Through Forest and Fire, Edward Sylvester Ellis [read novel full .TXT] 📗

had stayed longer than he intended to in the cabin, and the short afternoon was drawing to a close.

He therefore moved at a brisk walk for a quarter of a mile, Bowser trotting at his heels as though he thought such a laborious gait uncalled for; but, as the lad then observed that the large limestone was not far away, he slackened his pace, and sat down on a fallen tree to rest.

"This is a queer sort of a hunt," he said to himself, "and I don't see what chance there is of any one of us three doing anything at all. Bowser isn't worth a copper to hunt with; all there was in him expended itself when he chased the buck and let it get away from him--hallo, Bowser, what's the matter with you?"

The hound just then began acting as though he felt the slighting remarks of his master, and meant to make him sorry therefor.

He uttered several sharp yelps and began circling around the fallen tree on which Sam was sitting. He went with what might be called a nervous gallop, frequently turning about and circumnavigating the lad and the log in the opposite direction.

All the time he kept up his barking and demonstrations, now and then running up to Sam, galloping several paces away, and then looking toward him and barking again with great vigor.

Sam watched his antics with amusement and interest.

"He acts as though he wanted me to follow him from this spot, though I cannot understand why he wants me to do that, since he is so lazy he would be glad to lie down and stay here till morning."

Studying the maneuvers of the hound, Sam became satisfied that the brute was seeking to draw him away from the fallen tree on which he was sitting.

The dog became more excited every minute. He trotted back and forth, running up to his young master and then darting off again, looking appealingly toward Sam, who finally saw that his actions meant something serious.

"I don't know why he wishes me to leave, but he has some reason for it, and I will try to find out."

Sam slowly rose from the fallen oak tree on which he was sitting, and as he did so his cap fairly lifted from his head with terror.

He caught the glint and scintillation in the sunlight of something on the ground on the other side of the trunk, and separated from him only by the breadth thereof, at the same instant that his ear detected the whirring rattle which told the fact that an immense rattlesnake had coiled itself therefor, and had just given its warning signal that it meant to strike.

Sam Harper never made such a quick leap in all his life as he did, when he bounded several feet from the log, with a yell as if the ground beneath him had become suddenly red-hot.

There is nothing on the broad earth which is held in such universal abhorrence as a snake, the sight of which sends a shiver of disgust and dread over nearly every one that looks upon it.

When Sam sat down on the fallen tree, he was probably almost near enough for the coiled _crotalus_ to bury its fangs in him. It reared its head, and, without uttering its customary warning, most likely measured the intervening space with the purpose of striking.

The instinct of Bowser at this juncture told him of the peril of his master, and he began his demonstrations, intended to draw him away from the spot. At the same time, his barking, and trotting back and forth, diverted the attention of the rattlesnake to the hound, and thereby prevented him striking the unsuspicious boy.

It must have been, also, that during these few minutes the serpent vibrated his tail more than once, for the nature of the reptile leads him to do so; but the sound could not have been very loud, as it failed to attract the attention of Sam until he rose from the log and turned partly about.

The boy moved around the head of the fallen tree, so as to place himself on the same side with the rattlesnake, and then he spent a minute or two in contemplating him at that safe distance.

He was a large one, with sixteen rattles and a button. He lay coiled in several perfect rings, with his tail softly vibrating and his head thrown back, as if he expected his enemy to come nigh enough for him to bury his curved needle-like fangs in some portion of his body, injecting his poison, so deadly that nothing could have saved the boy from dying within a few minutes.

The first natural feeling which comes over one when he sees a crawling snake is to kill it, and Sam Harper did not wait long before yielding to his inclination.

Standing less than a rod distant, he brought his gun to his shoulder, and sighted at the head of the venomous reptile, which was held almost stationary, while the crimson tongue darted in and out as if it were a tiny spray of blood.

The aim was true, and the head was shattered as though the cartridge had exploded within it. The body made a few furious writhings and struggles, and then became still.

Sam viewed the ruin he had wrought for a minute or so, and then, appreciating the service his dog had wrought him, he turned and patted the animal.

"You're a fine dog, Bowser, and I forgive you for being good for nothing."


CHAPTER XXI.

FACE TO FACE.

Herbert Watrous, when he separated from his companions on that balmy afternoon in Indian summer, assumed a loftiness of bearing which was far from genuine.

The fact was, he felt dissatisfied with himself, or rather with the rifle which his indulgent father had presented to him only a few weeks before.

"I don't like the way the thing behaves," he said, as he stopped to examine it; "father paid one hundred and twenty-five dollars for it, and it was warranted the best. It's pretty hard to hit a deer a quarter of a mile off, but I ought to have brought down that squirrel which was only a hundred feet distant."

He turned the weapon over and over in his hand, looked down the barrel, tried the hammer and trigger, carefully examined the wind-gauge and vernier rear-sights, but could not see that anything was out of order.

"I'm afraid it was my fault," he said, with a sigh, "but it will never do to let the boys know it. I'll insist that I struck the buck, though I'm afraid I didn't."

After going a little ways he noticed he was walking over a path which was not marked very distinctly; it was, in fact, the route which Mr. Fred Fowler, the industrious dweller in the log cabin, had worn for himself in going to and from his work.

"That's lucky," said the lad, "for it's much easier traveling over a path like that than tramping among the trees, where you have to walk twice as far as there is any need of--confound it!"

This impatient remark was caused by a protruding branch, which just then caught Herbert under the chin and almost lifted him off his feet.

The boy was sensible enough to understand that his failure to display any good marksmanship was due to his own want of practice rather than to any fault of his piece.

"That Nick Ribsam can beat me out of my boots; I never heard of such a thing as 'barking' a squirrel till he showed me how it is done, and he used a gun that is older than himself. Well, Nick was always smarter than other boys; he is younger than I, and I have taken sparring lessons of the best teachers in the country, while he never heard of such a thing as science in using his fists; but he just sailed into me that day, and the first thing I knew he had me down, and was banging himself on me so hard that I have never got over the flattening out--hallo!"

A gray squirrel, flirting its bushy tail, whisked across the path in front of him that moment, scampered up a hickory and perched itself near the top, where it offered the best chance for a shot that one could wish.

"Now I'll see what I can do," muttered Herbert, sighting at the saucy little fellow, who seemed to be ridiculing his purpose of reaching it with a bullet at such a height.

The young hunter aimed with great care, pressed the trigger, and, as the sharp report rang through the woods, the squirrel came tumbling to the ground, with its skull shattered.

Herbert Watrous was surprised and delighted, scarcely believing in his own success. He picked up the slain rodent and saw that its destruction had been caused by the bullet he fired.

"That's business," he exclaimed, with a thrill of pride; "but why couldn't I shoot that way when Nick and Sam were looking at me? I know how the thing is done now, and when we get together I'll give them some lessons in marksmanship."

He left the squirrel on the ground, but had not gone far when a new idea struck him and he came back, picked it up, and put it in his game-bag.

"If I show them a squirrel, they can't help believing that I shot him."

The serious question which Herbert had been discussing with himself, ever since being alone, was what he would do if he should happen to come upon the bear. He had not quite so much confidence in his gun as he had when he started out, though the shooting of the squirrel brought back considerable of his natural assurance.

The conclusion he reached was that it would be just as well if he and bruin did not meet. Excellent as was his Remington, it was not a repeating rifle, and he was afraid that one shot, even if well aimed, would not be enough.

"If I had a Henry, which shoots sixteen shots in sixteen seconds, I could fill him so full of lead that he couldn't run fast enough to overtake me if I didn't happen to kill him."

But the Henry, which he desired so much, was beyond his reach, and it was idle to wish for it.

Accordingly, he slung his gun over his shoulder in true sportsman style, and strode along the path until the greater part of the distance was passed, when, like his friends, he found a fallen tree at a convenient spot and sat down for a rest.

Herbert, in his luxurious home in the city, had become accustomed to irregular hours, so that it was now the most natural thing in the world for him to fall asleep and not open his eyes until he shivered with cold and it was growing dark around him.

He started up in no little surprise, and, recalling where he was, hastened along the path toward the camp.

"They'll be worried almost to death about me," was his thought, "and I shouldn't wonder if they start out to hunt me up. Ah!"

The reverberating report of a rifle came from the direction of the limestone rock, and he felt no doubt that it was meant as a signal to direct him.

Herbert replied by firing his own gun in the air and shouting that he was coming. He did not forget