the next morning, after breakfast, the trapper took down his long rifle, saying, as he did so:
“now, youngsters, i’m goin’ off into the woods, about twenty mile or so, to camp out for a week, an’ see if i can’t find some otter. if you want good sport, you had better go, too. the game is gettin’ too scarce around here to suit me.”
the boys readily agreed to this proposal, and began to talk of packing their sleds; but the trapper scouted the idea.
“you’ll never larn to be what i call woodsmen,” said he, “until you get rid of some of your city notions. you must larn to tote all your plunder on your backs. just fill your possible-sacks[1] with coffee and bread; take plenty of powder an’ shot, a change of clothes, an ax or two, an’ some blankets, and that’s all you need.”
[1] haversack.
these simple preparations were soon completed, and, after bidding uncle joe good-by, they set out, accompanied by their dogs.
dick carried the “old settler,” and had his blanket strapped fast to his belt. frank and george each carried an ax. archie had several of his fox-traps, which he could not think of leaving behind; and harry brought up the rear, carrying a large bundle of blankets. besides these necessary articles, the boys carried their shot-guns, and the trapper his long rifle.
dick led the way directly up the creek, following the same course they had taken the day before in pursuit of the indians, for about ten miles, and then struck off into the woods. about noon they halted in a little grove of evergreens, and the trapper said:
“we’ll camp here for awhile, youngsters, an’ eat our dinner.”
the boys were very glad to hear this; for, strong and active as they were, they found that they were no match for dick in traveling. archie and george leaned their guns up against a tree, took the axes, and commenced to clear away a place where they could build a fire.
“now,” said the trapper, turning to the others, “we’ll leave them here to ’tend to the camp, an’ make a good cup of coffee for us agin we come back, an’ the rest of us will take a tramp through the woods, an’ see what we can get for dinner. take different directions now, so as to scare up more game.”
the boys immediately set out as directed, each accompanied by his dog. brave ran on ahead of his master, beating about through the bushes, but not a rabbit or squirrel showed himself. but frank kept on, taking good care to remember the points of the compass, determined that he would not go back to the camp empty-handed. at length brave’s well-known bark caused him to start forward at a more rapid pace, and the next moment he heard some heavy animal crashing through the underbrush, just in advance of him, at a tremendous rate. the woods were so thick that frank could not see the game, but the angry yelping of the dog told him that it was being closely pursued. guided by the noise they made, he followed after them as fast as his legs could carry him, keeping a sharp look-out on all sides, for he did not know but that it might be a bear which the dog had started. he remembered his meeting with the wild-cat, but felt no fear now, for he had his trusty gun in his hand, heavily loaded with buck-shot, and knew, from experience, that, at short range, it was a very efficient weapon. his first care was to find the trail which the game had made, and, upon examination, he found that brave had started, not a bear, but several moose. he knew their tracks in a moment, for he had often seen them in the woods; but he could not tell how many of them there were, for their trails crossed each other in every direction. he had never had the fortune to meet one of these animals, and his feelings were worked up to the highest pitch of excitement by the discovery. he started forward again at the top of his speed. the rapid pace of the game soon carried all sounds of the chase out of hearing; but frank had no difficulty in following the trail. he had run nearly a mile, when the angry yelps of the dog sounded through the woods in fiercer and more abrupt echoes. frank hurried forward, and soon came in sight of the game. the moose—a huge bull, with wide-spreading antlers—was standing at bay, and the dog was bounding around him, watching an opportunity to seize him, but was met at every point. now and then the moose would lower his head, and rush upon his enemy, but the latter nimbly kept out of his way.
frank did not pause long to witness the battle, but immediately ran forward, holding his gun in readiness for a shot. the moose, upon discovering him, suddenly wheeled, and started off at a rapid trot. the snow in that part of the woods was nearly three feet deep, and was covered with a crust strong enough to sustain the hunter and his dog, but the moose sank into it at every step, and his trail could be easily traced by the blood which was running from numerous wounds on his legs, made by the sharp crust. he ran heavily, and frank, who was exerting himself to his utmost, had the satisfaction of finding that he was gaining on him. brave easily kept pace with him and finally succeeded in bringing the moose at bay again. this was what frank wanted. just as the deer was about to make a charge upon the dog, he fired, and the huge animal tumbled to the ground. the young hunter ran forward, intending to give him the contents of the other barrel, but, before he could fire, the moose staggered to his feet, and disregarding the attacks of the dog, which were renewed with redoubled fierceness and vigor, rushed straight upon the hunter, and bore him to the ground.
in falling, frank lost his gun. the enraged animal pressed upon the young hunter, burying his antlers in the snow on each side of him, holding him fast to the ground. frank gave himself up for lost; but he determined that he would not yield his life without a struggle. he was unarmed, and the contest must be one of strength and endurance. before the moose could draw back to make another charge upon him, frank seized him by the antlers, and clung to them with all his strength. brave seemed to understand the perilous situation in which his master was placed, and fought more furiously than ever. but the moose, although severely wounded by the teeth of the dog, did not appear to notice him in the least, but struggled desperately to free himself from the young hunter’s grasp. frank was dragged about through the snow, and pressed down into it, until his clothing was almost reduced to tatters; and he was severely wounded by the sharp crust and the hoofs of the enraged deer, which cut through his garments like a knife. it required all his strength to retain his hold. he did not seem to be in the least frightened; but the manner in which he clung to the moose, and cheered on the dog, showed that he well knew the danger of his situation. but he was growing weaker every moment, while the moose appeared to be growing proportionately stronger, and his struggles became more furious and determined. frank knew that the animal would soon succeed in freeing himself, and then——. it was a horrible thought!
at this moment he heard the noise of approaching feet on the crust, and a voice exclaimed, “bars and buffaler! hang on to the creetur jest a minute longer, youngster! take ’em, dog! take ’em!” and the next instant a dark object bounded lightly over him, and commenced a furious battle with the moose. benumbed and exhausted, frank could hold out no longer. as the moose tore himself from his grasp, the young hunter saw him pulled to the ground by the trapper’s dog, and then a mist gathered before his eyes, and he sank back on the snow insensible.
when his consciousness returned, he found himself in a rudely-constructed hut, lying in front of a blazing fire, and so tightly wrapped up in blankets that he could scarcely breathe. dick sat in one corner of the hut, smoking his pipe, and gazing vacantly into the fire. brave lay stretched out by his master’s side, with his head resting on his shoulder, gazing into his face with every expression of concern. as soon as frank opened his eyes, the faithful animal announced the fact by a joyful bark, which brought all the boys into the hut.
“how do you feel, frank?” inquired archie, whose pale face showed that he had more than a common interest in his cousin’s well-being.
“o! i’m all right,” answered frank, in a weak voice. “but you’ve got me bundled up so tight i can hardly breathe. i wish you would take a dozen or two of these blankets off.”
“no, you don’t,” said dick, as the boys crowded up around frank. “i believe i’ve got the bossin’ of this yere job. here,” he continued, as he
arose from his seat and approached his patient, “drink this;” and he raised frank from his blankets with one hand, and, with the other, held to his lips a cup containing some of the most bitter stuff he had ever drank. the young hunter made wry faces over it, but succeeded in draining the cup. “now,” resumed dick, “lay down agin an’ go to sleep. shut up! no back talk!” he continued, as frank essayed to speak. “you musn’t talk till i say you may;” and the rough but kind-hearted trapper laid him back on his bed, and, drawing the blankets more closely about him, left him to his meditations.
he soon fell off into a refreshing slumber; and when he awoke it was dark, and his companions were seated around the fire, eating their supper.
“wal, youngster,” said dick, “how do you feel now?”
“o! i’m much better,” answered frank; “and hungry as blazes. won’t you give a fellow some thing to eat?”
“in course,” said dick; and he brought frank some pieces of toast and a cup of coffee.
“i don’t like your style of doctoring a bit,” said frank, as the trapper carefully removed the blankets with which his patient was enveloped. “the remedies you use are worse than the disease. you’ve kept me wrapped up so tight that i am sore all over.”
“i shouldn’t wonder,” said the trapper, laughing heartily; “but that doesn’t come of bein’ wrapped up in the blankets. you war purty well chawed up when me an’ useless diskivered you.”
dick raised frank to a sitting posture, and, in spite of his objections, once more drew the blankets about him, allowing him, however, the free use of his arms; and the young hunter soon discovered that he was not quite so well as he had imagined, for sharp pains shot through his body, and he was so weak he could scarcely sit up.
“i believe i had something of a fight with that moose, didn’t i?” he inquired, as he broke off a piece of the toast.
“i believe you did, judging from the looks of your clothes,” answered harry, as he laid down his plate, and took from a peg in one corner of the hut all that remained of frank’s garments.
the coat and pants were torn almost into shreds, and covered with blood, and the sole of one of his boots had been pulled off by the sharp hoofs of the deer. brave had also suffered severely, judging from the bloody bandages that he wore.
“it was a narrow escape, wasn’t it?” said frank, as he gazed in astonishment at his tattered garments.
“yes, indeed,” said archie; “i shouldn’t have cared about being in your boots just then. how you ever made out to get out of those clothes alive, is more than i can tell.”
“it war a careless trick,” said dick, “tacklin’ that animal in that ar way. you ought to knowed better.”
“well, we got the moose, didn’t we?” inquired frank.
“yes,” answered george, chewing away at a large piece of meat; “and we are eating him up as fast as we can.”
as soon as frank had finished his toast and coffee, he was glad to lie down again, for he was still very weak from the loss of blood. the others, after putting away the supper-dishes, replenished the fire, and stretched themselves out on their blankets.
“how do you feel now, youngster?” asked the trapper, as he drew a brand from the fire and lit his pipe.
“o! i guess i shall get along.”
“it’s a’most time for you to take some more of your medicine.”
“i don’t care about taking any more of it,” answered frank. “it’s the meanest stuff i ever tasted.”
“it’s injun medicine,” answered the trapper, as he sank back on his blanket, and puffed away vigorously at his pipe. “i remember,” he continued, after a few moments’ pause, “of doctorin’ up my chum, bill lawson, an’ that war the way me an’ him come to get acquainted. but he war used to injun doctorin’, and didn’t growl as much as you do. i’ve heered him tell of that scrape a hundred times; an’ he used to tell it in this way:
“‘the way me an’ dick lewis come to get together,’ he used to say, ’war this. i war onct trappin’ among the mountains on a little stream called muddy creek. it war about the wust bit of injun country in the world; but they didn’t bother me, an’ i tuk mighty good care not to meddle with their corn an’ beans, an’ for a long time i had jest the best kind of luck in trappin’. beaver were plenty as black flies in summer, an’ the woods war chuck full o’ otter, an’ the mountains of grizzly bars an’ black-tails, so i had plenty to do.
“‘i had made my camp in the woods, about a mile back from the creek where i war trappin’, so as not to skeer away the game. beaver is mighty skeery animals, an’ don’t like to have a feller trampin’ around them all the while; and when a man sets a trap, he musn’t go to it agin afore arly the next mornin’, for if he does, the game soon gets mighty shy, an’ the first thing the trapper knows, he’ll have to hunt somewhere else for beaver. you see i knowed all this, an’ so kept out of their way. i got along first-rate, until arly in the spring, jest as the ice begun to break up, an’ hadn’t seed nothin’ of the injuns. but one mornin’, while i war on my way to ’tend to my traps, i seed the prints of some moccasins, where three or four fellers had crossed the creek. i knowed in a minit, from the looks of them, that they wasn’t white fellers’ tracks; so i begun to prick up my ears an’ look around me a little. i examined the trail agin, an’ i knowed there could be no mistake. the comanches had been along there, sure. i begun beatin’ keerfully around through the bushes, for i didn’t know but that the tarnal red-skins war watchin’ me all the time; when all to onct i come acrost another trail, which war as different from the first as a muskrat is different from a grizzly. it war a white feller’s track. the tracks looked as though he had been crawlin’ along on his hands an’ knees, an’ onct in awhile i could see the place where the butt of his rifle had trailed on the ground. i knowed in a minit that the white hunter, whoever he war, had been follerin’ up the injuns.
“‘“wal,” thinks i, “bill lawson, you had better keep an eye out for them traps o’ yourn.” so i begun to draw a bee-line through the woods toward the place where i had sot one o’ my traps, keepin’ my gun ready to put a chunk of lead into the first thing in the shape of an injun that i should see. but instead o’ goin’ up to my trap in the way i generally did, i went round so as to come up on the other side. purty soon i begun to come near the place where the trap was sot; so i dropped down on all-fours, an’ commenced to crawl through the thick brush. i knowed i should have to be mighty keerful, for an injun has got ears like a painter, an’ he allers keeps ’em open, too. wal, purty soon i poked my head over a log, an’ peeked through the bushes; an’ what do you think i seed? there war my trap, with a big beaver in it, ketched fast by the hind leg; an’ right behind some big trees that stood near the trap war three injuns, listenin’, an’ watchin’, an’ waitin’ for me to come an’ get my game.
“‘“that’s the way you painted heathen watch for a white gentleman, is it,” thinks i; “i’ll fix some o’ you.” so i drawed my knife an’ tomahawk, an’ laid them on the ground beside me, an’ then, arter examinin’ my rifle to see that it war all right, i drawed a bead on the biggest injun, an’ fired. he rolled over, dead as a door nail, an’ the others jumped up an’ yelled like two screech owls. i didn’t stop to ax no questions; but, throwin’ away my rifle, i grabbed up my knife an’ tomahawk, an’ walked into ’em.
“‘they both fired as i came up—one missed, an’ the other tuk me in the leg, an’ kerflumux i come to the ground. the injuns thought they had me now, sure, an’ they came toward me, drawin’ their knives an’ yellin’ like mad. but i war on my pins agin in less than no time; an’, standin’ as well as i could on my broken leg, i swung my tomahawk around my head, an’ let fly at the nighest injun. it tuk him plumb atween the eyes, an’ i knowed that the work war done for him. but the next minit the other heathen clinched me, an’, liftin’ me off my legs, throwed me to the ground like a log. he had two legs to use, an’ i had only one; there war where he had the advantage of me. but i had the use of my hands; an’ i jest made up my mind that if he wanted my scalp he would have to work for it; so, quick as lightnin’, i grabbed the hand that held the knife, an’ give it a squeeze that actooally made the bones crack, an’ the rascal give one yell, an’ let go the weapon. then, with the other hand, i ketched him by the scalp-lock, an’ done my best to turn him, knowin’ that if i could onct get on top of him, i would be all right; but i couldn’t use my leg; so, thinks i, i’ll hold him here awhile, an’ i pulled his head down close to me. but i had bled so much that i begun to give out; an’ the injun, who hadn’t made a move arter i got hold of his har, knowed that i war growin’ weak, an’ the first thing i knowed, he broke away from me, an’ sprung to his feet. i tried to get up too, but the injun grabbed up his knife, an’ pinned me agin. i fit as well as i could, but the rascal knowed i couldn’t do nothin’; and, placing one knee on my breast to hold me down, he put one hand to his mouth, an’ give a loud yell.
“‘it war answered close by, an’ somebody come out o’ the bushes. at first i thought it war another injun comin’ up to help rub me out; but another look showed me that it war a white feller. he didn’t stop to ax no questions, but made a dash at the comanche, who got off me in a tarnal hurry, an’ callin’ out some name that showed that he knowed who the white feller war, he begun to make tracks; but he hadn’t gone ten foot afore the trapper had him by the neck. the fight war mighty short, for the comanche wasn’t nowhere—the trapper handled him as though he had been a baby, an’ in less than two minits he war a dead injun.’
“that’s the way ole bill used to tell his story,” continued dick; “an’ he allers used to pint me out as the man that saved him. the white feller’s trail that he seed by the creek war my own, an’ i war follerin’ up the comanches. wal, i tuk the old man back to his camp, an’, arter two months’ doctorin’, i got him all right agin. when he got well, he wouldn’t let me leave him, nor i didn’t want to, for he war jest the kind of a man i wanted for a chum. he hated an injun as bad as i did, an’ i used to like to listen to the stories he told of his fights with them. how do you come on now, youngster?”
“o! i feel pretty well,” answered frank, “only i’m a little weak.”
“you can thank your lucky stars that you wasn’t rubbed out altogether,” said the trapper, as he approached the young hunter. “me an’ useless got there jest in time. but you won’t allers be so lucky.”
after wrapping frank up carefully in the blankets again, he knocked the ashes from his pipe, and sought his own couch.
