CHAPTER III
THE BOYS GO FISHING FOR THE FIRST TIME--AN IDEA SUDDENLY STRIKES ROB--ROB'S QUEST AND LUCK--THE ISLAND OF WILLOWS--ROB'S BIG CAT--JOE'S TUSSLE WITH A PANTHER CUB--KILLS HIM--IS WOUNDED--SKINS THE ANIMAL, AND GETS HOME AT LAST--GIVES THE BEAUTIFUL ROBE TO HIS MOTHER
THE winter, contrary to their expectations, was not a severe one. Thefamily had been used to the long, dreary, cold months of a New Englandwinter, and were agreeably surprised when April arrived with its sunnyskies, delicious breezes, and wild flowers covering the prairies.
One morning, when his father was just starting for the little village ofEllsworth, six miles distant, for a load of lumber, Rob asked him to buysome hooks and lines.
"Father," said he, "Oxhide Creek is just full of bull-pouts, perch, catand buffalo fish. Joe and I want to go fishing to-day, if you return intime."
Mr. Thompson told the boys that he would not forget them, and as hedrove off, they took their spades to dig in the garden as their fatherhad directed them to do while he was away.
Both Joe and Rob worked very industriously, anxious to make the timeslip away until their father's return, when, if he was satisfied withwhat they had done, they knew he would let them go fishing.
Just before twelve o'clock Mr. Thompson came back. The boys had workedfor more than three hours, but it seemed only one to them, so quicklydoes time glide along when we are engaged in some healthful labor.
When Mr. Thompson saw how faithfully his boys had worked, he told them,as he handed to each a line and some hooks, they might have theafternoon to themselves and go fishing if they wished to, but must waituntil they had taken the lumber off the wagon and eaten their dinner.
The boys were all excitement at the idea of going fishing. When they satdown to dinner they hurried through it, asked to be excused, and wentout and unloaded the lumber before their father had done eating.
When they returned to the house and told their father they had unloadedthe boards and run the wagon under the shed, he said they might go, butwere to be sure to return in time to do the chores.
They took a spade from the tool-shed and an old tomato can their motherhad given them, and started for the creek, where in the soft, black soilof its banks they dug for white grubs for bait. They were not verysuccessful, however. They turned over almost as much soil as they haddug in the garden that morning, but found only three or four worms; notenough to take out on their excursion. They were disgusted for a fewmoments, fearing that they would have to give up their fishing, so stoodstaring at each other, their faces filled with disappointment.
At last an idea struck Rob. He said:--
"I'll tell you what we'll do, Joe. I read in one of father's books theother day about the Indians out in Oregon catching trout with crayfish.It said that the savages commence to fish far up at the head of thestream, lifting, as they walk down, the flat stones under which thelittle animals hide themselves. They look like small lobsters, onlythey are gray instead of green. Then they break them open and use thewhite meat for bait. The book said they catch more trout in an hour thana white man will in a week with all his flies, bugs, and fancy rigging."
"Let's try 'em for luck," answered Joe. "I don't know whether there areany crayfish in the Oxhide, but we can go and find out; and if thereare, I guess cat and perch will bite at 'em as well as trout."
"All right," said Rob, the look of disappointment instantly vanishingfrom his face as he listened to his brother's suggestion. "But I tellyou, Joe," continued he, "we've got to have poles. You go up to thatbunch of willows yonder," pointing with the old can he held in his hand,to the bunch of willows growing as thick as rushes on a little island inthe creek, about an eighth of a mile from where he stood; "and here,Joe, take my line and hooks, too. Fix yours and mine all ready for us,while I go and hunt for the crayfish. I know where they are; I saw awhole lot crawling in the water near the house the other day."
The two brothers then separated,--Joe, jack-knife in hand, going towardthe willows, and Rob to the creek with the tomato can.
As soon as Rob arrived at the bank of the stream, he took off his bootsand stockings, rolled his trousers above his knees, tied the can aroundhis neck with a string, and waded in. The creek was not at all deep, andthe water as clear as crystal. He could see shoals of perch dart aheadof him, and many bull-pouts rush under the shadow of the bank as hewaded toward the island of willows. In the bed of the creek werehundreds of flat rocks; some that he could easily lift, others so largethat he could not budge them.
The first stone he turned over had three of the coveted crayfish hiddenunder its slimy bottom, and excited at his luck, he quickly caught them.So many were there as he lifted stone after stone, that he soon filledthe tomato can, and by that time he had arrived at the willows. Joe wasanxiously waiting for him with two handsome rods, at least ten feetlong, the lines already attached and the hooks nicely fastened to theirends.
"Golly! Rob, you must have had awful good luck," said Joe, as he lookedat the can full of struggling crayfish.
"Pshaw!" answered Rob. "Why, Joe, I could have got a bushel of 'em; theOxhide was just swimming with 'em."
"Let's go to that little lake that was so nice where we went swimminglast autumn," suggested Joe. "I know there are lots of cats in there;big ones, too."
"All right, Joe," said Rob, as he commenced to put on his stockings.When he had got his boots on, the two boys walked briskly toward theso-called lake, which was a mere widening of the creek, forming quite alarge sheet of water, where they arrived in about seven minutes. It wasa very delightful spot. The whole surface of the water was shaded by thegigantic limbs of great elms a hundred years old, growing on its margin,and all around the edge was a heavy mat of buffalo grass, soft as acarpet.
It required only a dozen seconds or so for the boys to unwind theirlines, bait the hooks, seat themselves on the cushioned sod, and castthe shining white meat in the water.
There they anxiously waited for results, as the catfish is not game likethe trout, but is slow and deliberate in all its movements. The troutrushes at anything that touches the surface of the water, but thecatfish carefully investigates whatever comes within reach of its greatjaws, before it opens its ugly mouth to take it in.
In a few minutes, Rob felt a tremendous tugging at his line, and inanother instant he skilfully landed a large channel cat on the grass athis feet.
"Look, Joe, look! see what a big one I've caught," said Rob, as hedexterously extracted the hook from the creature's great mouth, and thenheld the fish at arm's length so that his brother could have a good lookat it.
Rob's catch weighed at least four pounds, and no wonder he was delightedat such success, as it showed considerable skill to land a fish of thatsize.
Joe had not yet had a nibble, and a shade of disappointment began tocreep over his face when suddenly, just as he was about to go over toexamine his brother's catch more closely, he was nearly jerked off hisfeet by a tremendous pull at his own line. He recovered himselfimmediately, and by dint of a hard struggle, hauled in a cat that wasalmost as big again as that which Rob had caught.
It was Joe's turn to yell now; he held up the big fish as high as hecould,--its tail touched the ground even then,--and sung out:--
"I say, Rob, just look at this, will you? Yours is only a minnowalongside of mine. When you go fishing, why don't you catch somethinglike this?"
Unfortunately, at the instant he was so wild with excitement, he stoodon the very edge of the bank, and so absorbed was he in thecontemplation of the great fish, that his foot slipped and both he andthe cat were thrown into the water at the same moment. The cat made aterrible lunge forward when it found itself once more in its nativeelement, and before you could say "Jack Robinson," was out of sight.
If ever disgust was to be seen on a boy's face, that face was JoeThompson's; he only glanced at the water, did not say a word; hisfeelings were too sad for utterance.
Rob looked over at his brother and sarcastically said
, as he held up hiscat and stroked it:--
"I say, Joe, who's got the biggest fish now?"
In an instant he saw that he had touched Joe in a tender spot; he was avery sensitive boy, so Rob quickly added: "Well, never mind, Joe. Youremember what mother often says to us, 'There is as good a fish in thesea as was ever caught,' and I'll bet there's just as big cats in hereas the one you lost. Try again, Joe, but stand away from the edge of thewater with the next one you haul out."
Joe, thus encouraged and comforted, sat down again in his old place,threw his line to try once more, and in the excitement soon forgot hismisfortune.
In less than three hours the boys caught more than a dozen apiece, noneso large, however, as that which escaped from Joe. It was now nearly sixo'clock, the sun was low in the heavens, and as they had as many fish asthey could conveniently carry, they decided to go home. Arriving therein a short time, they at once went to work at their chores. Theircustomary evening's task was to drive the cows into the corral, feed thehorses and their own ponies, and bring water from the spring for theirmother, so that it should be handy when she rose in the morning.
While Joe and Rob were at their work, their father cleaned some of thefish, which their mother then cooked for supper, and they certainlytasted to the young anglers better than ever did fish before. While atthe table they related every little incident that had befallen them onthis their first angling expedition in the new country.
After that very successful excursion the brothers sometimes spent wholemornings or portions of the afternoons at some place on the creek orriver, when the work on the ranche was not pushing, and so expert didthey become with hook and line, that the family was never at a loss fora supply of fish during the proper seasons.
Joe was a close observer of nature, and he very quickly learned thehabits of all the animals, birds, and fish that were common to theregion where he lived. Being the eldest son, too, he was intrusted witha small but excellent rifle and a shot-gun which his father bought onemorning in the village, on the fifteenth anniversary of his birthday. Hewould get up very early in the morning and with his pony and the houndshave many a lively chase after the little cottontail rabbit or thelarger "jack," improperly so called, for it is really the hare. Therabbit burrows in the ground, while the jack-rabbit does not, but makeshis nest on the top, in a bunch of grass, or in the holes in the rockyledges of the bluffs that fringe nearly every stream on the greatplains. Out on the open prairies the grouse congregated in large flocksat certain seasons, and in every covert in the woods the quail could befound. Joe had really handled a gun long before he left Vermont, but thesuperior chance for practice out on the ranche soon made him amagnificent shot; consequently the table at the ranche was never withoutgame if the family desired it.
Beside the smaller game I have mentioned, there were immense herds ofbuffalo and antelope, and in some places in the deep woods was the onlylong-tailed specimen of the genus felis on the continent,--the cougar,or panther. All the wildcats, so called, are lynxes, with short tails.With one of the first mentioned Joe once had a severe tussle, whichnearly proved disastrous to him. It happened in this way.
One afternoon in November shortly after the cabin was finished and thefamily had moved in, he was out on the range with his father's horse,the Spencer carbine, and about twenty rounds of ammunition. Even at thatearly stage of his life at Errolstrath he was always careful never toride far away from home, without taking a gun with him; for he wasalways sure to see something in the shape of game worth killing for thetable; and as its main support in that particular very soon depended onhis prowess as a hunter, he was always on the lookout.
Joe had ridden a long way from the cabin. He had really forgotten howfar away he was and was becoming very thirsty, for the day had beenwarm, so he commenced to hunt for water.
He was riding along the bank of the Smoky Hill in the thickest of thetimber which grows on its banks, and by certain signs he had studiedsince he had lived on the ranche, knew that he was near some springs,though he had never been in that vicinity before.
He got off his horse, slipped the loop of the bridle-rein over his leftarm, slung the carbine across his right shoulder, and cautiously walkedon. There was, of course, no trail or path at the base of the bluffsalong which he was travelling, so he stopped at the mouth of everyravine he came to, hoping to find a pool of water, or to discover somehidden spring whose source was high up among the great rocks thattowered above his head.
Presently he arrived at a depression in the earth in the bottom of agully, evidently made by the claws of some animal, for beside thosemarks were the imprint of foot-tracks. Joe intuitively guessed they werethose of a panther, as he had been told by the old trapper, Tucker, thatthat animal knows by instinct when the water is near the surface, andscratches with his claws until he reaches it. Joe knew, too, that thepanther was not a very large one; his footprints were too small; so hedid not feel at all alarmed at their sight. On the contrary, boy-like,he was delighted at the idea of a possible tussle with one of thedreadful creatures, and he thought that if he could succeed in killingit he would add another feather to his cap by taking its hide home.
Joe felt himself equal to a possible struggle. He knew that he was fullyarmed, and at once examined his carbine, took out the knife which healways carried in his belt for skinning, and finding everything inperfect order, he was really anxious to find the animal that had beendigging for water only a little while before his arrival at the spot.
A few rods further on, in the same ravine, he saw a little pool ofwater, evidently clear and cool, and after looking cautiously all aroundhim, dipped the rim of his hat into the pool before him and indulged ina long drink of the delicious fluid. Then after having satisfied histhirst, he stood still for a few moments undecided as to what course heshould pursue.
"With one vigorous thrust of his knife he struck theanimal's heart."]
He concluded that if he was to remain and fight the panther if theanimal made his appearance, it would be best to tie his horse to asapling a short distance from the pool. After doing this he placed afresh cartridge in his carbine and walked slowly on, following thebeast's tracks, which had grown plainly visible a few paces from theedge of the water, and which soon led him into a rocky canyon.
Joe came in sight of the panther much sooner than he expected. As he wasturning the sharp projecting corner of a mass of rocks which formed thewalls of a ravine, there was the panther sitting on a shelf ofsandstone, not forty feet away from him. He was busy licking his pawscat-fashion, his ears cocked as if listening, and his small green eyesturned toward the intruder, but evidently not much concerned at thesight of his greatest enemy, man.
Joe was rather taken aback at first, but as the brute was only a littleover half-grown, and appeared so indifferent to his presence, heuncocked his carbine, which he had a moment before hastily cocked, andboth boy and panther stood quietly gazing at each other for ten secondsbefore either made any demonstration.
Presently the panther rose and turned sideways toward Joe, and edging uptoward the top of the ledge, gave vent to a low growl, and showed abeautiful set of long, sharp teeth, evidently intending to let Joe knowthat he wasn't afraid of him. This movement on the part of the panthersomewhat excited Joe, and cocking his carbine again, he deliberatelytook aim at the place where the heart of the beast should be, as theanimal had now turned its left side toward the young hunter. Quick as aflash Joe pulled the trigger, but the ball glancing upward, only grazedthe end of the beast's shoulder-blade and shattered it, the panther atthe same instant tumbling over on its side. This made Joe yell withdelight, for he thought he had killed it at the first shot.
The panther lay on the ground only for about ten seconds when the aspectof affairs for Joe was suddenly changed. The brute staggered to itsfeet, and, maddened with rage and pain, made for the boy. Although thebeast was evidently very lame from the effect of the shot, Joe saw tohis amazement that he was far from dead, and for a moment his usualpresence of mi
nd forsook him, and he made a bolt for his horse, feelingthat the dreadful animal was close to him.
In his fright he dropped his carbine, but in another moment was on hishorse, who, on being so unceremoniously mounted, and seeing thepanther, gave a wild snort and a desperate kick which sent Joe heelsover head to the ground, and then dashed down the trail for home!
Joe was now all alone, on foot, and with nothing but his knife to defendhimself from the attack of the panther, who was almost upon him as hegot up from the ground after having been so hurriedly tossed from hissaddle. Although the panther was lame and bleeding profusely, he waddledalong as best he could toward Joe, his mouth wide open and his greatjaws covered with froth in his rage. Joe was somewhat bruised by hisfall, and seeing very quickly that he could not escape a tussle with thebeast, made up his mind that he would fight him to the best of hisability. There was no other chance, for the panther was now upon him,trying to get at him so that he could claw and bite at his leisure. ButJoe, who had now gained his normal coolness, turned deliberately, andfacing the savage brute, whose hot breath he could feel, with onevigorous thrust of his knife he struck the animal's heart andfortunately killed him instantly.
In the close struggle the panther was so near Joe, that in his deaththroes, having fallen right on top of the boy, his sharp claws tore thesleeve of his coat off and scratched a goodly piece of flesh from hisarms, as with one convulsive shudder the ferocious animal had rolledover dead.
There was never a more delighted boy than Joe, despite his reallypainful wounds, and rising with some difficulty to his feet, he wentback for his carbine, and returned with it to the dead panther. Hepicked up his knife which had fallen on the ground when the fatal thrustwas given, deftly skinned him, suspended the beautiful hide to a limb ofa cottonwood tree to keep the wolves from it, and then turned away andfollowed his trail towards the ranche. Of course, in a little while hebegan to grow stiff in his arms from the severity of his wounds, and notknowing exactly how far he was from the cabin, he was disturbed, not somuch for himself as at the thought that when the riderless horse arrivedthere it would alarm his parents.
Joe was correct in his conjectures. As the horse dashed up to the stablewithout his rider, both his father and mother were terribly frightened.They plucked up courage, however, and immediately saddling anotherhorse, led back on his own trail the one Joe had ridden, and soon cameup to where Joe was resting at the side of a large spring, and sufferingconsiderably with the pain caused by his wounds.
They all arrived at the cabin by sundown, with the skin of the panther,Joe's father having gone back to the tree where the boy had hung it.That was a red-letter day in Joe's young life. He had to tell again andagain how he happened to come on the panther and his awful fight withthe enraged creature.
Joe soon recovered under the devoted nursing of his mother; his armhealed nicely, but a good-sized scar was left where the panther had dugits sharp claws into the flesh. The hide was smoke-tanned, and for manyyears afterward adorned the floor at the foot of his mother's bed.