-top string of yours."
"Yes, pretty fair," answered Harry. "You see we know where to go."
"That does make some difference," said Charles. "But as soon as I know the good places, I'll show you how to catch fish."
"We will show you the good fishing-grounds any time," said George.
"Oh, I don't want any of your help. I can tell by the looks of a place whether there are any fish to be caught or not. But you ought to see the fishing-grounds we have in New York," he continued. "Why, many a time I've caught three hundred in less than half an hour, and some of them would weigh ten pounds."
"Did you catch them with a hook and line?" inquired George.
"Of course I did! What else should I catch them with? I should like to see one of you trying to handle a ten or fifteen-pound fish with nothing but a trout-pole."
"Could you do it?" inquired Harry, struggling hard to suppress a laugh.
"Do it? I have done it many a time. But is there any hunting around here?"
"Plenty of it."
"Well," continued Charles, "I walked all over the woods this morning, and couldn't find any thing."
"It is not the season for hunting now," said George; "but in the fall there are lots of ducks, pigeons, squirrels, and turkeys, and in the winter the woods are full of minks, and now and then a bear or deer; and the swamps are just the places to kill muskrats."
"I'd just like to go hunting with some of you. I'll bet I can kill more game in a day than any one in the village."
The boys made no reply to this confident assertion, for the fact was that they were too full of laughter to trust themselves to speak.
"I'll bet you haven't got any thing in the village that can come up to this," continued Charles; and as he spoke he raised a light, beautifully-finished rifle from the bottom of the boat, and held it up to the admiring gaze of the boys.
"That is a beauty," said Harry, who wished to continue the conversation as long as possible, in order to hear some more of Charles's "large stories." "How far will it shoot?"
"It cost me a hundred dollars," answered Charles, "and I've killed bears and deer with it, many a time, as far as across this river here."
Charles did not hesitate to say this, for he was talking only to "simple-minded country boys," as he called them, and he supposed he could say what he pleased and they would believe it. His auditors, who before had been hardly able to contain themselves, were now almost bursting with laughter. Frank and George, however, managed to draw on a sober face, while Harry turned away his head and stuffed his handkerchief into his mouth.
"I tell you," continued Charles, not noticing the condition his hearers were in, "I've seen some pretty tough times in my life. Once, when I was hunting in the Adirondack Mountains, in the northern part of Michigan, I was attacked by Indians, and came very near being captured, and the way I fought was a caution to white folks. This little rifle came handy then, I tell you. But I must hurry along now; I promised to go riding with the old man this afternoon."
And he dipped the oars into the water, and the little boat shot rapidly up the river. It was well that he took his departure just as he did, for our three boys could not possibly have contained themselves a moment longer. They could not wait for him to get out of sight, but, lying back in the boat, they laughed until the tears rolled down their cheeks.
"Well, Frank, what do you think of him?" inquired Harry, as soon as he could speak.
"I think the less we have to do with him the better," answered Frank.
"I did think," said Harry, stopping now and then to indulge in a hearty fit of laughter, "that there might be some good things about him; but a boy that can tell such whopping big lies as he told must be very small potatoes. Only think of catching three hundred fish in less than half an hour, and with only one hook and line! Why, that would be ten every minute, and that is as many as two men could manage. And then for him to talk about that pop-gun of his shooting as far as across this river!—why, it's a mile and a half—and I know it wouldn't shoot forty rods, and kill. But the best of all was his hunting among the Adirondack Mountains, in Michigan, and having to defend himself against the Indians; that's a good joke."
And Harry laid back in the boat again, and laughed and shouted until his sides ached.
"He must be a very ungrateful fellow," said Frank, at length. "Didn't you notice how disrespectfully he spoke of his father? He called him his 'old man.' If I had a father, I'd never speak so lightly of him."
"Yes, I noticed that," said George. "But," he continued, reaching for the basket which Harry, after helping himself most bountifully, had placed on the middle seat, "I'm hungry as blazes, and think I can do justice to the good things mother has put up for us."
After eating their dinner they got out their fishing-tackle again; but the perch had stopped biting, and, after waiting patiently for half an hour without feeling a nibble, they unjointed their poles, drew up the anchor, and Frank seated himself at the helm, while George and Harry took the oars and pulled toward home.
One of the range of hills which extended around the western side of the village was occupied by several families, known as the "Hillers." They were ignorant, degraded people, living in miserable hovels, and obtaining a precarious subsistence by hunting, fishing, and stealing. With them the villagers rarely, if ever, had intercourse, and respectable persons seldom crossed their thresholds. The principal man among the Hillers was known as Bill Powell. He was a giant in strength and stature, and used to boast that he could visit "any hen-roost in the village every night in the week, and carry off a dozen chickens each time, without being nabbed." He was very fond of liquor, too indolent to work, and spent most of his time, when out of jail, on the river, fishing, or roaming through the woods with his gun. He had one son, whose name was Lee, and a smarter boy it was hard to find. He possessed many good traits of character, but, as they had never been developed, it was difficult to discover them. He had always lived in the midst of evil influences, led by the example of a drunken, brutal father, and surrounded by wicked companions, and it is no wonder that his youthful aspirations were in the wrong direction.
Lee and his associates, as they were not obliged so attend school, and were under no parental control, always amused themselves as they saw it. Most of their time was spent on the river or in the woods, and, when weary of this sport, the orchards and melon-patches around the village, although closely guarded, were sure to suffer at their hands; and they planned and executed their plundering expeditions with so much skill and cunning, that they were rarely detected.
A day or two after the events related in the preceding chapter transpired, Charles Morgan, in company with two or three of his chosen companions, was enjoying a sail on the river. During their conversation, one of the boys chanced to say something about the Hillers, and Charles inquired who they were. His companions gave him the desired information, and ended by denouncing them in the strongest terms.
Charles, after hearing them through, exclaimed, "I'd just like to catch one of those boys robbing our orchard or hen-roost. One or the of us would get a pummeling, sure as shooting."
"Yes," said one of the boys, "but, you see, they do not go alone. If they did, it would be an easy matter to catch them. But they all go together, and half of them keep watch, and the rest bag the plunder; and they move around so still that even the dogs don't hear them."
"I should think you fellows here in the village would take the matter into your own hands," said Charles.
"What do you mean?" inquired his companions.
"Why don't you club together, and every time you see one of the Hillers, go to work and thrash him like blazes? I guess, after you had half-killed two or three of them, they would learn to let things alone."
"I guess they would, too," said one of the boys.
"Suppose we get up a company of fifteen or twenty fellows," resumed Charles, "and see how it works. I'll bet my eyes that, after we've whipped half a dozen of them, they won't dare to show their faces in the village again."
"That's the way to do it," said one of the boys. "I'll join the company, for one."
The others readily fell in with Charles's proposal, and they spent some time talking it over and telling what they intended to do when they could catch the Hillers, when one of the boys suddenly exclaimed,
"I think, after all, that we shall have some trouble in carrying out our plans. Although there are plenty of fellows in the village who would be glad to join the company, there are some who must not know any thing about it, or the fat will all be in the fire."
"Who are they?" demanded Charles.
"Why, there are Frank Nelson, and George and Harry Butler, and Bill Johnson, and a dozen others, who could knock the whole thing into a cocked hat, in less than no time."
"Could they? I'd just like to see them try it on," said Charles, with a confident air. "They would have a nice time of it. How would they go to work?"
"I am afraid that, if they saw us going to whip the Hillers, they would interfere."
"They would, eh? I'd like to see them undertake to hinder us. Can't twenty fellows whip a dozen?"
"I don't know. Every one calls Frank Nelson and his set the best boys in the village. They never fight if they can help it; but they are plaguy smart fellows, I tell you; and, if we once get them aroused, we shall have a warm time of it, I remember a little circumstance that happened last winter. We had a fort in the field behind the school-house, and one night we were out there, snowballing, and I saw Frank Nelson handle two of the largest boys in his class. There were about a dozen boys in the fort—and they were the ones that always go with Frank—and all the rest of the school were against them. The fort stood on a little hill, and we were almost half an hour capturing it, and we wouldn't ever have taken it if the wall hadn't been broken down. We would get almost up to the fort, and they would rush out and drive us down again. At last we succeeded in getting to the top of the hill, and our boys began to tumble over the walls, and I hope I may be shot if they didn't throw us out as fast as we could get in, and—"
"Oh, I don't care any thing about that," interrupted Charles, who could not bear to hear any one but himself praised. "If I had been there, I would have run up and thrown them out."
"And you could have done it easy enough," said one of the boys, who had for some time remained silent.
"Frank Nelson and his set are not such great fellows, after all."
"Of course they ain't," said the other. "They feel big enough; but I guess, if we get this company we have spoken of started, and they undertake to interfere with us, we will take them down a peg or two."
"That's the talk!" said Charles. "I never let any one stop me when I have once made up my mind to do a thing. I would as soon knock Frank Nelson down as any body else."
By this time the boat, which had been headed toward the shore, entered the creek, and Charles drew up to the wharf, and, after setting his companions ashore, and directing them to speak to every one whom they thought would be willing to join the company, and to no one else, he drew down the sails, and pulled up the creek toward the place where he kept his boat.
A week passed, and things went on swimmingly. Thirty boys had enrolled themselves as members of the Regulators, as the company was called, and Charles, who had been chosen captain, had carried out his plans so quietly, that he was confident that no one outside of the company knew of its existence. Their arrangements had all been completed, and the Regulators waited only for a favorable opportunity to carry their plans into execution.
Frank, during this time, had remained at home, working in his garden or shop, and knew nothing of what was going on.
One afternoon he wrote a letter to his cousin Archie, and, after supper, set out, with Brave at his heels, to carry it to the post-office. He stopped on the way for George and Harry Butler, who were always ready to accompany him. On the steps of the post-office they met three or four of their companions, and, after a few moments' conversation, William Johnson suddenly inquired,
"Have you joined the new society, Frank?"
"What society?"
"Why, the Regulators."
"I don't know what you mean," said Frank.
"Yes, I guess they have managed to keep it pretty quiet," said William. "They don't want any outsiders to know any thing about it. They asked me to join in with them, but I told them that they ought to know better than to propose such a thing to me. Then they tried to make me promise that I wouldn't say any thing about it, but I would make no such promise, for—"
"Why, Bill, what are you talking about?" inquired Harry. "You rattle it off as if we knew all about it."
"Haven't you heard any thing about it, either?" inquired William, in surprise. "I was certain that they would ask you to join. Well, the amount of it is that Charley Morgan and a lot of his particular friends have been organizing a company for the purpose of thrashing the Hillers, and making them stop robbing hen-roosts and orchards and cutting up such shines."
"Yes," chimed in James Porter, "there are about thirty of them, and they say that they are going to whip the Hillers out of the village."
"Well, that's news to me," said Frank.
"For my part," said Thomas Benton, "I, of course, know that the Hillers ought to be punished; but I do not think it is the duty of us boys to take the law into our own hands."
"Nor I," said James Porter.
"Well, I do," said Harry, who, as we have said, was an impetuous, fiery fellow, "and I believe I will join the Regulators, and help whip the rascals out of the country. They ought, every one of them, to be thrashed for stealing and—"
"Now, see here, Harry," interrupted George. "You know very well that such a plan will never succeed, and it ought not to. You have been taught that it is wrong to take things that do not belong to you, but with the Hillers the case is different; their parents teach them to steal, and they are obliged to do it."
"Besides," said Frank, "this summary method of correcting them will not break up their bad habits; kindness will accomplish much more than force."
"Kindness!" repeated Harry, sneeringly; "as if kindness could have any effect on a Hiller!"
"They can tell when they are kindly treated as well as any one else," said George.
"And another thing," said Ben. Lake; "these Regulators must be a foolish set of fellows to suppose that the Hillers are going to stand still and be whipped. I say, as an old sea-captain once said, when it was proposed to take a man-o'-war with a whale-boat, 'I guess it will be a puttering job.'"
"Well," said James, "I shall do all I can to prevent a fight."
"So will I," said Frank.
"I won't," said Harry, who, with his arms buried almost to the elbows in his pockets, was striding backward and forward across the steps. "I say the Hillers ought to be thrashed."
"I'm afraid," said William, without noticing what Harry had remarked, "that our interference will be the surest way to bring on a fight; because, after I refused to join the company, they told me that if any of us attempted to defend the Hillers, or break up the company, they would thrash us, too."
"We don't want to break up their company," said Frank, with a laugh. "We must have a talk with them, and try to show them how unreasonable they are."
"Here they come, now," said George, pointing up the road.
The boys looked in the direction indicated, and saw the Regulators just turning the corner of the street that led to Mr. Morgan's house. They came around in fine order, marching four abreast, and turned up the street that led to the post-office. They had evidently been well drilled, for they kept step admirably.
"They look nice, don't they?" said Ben.
"Yes," answered George; "and if they were enlisted in a good cause, I would off with my hat and give them three cheers."
The Regulators had almost reached the post-office, when they suddenly set up a loud shout, and, breaking ranks, started on a full run down the street. The boys saw the reason for this, when they discovered Lee Powell coming up the road that led from the river, with a large string of fish in his hand. He always had good luck, but he seemed to have been more fortunate than usual, for his load was about as heavy as he could conveniently carry. He walked rapidly along, evidently very much occupied with his own thoughts, when, suddenly, two or three stones came skipping over the ground, and aroused him from his reverie. He looked up in surprise, and discovered that his enemies were so close to him that flight was useless.
The Regulators drew nearer and nearer, and the stones fell thick about the object of their wrath, until, finally, one struck him on the shoulder, and another knocked his cap from his head.
"I can't stand that," said Frank; and, springing from the steps, he started to the rescue, followed by all of his companions, (except Harry, who still paced the steps), and they succeeded in throwing themselves between Lee and his assailants.
Several of the Regulators faltered on seeing Lee thus defended; but Charles, followed by half a dozen of his "right-hand men," advanced, and attempted to force his way between Frank and his companions.
"Hold on, here!" said Frank, as he gently, but firmly, resisted Charles's attempts to push him aside. "What are you trying to do?"
"What business is that of yours?" answered Charles, roughly, as he continued his efforts to reach Lee. "You question me as if you were my master. Stand aside, if you don't want to get yourself in trouble."
"You don't intend to hurt Lee, do you?"
"Yes, I do. But it's none of your business, any way. Get out of the way!"
"Has he ever done you any harm?"
"It's none of your business, I say!" shouted Charles, now almost beside himself with rage.
"And I want you to keep your hands off me!" he continued, as Frank seized his arm, which he had raised to strike Lee, who stood close behind his protector.
Frank released his hold, and Charles sprang forward again, and, dodging Frank's grasp, slipped under his arm, and attempted to seize the Hiller. But Frank was as quick as a cat in his motions; and, before Charles had time to strike a blow, he seized him with a grip that brought from him a cry of pain, and seated him, unceremoniously, on the ground.
As soon as Charles could regain his feet, he called out,
"Here it is, boys—just as I expected! Never mind the Hiller, but let's go to work and give the other fellows a thrashing that they won't get over in a month."
And he sprang toward Frank, against whom he seemed to cherish an especial grudge, followed by a dozen Regulators, who brandished their fists as if they intended to annihilate Lee's gallant defenders. But, just as Charles was about to attack Frank, a new actor appeared. Harry Butler, who had greatly changed his mind in regard to "thrashing the Hillers," seeing that the attack was about to be renewed, sprang down the steps, and caught Charles in his arms, and threw him to the ground, like a log.
The others had been no less successful in repulsing their assailants; and, when Charles rose to his feet, he saw three or four of the Regulators, who had followed him to the attack, sprawling on the ground, and the rest retreating precipitately.
"Now," said Harry, "let's stop this. We've had enough of it."
But Charles, and several more of the Regulators, seemed to be of a different opinion, and were about to recommence their hostile demonstrations, when Harry continued,
"We've only been playing with you so far Charley; so you had better not try to come any more of your Regulator tricks on us. We don't want to fight, but we shall defend ourselves."
"If you had attended to your own affairs, you would not have been obliged to defend yourselves," said Charles, sullenly.
"What sort of fellows do you suppose we are?" said Harry. "If you expected us to stand still and see thirty fellows pitch on one, you are very much mistaken."
"Come, Lee," said Frank, taking the former by the arm, "I guess we can go now. We'll see you out of harm's way."
The crest-fallen Regulators divided right and left, and allowed Frank and his companions to depart, unmolested. They accompanied Lee almost to the miserable hovel he called "home," and, when about to bid him good-night, he said, with some feeling,
"I'll remember you, boys; and, if it ever comes handy, you will find that Lee Powell has got feelings, as well as any one else."
And he sprang over a fence, and disappeared.
While Frank and his companions were accompanying Lee toward home, some of the Regulators were indulging in feelings of the deepest malice; and there were about a dozen of them—Frank's old enemies—who determined that he should not go unpunished. But there were others who began to see how cowardly they had acted in attacking a defenseless boy, for the only reason that he was a bad boy, and to fear that they had lost the good-will of Frank and his associates. The village boys, with a few exceptions, were accustomed to look up to Frank as a sort of leader; not that he aspired to the position, but his generosity, and the easy way he had of settling the disputes that sometimes arose among the boys, had won for him many a fast friend. We have seen, however, that he was not beloved by all; every good boy has his enemies, and Frank, of course, had his share of them. They were boys who were jealous of him, and hated him because he held a position in the estimation of the village people to which they could not attain. But this class was very small, comprising, as we have said, about a dozen of the Regulators; and, while they were enraged at their defeat, and studying plans for revenge, the others were repenting of their folly, and trying to think of some way by which they might regain their lost reputation.
Charles's overbearing and haughty manner was so different from Frank's kind, obliging ways, that they had already grown tired of his company, and began to think seriously of having nothing more to do with him; and the things that had just transpired served to convince them that the sooner they left him the better.
As soon as Lee and his gallant defenders had disappeared, one of the Regulators remarked,
"Well, boys, I don't call this a paying business, trying to thrash a boy who has done us no harm."
"That's my opinion," said another.
"And I, for one, wish I had kept out of this scrape," said a third.
"So do I," said the one who had first spoken.
"Oh, you begin to back down, do you, you cowards?" exclaimed Charles, who was taken completely by surprise by this sudden change of affairs. "I never give up till I am whipped. If it hadn't been for my lame hand, I would have knocked some of those fellows into cocked hats. I'll fix that Frank Nelson, the next time I catch him."
"Why didn't you do it to-night?" inquired one of the boys, sneeringly.
"I've got a lame hand, I tell you," roared the bully; "and I don't want you to speak to me in that way again; if you do, you and I will have a meeting."
"That would be an unpleasant job for you, to say the least," said one of the boys; "the most of us are heartily sick of your company, and we have been talking, for two or three days, of sending in our resignations. Now, boys," he continued, "this is as good an opportunity as we shall have; so those that won't have any thing more to do with Regulating, say 'I!'"
"I! I!" burst from a score of throats.
"Now," he resumed, turning to Charles, "good-by; and, if you ever wish to recruit another company, you need not call on any of us."
So saying, he walked off, followed by nearly all the Regulators; those who remained were Frank's enemies and rivals.
"Well, boys," said Charles, as soon as the others had gone, "there are a few of us left, and we can annoy the fellows who think they are too good to associate with us in the worst way. Let us adjourn to our barn, where we can talk the matter over."
A few moments' walk brought them to Mr. Morgan's house, and, when they entered the long carriage-way that led up to the barn, Charles said,
"Now, boys, you stay here, and I'll go in and get a light."
He ran into the house, and soon reappeared with a lantern in each hand, and led the way toward the barn. He unlocked the door, and he and his companions entered; and, after allowing them time to examine, to their satisfaction, the splendid equipage that had attracted so much attention the morning they arrived at the village, Charles proceeded to call the meeting to order.
"Now, boys," said he, "we don't intend to disband, do we?"
"No," answered several.
"Then, the first thing for us to do is to change our name, for we don't want to let those cowardly sneaks that deserted us to-night know any thing about us. What shall we be called?"
Several names were proposed, but they did not suit Charles. At length, one of the boys inquired,
"What name would you like?"
"I think that 'Midnight Rangers' would be a good name for us," answered Charles.
"That's a splendid name!"
"Now," continued Charles, "we must change our plan of operations a little. We must give up the idea of thrashing the Hillers for awhile, because there are not enough of us; but I should like it, if we could go to work and whip every one of those fellows that stuck up for Lee Powell to-night, especially Frank Nelson."
"So would I," answered William Gage, whom Charles looked upon as his 'right-hand man;' "but it wouldn't do to attempt it, for he has got too many friends. We must shoot his dog, or steal his boat, or do something of that kind. It would plague him more than a dozen whippings."
"That's so!" exclaimed another of the Rangers. "If we could only go up there, some dark night, and steal his scow, and run her out into the river, and burn her, wouldn't he be mad?"
"Yes," chimed in another, "but it wouldn't pay even to attempt that. He always keeps his boats chained up, and the noise we would make in getting them loose would be sure to start that dog of his, and then we should have a dusty time, I reckon."
"I guess so, too," said William Gage. "Whatever we do, we must be careful not to start that dog, for he would go through fire and water to catch us; and, if he ever got hold of one of us—"
And William shrugged his shoulders, significantly.
"Hasn't he got an orchard or melon-patch that we could visit?" inquired Charles.
"No," answered one of the Rangers; "but he's got as nice a strawberry-patch as ever laid out-doors. But it's a little too early for strawberries."
"Who cares for that?" said Charles. "We don't go to get the fruit; we only want to pay him for defending the Hiller—meddling with other people's business. It's too late to do any thing to-night," he added, glancing at his watch, "but let us go there to-morrow night, and pull up every strawberry-plant we can lay our hands on. You know, we can do as much mischief of that kind as we please, and it will all be laid to the Hillers."
"Where shall we meet?" inquired one of the Rangers.
"Come here at precisely seven o'clock; and, remember, don't lisp a single word to any one about it, for, if you do, we shall be found out."
The Rangers were about to disperse, when one of them suddenly inquired,
"Will not folks mistrust that something is in the wind, if they see us all starting up the road at that time of night?"
"That's a fact," said William Gage. "Wouldn't it be a better plan for us to meet in the woods, at the back of Mrs. Nelson's lot? Let us all be there at eight o'clock; and, if no two of us go in company, no one will be the wiser for it."
"That is the best plan," said Charles. "Now, remember, don't say any thing about it."
"All right!" was the answer; and, in a few moments more, the Rangers were on their way home.
The next evening, at seven o'clock, Charles left his home, and, avoiding the principal streets as much as possible, started toward the place of rendezvous, where he arrived at almost precisely the time agreed upon. He found the Rangers all waiting for him; and, as it was already dark, it was decided to commence operations immediately.
"We want a guide," said Charles, who, of course, was captain of the Rangers. "Who knows exactly where that strawberry-bed lies? for, if we have to fumble about much, we shall start that dog, and then, it strikes me, from what I have seen and heard of him, we shall be in a predicament."
"You may safely bet on that," said one of the boys; "he's a savage fellow."
"And a first-rate watch-dog, too," observed another.
"Well," said Charles, "all we have to do is to move so still that you can't hear a leaf rustle; but, if we do rouse the dog, let each one grab a stone and let him have it."
"That would only make a bad matter worse," said one.
"I am afraid we shall have more than we bargained for, if we undertake that," remarked another.
"Let the cowards go home, and the rest come with me," said Charles, impatiently. "Bill," he continued, turning to his right-hand man, "can you act as guide?"
"Yes."
"Then, lead on."
William led the way out of the woods, across a narrow meadow, where they came to the fence that inclosed Mrs. Nelson's garden.
"Now, boys," he whispered, "keep still as mice; but, if we do start the dog, don't stop to fight him, but run like white-heads."
The Rangers climbed over the fence, and followed their guide, who threaded his way through the trees and bushes with a skill worthy of a better cause, and a few moments sufficed to bring them to the strawberry-patch.
"Be careful, boys," said Charles, in a low whisper. "Don't leave a single plant in the ground."
The young scapegraces worked with a will, and, in a few moments, the strawberry-bed—which was Frank's pride, next to his museum, and on which he had expended a great amount of labor—was almost ruined; and so quietly did they proceed in their work of wanton destruction, that Brave, although a very vigilant dog, was not aroused, and the marauders retraced their steps, and reached the woods in safety.
"There," said Charles, at length, "that's what I call doing it up brown. It almost pays off my debts. I don't think they will receive much benefit from those strawberries this year."
"They have got some nice pears," said one of the Rangers, "and when they get ripe, we must plan another expedition."
"That's so," answered Charles. "But we must not forget that we have others to settle with; and we must meet, some time next week, and determine who shall be visited next."
On the following morning, Frank arose, as usual, at four o'clock, and, shouldering his fish-pole, started off through the woods to catch a mess of trout, intending to be back by breakfast-time. But, as the morning was cloudy, the trout bit voraciously, and in the excitement of catching them, he forgot that he was hungry, and it was almost noon before he reached home.
As soon as he entered the house, Aunt Hannah exclaimed,
"Master Frank, you were altogether too good to Lee Powell, the other night."
"What makes you think so?" he inquired.
At this moment Julia, hearing his voice, burst in from the dining-room, exclaiming,
"Frank, the Hillers have robbed your strawberry-patch!"
"Not robbed it, exactly," said his mother, who had followed close after Julia, "but they have completely ruined it. There are not a dozen plants left in the ground."
Frank was so surprised that he could scarcely utter a word; and, hardly waiting to hear what his mother said, he hurried from the house toward the strawberry-patch. It did, indeed, present a strange and desolate appearance. The bed had covered nearly half an acre; and, so well had the Rangers performed their work, that but few plants were left standing. The sight was enough to upset even Frank's well-established patience, and he exclaimed,
"If I had the rascals that did this mischief, I could pay them for it, without troubling my conscience much."
"You must tell Lee Powell, the next time you see him," said Julia, who had followed him, "that he ought not to—"
"Lee didn't do it," said Frank.
"What makes you think so?"
"See here," said Frank, bending over a footprint in the soft earth; "the Hillers all go bare-foot, and these fellows wore boots. I know who did it, as well as if I had seen them. It was the work of Charles Morgan and a few of his particular friends. They must have been very still about it, for Brave didn't hear them."
"I don't see what object they had in doing it," said Julia.
"I know what they did it for," said Frank; "and if I ever catch—But," he added, checking himself, "there's no use in grumbling about it; no amount of fretting will repair the damage."
So saying, he led the way toward the house.
It did not take him long to don his working-suit, and, shouldering his hoe, he returned to the strawberry-bed, and, in less than an hour, the plants were all in the ground again.
That evening, after supper, Frank retired to his room, and, settling himself in his comfortable armchair, was soon deeply interested in one of Bayard Taylor's works. While thus engaged, a light step was heard in the hall, and, afterward, a gentle rap at his door, and Julia came into the room.
"Now, Frank," she began, "I don't want you to read to-night."
"Why not?" he inquired.
"Why, you know that day after to-morrow is the Fourth of July, and—"
"And you haven't got your fire-works yet?" interrupted Frank.
"That's it, exactly."
"Well," said her brother, rising to put away his book, "then, I suppose, I shall have to go down to the village and get you some. What do you want?"
"I want all the things that are written down on this paper."
Frank took the paper and read, "Three packs of fire-crackers, four boxes of torpedoes, three Roman candles, half a dozen pin-wheels, and a dozen sky-rockets."
"Whew!" said Frank, as he folded up the paper and put it into his pocket, "that's what I should call going it strong! Well, I'll tell Mr. Sheldon [the store-keeper] to send up all the fire-works he has got."
Julia burst into a loud laugh, and, the next moment, Frank and Brave were out of the gate, on their way to the village.
In the mean time several of Frank's acquaintances had been amusing themselves on the village common with a game of ball. At length it grew too dark for their sport to continue, and one of the boys proposed that they should decide upon some pleasant way of spending the Fourth.
In spite of the humiliating defeat which Charles Morgan and his companions had sustained, they were present; and the former, who had been making every exertion to regain the good-will of the village boys, exclaimed,
"Let's go hunting."
"No, no," shouted several.
"The game in the woods isn't good for any thing this time of year, Charley," said James Porter, who, although he cordially disliked Charles, always tried to treat him kindly.
"Who cares for that?" exclaimed Charles, who, having always been accustomed to lead and govern his city associates, could not endure the steadfastness with which these "rude country boys," as he called them, held to their own opinions. Although, during the whole afternoon, he had been endeavoring to work himself into their favor, he was angry, in an instant, at the manner in which they opposed his proposition. He had been considerably abashed at his recent defeat, and he knew that it had humbled him in the estimation of the Rangers, who, although they still "held true" to him, had changed their minds in regard to the prowess of their leader, and began to regard him, as one of them remarked, as a "mere bag of wind."
Charles was not long in discovering this, and he determined to seize the first opportunity that was offered to retrieve his reputation.
Hastily casting his eyes over the group that surrounded him, he discovered that Frank and Harry, the ones he most feared, were still absent. This was exactly what he had wished for. With the assistance of his companions, the Rangers, who, he was confident, would uphold him, he could settle up all old scores, without fear of suffering in return.
Addressing himself to James, he continued, in an insulting tone,
"We don't go to get the game to eat, you blockhead, but only for the sport of killing it."
"I know that," answered James, in a mild voice, not the least disconcerted by the other's furious manner; "but wouldn't it be better to—"
"Shut up!" shouted Charles. "I'll do just as I please. Besides, I never allow any one to dictate to me."
"I didn't intend to dictate at all, Charley. I was going to say—"
"Are you going to keep still," roared the bully, "or shall I make you?"
And he began to advance toward James.
"See here, old fellow," said Ben. Lake, suddenly striding up, and placing himself directly in front of Charles, "don't begin another fight, now."
"I'll show you whether I will or not!" exclaimed Charles; and, turning to the Rangers, he continued, "Come on, boys! We can have things all our own way now. We'll see if—"
"Hold on!" shouted William Johnson. "Here comes Frank. Now you had better take yourself off in a hurry."
Charles's hostile demonstrations ceased in an instant; and, hastily whispering a few words to the Rangers, they disappeared.
In a few moments, Frank, accompanied by George and Harry, arrived, and the boys, in a few words, explained to them what had just happened.
"I hope," said Frank, "that Charley will see, before long, how unreasonably he acts. He makes himself, and every one around him, uncomfortable."
"Well," said James Porter, "all I have got to say is that those fellows who go with him are very foolish. However, we can't help it. But, come," he added, "we were trying to find some pleasant way of spending the Fourth."
"Let's have a picnic on Strawberry Island," said one.
"We want something exciting," said another "Let's have a boat-race."
"Come, Frank," said Ben. Lake, "let's hear what you have got to say. Suggest something."
"Well," answered Frank, who was always ready with some plan for amusement, "I have been thinking, for two or three days, of something which, I believe, will afford us a great deal of sport. In the first place, I suppose, we are all willing to pass part of the day on the river?"
"Yes, of course," answered the boys.
"The next thing," continued Frank, "is to ascertain how many sail-boats we can raise."
"I'll bring mine."
"And mine," called out several voices.
"Oh, that's no way to do business," exclaimed William Johnson, who always liked to see things go off in order. "Let all those who have boats hold up their hands."
Sixteen hands came up, and Frank said,
"We shall be gone all day, and, of course, we want plenty of provisions."
"Of course."
"Well, then, what I thought of proposing is this: Let us take three or four of the swiftest sailing-boats, and give the provisions into their charge, and call them smugglers, and let the other boats play the part of revenue-cutters, or a blockading squadron, and let the smugglers try to land the provisions on Strawberry Island, without being caught."
"That's capital!" shouted several.
"It's better than shooting game, at this time of year," said one.
"Yes, and being scolded all day by that tyrant," observed another, who had belonged to the Regulators.
"It will take some time to make all our arrangements," said William, "and I move that we adjourn to our house, where we can hold our meeting in order."
This was readily assented to, and William led the way, followed by all the boys, who were highly delighted at Frank's plan of spending the Fourth.
George Butler was speedily chosen president of the meeting, and, in less than half an hour, their arrangements were completed.
The Speedwell, Champion, and Alert—the latter a fine little schooner, owned by George and Harry—were to act the part of smugglers, and Ben. Lake and Thomas Benton, who had no boats, were chosen by the smugglers to assist them. The provisions, of which each boy was expected to furnish his share, were all to be left at Mr. Butler's boat-house by six o'clock on the following evening, where they were to be taken charge of by the smugglers, of whom Frank was chosen leader. It was also understood that the smugglers were to carry the provisions all in one boat, and were to be allowed to take every possible advantage of the "men-o'-war," and to make every effort to land the provisions on the island.
The other thirteen boats, which were to act as "coast-guards," were to be under the command of Charles Sheldon, a shrewd, cunning fellow, who had the reputation of being able to handle a sail-boat as well as any boy in the village.
The coast-guards were also divided into divisions of three boats each, and a captain was appointed for each division.
These arrangements, as we have said, were speedily completed; and, although the coast-guards were almost wild with delight at the prospect of the exciting times that would occur during the race, they were confident that the smugglers could be easily caught, and even some of the smugglers themselves seemed to think that their chances of landing the provisions were small indeed.
As the meeting was about to break up, one of the coast-guards exclaimed,
"We'll have easy times catching you smugglers."
"Do you think so?" asked Harry Butler. "It would be funny if you should slip up on it, wouldn't it?"
"We'll risk that," said another, "for we've got thirteen boats to your three."
"I say, Frank," said Charles Sheldon, "don't you think we can catch you?"
"Oh, yes," answered Frank, "easily enough, if you only try. Now, boys," he continued, "remember that we want all the refreshments left at Mr. Butler's boat-house, by six o'clock to-morrow evening."
They all promised to be on hand, and the meeting broke up.
But the coast-guards gathered in little knots in front of the house, or walked slowly toward home, talking the matter over, and congratulating themselves on the easy manner in which the capture of the "contrabands" was to be effected.
The smugglers remained together, and, as soon as the others were out of hearing, George inquired,
"Do you think we can give them the slip?"
"Yes," answered Frank, "I am certain we can. We must not think of beating them in sailing, because there are too many of them, but we must outwit them."
"What do you propose to do?" inquired Ben.
"We must get up in the morning before they do."
"We shall be obliged to get up at twelve o'clock, then," said Thomas.
"I had rather stay up all night than have them beat us," said Harry.
"Well, boys," said George, "you must all come and sleep at our house to-morrow night. Some of us will be sure to wake up early, and, I think, we shall have no trouble in getting the start of the coast-guards."
The boys spent some time in talking over their plans, and, finally, reluctantly separated, and started for home.
About three o'clock in the afternoon of the following day, Frank bade his mother and sister good-by, and he and Brave got into the Speedwell, and sailed slowly down the creek. He found the Champion already moored at Mr. Butler's dock, and the smugglers were all waiting for him. As soon as he landed, Ben. Lake said,
"Frank, it is a gone case with us. I know we shall be caught."
"You think so, do you?" asked Frank, as if not at all concerned.
"Yes, I'm certain of it. I overheard some conversation among the coast-guards, this afternoon, and one of them said that Charley Sheldon would have the whole fleet anchored before the mouth of the creek at half-past two to-morrow morning."
"Besides," said William Johnson, "they are all going to sleep in their boats to-night, and the North Star and Sampson are to act as police."
"And I heard Charley Sheldon say," chimed in Harry, "that strict watch must be kept of the Speedwell, and no attention paid to the other boats."
"That's all right," said Frank. "I'm glad of it."
"Why are you?" asked George, in surprise. "You know, we agreed to carry the provisions all in one boat, and yours is the only one that will hold them all."
"I tell you, Frank, we're gone suckers," said Ben.
"You fellows seem to be pretty well posted as to the coast-guards' intentions," said Frank.
"Yes," said George; "we've been spying about and playing eavesdroppers all day."
"I have learned one thing to-day," said Frank, "that pleased me very much, and that is that the coast-guards intend to keep spies about the boat-house all night."
"Why does that please you?" inquired Harry. "Do you want them to discover all our plans, so that they may be ready for us?"
"By no means. I'll risk good deal that they will not learn more than we want them to know. I've thought of a way to set them on the wrong scent, and, from what I have heard, I think it will work first-rate."
"What is it?"
"I'll show you in half a minute," said Frank, "All we have got to do is to fool the spies; then we are all right."
At this moment several boys, belonging to the blockading squadron, entered the boat-house, bringing their refreshments, and this, of course, put a stop to all further conversation between the smugglers.
By six o'clock the last basket of provisions had been brought in, and the coast-guards took their departure, after repeatedly assuring the smugglers that their capture was certain.
The provisions had been brought in twenty medium-sized market-baskets, and one large clothes-basket that belonged to George and Harry, and seven pails. There was, also, a small bag filled with lemons, which had been brought by Charles Sheldon.
The boys stood for some time looking at them without speaking. At length, Thomas Benton said,
"You will have to carry them, Frank. They will make too large a load for either of the other boats."
"I know that," said Frank; "but we must make the coast-guards think that the Alert is going to carry them."
"How can we manage that?" inquired George.
"Have you got three or four market-baskets, a clothes-basket, one or two pails, and a salt-bag?" asked Frank, without stopping to answer George's question.
"I guess so," said Harry. "I'll go up to the house and see."
He led the way, followed by three or four of the smugglers, and the articles in question were soon brought into the boat-house.
"Now, Bill," said Frank, "you take this salt-bag, if you please, and fill it with smooth, round stones, about the size of lemons."
"All right," answered William, who began to see through the trick.
"Now," continued Frank, "we want some pieces of cloth, large enough to tie over the tops of these baskets and pails."
These were speedily procured, and, in a few moments, William returned with the salt-bag filled with stones.
"Now, tell us what you intend to do," exclaimed Harry, whose patience was well-nigh exhausted.
"We are making some sham provisions," said Frank.
"Oh, yes, I thought so," said Thomas; "but we haven't got pails and baskets enough."
"Oh, that's nothing," said Frank. "We'll fill half a dozen of these old bags with shavings, and, as soon as it grows dark, we'll pull the Alert alongside the wharf, and tumble these sham provisions into her; then we will cover them up with that piece of sail, as if we wanted to keep them dry. We'll be sure to fool the men-o'-war."
"I don't exactly see it," said Thomas.
"Why," said Harry, "as soon as we are out of sight, their spies, who are, of course, watching every movement, will go and tell Charley Sheldon that we have got the things stowed away in the Alert."
"That's very well, as far as you go," said Ben; "but suppose they should mistrust that something is in the wind, and should go to work and examine the provisions?"
"What if they do?" said Frank. "It will be too dark for them to make much of an examination; and, if they put their hands into the boat, they will feel the baskets and pails there, and will go away satisfied."
The boys now saw through the trick, and there was no longer any feeling of doubt in their minds. They were now as certain of success as they had before been of being captured.
In a few moments the "sham provisions," as Frank had called them, were all completed, and, placing them where they could be easily taken out, they locked the door, to prevent surprise, and started for the house.
As they were about to enter the gate, George suddenly exclaimed,
"See there!"
The boys looked in the direction George indicated, and saw the blockading squadron, with the exception of two boats, anchored in the creek, just opposite the long dock. The North Star, a fine, swift-sailing little schooner, was anchored near the middle of the stream, and a boy sat in the stern sheets, reading a book. The Sampson, a very large sloop-rigged boat, was standing up the creek, under full sail. These were the "police boats," and they were taking their stations.
"I wonder where the Sampson is going," said Harry.
"She's going to take her station in Duck's Creek," said Ben.
Upon hearing this, Harry's expectations fell again.
"It's no use," he exclaimed. "Charley Sheldon knows too much for us."
"Not a bit," said Frank. "This arrangement is only for to-night. When we get up in the morning, we shall find the boats all out in the river."
This immediately reassured Harry; and, after watching the Sampson until she disappeared in Duck's Creek, he led the way to the house.
After supper, as soon as it began to grow dark, they proceeded to put their plans into execution; but, before they started, Frank said,
"Now, boys, we must watch and see how the trick takes, for I know that there are spies now around that boat-house. As soon as we get the sham provisions into the boat, one or two of us had better slip down into the willows behind the wharf, and see what course things are going to take."
"Well," said Harry, "suppose you and Bill act as spies."
"Agreed. Come on, but don't act as if you suspected anything."
And he led the way toward the boat-house.
Two of the boys busied themselves in bringing out the sham provisions, and the others brought the Alert alongside, and fastened her to the dock, in front of the boat-house. Frank and Harry then got down into the boat, and the other boys passed the provisions down to them, and they placed them in such a manner as to take up as much space as possible. They were soon all stowed away, and covered over with a large sail, as if to keep off the dew.
Ben and George then got into a small skiff that lay at the dock, and towed the Alert out into the middle of the creek, and anchored her. As soon as this was done they returned, and the smugglers began to amuse themselves by pushing each other about the wharf. They all appeared to enter heartily into the sport, and kept nearing the willows which extended along the bank of the creek, close to the wharf, and Frank and William, watching their opportunity, concealed themselves, and the others ran toward the house. They had hardly disappeared, when the smugglers saw several boys steal cautiously around the corner of the boat-house, where they had been concealed, and one of them crept up the bank, to assure himself that the coast was clear, while the others remained in the shadow of the house. The former, who proved to be Charles Sheldon, the commander of the coast-guards, as soon as he had satisfied himself that the smugglers had gone into the house, called out, in a low whisper, to the others, who were the captains of the divisions of the squadron,
"All right, boys; go ahead, but be careful not to make any noise. I didn't see Frank Nelson's dog go into the yard," he continued; "he must be around here somewhere. We must not let him hear us."
Brave was, as Charles had said, "around there somewhere." He was lying by his master's side, among the willows, no doubt wondering at the strange things that were going on, and, well-trained as he was, it was with great difficulty that Frank could keep him quiet.
The coast-guards crossed the wharf with noiseless steps, and, unfastening the skiff which the smugglers had just used, they climbed down into it, and pushed off toward the Alert. A few strokes brought them alongside of her, and, thrusting their arms under the sail, they began the examination which the smugglers had so much dreaded.
"What do you find?" inquired Charles, who still kept watch at the top of the bank.
"Here are a lot of baskets and pails," said one
"And here's the large basket that George and Harry brought," said another.
"What are these round things in this bag, I wonder?" said the one who had first spoken.
"Oh, those are the lemons I brought," said Charles.
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"'"Now, ole Lawson," said Mountain Tom, leanin' his rifle up in the
corner, "we have come down here for whisky. We know you've got some;
so jest draw your weasel, if you want to save unpleasant feelin's; an'
be in a hurry about it, too, for we're mighty thirsty."
"'"Tom," said my father, "how often have I told you that I haven't got
a drop of liquor in the shanty? I never had. I don't use it myself,
an' I don't keep it for—"
"'"That's a lie!" yelled three or four of the band.
"'"You a trader among the Injuns, an' not keep whisky?"
"'"We know a thing or two more than that."
"'"We have heard that story often enough," said Tom. "We know you have
got the liquor, an' we are goin' to get it afore we leave this shanty.
If you won't bring it out an' treat, like white man had ought to do,
we'll have to look for it ourselves—that's all. Here, boys," he said,
turning to his men, "jest jump down into the cellar an' hunt it up,
'cause we know he's got some. An' you, Jake," he added, catching hold
of a big, ugly-lookin' feller, "you stand here, an shoot the first one
that tries to get away."
"'The men ran down into the cellar, and we could hear them cussin' an'
swearin', as they overturned every thing in the useless search. My
mother, a'most frightened to death, gathered us children around her,
an' sank back into the furthest corner. I thought my father had gone
crazy; he strode up an' down the floor of the cabin like some caged
wild animal, clenchin' his hands an' grindin' his teeth in a way that
showed that there was plenty of fight in him, if he only had a chance
to let it out. Once in awhile he would look at his rifle, that hung
against the wall, then at the man that stood at the top of the
cellar-stairs, guardin' us, as if he had a'most made up his mind to
begin a knock-down an' drag-out fight with the rascals. But then he
would look at my mother an' us children, back in the corner, an' go to
pacin' the floor again. If we had been out of the way, I know that he
would not have let them rummage about as he did; he would have had a
fight with them that would do your eyes good to look at. But, as it
was, I guess he kinder thought that if he was peaceable they would go
off an' leave us, arter they found that no whisky was to be had. After
searchin' around the cellar for more 'n ten minutes, one of 'em called
out,
"'"Wal, boys, it's easy enough to see that the cuss has fooled
us. Thar's no liquor here. He's hid it in the woods, somewhere 'bout
the shantee."
"'"That's so," said another. "I'll bet he has got plenty of whisky
somewhere. Let's go up and hang him till he tells us where it is."
"'"No, no, that won't do," said Mountain Tom. "You fellers are gettin'
so that you talk like babies. Shoot the rascal down. We've had trouble
enough with him. If we can't get the liquor here, there are plenty of
places where we can get it."
"'"That's the talk!" yelled the band. "Shoot him down! Tear him to
pieces!"
"'The man who was standin' at the head of the stairs heard all the
rascals had said, an', with a yell of delight, he raised his rifle an'
drew a bead on my mother. But the ole man was too quick for him. With
a bound like a painter, he sprang across the floor, an', grabbin' the
villain by the throat, lifted him from his feet, and throwed him down
into the cellar, an' in an instant shut the door, an' fastened it with
a heavy bar of wood. Then, takin' down his rifle, he said to us,
a'most in a whisper,
"'"Now run! run for your lives! We must cross the prairy an' get into
the woods afore the rascals cut their way out. Run! quick!"
"'My mother took my sisters by the hand an' led them out, an' me an'
my brother followed her. Father closed both the windows an' the door,
an' fastened them on the outside. All this while the robbers had been
yellin' an' swearin', an' cuttin' away at the cellar-door with their
tomahawks; an' we well knowed that they would soon be out an' arter
us. Our cabin stood in a large, natural prairy, an' we had to travel
full half a mile acrost the open ground afore we come to the woods. My
father followed close behind us, with his rifle, ready to shoot the
first one that come in sight, an' kept urgin' us to go faster. We
hadn't gone more'n half the distance acrost the prairy, when a loud
crash and yells of triumph told us, plain enough, that the villains
had worked their way out of the cellar. Then heavy blows sounded on
the window-shutter, which, strong as it was, we knowed could not long
hold out ag'in 'em. In a few minutes it was forced from its hinges,
an' Mountain Tom sprang out.
"'"Here they are, boys," he shouted. "Come on! We'll l'arn 'em not to
hide—"
"'The report of father's rifle cut short his words, an' Mountain Tom,
throwin' his hands high above his head, sank to the ground like a log.
By this time the rest of the band had come out, an the bullets rattled
around us like hailstones. My father and brother both fell-the latter
never to rise; but father, although he had received three bullets,
staggered to his feet, an' follered along arter us, loadin' his rifle.
Then began the race for life. It seemed to me that we flew over the
ground, but the villains gained on us at every step. Just as we
reached the woods, my father called out,
"'"Down—down, every one of you! They're going to shoot again!"
"'Obeyin' that order was what saved my life. I throwed myself flat
into the bushes, an' escaped unhurt; but both my sisters were shot
dead, an' my father received another ball that brought him to the
ground. My mother, instead of thinkin' of herself, kneeled beside him,
an' supported his head in her arms. The next minute the outlaws
entered the woods, an' one passed so close to me that I could have
touched him.
"'"Wal, Bill Lawson," said a voice that I knowed belonged to Mountain
Tom, "you see I'm here again. I s'pose you kind o' thought you had
rubbed me out, didn't you?"
"'"Yes, I did," said father—an' his voice was so weak that I could
hardly hear him.
"'"You won't have a chance to draw a bead on me again, I guess. We shoot
consider'ble sharp—don't we?"
"'"I shan't live long," said father. "But, whatever you do to me, be
merciful to my wife an'—"
"'The dull thud of the tomahawk cut short my father's dying prayer, an'
his brains were spattered on the bush where I was concealed; an',
a'most at the same moment, another of the band buried his knife in my
mother's heart.'
"Old Bill could go no further. He buried his face in his hands an'
cried like a child. At length, by a strong effort, he choked down his
sobs, and went on.
"'I knew no more until I found myself lyin' in the cabin of an ole
hunter, who lived about ten miles from where we used to live. He had
been out huntin', an' had found me lyin' close beside my father an'
mother. He thought I was dead, too, at first, but he found no wounds
on me; so, arter buryin' all my relatives in one grave, he took me
home with him. In three or four days I was able to get around again;
an', beggin' a rifle an' some powder an' ball of the ole hunter, I
started out. I went straight to the grave that contained all I loved
on earth, an' there, kneelin' above their heads, I swore that my life
should be devoted to but one object—vengeance on the villains who had
robbed me of all my happiness. How well I have kept my oath the
notches on my knife will show. Seven of them have fallen by my
tomahawk; one only is left, an' that is Mountain Tom. For fifteen long
years I have been on his trail; but the time will come when my
vengeance will be complete.'
"An' the ole man rolled himself up in his blanket, an', turning his
back to me, sobbed himself to sleep.
"But my story is not yet told," continued Dick. "About a year arter
this, Bill an' me were ridin' along, about noon, in a little valley
among the mountains, when we came, all of a sudden, on the camp of two
trappers.
"'Heaven be praised! there he is!' said ole Bill.
"An', swinging himself from his horse, he strode up to one of the men,
who sprang from his blanket, and ejaculated,
"'Bill Lawson!'
"'Yea, Mountain Tom,' said ole Bill, 'I'm here. You an' me have got a
long reckonin' to settle now.'
"The villain at first turned as pale as a skewer; but he seemed to
regain his courage, and exclaimed,
"'It won't take us long to settle up,'
"And, quick as lightnin', he drew his knife, an' made a pass at Bill.
"But he had got the wrong buck by the horn. The ole man was as quick
as he; an', grabbin' hold of his arm, he took the knife away from him
as if he had been a baby.
"'Tom,' said he, as he drew his tomahawk from his belt, 'I've followed
you all over this country for fifteen years, an', thank Heaven, I've
found you at last.'
"'Oh, Bill,' shrieked the condemned man, sinkin' on his knees before
the ole man, 'I was—'
"'Stand up,' said Bill, ketchin' hold of him, an' jerkin' him to his
feet. 'You were brave enough when you were killing my wounded father.'
"'Oh, Bill—'
"'With the tomahawk you killed my father, an' by the tomahawk you
shall die.'
"'For mercy's sake, Bill,' again shrieked the terrified man, taking
hold of a tree for support, 'hear me!'
"The tomahawk descended like a streak of light, and the last of the
murderers sank at the ole man's feet. The eighth notch was added to
those on the knife, an' the debt was canceled."
About two o'clock in the afternoon the boys concluded that it was
about time to start for home; so, after putting out the fire and
fastening the door of the cabin, they set out. Archie led the way,
with a 'coon slung over each shoulder, and another dangling from his
belt behind. The others followed close after him, in "Indian file." In
this manner they marched through the woods, joking and shouting, and
talking over the events of the day, and now and then indulging in a
hearty laugh when they happened to think how Archie looked when he
came into the camp, dripping wet. But Archie took matters very
good-naturedly, and replied,
"If I had come back without the 'coon, I should never have heard the
last of it; and now you laugh at me because I fell into the drink
while I was trying to catch him."
In half an hour they reached the edge of the timber, and were about to
climb over the fence into the cornfield, when a long, loud bark echoed
through the woods.
"That's Brave," exclaimed Frank; "and," he continued, as all the dogs
broke out into a continuous cry, "they've found something. Let's go
back."
The boys all agreed to this, and they started back through the woods
as fast as their legs could carry them.
A few moments' run brought them in sight of the dogs, sitting on their
haunches at the foot of a stump, that rose to the hight of twenty
feet, without leaf or branch. Near the top were several holes; and, as
soon as Frank discovered these, he exclaimed,
"The dogs have got a squirrel in here."
"How are we going to work to get him out?" inquired Archie.
"Let's cut the stump down," said George.
"That's too much sugar for a cent," answered Harry. "That will be
working too hard for one squirrel."
"Why will it?" asked George. "The stump is rotten."
And he laid down his 'coon, and walked up and dealt the stump several
lusty blows with his ax.
Suddenly two large black squirrels popped out of one of the holes
near the top, and ran rapidly around the stump. Quick as thought,
Frank, who was always ready, raised his gun to his shoulder, and one
of the squirrels came tumbling to the ground; but, before he had time
to fire the second barrel, the other ran back into the hole.
"Hit the tree again, George," exclaimed Harry, throwing down his
'coon, and bringing his gun to his shoulder.
"It's no use," said Frank; "they will not come out again, if you pound
on the stump all day."
George, however, did as his brother had requested, but not a squirrel
appeared.
"Let's cut the tree down," said Archie.
And, suiting the action to the word, he set manfully to work.
A few blows brought off the outside "crust," and the heart of the tree
was found to be decayed, and, in a few moments, it came crashing to
the ground, and was shivered into fragments by the fall.
The boys supposed that there was only one squirrel in the tree, and
were running up to secure him, when, to their surprise, they
discovered a number of the little animals scattering in different
directions, and drawing "bee-lines" for the nearest trees.
Frank killed one with his remaining barrel, and Harry, by an excellent
shot, brought down another that had climbed up into the top of a tall
oak, and was endeavoring to hide among the leaves. Brave and Sport
both started after the same one, and overtook and killed it before it
could reach a tree; but the grayhound came very near losing his. As
soon as the stump had fallen, he singled out one of the squirrels,
and, with two or three of his long bounds, overtook it; but, just as
he was going to seize it, the squirrel dived into a pile of brush, out
of the reach of the hound. A few loud, angry yelps brought Archie and
George to his assistance, and they immediately began to pull the pile
of brush to pieces. Suddenly the squirrel darted out, and started for
a tree that stood about two rods distant. The boys threw their clubs
at him, but he reached the foot of the tree unharmed. At this moment
Lightfoot discovered him; two or three bounds carried him to the tree,
and, crouching a moment, he sprang into the air, and attempted to
seize the squirrel. But he was just a moment too late; the little
animal had ascended out of his reach; but the next moment the sharp
report of Harry's gun brought him to the ground.
The squirrels were now all secured, and the young hunters again turned
their faces homeward.
One cold, stormy night, in the latter part of October, Frank and his
cousin lay snug in bed, listening to the howling of the wind and the
pattering of the rain against the window, and talking over their
plans for the future, when, all at once, Frank sat upright in bed,
and, seizing Archie's arm with a grip that almost wrung from him a cry
of pain, exclaimed,
"Listen! listen!"
And the next moment, clear and loud above the noise of the storm, they
heard the trumpet-like notes of a flock of wild geese. They passed
over the house, and the sound grew fainter as they flew rapidly away.
"My eye!" exclaimed Archie, "don't I wish it was daylight, and we
stood out in front of the house, with our guns all ready!"
"That's a nice thing to wish for," answered Frank; "but, if it were
daylight, we should not stand any better chance of shooting them than
we do here in bed."
"What's the reason?"
"Why, in the first place, if they went over at all, they would fly so
high that it would need a rifle to reach them; and, in the next place,
we have not got a rifle. Just wait until morning, and we'll make a
scattering among them, if some one don't get the start of us."
"I suppose we are not the only ones that have heard them."
"Not by a good deal. I shouldn't wonder if there were a dozen fellows
that have made up their minds to have a crack at them in the
morning."
And Frank was right. Many a young hunter, as he lay in bed and heard
the wild geese passing over, had determined to have the first shot at
them, and many a gun was taken down, and cleaned and loaded, in
readiness for the morning's hunt.
Wild geese seldom remained longer than two or three days about the
village, and then they generally staid in the swamp. This made it
difficult for the young hunters to get a shot at them, and only the
most active and persevering ever succeeded.
Although for a month the young sportsmen had been expecting them, and
had carefully scanned the river every morning, and listened for the
welcome "honk-honk" that should announce the arrival of the wished-for
game, this was the first flock that had made its appearance.
"I am afraid," said Archie, "that some one will get the start of us.
Let's get up."
"No; lie still and go to sleep," said Frank.
"I am afraid we shall oversleep ourselves. I wonder what time it is."
"I'll soon find out," said Frank.
And, bounding out on to the floor, he lighted a match, and held it up
before the little clock that stood on the mantle-piece.
"It's twelve o'clock," he continued.
And he crawled back into bed, and in a few moments was almost asleep,
when Archie suddenly exclaimed,
"They're coming back!"
And the geese again passed over the house, in full cry.
They knew it was the same flock, because they came from toward the
river, and that was the same direction in which they had gone but a
few moments before.
In a short time they again returned; and, during the quarter of an
hour that followed, they passed over three times more.
"I wonder what is the matter with those geese," said Archie, at
length.
"Nothing," replied Frank; "only they have got a little bewildered, and
don't know which way to go."
"Where will we have to go to find them in the morning?"
"Up to the swamp," answered Frank. "The last time they passed over
they flew toward the north, and the swamp is the only place in that
direction where they can go to find water, except Duck Lake, and that
is too far for them to fly this stormy night."
"I wish it was morning," said Archie, again. "Let's get up."
"What's the use? It will be five long hours before it will be light
enough to hunt them up; and we might as well go to sleep."
"I'm afraid we shall sleep too long," said Archie, again, "and that
some one will beat us."
"No fear of that," answered Frank; "I'll wake you up at three
o'clock."
And he turned over and arranged his pillow, and in a few moments was
fast asleep. But Archie was so excited that he found it difficult even
to lie still; and he lay awake almost two hours, thinking of the sport
they should have in the morning, and at last dropped into an unquiet
slumber.
It seemed to him that he had hardly closed his eyes, when a strong
hand was laid on his shoulder, and a voice said, in his ear,
"Wake up here; it's three o'clock."
He did not need a second call, but was out on the floor in an instant.
It was still storming. The wind moaned and whistled through the
branches of the trees around the cottage, and sent the big drops of
rain rattling against the window. It was a wild time to go hunting,
and some boys would have preferred tumbling back into bed again. But
Frank and his cousin had made up their minds that if any one got a
shot at the geese, they were to be the ones.
As soon as they were dressed, Frank led the way into the kitchen, and,
while he was lighting a fire, Archie brought out of the pantry a pan
of milk, two spoons and bowls, and a loaf of bread. He was so
impatient to "get a crack at the geese," as he said, that, although he
was very fond of bread and milk, he could scarcely eat at all.
"I'm afraid some one will get the start of us," he exclaimed, noticing
that his cousin, instead of being in a hurry, was taking matters very
coolly.
"What if they do?" answered Frank, deliberately refilling his bowl
from the pan. "We shall stand just as good a chance as they do. It
will not be daylight these two hours. It's as dark as pitch, and all
we can do is to go up to the swamp, and get under a tree, and wait
until it is light enough to see where our geese are."
As soon as they had finished their breakfast, they brought out their
guns, and began to prepare for the hunt. Extra charges were put in
each barrel; and, while they were drawing on their rubber coats,
Archie said,
"We had better leave my dogs at home, hadn't we? Lightfoot would make
too much noise, and Sport, although he would keep still enough, would
be of no use to us, for he will not go into the water after a wounded
bird."
"Yes," said Frank, "we had better leave them behind. But we must have
Brave with us. I'll go and call him."
And he opened the door, and, walking out upon the piazza, which ran
entirely around the cottage, gave a low whistle. There was a slight
rustling among the straw in the kennel where the dogs slept, and Brave
came out, and followed his master into the house.
After wrapping up their guns in their coats, they were ready to set
out.
Half an hour's walk, through mud up to their ankles, brought them to
Uncle Mike's house, which stood at the end of the road, and, climbing
over the fence that inclosed his pasture, they struck off through the
woods toward the lake.
After picking their way for half a mile over fallen logs, and through
wet, tangled bushes, Frank, who was leading the way, suddenly stopped,
and, leaning back against a tree to get out of the rain, said,
"Here we are. Had we better try to cross the creek now, or shall we
wait until daylight?"
"You must have cat's eyes," said Archie, trying to peer through the
darkness. "I knew there was a creek here somewhere, but I didn't
suppose we had reached it yet."
"Well, we have; and, unless I am very much mistaken, you will find the
bridge right before you. Shall we try to cross it now? It will be a
slippery job."
The "bridge" that Frank referred to was simply a large tree that the
boys had felled across the creek, and stripped of its branches. It
could easily be crossed in the day-time, but in a dark, stormy night
it was a difficult task to undertake. The boys could scarcely see
their hands before them; and Frank had accomplished something worth
boasting of in being able to conduct his cousin directly to the
bridge.
"It will require the skill of a rope-dancer to cross that bridge now,"
said Archie; "and, if we should happen to slip off into the water, we
would be in a nice fix."
"Besides," said Frank, "if we did succeed in crossing, we could not go
far in the dark, on account of the swamp; so, I think, we had better
wait."
The boys stood under the tree, talking in low tones, when Frank
suddenly exclaimed,
"We're all right. The geese are in the lake. Do you hear that?"
Archie listened, and heard a splashing in the water, mingled with the
hoarse notes of the gander.
"I wish it was daylight," said he, impatiently.
"Don't be in a hurry," said Frank; "there's time enough."
"I'm afraid they will start off as soon as it gets light."
"Oh, no; the lake is a good feeding-ground, and they would stay,
perhaps, all day, if they were not disturbed."
In about an hour the day began to dawn; and, as soon as objects on the
opposite side of the creek could be discerned, Frank led the way
across the bridge. A short run through the woods brought them to the
swamp.
Now the hunt began in earnest. The swamp was covered with water,
which, in some places, was two feet deep; and the trees and bushes
grew so thick, that it was with difficulty that they could work their
way through them. Besides, they were obliged to proceed very
carefully, for every step brought them nearer the game; and the
slightest splashing in the water, or even the snapping of a twig,
might alarm them.
At length they found themselves on the shore of the lake; and, peering
out from behind a thicket, where they had crept for concealment, they
discovered, about half-way to the opposite shore, as fine a flock of
geese as one would wish to see—fifteen of them in all. They were
swimming around, turning their heads first one way and then the other,
as if they had been alarmed.
"It's a long shot, isn't it?" said Archie, measuring the distance with
his eye.
"Yes," answered his cousin; "but that is not the worst of it; they are
getting further away from us every moment."
"Well," said Archie, cocking his gun, and pushing it carefully through
the bushes, "you be ready to take them as they rise."
As he spoke he took a quick aim at the nearest of the flock, and
pulled the trigger. The cap snapped.
"Plague on the gun!" he exclaimed. "Shall I throw it in the lake!"
"No, no," answered Frank; "try the other barrel; and you had better be
quick about it—they're going to fly."
Archie again raised his gun to his shoulder. This time there was no
mistake. The nearest of the geese received the entire charge, and lay
dead on the water.
Frank now waited for his turn; but the geese, after skimming along the
surface of the water until they were out of gun-shot, rose in the air,
and flew rapidly across the lake.
As the boys stood watching their flight, they saw a cloud of smoke
issue from a clump of bushes on the opposite shore, followed by the
report of a gun, and one of the flock fell to the water, and another,
evidently badly wounded, rose high in the air, and flew wildly about.
Another puff of smoke rose from the bushes, a second report was heard,
and the wounded bird came tumbling into the lake.
The geese, surprised at this sudden repulse, quickly wheeled, and flew
back toward the place where our hunters were stationed.
Frank raised his gun to his shoulder, and, as soon as they came within
range, he pulled the trigger, and brought down two geese—one
stone-dead, and the other with a broken wing. Hardly waiting to see
the effect of the shot, he fired his second barrel at the flock, just
as they were disappearing over the tops of the trees. They had flown
so high, that he hardly expected the shot would prove effective. To
his surprise, one of the flock gradually fell behind, and, after
trying in vain to support itself, fell slowly through the air, until
it almost reached the water; then it seemed to regain the power of
using its wings, and began to fly more regularly.
"Try your gun again, Archie," said Frank; "I'm afraid we are going to
lose him."
Archie accordingly drew a bead on the goose, but with no better
success, and the bird speedily disappeared over the trees.
"Confound my luck!" exclaimed Archie, impatiently. "I'll try and keep
my powder dry after this."
"He can't fly far," said Frank. "Let's be lively, and we will have
him yet. Here, Brave!" he continued, pointing to the geese in the
lake, "fetch 'em out!"
Brave plunged into the water, and made toward the nearest of the
geese, which happened to be the one Frank had wounded. As soon as the
bird saw him approaching, instead of trying to save himself by flight,
he raised himself in the water, elevated his uninjured wing, and set
up a loud hiss. But these hostile demonstrations, instead of
intimidating the Newfoundlander, served rather to enrage him, and he
kept on, with open mouth, ready to seize the game. The moment he came
within reach, the goose thrust out his long neck, and, catching Brave
by the ear, dealt him a hard blow over the head with his wing. But he
did not have time to repeat it, for the dog gave a loud, angry yelp,
and, springing forward in the water, seized the goose, and killed it
with a single bite; then, turning round, he swam back to the shore,
deposited the game at his master's feet, and again plunged in to bring
out the others.
"I wonder who that is on the other side of the lake?" said Archie.
"I guess it's Bill Johnson," answered Frank, who had reloaded his gun,
and stood holding it in the hollow of his arm. "I saw a dog that
looked very much like his bringing out the geese. There he is now!"
And as he spoke the boy stepped out of the bushes, and a loud, shrill
whistle echoed across the lake.
"That's Bill," said Archie. "Hallo!" he continued, raising his voice
so that William could hear; "wait for us at Uncle Mike's—will you?"
"All right," shouted William, in reply.
And, gathering up his game, he again disappeared in the bushes.
By this time Brave had brought out the last of the geese, and Archie
had succeeded in shooting off the wet charge; so they started back
toward the road.
Frank led the way, carrying three of the geese; Brave followed close
at his heels, carrying the fourth; and Archie brought up the rear,
loading his gun as he went.
An hour's walk brought them to Uncle Mike's, where they found William
sitting on the fence, waiting for them.
"What luck?" inquired Archie, as they came up.
"Only two," answered William; "but you have been more fortunate."
"Yes," said Archie, "we've got four; and Frank wounded another so
badly that he can't fly far. We are going to look for him in the
creek, as we go along."
"And I hope we shall get him," said Frank; "for he was the largest of
the flock, and I want him for our museum."
The boys walked slowly down the creek, keeping a good look-out for the
wounded bird among the reeds along the bank; but they reached the
cottage without seeing any signs of him.
"I'm afraid we've lost him," said Archie.
"I'm sorry," said Frank, "for he was a nice, big fellow. Let's go
back; perhaps we've overlooked him. I am certain that he could not
have flown to the river."
At this moment a slight splashing in the water, on the opposite side
of the creek, attracted their attention, and they discovered their
game swimming slowly about among the reeds, as if trying to find some
place of concealment.
"Now, Archie," said Frank, dropping the butt of his gun to the ground,
"there's a chance for you to retrieve your lost reputation."
"And I'll take advantage of it," said Archie, raising his gun to his
shoulder.
A loud report followed his words, and the goose, after a few slight
struggles, lay motionless on the water. Brave immediately sprang into
the creek, and, forcing his way among the reeds, seized the bird and
brought it to the shore.
The next day had been set apart by Frank and his cousin for a
squirrel-hunt; but the first thing they heard, when they awoke in the
morning, was the pattering of the rain against their bedroom window,
and the hunt was, to use Archie's expression, "up stump." Although
they had been expecting exciting times, bringing down the squirrels
(for the woods were fairly alive with them), and were a good deal
disappointed at being obliged to postpone their intended excursion,
they were not the ones to complain, they knew there would be many
pleasant days before the winter set in, and the hunt was put off
without ceremony.
They were at no loss to know how to pass the day. There was plenty of
work to be done: their traps must be overhauled and put in working
order; the Speedwell was waiting to be dismasted and put cover; their
fishing-tackle must be oiled and packed away, their pets taken care
of and provided with winter-quarters; and there was a host of other
things to attend to; and they were in no fear that the time would hang
heavily on their hands.
As soon as the boys were dressed, they went into the shop and set
manfully to work. Archie kindled a fire in the stove—for it was a
cold, unpleasant day—and Frank pulled from under the work-bench a
large chest, filled with spring-traps, "dead-falls," broken reels,
scraps of lead, and numberless other things he had collected, and
began to pull over the contents. The traps were taken out and
subjected to a thorough rubbing and greasing.
While thus engaged, their attention was attracted by the peculiar
"cawing" of a crow that flew over the shop, and, a moment afterward, a
whole chorus of the harsh notes sounded in the direction of the woods.
The boys hurried to the door, and saw a multitude of crows pouring
from every part of the woods, cawing with all their might, and
directing their course toward a large pine-tree, which stood in the
meadow back of the orchard, and which was already covered with them.
"What's the matter?" inquired Archie.
"They act as if they had discovered an owl," answered Frank.
"Have they? Let's go and shoot him."
"That will, probably, be a harder job than you anticipate," said
Frank. "However, we will try."
After shutting the dogs up in the shop, the boys ran into the house,
drew on their rubber coats, and started through the orchard, loading
their guns as they went—putting an extra charge of powder and a
couple of buck-shot into each barrel.
In a few moments they reached the fence that ran between the orchard
and the meadow, and Archie inquired,
"What shall we do now?"
"We can't go much further," said Frank, drawing a flap of his coat
over his gun, to protect it from the rain. "There isn't a stump, or
even a tuft of grass, in the meadow large enough to cover us. Besides,
if we undertake to climb over the fence, every crow will be out of
sight in a moment; then good-by, owl."
"He wouldn't fly off, would he?"
"I should say he would," answered Frank, with a laugh. "He'd leave
like a streak of lightning."
"That's news to me. I always thought owls couldn't see in the
day-time. Natural history says so."
"I know it," said Frank. "But there is one thing certain: they must be
able to see a little, or else their sense of smell or hearing is very
acute for it is very difficult to get a shot at them, even in the
day-time. That one in our museum led me a chase of half a day before I
shot him, and I had a rifle, too."
"What is to be done now?" inquired Archie. "We don't want to stand
here in the rain much longer."
"We must wait until he flies into the woods, or somewhere else, so
that we can get a shot at him."
"I can make him fly. I've killed squirrels further off than that, many
a time. Suppose I shoot at him?"
"Shoot away; but you must remember that an owl and a squirrel are two
different things. The thick feathers of the owl will glance a charge
of shot that would blow a squirrel to pieces."
Archie made no reply, but crawled up behind a thick cluster of
currant-bushes that grew close by the fence, and, thrusting his gun
between the branches, was settling himself into a comfortable
position, when the owl suddenly leaped from his perch, and flew off
toward the woods, as Frank had said he would, "like a streak of
lightning," followed by the whole flock of his tormentors, which
screamed with all their might.
"Now's our time," said Frank. "Come on!"
And, clearing the fence at a bound, he started across the meadow at
the top of his speed. Archie followed close at his heels, and a few
minutes run brought them to the edge of the woods.
"Now the hunt begins in earnest," said Frank, "We must separate; we
shall make too much noise if we go together."
"Where's the owl?" inquired Archie.
"As near as I can guess, he must be in that tall hemlock," answered
Frank, pointing through the woods toward the tree in question.
Archie immediately moved cautiously off in the direction indicated,
leaving his cousin to take care if himself.
Guided by the noise made by the crows, he soon discovered the owl, not
where Frank had supposed him to be, but on a tree that stood to the
right, and several rods further off. Placing a large tree between
himself and the game, he threw himself on his hands and knees, and
crawled along as silently as possible, taking good care to keep out of
sight of the crows.
He had arrived almost within range of the owl, when he found before
him a spot of considerable extent, which was entirely destitute of
bushes or large trees, and covered only with saplings, which grew so
thinly that he would certainly be discovered if he attempted to pass
through them. This brought him to a stand-still. He stood thinking
whether he had better risk a shot at the owl or retrace his steps,
when one of the crews uttered a cry of warning, which was immediately
answered by the others, and the whole flock was out of sight in an
instant. The owl gazed around a moment with his great eyes, then
spread his wings, leaped into the air, and was flying rapidly away,
when there was a sharp report, and he came tumbling to the ground, and
the indefatigable Frank rose from the bushes, and ran forward to
secure his prize.
"Dished again!" said Archie, to himself. "I would have wagered a good
deal that Frank was not within gun-shot."
"I say, Archie, where are you?" called out Frank.
"Here I am. I thought, sure, that owl was mine."
And Archie came forward, holding his gun in the hollow of his arm, and
looking a little crest-fallen.
"You were not far behind," said Frank, laughing.
"That's poor consolation. I wanted to be first. Never mind," he added,
catching up the owl, and throwing it over his shoulder, "I'll be ahead
of you yet."
This generous rivalry had existed between the cousins from their
earliest boyhood. In all athletic sports—such as running,
ball-playing, swimming, and the like—Archie was acknowledged to be
the superior; but in hunting Frank generally carried off the palm.
Archie, however, perseveringly kept up the contest, and endeavored to
accomplish, by bold and rapid movements, what his cousin gained by
strategy; and, although he sometimes bore off the prize, he more
frequently succeeded in "knocking every thing in the head" by what the
boys called his "carelessness."
This was the source of a great deal of merriment between the cousins;
and, although they sometimes felt a little mortified at their defeat
(as did Archie now), they ever afterward spoke of it as a "good joke."
After breakfast the boys went into the shop again, and Frank sharpened
his knife, and began to remove the skin of the owl, intending to stuff
it and place it in the museum, while Archie took his ax and started
for a grove of willows, that grew on the banks of the creek, to get
some timber to make a dead-fall trap. He had been gone scarcely a
moment before he returned in a great hurry, and, throwing down his ax,
seized his gun, which stood in the corner behind the door, exclaiming,
"Now I've got a chance to make up for losing that owl. A flock of
ducks, regular canvas-backs, have just flown over, and I think they
lit in the swamp. You'll have to make tracks to get the start of me
this time."
And he shouldered his gun, and ran out of the shop, banging the door
after him.
Frank immediately dropped the owl, caught up his gun, and started in
hot pursuit. But his cousin had made the most of his time, and, when
Frank reached the gate, he saw Archie far up the road, tearing along
as fast as his legs could carry him, and spattering the mud in every
direction.
Under any other circumstances, Frank would have stopped to laugh; but,
as it was, he had no time to lose. So he ran down the bank of the
creek, and, untying his skiff, pushed out into the stream, and a few
strokes of the oars brought him to the opposite shore; then, fastening
the skiff to a tree, he started through the woods, toward the swamp.
This enabled him to gain on his cousin almost half a mile.
But Archie happened to have luck on his side this time; for the ducks,
instead of alighting in the swamp, as he had supposed, had come down
in the creek; and, as he was hurrying along the road, which ran close
to the creek, a slight splashing in the water and a hoarse "quack"
attracted his attention, and caused him to proceed with more caution.
He listened until the noise was repeated, in order that he might know
exactly where the ducks were, and then began to worm his way through
the wet bushes, in the direction of the sound. At length he crawled up
behind a large log, that lay close to the water's edge, and had the
satisfaction of finding the game fairly before him.
But the most difficult part of the undertaking was yet to come. The
ducks—seven of them in all—were fully twenty rods off; and, although
Archie had great confidence in the "shooting qualities" of his gun, he
hardly dared to fire—he might only wound the birds; and, as he had no
ammunition with him besides the loads in his gun, he was anxious to
make every shot tell.
"This won't do," he soliloquized. "I must get up nearer."
He was about to retrace his steps, when he noticed that the ducks
began to move impatiently around, and acted as if about to fly.
In an instant Archie's mind was made up; it was now or never; and,
taking a quick aim at the nearest of the flock, he blazed away. It was
his only chance, and a slim one at that, for the distance was so great
that he hardly expected the shot would take effect; but, when the
smoke cleared away, he discovered one of the flock lying motionless on
the water, and another, too badly wounded to rise, was swimming slowly
around him. The rest of the flock were skimming along the surface of
the creek, toward the swamp. They were far beyond the range of his
gun, and he knew it would do no good to fire at them; so he concluded,
to use his own expression, to "make sure of what he had got," and,
taking aim at the wounded bird, was about to give it the contents of
the other barrel, when he heard the report of a gun some distance
further up the creek, and looked up just in time to see one of the
birds fall into the water.
"Who's that, I wonder," said Archie, to himself. "It can't be Frank,
for he wouldn't be on that side of the creek; besides, I had a good
long start of him."
His soliloquy was cut short by the movements of the flock, which,
instead of continuing on their course up the creek, rose higher in the
air, and flew about in confusion.
This opportunity was not lost by the concealed sportsman, and a second
bird came down with a broken wing. The ducks then wheeled and flew
back toward the place where Archie was stationed. As soon as they came
within range, he fired and brought down another bird, which landed
among the bushes on the opposite side of the creek.
He now turned his attention to the wounded duck, which was swimming in
a circle around his dead companion, as if perfectly bewildered.
"I wish I had my powder-flask and shot-bag," said Archie. "How foolish
I was not to bring them! I bet that I'll never start out again with
only one load in my gun."
But there was no time for regrets. The duck seemed to be recovering
his strength, and began co flap his wings, as if preparing to fly.
Archie began to fear that he should lose him; and, throw down his
gun, he gathered up an armful of sticks and branches, and straightway
opened fire on the bird. The duck dodged the missiles like a flash,
and every now and then renewed his attempts to fly; but, at length, a
heavy piece of root struck him, and stretched him out lifeless on the
water.
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed a strong, cheery voice. "That's what I call
shooting ducks under difficulties."
Archie looked up and saw his cousin standing on the opposite side of
the creek, with his gun on one shoulder and two of the flock slung
over the other.
"I came very near getting the start of you, after all—didn't I?"
continued Frank.
"Was that you shooting up there?" inquired Archie.
"Yes; I had almost reached the swamp, when I happened to think that
perhaps the ducks might be in the creek, so I turned back."
"A lucky circumstance for you. But I beat you, after all. I've got
three ducks."
"Where are they? I don't see but two."
"The other is over there in the bushes, somewhere."
Frank immediately commenced looking for it, and Archie procured a long
branch, and waded out as far as possible into the creek, and, after
considerable exertion and a thorough wetting, succeeded in pulling
both of his ducks to the shore.
During the three weeks that followed, the boys passed the time in
various ways—sometimes hunting in the woods or on the river, but more
frequently working in the shop. They also spent considerable time in
attending to their pets. The young otter proved to be the most
interesting little animal they had ever seen. He grew quite tame, and
when the boys entered the room where he was kept, he would come toward
them, uttering a faint whine, and, if they seated themselves, he would
jump up into their laps, and search through their pockets for
something to eat—such as bread or crackers, of which the boys always
took especial care to have a good supply.
At length they began to long for winter, and many were the
speculations as to when the "first fell of snow" would come. Their
traps were all in order, and they were impatient for an opportunity to
make use of them. Besides, they had agreed with George and Harry to
"go fox-hunting the very first time there was snow enough for
tracking."
A week more passed, and Thanksgiving Day came; and in the evening
Frank and his cousin went down to visit George and Harry, intending,
as they said, to "stay only a few minutes." But Mr. Butler soon came
in, and began to relate some of his "sailor yarns," as he called them
(for he was a retired sea-captain), and the boys became so interested
in listening to them, that they did not notice how rapidly the time
flew by, and it was ten o'clock before they knew it. They then bade
the Captain "good-night." George and Harry, as usual, agreed to
accompany them part of the way, and, when they reached the door, what
was their surprise to find the ground white with snow, and the air
filled with the rapidly-falling flakes.
"We'll have that fox-hunt to-morrow," exclaimed Harry, in delight.
"Of course we will," said Archie, "and I wouldn't take ten dollars for
my chance of catching one."
"You mean, if the snow doesn't melt," said Frank, quietly.
"Oh, that's always the way with you," said Archie. "What makes you try
to throw cold water on all our expectations, in that way?"
"I didn't intend to," answered Frank, with a laugh; "but, you know, we
have been disappointed very often."
"Yes," said George, "but I guess we are all right this time. It snows
pretty fast, and the air doesn't feel like a thaw or rain."
Frank acknowledged this; and they walked along, talking about the
exciting times they expected to have on the morrow, until they reached
the "big elm"—a large tree that stood leaning over the creek, just
half-way between Captain Butler's and where Frank lived. Here George
and Harry stopped, and, after promising to be at the cottage early on
the following morning, turned their faces homeward.
The next morning, at an early hour, George and Harry arrived at the
cottage, and, after a light and hastily-eaten breakfast, they set out.
Frank and Harry were armed, as usual, with their guns, while the
others carried axes. They crossed the meadow at the back of the
orchard, passed through the cornfield which had been the scene of the
'coon-hunt, a few weeks before, and struck out through the woods. The
dogs were then sent out ahead, and they had not gone more than half a
mile, when Sport uttered a long, loud howl, and, when the boys came up
with him, he was running impatiently about with his nose close to the
ground.
"A fox has been along here," said Frank, bending over and examining a
track in the snow, "and the trail looks fresh."
"Hunt 'em up! hunt 'em up!" shouted Archie, excitedly, waving his hand
to the dogs.
Sport bounded off on the track like a shot, and Lightfoot followed
close after. Brave barked and howled furiously, and acted as if he
wished very much to accompany them; but the swift hounds would have
distanced him in a moment.
It must not be supposed that it was the intention of the boys to
follow up the hounds—that would have been worse than useless. Perhaps
the chase would continue for several hours. They had once hunted a fox
all day, without coming in sight of him. Reynard has ways and habits
of his own, which a person who has had experience in hunting him
understands. He always runs with the wind, and generally follows a
ridge. The hunters take advantage of this, and "run cross-lots" to
meet him, sometimes gaining on him several miles in this manner.
The moment the hounds had disappeared on the trail, Frank—who knew
all the "run-ways" of the game like a book—led the way through the
woods toward a ridge that lay about a mile distant, where they
expected the fox would pass.
A quarter of an hour's run brought them to this ridge, and they began
to conceal themselves behind trees and bushes, when Archie suddenly
exclaimed,
"We're dished, boys. The fox has already passed."
"Come on, then," said Frank. "No time to lose. We must try again."
And he again led the way, on a keen run, through a strip of woods,
across a wide meadow toward another ridge, that lay fully three miles
distant.
At length the baying of the hounds echoed through the woods, far below
them. Louder and louder it grew, and, in a few moments, they swept up
the ridge in full cry. The boys hurried on as rapidly as possible, and
reached the ridge in about an hour. Although they were accustomed to
such sport, they were pretty well tired out. They had run the greater
part of the way through thick woods, filled with fallen logs and
tangled bushes; but they now felt confident that the hunt was nearly
over. They knew they had gained considerably on the fox, and his
capture would be an ample reward for their trouble.
As soon as they reached the ridge, they threw themselves rapidly
across it in all directions, and, to their delight, discovered that
the fox had not yet passed. They stationed themselves in such a manner
that it would be impossible for him to pass on either side of them
without coming within reach of their guns, and patiently awaited his
appearance. They had not remained long in this position, when Archie,
who was stationed lowest down the ridge, exclaimed in a subdued voice,
"There they come, boys! Now, look sharp!"
The boys listened intently, and heard, faint and far off, the
well-known bay of Sport. It was sharp and short—very different from
the note he had uttered when the chase first commenced. Louder and
louder grew the noise, as the hounds came rapidly up the ridge toward
the place where the boys were stationed, and every one was on the
alert, expecting every moment to see the fox break cover.
Suddenly a loud howl blended with Sport's baying, and the hounds
seemed to turn and sweep down the valley.
"The fox has left the ridge, boys," said Frank.
"Then we're dished again," exclaimed Archie.
"Perhaps not," continued Frank. "He will have to go across the meadow,
and will run the risk of being caught by Lightfoot. We must try and
cut him off."
And he led the way down the ridge, in the direction the chase was
tending.
In a few moments the hounds broke out into a continuous cry, and, when
the boys emerged from the woods, they saw them standing at the foot of
a tall stump, which stood near the middle of the meadow.
Brave immediately ran to join them, and Harry exclaimed,
"I'd like to know what those dogs are doing there?"
"Why, they've got the fox treed," said Frank.
"A fox treed!" repeated Harry, with a laugh, "Whoever heard of such a
thing?"
"I have often read," answered Frank, "that when a fox is hard pressed,
and finds himself unable to escape, he will take advantage of any
place of concealment he can find."
While this conversation was going on, the boys had been running toward
the stump, and, when they reached it, they found Brave with his head
buried in a hole near the ground, now and then giving his tail a jerk,
but otherwise remaining as motionless as a statue.
"What do you think now of the possibility of seeing a fox?" inquired
Frank, turning to Harry.
"I don't believe it yet," said the latter.
"Then how is it that the dogs are here?"
"The fox may have run down here and doubled on his trail, and thus
thrown the dogs off the scent."
"He didn't have time to do that," said Archie, who had divested
himself of his coat, and stood with his ax, ready to cut down the
stump. "He's in here, I'm certain. See how Brave acts."
"It will not take long to find out," said George, who was a good deal
of his brother's opinion that the fox was not in the tree.
And he and Archie set to work, with the intention of cutting it down.
But it was found to be hollow; and, after taking out a few chips,
Archie stooped down to take a survey of the interior, and spied the
fox crouched in the darkest corner.
"Hand me your gun, Frank," said he; "I'll shoot him."
"I wouldn't shoot him," said Frank. "It is a good time to try
Lightfoot's speed. Let's get the fox out, and give him a fair start,
and if he gets away from the hound, he is entitled to his life."
The boys readily agreed to this proposal—not out of any desire to
give the fox a chance for his liberty, but in order to witness a fair
trial of the grayhound's speed, and to enjoy the excitement of the
race.
George and Harry provided themselves with long poles, with which to
"poke" the fox out of his refuge. Brave and Sport were unceremoniously
conducted away from the tree, and ordered to "lie down;" and Frank
took hold of the grayhound, intending to restrain him until the fox
could get a fair start.
"All ready now," said Archie. "Keep a good look-out, Frank, and let
the hound go the instant the fox comes out. You know, Lightfoot is
young yet, and it won't do to give the game too long a start."
"All right," answered Frank.
And he tightened his grasp on the strong, impatient animal, which
struggled desperately to free himself, while George and Harry began
the work of "poking out the fox." They thrust their poles into the
holes they had cut in the roots of the stump, and the next moment out
popped the fox, and started toward the woods like a streak of light.
The meadow was about a mile and a half square, and was laid off in
"dead furrows"—deep ditches, which are dug, about four rods apart, to
drain off the water. The fox took to the bank of one of these furrows,
and followed it at a rate of speed which the boys had never seen
equaled.
The moment Lightfoot discovered him, he raised himself on his
hind-legs, and struggled and fought furiously. But Frank would not
release him in that position, for fear the hound would "throw"
himself; and he commenced striking him on the head, to compel him, if
possible, to place his fore-feet on the ground, but all to no purpose.
During the struggle, short as it was, the fox had gained nearly thirty
rods. Archie was not slow to notice this, and he shouted to his
cousin,
"Let him go! let him go! The fox has too long a start already."
Frank accordingly released the hound, which made an enormous bound,
and, as Frank had expected, he landed, all in a heap, in one of the
dead furrows, and, before he could recover himself, the fox had
gained two or three rods more. But when the hound was fairly started,
his speed was astonishing. He settled down nobly to his work, and
moved over the ground as lightly as if he had been furnished with
wings.
Had he been a well-trained dog, the boys would have felt no concern
whatever as to the issue of the race; but, as it was, they looked upon
the escape of the fox as a very probable thing. The fox was still
following the dead furrow, and Lightfoot, instead of pursuing directly
after him, as he ought to have done, took to another furrow which ran
parallel to the one the fox was following, and about four rods from
it.
The fox had a good start, but the enormous bounds of the greyhound
rapidly lessened the distance between them; he gained at every step,
and finally overtook him, and the two animals were running side by
side, and only four rods apart.
Suddenly the cunning fox turned, and started off exactly at right
angles with the course he had been following. The gray hound, of
course, had not been expecting this, and he made a dozen of his long
bounds before he could turn himself. During this time the fox gained
several rods.
As before, the hound pursued a course parallel with that of the fox,
instead of following directly after him.
In a few moments they were again running side by side, but this time
further apart than before. Again and again the fox turned, each time
nearing the woods, and gaining considerably; and finally, reaching the
end of the meadow, he cleared the fence at a bound, and disappeared in
the bushes.
"Now, that's provoking!" exclaimed Archie.
"Never mind," answered Frank. "I don't think the fox can go much
further. He must be pretty well tired out, judging by the way he ran.
Here, Sport!" he continued, "hunt 'em up!"
Sport was off like a shot, and the boys followed after as fast as
their legs could carry them.
When they reached the woods, they found Lightfoot beating about in the
bushes, as if he expected to find the fox concealed among them. Sport
was standing over the trail of the fox, as motionless as if he had
been turned into stone.
"Hunt 'em up!" shouted Frank, again—"hunt 'em up."
The hound uttered a loud bark, and instantly set off on the trail, and
Lightfoot, as before, followed close at his heels.
"Now," exclaimed Frank, "we must change our tactics."
"Yes," said Harry. "A little further on, the ridge branches off, and
there is no knowing which one the fox will follow. Come, George, we
will go this way."
And he turned and ran down into the meadow again.
"Run like blazes, now!" shouted Frank.
And, suiting the action to the word, he turned off in the opposite
direction, and led the way through the woods at a rate which made
Archie wonder. They ran along in "Indian file"—Brave bringing up the
rear—for almost two miles, through the thickest part of the woods,
when they again found themselves on the ridge. After ascertaining that
the fox had not yet passed, they took their stations.
"I would really like to know which way that fox went," said Archie,
panting hard after his long run.
"I am almost certain that he took to the other ridge," answered Frank.
"I think we should have heard the hound before this time, if he had
turned this way."
They remained in their places of concealment for almost an hour,
without hearing any sounds of the chase, and Frank said,
"We might as well start for home."
"Dished again, are we?" said Archie, in a deprecating tone. "That's
too bad! Well," he continued, "we can't always be the fortunate ones,
but I wish I could have had the pleasure of shooting that fox. But
which way do we go to get home?"
"We must go exactly south," said Frank.
"Which way is that?"
"I will soon tell you."
And Frank drew a small compass from his pocket, and, in a moment,
continued,
"This is the way. Come on!"
And he turned his face, as Archie thought, directly from home, and
struck boldly out. Their long run had taxed their endurance to the
utmost. If they had "been in practice," they would have looked upon it
as merely a "little tramp;" for, during the previous winter, they had
often followed a fox all day without experiencing any serious
inconvenience; but, as this was the first exercise of the kind they
had had for almost a year, they felt the effects of it pretty
severely.
Archie, who had lived in the city during the summer, was "completely
used up," as he expressed it; and his cousin was weary and footsore;
and it seemed as though neither of them had sufficient strength left
to take another step.
They kept on, hour after hour, however, without once stopping to rest;
and, about three o'clock in the afternoon, they climbed over the fence
that inclosed Uncle Mike's pasture, and came in sight of the cottage.
George and Harry were sitting on the piazza, and, as soon as they came
within speaking distance, the latter held up the fox, exclaiming,
"We were lucky, for once in our lives."
"If we had been five minutes later, we should have lost him," said
George, as Frank and his cousin came up to where the brothers were
sitting. "We reached the ridge just in the 'nick of time,' The fox was
just passing, and Harry brought him down by a chance shot. Here,
Frank," he continued, "you take the fox; we have no use for him."
Frank thanked him; and the boys then went into the house, and, after
dinner, the brothers started for home.
Frank and his cousin went into the study, and the former selected his
favorite book from his library, and settled himself in an easy-chair
before the fire; while Archie stretched himself on the bed, and was
fast asleep in a moment.
And here, reader, we will leave them reposing after their long run;
but we hope soon to introduce them again in works entitled, "FRANK IN
THE WOODS," and "FRANK ON THE PRAIRIE."
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CHAPTER XV.
Wild Geese.
CHAPTER XVI.
Chapter of Incidents.
CHAPTER XVII.
The Grayhound Outgeneraled.
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