CHAPTER II. THE CAMP ON BEARDSLEY BROOK.
By this time the stream, having taken in two or three small tributaries,had grown deep enough to float us in comfort. A little before dusk wereached a spot where some previous party had encamped, and had leftbehind a goodly store of elastic hemlock boughs for bedding. We took thehint and pitched tent.
Sam’s trout were a dainty item on our bill of fare that night. Our campwas in a dry but gloomy grove, and we piled the camp-fire high. When thepipes were well going, I remarked,—
“It’s time Magnus gave us a story now.”
“Hear! Hear!” cried every one but Magnus.
“One of your own adventures, Magnus,” urged Queerman. “Be content to beyour own hero for once.”
“I’ll tell you a story my uncle told me,” said Magnus with a quietsmile. “And the O. M. can enter it in his note-book as—
‘A TIGER’S PLAYTHING.’
“My uncle, Colonel Jack Anderson, a retired officer of the English army,was a reticent man. He had never explained to me the cause of a certainlong red scar, which, starting from the grizzled locks behind his ear,ran diagonally down his ruddy neck, and was lost beneath hisever-immaculate shirt-collar. But one night an accidental circumstanceled him to tell the story.
“We were sitting coseyly over his study fire, when his cat came stalkingin with sanguinary elation, holding a mouse in her mouth. She stoodgrowling beside my chair till I applauded her and patted her for herprowess. Then she withdrew to the middle of the room, and began to playwith her half-dazed victim, till Colonel Jack got up and gently put heroutside in order to conclude the exhibition.
“On his return my uncle surprised me by remarking that he could not lookwithout a shudder upon a cat tormenting a mouse. As I knew that he hadlooked quite calmly, on occasion, into the cannon’s mouth, I asked foran explanation.
“‘Do you see this?’ asked the colonel, touching the scar with his lean,brown finger. I nodded attentively, whereupon he began his story:—
“‘In India once I went out on a hot, dusty plain near the Ganges, withmy rifle and one native servant, to see what I could shoot. It was adismal place. Here and there were clumps of tall grass and bamboos, withnow and then a tamarisk-tree. Parrots screamed in the trees, and thestartled caw of some Indian crows made me pause and look around to seewhat had disturbed them.
“‘The crows almost at once settled down again into silence; and as I sawno sign of danger, I went on carelessly. I was alone, for I had sentback my servant to find my match-box, which I had left at the place ofmy last halt; but I had no apprehensions, for I was near the post, andthe district was one from which, as was supposed, the tigers had beencleared out some years before.
“‘Just as I was musing upon this fact, with a tinge of regret because Ihad come too late to have a hand in the clearance, I was crushed to theground by a huge mass which seemed to have been hurled upon me frombehind. My head felt as if it had been dashed with icy or scaldingwater, and then everything turned black.
“‘If I was stunned by the shock, it was only for an instant. When Iopened my eyes I was lying with my face in the sand. Not knowing where Iwas or what had happened, I started to rise, when instantly a huge pawturned me over on my back, and I saw the great yellow-green eyes of atiger looking down upon me through their narrow black slits.
“‘I did not feel horror-stricken; in fact, so far as I can remember, Ifelt only a dim sense of resignation to the inevitable. I also rememberthat I noticed with curious interest that the animal looked rathergratified than ferocious.
“‘I don’t know how long I lay there, stupidly gazing up into the brute’seyes; but presently I made a movement to sit up, and then I saw that Istill held my rifle in my hand. While I was looking at the weapon, witha vague, harassing sense that there was something I ought to do with it,the tiger picked me up by the left shoulder and made off with me intothe jungle; and still I clung to the rifle, though I had forgotten whatuse I should put it to.
“‘The grip of the tiger’s teeth upon my shoulder I felt but numbly; andyet, as I found afterwards, it was so far from gentle as to haveshattered the bone.
“‘Having carried me perhaps half a mile, the brute dropped me, andraising her head uttered a peculiar, soft cry. Two cubs appeared at oncein answer to the summons, and bounded up to meet her. At the firstglimpse of me, however, they sheered off in alarm; and their dam had tocoax them for some minutes, rolling me over softly with her paw, orpicking me up and laying me down in front of them, before she couldconvince them that I was harmless.
“‘At last the youngsters suffered themselves to be persuaded. They threwthemselves upon me with eager though not very dangerous ferocity, andbegan to maul and worry me. Their claws and teeth seemed to awaken mefor the first time to a sense of pain. I threw off the snarling littleanimals roughly, and started to crawl away. In vain the cubs tried tohold me. The mother lay watching the game with satisfaction.
“‘Instinctively I crept toward a tree, and little by little the desirefor escape began to stir in my dazed brain. When I was within a foot ortwo of the tree the tiger made a great bound, seized me in her jaws, andcarried me back to the spot whence I had started.
“‘“Why,”’ thought I to myself, ‘“this is just exactly the way a catplays with a mouse!”
“‘At the same moment a cloud seemed to roll off my brain. No words ofmine, my boy, can describe the measureless and sickening horror of thatmoment, when realization was thus suddenly flashed upon me.
“‘At the shock my rifle slipped from my relaxing fingers; but Irecovered it desperately, with a sensation as if I had been falling overa precipice.
“‘I knew now what I wanted to do with it. The suddenness of my gesture,however, appeared to warn the tiger that I had yet a little too muchlife in me. She growled and shook me roughly. I took the hint, you maybe sure, and resumed my former attitude of stupidity; but my facultieswere now alert enough, and at the cruelest tension.
“‘Again the cubs began mauling me. I repelled them gently, at the sametime looking to my rifle. I saw that there was a cartridge ready to beprojected into the chamber. I remembered that the magazine was not morethan half empty.
“‘I started once more to crawl away, with the cubs snarling over me andtrying to hold me; and it was at this point I realized that my leftshoulder was broken.
“‘Having crawled four or five feet, I let the cubs turn me about,whereupon I crawled back toward the old tiger, who lay blinking andactually purring. It was plain that she had made a good meal not longbefore, and was, therefore, in no hurry to despatch me.
“‘Within about three feet of the beast’s striped foreshoulder I stoppedand fell over on my side, as if all but exhausted. My rifle-barrelrested on a little tussock. The beast moved her head to watch me, butevidently considered me past all possibility of escape, for her eyesrested as much upon her cubs as upon me.
“‘The creatures were tearing at my legs, but in this supreme moment Inever thought of them. I had now thoroughly regained my self-control.
“‘Laboriously, very deliberately, I got my sight, and covered a spotright behind the old tigress’s foreshoulder, low down. From the positionI was in, I knew this would carry the bullet diagonally upward throughthe heart. I should have preferred to put a bullet in the brain, but inmy disabled condition and awkward posture I could not safely try it.
“Laboriously, very Deliberately, I got My Sight.”—Page 32.]
“‘Just as I was ready, one of the cubs got in the way, and my heartsank. The old tiger gave the cub a playful cuff, which sent it rollingto one side. The next instant I pulled the trigger—and my heart stoodstill.
“‘My aim had not wavered a hair’s breadth. The snap of the rifle wasmingled with a fierce yell from the tiger; and the long, barred bodystraightened itself up into the air, and fell over almost on top of me.The cubs sheered
off in great consternation.
“‘I sat up and drew a long breath of thankful relief. The tiger laybeside me, stone dead.
“‘I was too weak to walk at once, so I leaned against the body of myvanquished foe and rested. My shoulder was by this time setting up ananguish that made me think little of my other injuries. Nevertheless,the scene about me took on a glow of exquisite color. So great was thereaction that the very sunlight seemed transfigured.
“‘I know I fairly smiled as I rapped the cubs on the mouth with myrifle-barrel. I felt no inclination to shoot the youngsters, but I wouldhave no more of their over-ardent attentions. The animals soon realizedthis, and lay down in the sand beyond my reach, evidently waiting fortheir mother to reduce me to proper submission.
“‘I must have lain there half an hour, and my elation was rapidlysubsiding before the agony in my shoulder, when at last my man, Gunjeet,appeared, tracking the tiger’s traces with stealthy caution.
“‘He had not waited to go for help, but had followed up the beastwithout delay, vowing to save me or avenge me ere he slept. His delightwas so sincere, and his courage in tracking the tiger alone was sounquestionable, that I doubled his wages on the spot.
“‘The cubs, on his approach, had run off into covert, so we set out atonce for the post. When I got there I was in a raging fever which, withmy wounds, kept me laid up for three months.
“‘On my recovery I found that Gunjeet had gone the next day and capturedthe two cubs, which he had sent down the river to Benares, while theskin of the old tiger was spread luxuriously on my lounge.
“‘So you will not wonder,’ concluded the colonel, ‘that the sight of acat playing with a mouse has become somewhat distasteful to me sincethat experience, I have acquired so keen a sympathy for the mouse!’”
While Magnus was speaking, a heavy rain had begun. It had little bylittle beaten down our fire; and now, as the wind was abroad in thehemlocks and the forest world was gloomy, we laced the tent-doors andlit our candles. It was announced by some one that Queerman’s turn wascome to speak. He grumbled an acquiescence, and then dreamed a while;and in the expectant stillness the rush of rain, the clamor of currents,and the lonely murmur of the tree-tops, crept into our very souls. Wethought of the sea; and when Queerman spoke, there was a vibration inhis voice as of changing tides and the awe of mighty shores.
“Magnus,” said he, “your tale was most dusty and hot, though not _too_dusty, if I may be allowed to say so. It was of the earth earthy; mineshall be of the water watery. It may be entered in the O. M.’s log as—
“A FIGHT WITH THE HOUNDS OF THE SEA.”
“It was just before daybreak on a dewy June morning of 1887, when aparty of four set out to drift for shad. There was the rector (whom youknow), my cousin B—— (whom you don’t know), and myself (whom you thinkyou know). We went to learn how the business of drifting was conducted.There was also the old fisherman, Chris, the owner of the shad-boat. Hewent for fish.
“By the time the long fathoms of brown net were unwound from the greatcreaking reel and coiled in the stern of the boat, the tide had turned,and a current had begun to set outward from the little creek in whichour boat was moored. Our rusty mainsail was soon hoisted to catch thegentle catspaws from the shore, and we were underway.
“A word of explanation here. The shad-fishing of the Bay of Fundy iscarried on, for the most part, by ‘drifting.’ The boats employed areroomy, heavy, single-masted craft, with a ‘cuddy,’ or forward cabin, inwhich two men may sleep with comfort. These craft, when loaded, drawseveral feet of water, and are hard to float off when they chance to runaground. They carry a deep keel, and are stanch sea-boats—as all boatsneed to be that navigate the rude waters of Fundy.
“When we had gained a few cable-lengths from shore the breeze freshenedslightly. It was a mere zephyr, but it drove the boat too fast for us topay out the net. We furled the sail, and thrust the boat along slowlywith our heavy sweeps, while Chris paid out the net over the stern.
“These Fundy boats sometimes stay out several tides, making a haul witheach tide; but it was our intention merely to drift out with this ebb,and return by the next flood.
“It was slow work for a while. We ate, told stories, speculated as tohow many fish were entangling themselves in our meshes, and at aboutnine o’clock appealed to Chris to haul in.
“The tremendous tide had drifted us in five hours over twenty miles. Wedecided to run the boat into the mouth of a small river on our right totake a good swim before we started on the return trip. The plan wasaccepted by Chris, and we set ourselves to haul in the net.
“In the centre of the boat stood two huge tubs, into which we threw thesilvery shad as we took them from the meshes. When we found a strayskate, squid, or sculpin, we returned it to its native element; but asmall salmon we welcomed as a special prize, and laid it away in awrapping of sail-cloth.
“The catch proved to be rather a light one, though Chris averred it wasas good as any he had made that year.
“‘Why, what has become of the shad?’ asked the rector. ‘It seems to methat in former years one could sometimes fill these tubs in a singletrip.’
“‘Ay, ay,’ growled Chris, ‘that’s true enough, sir! But the fishin’ain’t now what it used to be; and it’s all along o’ them blameddogfish.’
“‘What do the dogfish have to do with it?’ I asked.
“‘Do with it!’ answered Chris. ‘Why, they eat ’em. They eat everythingthey kin clap ther eye onto. They’re thicker’n bees in these here watersthe last year er two back.’
“‘They are a kind of small shark, I believe?’ put in the rector in atone of inquiry.
“‘Well, I reckon as how they be. An’ they’re worse nor any other kind asI’ve heern tell of, because they kinder hunt in packs like, an’ nothin’ain’t a-goin’ to escape them, once they git onto it. I’ve caught ’emnigh onto four foot long, but mostly they run from two to three foot.They’re spry, I tell you, an’ with a mouth onto ’em like a fox-trap.They’re the worst varmin that swims; an’ good fer nothin’ but to makeile out of ther livers.’
“‘I’ve heard them called the “hounds of the sea,”’ said B——. ‘Are theybold enough to attack a man?’
“‘They’d attack an elephant, if they could git him in the water. An’they’d eat him too,’ said Chris.
“‘I hope they won’t put in an appearance while we’re taking our swim,’remarked, the rector. ‘I don’t think we had better swim far out.’
“By this time we were near the mouth of the stream, a broad, shallowestuary three or four hundred yards wide. In the middle was a gravellyshoal which was barely uncovered at low water, and was then marked by aline of seaweed and small stones. We bore up the northern channel, andsaw that the shores were stony and likely to afford us a firm landing;but the channel was unfamiliar to Chris, and suddenly, with a soft thud,we found ourselves aground in a mud-bank, a hundred yards from shore.The tide had yet a few inches to fall, and we knew that we were fast foran hour or so.
“When we had got ourselves out of our clothes, the surface of the shoalin mid-channel was bare. It was about fifty yards from the boat, and wedecided to swim over to it and look for anemones and starfish. B——, whowas an indifferent swimmer, took an oar along with him to rest on if heshould get tired. We laughed at him for the precaution as the distancewas so short; but he retorted,—
“‘If any of those sea-dogs should turn up, you’ll find that said oarwill come in pretty handy.’
“The water was of a delicious temperature; and we swam, floated, andbasked in a leisurely fashion. When we had reached the bar the tide wasabout to turn. The Fundy tides may be said to have practically no slack;they have to travel so fast and so far that they waste no time inidleness. We hailed Chris, whom we had left in the boat, and told himthe tide had turned.
“Chris rose from his lounging attitude in the stern, and took a look atthe water. The next moment he was on his feet, yelling, ??
?All aboard! allaboard! Here’s the dogfish a-comin’!’
“B—— and I took the water at once, but the rector stopped us. ‘Back!’ hecommanded. ‘They’re upon us already, and our only chance is here in theshoal water till Chris can get the boat over to us.’
“Even as he spoke we noted some small black fins cutting the waterbetween the boat and our shoal. We turned back with alacrity.
“The first thing Chris did was to empty both barrels of my fowling-pieceamong the advancing fins. At once a great turmoil ensued, caused by thestruggles of two or three wounded dogfish. The next moment theirstruggles were brought to an end. Their companions tore them to piecesin a twinkling.
“The rector shouted to Chris to try to throw us the boat-hook. It was along throw, but Chris’s sinews rose to the emergency, and the boat-hooklanded nearly at our feet. The boat-hook was followed by a broken gaff,which struck the sand at the farther side of the shoal.
“Meanwhile between us and the boat the water had become alive withdogfish. Our shoal sloped so abruptly that already they could swim up towithin two or three feet of us. We knew that the tide would soon bringthem upon us, and we turned cold as we thought what our fate would beunless Chris could reach us in time. Then the battle began.
“B—— and I, with our awkward weapons, managed to stun a couple of ourassailants. The rector’s boat-hook did more deadly execution; it torethe throat out of the first fish it struck. At once the pack scentedtheir comrade’s blood, darted on the wounded fish, devoured it, andcrowded after us for more.
“Our blows with the oar and gaff served temporarily to disable ourassailants, but not gash their tough skin. But the moment blood wasstarted on one of our enemies his comrades finished the work for us.Almost every stroke of the boat-hook tore a fish, which straightwaybecame food for its fellows. The most I could do with my gaff was to tapa dogfish on the head when I could, and stun him for a while.
“During these exciting minutes the tide was rising with terrible speed.The water that now came washing over our toes was a lather of foam andblood, through which sharp, dark fins and long keen bodies darted andcrowded and snapped.
“Suddenly one fish, fiercer than the rest, made a dart at B——’s leg, andits sharp snout just grazed his skin, causing him to yell with horror.We tried to get our feet out of the water by standing on the higheststones we could find. Our arms were weary from wielding the oar and thegaff, but the rector’s boat-hook kept up its deadly lunges.
“Chris had been firing among our assailants; but now, beholding ourstrait, he threw down the gun, and strained furiously upon his one oarin the endeavor to shove off the boat. She would not budge.
“‘Boys, brace up! brace up!’ cried the rector. ‘She’ll float in anotherminute or two. We can give these chaps all they want.’ As he spoke, hisboat-hook ripped another fish open. He had caught the knack of so usinghis weapon that he raked his opponents from underneath without wastingan ounce of effort.
“The fight was getting too hot to last. A big fish, with a mostappalling array of fangs, snatched at my foot. Just in time I thrust thebroken end of the gaff through his throat and turned him on his back.His neighbors took charge of him, and he vanished in bloody fragments.
“As I watched this an idea struck me.
“‘Chris!’ I yelled, ‘the shad! the shad! Throw them overboard, a dozenat a time!’
“‘Splendid!’ cried the rector; and B—— panted approvingly, ‘That’s thetalk! That’ll call ’em off.’
“Down came his oar with fresh vigor upon the head of a dogfish, whichturned at once on its side. Then the shad began to go overboard.
“At first the throwing of the shad produced no visible effect, and theattack on us continued in unabated fury. Then the water began to foamand twist where the shad were dropping, and on a sudden we were leftalone.
“The whole pack forsook us to attack the shad. How they fought andlashed and sprang and tore in one mad turmoil of foam and fish!
“‘Spread them a bit!’ B—— cried. ‘Give them all a chance, or they’llcome back at us.’
“‘She’s afloat! she’s afloat!’ he yelled the next moment, in franticdelight.
“Chris threw out another dozen of fish. Then he thrust his oar over thestern, and the big boat moved slowly toward us. At intervals Chrisstopped and threw out more shad. As we eagerly watched his approach thethought occurred to us that when the boat should reach us it would bewith the whole pack surrounding it. The ravenous creatures seemed almostready to leap aboard.
“‘We can use these oars and things as leaping-poles,’ suggested B——.
“‘That’s what we’ll have to do,’ agreed the rector. Then he cried toChris, ‘Bring her side onto the shoal, so we can all jump aboard at thesame time.’
“As the boat drew nearer, Chris paused again, and threw a score of shadfar astern. Away darted the dogfish; and the boat rounded up closebefore us.
“The agility with which we sprang aboard was remarkable, and Chrisalmost hugged us in his joy.
“‘Not another shad’ll they git out er me!’ he declared triumphantly.
“‘Well, I should rather think not,” remarked the rector. ‘But they mightas well have some more dogfish.’
“With these words he put his foot upon the gunwale, and his unwearyingboat-hook went back jubilantly into the battle.
“Rapidly loading and firing my shotgun, I picked off as many of ourenemies as I comfortably could; and B——, by lashing the boat’s hatcheton the end of the gaff, made a weapon with which he played havoc amongour foes.
“But the fray lasted not much longer. Innumerable as were yet thesurvivors, their hunger was becoming appeased, and their ferocitydiminished. In a little while they sheered off to a safer distance.
“When we had time to think of our own condition, we found that our backswere painfully scorched by the blazing June sun. As with pain westruggled into our clothes, Chris trimmed our course toward home.
“‘I reckon you know now ’bout all you’ll wanter know ’bout the ways o’dogfish,’ he suggested.
“‘They are certainly very bloodthirsty,’ said the rector; ‘but at thesame time they are interesting. That they gave us a noble contest youcan’t deny.’”
When Queerman relapsed into silence, Ranolf took up the parable withoutwaiting to be called upon.
“Queerman’s story,” said he, “reminds me of an adventure of my own,which befell me in that same tide-region which he has just been talkingof. You know, I spent much of my illustrious boyhood about the Tantramarmarshes, and overlooking the yellow head-waters of the Bay of Fundy. Thename of my story is, ‘The Bull and the Leaping-Pole,’ and the scene ofit is within a mile of the spot whence Queerman and his crowd set outfor shad. It will serve to show what agility I am capable of on asuitable occasion.
THE BULL AND THE LEAPING-POLE.
“Out on the Tantramar marshes the wind, as usual, was racing withsuperfluous energy, bowing all one way the purple timothy-tops, androlling up long green waves of grass that shimmered like the sea underthe steady afternoon sun. I revelled in the fresh and breezy loneliness,which nevertheless at times gave me a sort of thrill, as the bobolinks,stopping their song for a moment, left no sound in my ears save theconfused ‘swish’ of the wind. Men talk at times of the loneliness of thedark, but to my mind there is no more utter solitude than may be foundin a broad white glare of sunshine.
“Here on the marsh, two miles from the skirt of the uplands, perhapshalf a mile from the nearest incurve of the dike, on a twisted,sweet-smelling bed of purple vetch, I lay pretending to read, anddeliciously dreaming. My bed of vetch sloped gently toward the sun,being on the bank of a little winding creek which idled through the longgrasses on its way to the Tantramar. Once a tidal stream, the creek hadbeen brought into subjection by what the country people call a ‘bito,’built across its mouth to shut out the tides; and now it was little morethan a rivulet at the bottom of the deep gash which it had c
ut foritself through the flats in its days of freedom. From my resting-place Icould see in the distance a marsh-hawk noiselessly skimming the tops ofthe grass, peering for field-mice; or a white gull wandering aimlesslyin from the sea. Beyond the dike rose the gaunt skeletons of three orfour empty net-reels; and a little way off towards the uplands stood anold barn used for storing hay.
“Beside me among the vetch-blossoms, hummed about by the greatbumblebees and flickered over by white and yellow butterflies, lay myfaithful leaping-pole,—a straight young spruce trimmed and peeled, lightand white and tough. Some years before, fired by reading in _Hereward_of the feats of ‘Wulfric the Heron,’ I had bent myself to learn to leapwith the pole, and had become no less skilful in the exercise thaneagerly devoted thereto. It gave me, indeed, a most fascinating sense offreedom. Ditches, dikes, and fences were of small concern to me, and Iwent craning it over the country like a huge meadow-hen.
“On this particular afternoon, which I am not likely soon to forget,when the bobolinks had hushed for so long that the whispering stillnessgrew oppressive, I became ashamed of the weird apprehension which keptstealing across me; and springing to my feet with a shout, I seized myleaping-pole, and went sailing over the creek hilariously. It was a goodleap, and I contemplated the distance with satisfaction, marred only bythe fact that I had no spectators.
“Then I shouted again, from full lungs; and turning instinctively forapplause toward the far-off uplands, I became aware that I was not somuch alone as I had fancied.
“From behind the old barn, at the sound of my voice, appeared a head andshoulders which I recognized, and at the sight of which my satisfactionvanished. They belonged to Atkinson’s bull, a notoriously dangerousbrute, which only the week before had gored a man fatally, and which hadthereupon been shut up and condemned to the knife. As was evident, hehad broken out of his pen, and wandering hither to the marshes, had beenluxuriating in such plenty of clover as well might have rendered himmild-mannered. I thought of this for a moment; but the faint hope—it wasvery faint—was at once and emphatically dispelled.
“Slowly, and with an ugly bellow, he walked his whole black-and-whitelength into view, took a survey of the situation, and then, after amoment’s pawing, and some insulting challenges which I did not feel in aposition to accept, he launched himself toward me with a sort of horridgrunt.
“After the first chill I had quite recovered my nerve, and realized atonce that my chances lay altogether in my pole.
“The creek was in many places too wide for me to jump it in a clear leapfrom brink to brink of the gully, but at other points it was well withinmy powers. To the bull, however, I perceived that it would be at allpoints a serious obstacle, only to be passed by clambering first downand then up the steep sides.
“Without waiting for close parley with my assailant, I took a short run,and placed myself once more amongst the vetch-blossoms whence I hadstarted. I had but time to cast my eye along, and notice that about astone’s throw farther down, toward the dike, the creek narrowed somewhatso as to afford me an easier leap, when the hot brute reached the edgeopposite, and, unable to check himself, plunged headlong into the gully.
“As he rolled and snorted in the water I could scarcely help laughing;but my triumph was not for long. The overthrow seemed to sting him intotenfold fury. With a nimbleness that appalled me he charged straight upthe bank, and barely had I taken to my heels ere he had reached the topand was after me. So close was he that I failed to make the point aimedat. I was forced to leap desperately, and under such disadvantage thatonly by a hair’s-breadth did I gain the opposite side. Somewhat shakenby the effort, I ran on straightway to where I could command a lesstrying jump.
“The bull made no halt whatever, but plunged right into the gully,rolled over, and all covered with mud and streaming weeds was up theslope again like a cat.
“I was forced to leap Desperately.”—Page 48.]
“But this performance delayed him, and gave me a second or two, so thatI was enabled to make my leap with more deliberation and less effort. AsI did so, I noticed with gratitude that the banks of the creek had herebecome much steeper. The bull noticed it too, and paused, bellowingvindictively; while as for me, I leaned on my trusty pole to regain mybreath. With more circumspection this time the brute attempted thecrossing, but losing his foothold he came to the bottom, as before, allin a heap.
“As he gathered himself up again for the ascent I held my ground,resolved to move but a yard or two aside when compelled, and not lightlyto quit a position so much to my advantage. But here my foamingadversary found the slope too steep for him, and after every charge hefell back ignominiously into the water. It did not take him long,however, to realize the situation, and dashing up stream to his formercrossing-place he was at the top in a twinkling, and once more bearingdown upon me like a whirlwind of furies. The respite had given me timeto recover my breath, and now with perfect coolness I transferred myselfonce more to the other side. Upon this my pursuer wheeled round,retraced his steps without a pause, crossed over, and in a moment Ifound my position again rendered untenable.
“Of course, there was nothing else for it but to make another jump; andin the result there was no perceptible variation. The inexorable bruteleft me no leisure to sit down and plan a diversion. I was conscious ofa burning anxiety to get home, and I tried to calculate how much of thissort of thing it would take to discourage my tireless foe. Not arrivingat any satisfactory conclusion, I continued to make a shuttle-cock ofmyself for some minutes longer.
“Immediately below me I saw that the sides of the gully retained theirsteepness, but so widened apart as to make the leap a doubtful one. At aconsiderable distance beyond, however, they drew together again, and atlast I convinced myself that a change of base would be justified. Bysuch a change, supposing it safely accomplished, it was evident that Iwould gain much longer breathing-spells, while my antagonist would beforced to such detours as would surely soon dishearten him.
“At the next chance, therefore, I broke at the top of my speed for thenew position. I had but a scant moment to spare, for the bull wasclosing upon me with his terrific gallop. I made my jump, nevertheless,with deliberation. But, alas for the ‘best laid schemes o’ mice an’men’! I had planted my pole in a spot of sticky clay, and after a slowsprawl through the air I landed helplessly on hands and knees abouthalf-way up the opposite bank.
“Seeing my mishap, the bull forgot his late-learned caution, and,charging headlong, brought up not a couple of yards below me. Withoutwaiting to pull my pole out of the mud I scrambled desperately to thetop. It was a sick moment for me as the brute recovered his footing, andmade up the steep so impetuously that he almost conquered it; but Ithrew myself flat on my face and reached for the pole, knowing well thatwithout it the game was pretty well up for me. As I succeeded inwrenching it from the clay, my pursuer’s rush brought him so close thatI could almost touch his snorting and miry nostrils. But this was hisbest effort, and he could come no nearer. Realizing this, he did justwhat I expected him to do,—gave his tail an extra twist of relentlessmalice, and swept off up the bed of the creek to his former place oftransit. I now breathed more freely; and having prodded the bottom tillI found a firm foundation for my pole, I began to feel secure.
“When the bull had gained my side of the creek, and had come so far asto insure his coming all the way, I sprang across; and a moment latersaw him tearing up the soil on the very spot my feet had just forsaken.This time he shirked the plunge, and stood on the bank bellowing hischallenge. I patted my good spruce pole. Then I threw some sods acrossat him, which resulted in a fresh tempest, a new rush to the oldcrossing, and another ‘over’ for my leaping-pole and me.
“Meanwhile I had concocted a plan for check-mating my antagonist. I sawthat from this point forward to the dike the gully became more and moreimpassable, and I thought if I could lure the bull into following me butfor a little way down the opposite bank, I could gain such a start uponhim that to reach the di
ke would be an easy matter. With this designthen, when the bull again repeated his angry challenge, I shouted, threwanother sod, and started on a trot down the creek. But the cunning brutewas not to be deceived in such fashion. He turned at once to repeat hisformer tactics, and I was fain to retrace my steps precipitately.
“The brute now resolved, apparently, upon a waiting game. After pawinghis defiance afresh, he proceeded to walk around and eat a little, everand anon raising his head to eye me with a sullen and obstinate hatred.For my own part, now that time had ceased to be an object, I sat downand racked my brains over the problem. Would the brute keep up thisguard all through the night? I felt as if there was a sleuth-hound on mytrail. That now silent presence across the creek began to weigh upon melike a nightmare. At last, in desperation, I resolved upon astraight-away race for the dike. As I pondered on the chances, theyseemed to grow more and more favorable. I was a good runner, and thoughhandicapped with the pole, would have a fair start on my enemy. Havingmade up my mind to the venture I rose to my feet, ready to seize thesmallest advantage.
“As I rose, the bull wheeled sharply, and sprang to the edge of the bankwith a muffled roar. But seeing that I stood leaning idly on my pole andmade no motion to depart, he soon tossed away in the sulks and resumedhis grazing. In a few moments a succulent streak of clover so engrossedhim that he turned his back fairly upon me—and like a flash I was off,speeding noiselessly over the grass.
“Not till several seconds had been gained did I hear the angry bellowwhich told of the detection of my stratagem. I did not stop to lookback, and I certainly made some very pretty running; but the dike seemedstill most dismally remote when I heard that heavy gallop plungingbehind me. Nearer, nearer it drew, with terrible swiftness; and nearerand nearer drew the dike. I reached it where it was perhaps about sevenfeet high. Slackening up to plant my pole squarely, I sprang, and hadbarely time to steady myself on the summit when the beast brought upwith a roar at my very feet. It was a narrow, a very narrow escape.
“With a sigh of relief and gratitude I sat me down to rest, and tooksome satisfaction in poking the ribs of the baffled brute below. Then,lightly balancing my pole in one hand, I turned my face toward the‘bito,’ and made my way thoughtfully homeward. It was altogether tooliterally a ‘hair’s-breadth’ adventure.”
When Ranolf concluded there was a general stir. Pipes were refilled, anda “snack” (of biscuits, cheese, and liquids to taste) was passed around.Then Stranion said,—
“It’s your turn, O. M.”
“But it’s bedtime,” pleaded I; “and besides, as I have the writing todo, let others do the speaking!”
My arguments were received with a stony stare, so I made haste to begin.
“Like Magnus,” said I, “modesty forbids me to be my own hero. I’ll tellyou a story which I picked up last fall, when I was alleged to bepigeon-shooting twenty miles above Fredericton. We will call the yarn—
‘SAVED BY THE CATTLE.’
“I was talking to an old farmer whom I had chanced to come across, andwho had passed me a cheery good-day. After I had spoken of the crops,and he had praised my new gun, I broached a subject of much interest tomyself.
“How do you account for the fact, if it is a fact,” said I, slipping acartridge into my right barrel, “that the caribou are getting yearlymore numerous in the interior of New Brunswick, while other game seemsto be disappearing. As for the wild pigeons, you may say they are allgone. Here I have been on the go since before sunrise, and that bird isthe only sign of a pigeon I have so much as got a glimpse of.”
“‘Well,’ replied my companion, as for the pigeons, I can’t say how itis. In old times I’ve seen them so plenty round here you could knockthem down with a stick; that is, if you were anyways handy with a stick.But they do say that caribou are increasing because the wolves havedisappeared. You see, the wolves used to be the worst enemy of thecaribou, because they could run them down nice and handy in winter, whenthe snow was deep and the crust so thin that the caribou were bound tobreak through it at every step. However, I don’t believe there has beena wolf seen in this part of the country for fifty years, and it’s onlywithin the last ten years or so that the caribou have got more plenty.”
“We had seated ourselves, the old farmer and I, on a ragged snake-fencethat bounded a buckwheat-field overlooking the river. The field was anew clearing, and the ripened buckwheat reared its brown heads among ahost of blackened and distorted stumps. It was a crisp and deliciousautumn morning, and the solitary pigeon that had rewarded my long trampover the uplands was one that I had surprised at its breakfast in thebuckwheat. Now, finding that my new acquaintance was likely to proveinteresting, I dropped my gun gently into the fence corner, loosened mybelt a couple of holes, and asked the farmer if he had himself ever seenany wolves in New Brunswick.
“‘Not to say many,’ was the old man’s reply; ‘but they say that troublesnever come single, and so, what wolves I _have_ seen, I saw them all ina heap, so to speak.’
“As he spoke, the old man fixed his eyes on a hilltop across the river,with a far-off look that seemed to promise a story. I settled into anattitude of encouraging attention, and waited for him to go on. His handstole deep into the pocket of his gray homespun trousers, and brought toview a fig of ‘black-jack,’ from which he gnawed a thoughtful bite.
“Instinctively he passed the tobacco to me; and on my declining it,which I did with grave politeness, he began the following story:—
“When I was a little shaver about thirteen years old, I was living on afarm across the river, some ten miles up. It was a new farm, whichfather was cutting out of the woods; but it had a good big bit of‘interval,’ so we were able to keep a lot of stock.
“One afternoon late in the fall, father sent me down to the interval,which was a good two miles from the house, to bring the cattle home.They were pasturing on the aftermath; but the weather was getting bad,and the grass was about done, and father thought the ‘critters,’ as wecalled them, would be much better in the barn. My little ten-year-oldbrother went with me, to help me drive them. That was the time I foundout there were wolves in New Brunswick.
“The feed being scarce, the cattle were scattered badly; and it wassupper-time before we got them together, at the lower end of theinterval, maybe three miles and a half from home. We didn’t mind thelateness of the hour, however, though we were getting pretty hungry, forwe knew the moon would be up right after sundown. The cattle after a bitappeared to catch on to the fact that they were going home to snugquarters and good feed, and then they drove easy and hung together. Whenwe had gone about half-way up the interval, keeping along by the river,the moon got up and looked at us over the hills, very sharp and thin.‘Ugh!’ says Teddy to me in half a whisper, ‘don’t she make the shadowsblack?’ He hadn’t got the words more than out of his mouth when we hearda long, queer, howling sound from away over the other side of theinterval; and the little fellow grabbed me by the arm, with his eyesfairly popping out of his head. I can see his startled face now; but hewas a plucky lad for his size as ever walked.
“‘What’s that?’ he whispered.
“‘Sounds mighty like the wind,’ said I, though I knew it wasn’t thewind, for there wasn’t a breath about to stir a feather.
“The sound came from a wooded valley winding down between the hills. It_was_ something like the wind, high and thin, but by and by getting loudand fierce and awful, as if a lot more voices were joining in; and Ijust tell you my heart stopped beating for a minute. The cattle heardit, you’d better believe, and bunched together, kind of shivering. Thentwo or three young heifers started to bolt; but the old ones knewbetter, and hooked them back into the crowd. Then it flashed over me allat once. You see, I was quite a reader, having plenty of time in thelong winters. Says I to Teddy, with a kind of sob in my throat, ‘I guessit must be wolves.’—‘I guess so,’ says Teddy, getting brave after hisfirst start. And then, not a quarter of a mile away, we saw a littlepac
k of gray brutes dart out of the woods into the moonlight. I grabbedTeddy by the hand, and edged in among the cattle.
“‘Let’s get up a tree!’ said Teddy.
“‘Of course we will,’ said I, with a new hope rising in my heart. Welooked about for a suitable tree in which we might take refuge, but ourhopes sank when we saw there was not a decent-sized tree in reach.Father had cleared off everything along the river-bank except someIndian willow scrub not six feet high.
“If the cattle, now, had scattered for home, I guess it would have beenall up with Teddy and me, and father and mother would have been mightylonesome on the farm. But what do you suppose the ‘critters’ did? Whenthey saw those gray things just lengthening themselves out across themeadow, the old cows and the steers made a regular circle, putting thecalves—with me and Teddy—in the centre. They backed in onto us prettytight, and stood with their heads out and horns down, for all the worldlike a company of militia forming square to receive a charge of cavalry.And right good bayonets they made, those long, fine horns of our cattle.
“To keep from being trodden on, Teddy and I got onto the backs of acouple of yearlings, who didn’t like it any too well, but were packed inso tight they couldn’t help themselves. As the wolves came streakingalong through the moonlight, they set up again that awful, shrill,wind-like, swelling howl, and I thought of all the stories I had read ofthe wolves of Russia and Norway, and such countries; and the thoughtdidn’t comfort me much. I didn’t know what I learned afterward, that thecommon wolf of North America is much better fed than his cousin in theOld World, and consequently far less bloodthirsty. I seemed to see fireflashing from the eyes of the pack that were rushing upon us; and Ithought their white fangs, glistening in the moonlight, were drippingwith the blood of human victims.
“‘I expect father’ll hear that noise,’ whispered Ted, ‘and he and Bill’(that was the hired man) ‘will come with their guns and save us.’
“‘Yes,’ said I scornfully; ‘I suppose you’d like them to come along now,and get eaten up by the wolves!’
“I was mighty sorry afterward for speaking that way, for it near brokeTeddy’s heart. However, sobbing a bit, the little fellow urged inself-defence, ‘Why, there’s only five wolves anyway, and father and Billcould easily kill them!’
“It was true. There were just five of the brutes, though my excited eyeshad been seeing about fifty—just such a pack as I had been used toreading about. However, these five seemed mighty hungry, and now theywere right onto us.
“I guess they weren’t used to cattle like ours. Father’s oldblack-and-white bull was running the affair that night, and he stoodfacing the attack. The wolves never halted; but with their red tongueshanging out, and their narrow jaws snapping like fox-traps, they gave aqueer, nasty gasp that it makes my blood run cold to think of, andsprang right onto the circle of horns.
“We heard the old bull mumble something away down in his throat, and hesort of heaved up his hind-quarters and pitched forward, without leavingthe ranks. The next thing we saw, one of his long horns was through thebelly of the leader wolf, and the animal was tossed up into the air,yelping like a kicked dog. He came down with a thud, and lay snapping atthe grass and kicking; while the other four, who had been repulsed moreor less roughly, drew back and eyed their fallen comrade with an air ofdisapproval. I expected to see them jump upon him and eat him at once,but they didn’t; and I began to distrust the stories I had read aboutwolves. It appeared, however, that it was not from any sense of decencythat they held back, but only that they wanted beef rather than wolfmeat, as we found a little later.
“Presently one of the four slouched forward, and sniffed at his dyingcomrade. The brute was still lively, however, and snapped his teethviciously at the other’s legs, who thereupon slouched back to the pack.After a moment of hesitation, the four stole silently, in single file,round and round the circle, turning their heads so as to glare at us allthe time, and looking for a weak spot to attack. They must have goneround us half a dozen times, and then they sat down on their tails, andstuck their noses into the air, and howled and howled for maybe fiveminutes steady. Teddy and I, who were now feeling sure our ‘critters’could lick any number of wolves, came to the conclusion the brutesthought they had too big a job on their hands and were signalling formore forces. ‘Let ’em come,’ exclaimed Teddy. But we were gettingaltogether too confident, as we soon found out.
“After howling for a while, the wolves stopped and listened. Then theyhowled again, and again they stopped and listened; but still no answercame. At this they got up and once more began prowling round the circle,and everywhere they went you could see the long horns of the cattlepointing in their direction. I can tell you cattle know a thing or twomore than they get credit for.
“Well, when the wolves came round to their comrade’s body, they saw itwas no longer kicking, and one of them took a bite out of it as if byway of an experiment. He didn’t seem to care for wolf, and turned awaydiscontentedly. The idea struck Teddy as so funny that he laughed aloud.The laugh sounded out of place, and fairly frightened me. The cattlestirred uneasily; and as for Teddy, he wished he had held his tongue,for the wolf turned and fixed his eye upon him, and drew nearer andnearer, till I thought he was going to spring over the cattle’s headsand seize us. But in a minute I heard the old bull mumbling again in histhroat; and the wolf sprang back just in time to keep from being gored.How I felt like hugging that bull!
“I cheered Teddy up, and told him not to laugh or make a noise again. Asthe little fellow lifted his eyes he looked over my shoulder, and,instantly forgetting what I had been saying, shouted, ‘Here come fatherand Bill!’ I looked in the same direction and saw them, sure enough,riding furiously towards us. But the wolves didn’t notice them, andresumed their prowling.
“On the other side of the circle from our champion, the black-and-whitebull, there stood a nervous young cow; and just at this time the wolfwho had got his eye on Teddy seemed to detect this weak spot in thedefence. Suddenly he dashed like lightning on the timid cow, who shrankaside wildly, and opened a passage by which the wolf darted into thevery centre of the circle. The brute made straight for Teddy, whom Isnatched from his perch and dragged over against the flank of the oldbull. Instantly the herd was in confusion. The young cow had boundedinto the open and was rushing wildly up the interval, and three of thewolves were at her flanks in a moment. The wolf who had marked Teddy forhis prey leaped lightly over a calf or two, and was almost upon us, whena red ‘moolley’ cow, the mother of one of these calves, butted him sofiercely as to throw him several feet to one side. Before he could reachus a second time the old bull had spotted him. Wheeling in his tracks,as nimble as a squirrel, he knocked me and Teddy over like a couple ofninepins, and was onto the wolf in a flash. How he did mumble andgrumble way down in his stomach; but he fixed the wolf. He pinned thebrute down and smashed him with his forehead, and then amused himselftossing the body in the air; and just at this moment father and Billrode up and snatched us two youngsters onto their saddles.
“‘Are you hurt?’ questioned father breathlessly. But he saw in a momentwe were not, for we were flushed with pride at the triumph of our oldbull.
“‘And be they any more wolves, so’s I kin git a shot at ’em?’ queriedBill.
“‘Old Spot has fixed two of ’em,’ said I.
“‘And there’s the other two eating poor Whitey over there,’ exclaimedTeddy, pointing at a snarling knot of creatures two or three hundredyards across the interval.
“Sure enough, they had dragged down poor Whitey and were making a finemeal off her carcass. But Bill rode over and spoiled their fun. He shottwo of them, while the other left like a gray streak. And that’s thelast _I’ve_ seen of wolves in this part of the country!”
“‘That was a close shave,’ said I; ‘and the cattle showed great grit.I’ve heard of them adopting tactics like that.’
“‘Well,’ said the old farmer, getting down from the fence rail andpicking up his tin
can. ‘I must be moving. Good-day to you.’ Before hehad taken half a dozen steps he turned round and remarked, ‘I suppose,now, if those had been Norway wolves or Roossian wolves, the “critters”would have had no show?’
“‘Very little, I imagine,’ was my answer.”
Whether it was that my story had gone far toward putting every one tosleep, I know not. The fact remains, to be interpreted as one will, thatno longer was there any objection raised when I proposed that we shouldturn in. That night, I think, no one of us lay awake over long. Before Idropped asleep I heard two owls hooting hollowly to each other throughthe wet woods. The sound changed gradually to a clamor of wolves overtheir slain victim, and then to the drums and trumpets of an army on themarch; and then I awoke to find it broad daylight, and Stranion beatinga tin pan just over my head.