two boys sat on the bars, one whittling, the other whistling,—not for want of thought by any means, for his brow was knit in an anxious frown, and he paused now and then to thump the rail, with an impatient exclamation. the other lad appeared to be absorbed in shaping an arrow from the slender stick in his hand, but he watched his neighbor with a grin, saying a few words occasionally which seemed to add to his irritation, though they were in a sympathizing tone.
"oh, well, if a chap can't do a thing he can't; and he'd better give up and say, 'beat.'"
"but i won't give up, and i never say 'beat.' i'm not going to be laughed out of it, and i'll do what i said i would, if it takes all summer, chris warner."
"you'll have to be pretty spry, then, for there's only two more days to august," replied the whittler, shutting one eye to look along his arrow and see if it was true.
"i intend to be spry, and if you won't go and blab,[210] i'll tell you a plan i made last night."
"guess you can trust me. i've heard about a dozen plans now, and never told one of 'em."
"they all failed, so there was nothing to tell. but this one is not going to fail, if i die for it. i feel that it's best to tell some one, because it is really dangerous; and if anything should happen to me, as is very likely, it would save time and trouble."
"don't seem to feel anxious a mite. but i'll stand ready to pick up the pieces, if you come to grief."
"now, chris, it's mean of you to keep on making fun when i'm in dead earnest; and this may be the last thing you can do for me."
"wait till i get out my handkerchief; if you're going to be affectin' i may want it. granite's cheap up here; just mention what you'd like on your tombstone and i'll see that it's done, if it takes my last cent."
the big boy in the blue overalls spoke with such a comical drawl that the slender city lad could not help laughing, and with a slap that nearly sent his neighbor off his perch, corny said good-naturedly:
"come now, stop joking and lend a hand, and i'll do anything i can for you. i've set my heart on shooting a wildcat, and i know i can if i once get a good chance. mother won't let me go off far enough, so of course i don't do it, and then you all jeer at me. to-morrow we are going up the mountain, and i'm set on trying again, for abner says the big woods are the place to find the 'varmint'. now you hold your[211] tongue, and let me slip away when i think we've hit the right spot. i'm not a bit afraid, and while the rest go poking to the top, i'll plunge into the woods and see what i can do."
"all right. better take old buff; he'll bring you home when you get lost, and keep puss from clawing you. you won't like that part of the fun as much as you expect to, maybe," said chris, with a sly twinkle of the eye, as he glanced at corny and then away to the vast forest that stretched far up the mighty mountain's side.
"no, i don't want any help, and buff will betray me by barking; i prefer to go alone. i shall take some lunch and plenty of shot, and have a glorious time, even if i don't meet that confounded beast. i will keep dashing in and out of the woods as we go; then no one will miss me for a while, and when they do you just say, 'oh, he's all right; he'll be along directly,' and go ahead, and let me alone."
corny spoke so confidently, and looked so pleased with his plan, that honest chris could not bear to tell him how much danger he would run in that pathless forest, where older hunters than he had been lost.
"don't feel as if i cared to tell any lies about it, and i don't advise your goin'; but if you're mad for catamounts, i s'pose i must humor you and say nothing. only bear in mind, abner and i will be along, and if you get into a scrape jest give a yell and we'll come."
"no fear of that; i've tramped round all summer,[212] and know my way like an indian. keep the girls quiet, and let me have a good lark. i'll turn up all right by sundown; so don't worry. not a word to mother, mind, or she won't let me go. i'll make things straight with her after the fun is over."
"that ain't just square; but it's not my funeral, so i won't meddle. hope you'll have first rate sport, and bag a brace of cats. one thing you mind, don't get too nigh before you fire; and keep out of sight of the critters as much as you can."
chris spoke in a deep whisper, looking so excited and impressed by the reckless courage of his mate that corny felt himself a leatherstocking, and went off to tea with his finger on his lips, full of boyish faith in his own powers. if he had seen chris dart behind the barn, and there roll upon the grass in convulsions of laughter, he would have been both surprised and hurt.
no deacon could have been more sober, however, than chris when they met next morning, while the party of summer boarders at the old farm-house were in a pleasant bustle of preparation for the long expected day on the mountain. three merry girls, a pair of small boys, two amiable mammas, chris and corny, made up the party, with abner to drive the big wagon drawn by milk and molasses, the yellow span.
"all aboard!" shouted our young nimrod, in a hurry to be off, as the lunch-basket was handed up, and the small boys packed in the most uncomfortable corners, regardless of their arms and legs.
away they rattled with a parting cheer, and peace[213] fell upon the farm-house for a few hours, to the great contentment of the good people left behind. corny's mother was one of them, and her last words were,—"a pleasant day, dear. i wish you'd leave that gun at home; i'm so afraid you'll get hurt with it.'
"no fun without it. don't worry, mammy; i'm old enough to take care of myself."
"i'll see to him, ma'am," called chris, as he hung on behind, and waved his old straw hat, with a steady, reliable sort of look, that made the anxious lady feel more comfortable.
"we are going to walk up, and leave the horses to rest; so i can choose my time. see, i've got a bottle of cold tea in this pocket, and a lot of grub in the other. no danger of my starving, is there?" whispered corny, as he leaned over to chris, who sat, apparently, on nothing, with his long legs dangling into space.
"shouldn't wonder if you needed every mite of it. hunting is mighty hard work on a hot day, and this is going to be a blazer," answered chris, pulling his big straw hat lower over his eyes.
as we intend to follow corny's adventures, we need not pause to describe the drive, which was a merry one; with girls chattering, mammas holding on to excited small boys, in danger of flying out at every jolt, abner joking till every one roared, corny's dangerous evolutions with the beloved gun, and the gymnastic feats chris performed, jumping off to pick flowers for the ladies, and getting on again while milk and[214] molasses tore up and down the rough road as if they enjoyed it.
about ten o'clock they reached the foot of the mountain; and after a short rest at the hotel, began the three-mile ascent in high spirits. abner was to follow later with the wagon, to bring the party down; so chris was guide, as he knew the way well, and often came with people. the girls and younger boys hurried on, full of eagerness to reach the top. the ladies went more slowly, enjoying the grand beauty of the scene, while chris carried the lunch-basket, and corny lingered in the rear, waiting for a good chance to "plunge."
he wanted to be off before abner came, as he well knew that wise man and mighty hunter would never let him go alone.
"the very next path i see, i'll dive in and run; chris can't leave the rest to follow, and if i once get a good start, they won't catch me in a hurry," thought the boy, longing to be free and alone in the wild woods that tempted him on either hand.
just as he was tightening his belt to be ready for the run, mrs. barker, the stout lady, called him; and being a well-bred lad, he hastened at once to see what she wanted, feeling that he was the only gentleman in the party.
"give me your arm, dear; i'm getting very tired, and fear i can't hold out to the top, without a little help," said the poor lady, red and panting with the heat, and steepness of the road.
"certainly ma'am," answered corny, obeying at[215] once, and inwardly resolving to deposit his fair burden on the first fallen log they came to, and make his escape.
but mrs. barker got on bravely, with the support of his strong arm, and chatted away so delightfully that corny would really have enjoyed the walk, if his soul had not been yearning for catamounts. he did his best, but when they passed opening after opening into the green recesses of the wood, and the granite boulders grew more and more plentiful, his patience gave out, and he began to plan what he could say to excuse himself. chris was behind, apparently deaf and blind to his calls and imploring glances, though he grinned cheerfully when poor corny looked round and beckoned, as well as he could, with a gun on one arm and a stout lady on the other.
"the hardest part is coming now, and we'd better rest a moment. here's a nice rock, and the last spring we are likely to see till we get to the top. come on, chris, and give us the dipper. mrs. barker wants a drink, and so do i," called the young hunter, driven to despair at last.
up came chris, and while he rummaged in the well-packed basket, corny slipped into the wood, leaving the good lady with her thanks half spoken, sitting on a warm stone beside a muddy little pool. a loud laugh followed him, as he scrambled through the tall ferns and went plunging down the steep mountain side, eager to reach the lower woods.
"let him laugh; it will be my turn when i go home, with a fine cat over my shoulder," thought corny,[216] tearing along, heedless of falls, scratches, and bruised knees.
at length he paused for breath, and looked about him well satisfied, for the spot was lonely and lovely enough to suit any hunter. the tallest pines he ever saw sighed far overhead; the ground was ankle deep in moss, and gay with scarlet bunch-berries; every fallen log was veiled by sweet-scented linnea, green vines or nodding brakes; while hidden brooks sang musically, and the air was full of the soft flutter of leaves, the whir of wings, the sound of birds gossiping sweetly in the safe shelter of the forest, where human feet so seldom came.
"i'll rest a bit, and then go along down, keeping a look out for puss by the way," thought corny, feeling safe and free, and very happy, for he had his own way, at last, and a whole day to lead the life he loved.
so he bathed his hot face, took a cool drink, and lay on the moss, staring up into the green gloom of the pines, blissfully dreaming of the joys of a hunter's life,—till a peculiar cry startled him to his feet, and sent him creeping warily toward the sound. whether it was a new kind of bird, or a fox, or a bear, he did not know, but fondly hoped it was a wildcat; though he was well aware that the latter creature sleeps by day, and prowls by night. abner said they purred and snarled and gave a mewing sort of cry; but which it was now he could not tell, having unfortunately been half asleep.
on he went, looking up into the trees for a furry bunch, behind every log, and in every rocky hole,[217] longing and hoping to discover his heart's desire. but a hawk was all he saw above, an ugly snake was the only living thing he found among the logs, and a fat woodchuck's hind legs vanished down the most attractive hole. he shot at all three and missed them, so pushed on, pretending that he did not care for such small game.
"now this is what i call fun," he said to himself, tramping gayly along, and at that moment went splash into a mud-hole concealed under the grass. he sunk up to his knees, and with great difficulty got out by clinging to the tussocks that grew near. in his struggles the lunch was lost, for the bottle broke and the pocket where the sandwiches were stored was full of mud. a woful spectacle was the trim lad as he emerged from the slough, black and dripping in front, well spattered behind, hatless, and one shoe gone, having been carelessly left unlaced in the ardor of the chase.
"here's a mess!" thought poor corny, surveying himself with great disgust and feeling very helpless, as well as tired, hungry, and mad. "luckily, my powder is dry and my gun safe; so my fun isn't spoiled, though i do look like a wallowing pig. i've heard of mud baths, but i never took one before, and i'll be shot if i do again."
so he washed as well as he could, hoping the sun would dry him, picked out a few bits of bread unspoiled by the general wreck, and trudged on with less ardor, though by no means discouraged yet.
"i'm too high for any game but birds, and those i[218] don't want. i'll go slap down, and come out in the valley. abner said any brook would show the way, and this rascal that led me into a scrape shall lead me out," he said, as he followed the little stream that went tumbling over the stones, that increased as the ground sloped toward the deep ravine, where a waterfall shone like silver in the sun.
"i'll take a bath if the pool is big enough, and that will set me up. shouldn't wonder if i'd got poisoned a bit with some of these vines i've been tearing through. my hands smart like fury, and i guess the mosquitoes have about eaten my face up. never saw such clouds of stingers before," said corny, looking at his scratched hands, and rubbing his hot face in great discomfort,—for it was the gnat that drove the lion mad, you remember.
it was easy to say, "i'll follow the brook," but not so easy to do it; for the frolicsome stream went headlong over rocks, crept under fallen logs, and now and then hid itself so cleverly that one had to look and listen carefully to recover the trail. it was long past noon when corny came out near the waterfall, so tired and hungry that he heartily wished himself back among the party, who had lunched well and were now probably driving gayly homeward to a good supper.
no chance for a bath appeared, so he washed his burning face and took a rest, enjoying the splendid view far over valley and intervale through the gap in the mountain range. he was desperately tired with these hours of rough travel, and very hungry; but would not own it, and sat considering what to do next, for he saw[219] by the sun that the afternoon was half over. there was time to go back the way he had come, and by following the path down the hill he could reach the hotel and get supper and a bed, or be driven home. that was the wise thing to do, but his pride rebelled against returning empty-handed after all his plans and boasts of great exploits.
"i won't go home, to be laughed at by chris and abner. i'll shoot something, if i stay all night. who cares for hunger and mosquito bites? not i. hunters can bear more than that, i guess. the next live thing i see i'll shoot it, and make a fire and have a jolly supper. now which way will i go,—up or down? a pretty hard prospect, either way."
the sight of an eagle soaring above him seemed to answer his question, and fill him with new strength and ardor. to shoot the king of birds and take him home in triumph would cover the hunter with glory. it should be done! and away he went, climbing, tumbling, leaping from rock to rock, toward the place where the eagle had alighted. more cuts and bruises, more vain shots, and all the reward of his eager struggles was a single feather that floated down as the great bird soared serenely away, leaving the boy exhausted and disappointed in a wilderness of granite boulders, with no sign of a path to show the way out.
as he leaned breathless and weary against the crag where he had fondly hoped to find the eagle's nest, he realized for the first time what a fool-hardy thing he had done. here he was, alone, without a guide, in this wild region where there was neither food nor shelter,[220] and night coming on. utterly used up, he could not get home now if he had known the way; and suddenly all the tales he had ever heard of men lost in the mountains came into his head. if he had not been weak with hunger he would have felt better able to bear it; but his legs trembled under him, his head ached with the glare of the sun, and a queer faintness came over him now and then; for the city lad was unused to such violent exercise, plucky as he was.
"the only thing to do now is to get down to the valley, if i can, before dark. abner said there was an old cabin, where the hunters used to sleep, somewhere round that way. i can try for it, and perhaps shoot something on the way. may break my bones, but i can't sit and starve up here, and i was a fool to come. i'll keep the feather anyway, to prove that i really saw an eagle; that's better than nothing."
still bravely trying to affect the indifference to danger and fatigue which hunters are always described as possessing in such a remarkable degree, corny slung the useless gun on his back and began the steep descent, discovering now the perils he had been too eager to see before. he was a good climber, but was stiff with weariness, and his hands already sore with scratches and poison; so he went slowly, feeling quite unfit for such hard work. coming to the ravine, he found the only road was down its precipitous side to the valley, that looked so safe and pleasant now. stunted pines grew in the fissures of the rocks, and their strong roots helped the clinging hands and feet as the boy painfully climbed, slipped, and swung along, fearing every[221] minute to come to some impassable barrier in the dangerous path.
but he got on wonderfully well, and was feeling much encouraged, when his foot slipped, the root he held gave way, and down he went, rolling and bumping to his death on the rocks below, he thought, as a crash came, and he knew no more.
"wonder if i'm dead?" was the first idea that occurred to him as he opened his eyes and saw a brilliant sky above him, all purple, gold, and red.
he seemed floating in the air, for he swayed to and fro on a soft bed, a pleasant murmur reached his ear, and when he looked down he saw what looked like clouds, misty and white, below him. he lay a few minutes drowsily musing, for the fall had stunned him; then, as he moved his hand something pricked it, and he felt pine-needles in the fingers that closed over them.
"caught in a tree, by jupiter!" and all visions of heaven vanished in a breath, as he sat up and stared about him, wide awake now, and conscious of many aching bones.
yes, there he lay among the branches of one of the sturdy pines, into which he had fallen on his way down the precipice. blessed little tree! set there to save a life, and teach a lesson to a wilful young heart that never forgot that hour.
holding fast, lest a rash motion should set him bounding further down, like a living ball, corny took an observation as rapidly as possible, for the red light was fading, and the mist rising from the valley. all[222] he could see was a narrow ledge where the tree stood, and anxious to reach a safer bed for the night, he climbed cautiously down to drop on the rock, so full of gratitude for safety that he could only lie quite still for a little while, thinking of mother, and trying not to cry.
he was much shaken by the fall, his flesh bruised, his clothes torn, and his spirit cowed; for hunger, weariness, pain, and danger, showed him what a very feeble creature he was, after all. he could do no more till morning, and resigned himself to a night on the mountain side, glad to be there alive, though doubtful what daylight would show him. too tired to move, he lay watching the western sky, where the sun set gloriously behind the purple hills. all below was wrapped in mist, and not a sound reached him but the sigh of the pine, and the murmur of the waterfall.
"this is a first-class scrape. what a fool i was not to go back when i could, instead of blundering down here where no one can get at me, and as like as not i can't get out alone! gun smashed in that confounded fall, so i can't even fire a shot to call help. nothing to eat or drink, and very likely a day or so to spend here till i'm found, if i ever am. chris said, 'yell, if you want us.' much good that would do now! i'll try, though." and getting up on his weary legs, corny shouted till he was hoarse; but echo alone answered him, and after a few efforts he gave it up, trying to accept the situation like a man. as if kind nature took pity on the poor boy,[223] the little ledge was soft with lichens and thin grass, and here and there grew a sprig of checkerberry, sown by the wind, sheltered by the tree, and nourished by the moisture that trickled down the rock from some hidden spring. eagerly corny ate the sweet leaves to stay the pangs of hunger that gnawed him, and finished his meal with grass and pine-needles, calling himself a calf, and wishing his pasture were wider.
"the fellows we read about always come to grief in a place where they can shoot a bird, catch a fish, or knock over some handy beast for supper," he said, talking to himself for company. "even the old chap lost in the bush in australia had a savage with him who dug a hole in a tree, and pulled out a nice fat worm to eat. i'm not lucky enough even to find a sassafras bush to chew, or a bird's egg to suck. my poor gun is broken, or i might bang away at a hawk, and cook him for supper, if the bog didn't spoil my matches as it did my lunch. oh, well! i'll pull through, i guess, and when it's all over, it will be a jolly good story to tell."
then, hoping to forget his woes in sleep, he nestled under the low-growing branches of the pine, and lay blinking drowsily at the twilight world outside. a dream came, and he saw the old farm-house in sad confusion, caused by his absence,—the women crying, the men sober, all anxious, and all making ready to come and look for him. so vivid was it that he woke himself by crying out, "here i am!" and nearly went over the ledge, stretching out his arms to abner.
the start and the scare made it hard to go to sleep[224] again, and he sat looking at the solemn sky, full of stars that seemed watching over him alone there, like a poor, lost child on the great mountain's stony breast. he had never seen the world at that hour before, and it made a deep impression on him; for it was a vast, wild scene, full of gloomy shadows below, unknown dangers around, and a new sense of utter littleness and helplessness, which taught the boy human dependence upon heavenly love as no words, even from his mother's tender lips, could have done. thoughts of the suffering his wilfulness had given her wrung a few penitent tears from him, which he was not ashamed to shed, since only the kind stars saw them, and better still, he resolved to own the fault, to atone for it, and to learn wisdom from this lesson, which might yet prove to be a very bitter one.
he felt better after this little breakdown, and presently his thoughts were turned from conscience to catamounts again; for sounds in the woods below led him to believe that the much-desired animal was on the prowl. his excited fancy painted dozens of them not far away, waiting to be shot, and there he was, cooped up on that narrow ledge, with a broken gun, unable even to get a look at them. he felt that it was a just punishment, and after the first regret tried to comfort himself with the fact that he was much safer where he was than alone in the forest at that hour, for various nocturnal voices suggested restless and dangerous neighbors.
presently his wakeful eyes saw lights twinkling far off on the opposite side of the ravine, and he imagined[225] he heard shouts and shots. but the splash of the waterfall, and the rush of the night wind deadened the sounds to his ear, and drowned his own reply.
"they are looking for me, and will never think of this strange place. i can't make them hear, and must wait till morning. poor chris will get an awful scolding for letting me go. don't believe he told a word till he had to. i'll make it up to him. chris is a capital fellow, and i just wish i had him here to make things jolly," thought the lonely lad.
but soon the lights vanished, the sounds died away, and the silence of midnight brooded over the hills, seldom broken except by the soft cry of an owl, the rustle of the pine, or a louder gust of wind as it grew strong and cold. corny kept awake as long as he could, fearing to dream and fall; but by-and-by he dropped off, and slept soundly till the chill of dawn waked him.
at any other time he would have heartily enjoyed the splendor of the eastern sky, as the red glow spread and brightened, till the sun came dazzling through the gorge, making the wild solitude beautiful and grand.
now, however, he would have given it all for a hot beefsteak and a cup of coffee, as he wet his lips with a few drops of ice-cold water, and browsed over his small pasture till not a green spire remained. he was stiff, and full of pain, but daylight and the hope of escape cheered him up, and gave him coolness and courage to see how best he could accomplish his end.
the wind soon blew away the mist and let him see that the dry bed of a stream lay just below. to reach[226] it he must leap, at risk of his bones, or find some means to swing down ten or twelve feet. once there, it was pretty certain that by following the rough road he would come into the valley, from whence he could easily find his way home. much elated at this unexpected good fortune, he took the strap that had slung his gun, the leathern belt about his waist, and the strong cords of his pouch, and knotting them together, made a rope long enough to let him drop within two or three feet of the stones below. this he fastened firmly round the trunk of the pine, and finished his preparations by tying his handkerchief to one of the branches, that it might serve as a guide for him, a signal for others, and a trophy of his grand fall.
then putting a little sprig of the evergreen tree in his jacket, with a grateful thought of all it had done for him, he swung himself off and landed safely below, not minding a few extra bumps after his late exploits at tumbling.
feeling like a prisoner set free, he hurried as fast as bare feet and stiff legs would carry him along the bed of the stream, coming at last into the welcome shelter of the woods, which seemed more beautiful than ever, after the bleak region of granite in which he had been all night.
anxious to report himself alive, and relieve his mother's anxiety, he pressed on till he struck the path, and soon saw, not far away, the old cabin abner had spoken of. just before this happy moment he had heard a shot fired somewhere in the forest, and as he hurried toward the sound he saw an animal dart into the hut, as if for shelter.
whether it was a rabbit, woodchuck or dog, he had[227] not seen, as a turn in the path prevented a clear view; and hoping it was old buff looking for him, he ran in, to find himself face to face with a catamount at last.
there she was, the big, fierce cat, crouched in a corner, with fiery eyes, growling and spitting at sight of an enemy, but too badly wounded to fight, as the blood that dripped from her neck, and the tremble of her limbs plainly showed.
"now's my chance! don't care who shot her, i'll kill her, and have her too, if i pay my last dollar," thought corny; and catching up a stout bit of timber fallen from the old roof, he struck one quick blow, which finished poor puss, who gave up the ghost with a savage snarl, and a vain effort to pounce on him.
this splendid piece of good luck atoned for all the boy had gone through, and only waiting to be sure the beast was quite dead and past clawing, he flung his prize over his shoulder, and with renewed strength and spirit trudged along the woodland road toward home, proudly imagining his triumphal entry upon the scene of suspense and alarm.
"wish i didn't look so like a scare-crow; but perhaps my rags will add to the effect. won't the girls laugh at my swelled face, and scream at the cat. poor mammy will mourn over me and coddle me up as if i'd been to the wars. hope some house isn't very far off, for i don't believe i can lug this brute much farther, i'm so starved and shaky."
just as he paused to take breath and shift his[228] burden from one shoulder to the other, a loud shout startled him, and a moment after, several men came bursting through the wood, cheering like lunatics as they approached.
it was abner, chris, and some of the neighbors, setting out again on their search, after a night of vain wandering. corny could have hugged them all and cried like a girl; but pride kept him steady, though his face showed his joy as he nodded his hatless head with a cool—
"hullo!"
chris burst into his ringing laugh, and danced a wild sort of jig round his mate, as the only way in which he could fitly express his relief; for he had been so bowed down with remorse at his imprudence in letting corny go that no one could find the heart to blame him, and all night the poor lad had rushed up and down seeking, calling, hoping, and fearing, till he was about used up, and looked nearly as dilapidated as corny.
the tale was soon told, and received with the most flattering signs of interest, wonder, sympathy, and admiration.
"why in thunder didn't you tell me?—and i'd a got up a hunt wuth havin',—not go stramashing off alone on a wild goose chase like this. never did see such a chap as you be for gittin' inter scrapes,—and out of 'em too, i'm bound to own," growled abner.
"that isn't a wild goose, is it?" proudly demanded corny, pointing to the cat, which now lay on[229] the ground, while he leaned against a tree to hide his weariness; for he felt ready to drop, now all the excitement was over.
"no it ain't, and i congratulate you on a good job. where did you shoot her?" asked abner, stooping to examine the creature.
"didn't shoot her; broke my gun when i took that header down the mountain. i hit her a rap with a club, in the cabin where i found her," answered corny, heartily wishing he need not share the prize with any one. but he was honest, and added at once, "some one else had put a bullet into her; i only finished her off."
"chris did it; he fired a spell back and see the critter run, but we was too keen after you to stop for any other game. guess you've had enough of catamounts for one spell, hey?" and abner laughed as he looked at poor corny, who was a more sorry spectacle than he knew,—ragged and rough, hatless and shoeless, his face red and swelled with the poisoning and bites, his eyes heavy with weariness, and in his mouth a bit of wild-cherry bark which he chewed ravenously.
"no, i haven't! i want this one, and will buy it if chris will let me. i said i'd kill one, and i did, and want to keep the skin; for i ought to have something to show after all this knocking about and turning somersaults half a mile long," answered corny stoutly, as he tried to shoulder his load again.
"here, give me the varmint, and you hang on to chris, my boy, or we'll have to cart you home.[230] you've done first-rate, and now you want a good meal of vittles to set you up. right about face, neighbors, and home we go, to the tune of hail columby."
as abner spoke, the procession set forth. the tall, jolly man, with the dead animal at his back, went first; then corny, trying not to lean on the arm chris put round him, but very glad of the support; next the good farmers, all talking at once; while old buff soberly brought up the rear, with his eye on the wildcat, well knowing that he would have a fine feast when the handsome skin was off.
in this order they reached home, and corny tumbled into his mother's arms, to be no more seen for some hours. what went on in her room, no one knows; but when at last the hero emerged, refreshed by sleep and food, clad in clean clothes, his wounds bound up, and plantain-leaves dipped in cream spread upon his afflicted countenance, he received the praises and congratulations showered upon him very meekly. he made no more boasts of skill and courage that summer, set out on no more wild hunts, and gave up his own wishes so cheerfully that it was evident something had worked a helpful change in wilful corny.
he liked to tell the story of that day and night when his friends were recounting adventures by sea and land; but he never said much about the hours on the ledge, always owned that chris shot the beast, and usually ended by sagely advising his hearers to let their mothers know, when they went off on a lark of that kind. those who knew and loved him best[231] observed that he was fonder than ever of nibbling checkerberry leaves, that he didn't mind being laughed at for liking to wear a bit of pine in his buttonhole, and that the skin of the catamount so hardly won lay before his study table till the moths ate it up.
