having gained a little insight into the art of casting the fly, don and his friends became eager and enthusiastic fishermen. they were on the pond almost all the time, and as they tried hard to follow the instructions that were willingly and patiently given them, and would not allow themselves to become discouraged by their numerous blunders and failures, they finally became quite expert with their light tackle. they wound up the season with a glorious catch, and then oiled their rods and put them into their cases with many sighs of regret.
“never mind,” said curtis, soothingly. “there’s no loss without some gain, and now we will turn our attention to bigger things than speckled trout. to-night we will try this.”
as he spoke, he took from a chest something that looked like a dark-lantern with a leather helmet[361] fastened to the bottom of it. and that was just what it was. when curtis put the helmet on his head, the lantern stood straight up on top of it.
“this is a jack,” said he, “and it is used in fire-hunting. as soon as it grows dark some of us will get into a canoe and paddle quietly around the pond just outside of the lilies and grass. the fellow who is to do the shooting will wear this jack on his head. it will be lighted, but the slide will be turned in front of it, making it dark. when he hears a splashing in the water close in front of him he will turn on the light by throwing back the slide, and if he makes no noise about it and is quick with his gun, he will get a deer, and we shall have venison to take the place of the trout.”
this was something entirely new to the southerners, who carefully examined the jack and listened with much interest while curtis and his friends told stories of their experience and exploits in fire-hunting. deer were so abundant about rochdale that those who hunted them were not obliged to resort to devices of this kind, and in maryland, where hopkins lived, they were followed[362] with hounds and shot on the runways. egan had never hunted deer. he devoted all his spare time to canvas-backs and red-heads. they spent the forenoon in talking of their adventures, and after dinner bert and hutton, who had become inseparable companions, strolled off with their double-barrels in search of grouse, and curtis and don pushed off in one of the canoes to make a voyage of discovery to the upper pond; the former, for the first time, taking his rifle with him. he was afterward glad that he had done so, for he made a shot before he came back that gave him something to talk about and feel good over all the rest of the year.
don and his companion paddled leisurely along until they reached the upper end of the pond, and then the canoe was turned into the weeds, through which it was forced into a wide and deep brook communicating with another pond that lay a few miles deeper in the forest. curtis said there was fine trapping along the banks of the brook, adding that if don and bert would stay and take a thanksgiving dinner with him, as he wanted them to do, they would put out a “saple line.”
“what’s that?” asked don.
[363]
“nothing but a lot of traps,” replied curtis. “when a man starts out to see what he has caught, he says he is going to make the rounds of his saple line. there are lots of mink, marten and muskrats about here, and now and then one can catch a beaver or an otter; but he’s not always sure of getting him if he does catch him, for it’s an even chance if some prowling luciver doesn’t happen along and eat him up.”
“what’s a luciver?” inquired don.
“it’s the meanest animal we have about here, and is as cordially hated by our local trappers as the wolverine is by the trappers in the west. it’s a lynx. a full-grown one would scare you if you should happen to come suddenly upon him in the woods; and after you had killed him and taken his hide off you would feel ashamed of yourself, for you would find him to be about half as large as you thought he was. they don’t average over thirty or forty pounds—one weighing fifty would be a whopper—but they’re ugly, and would just as soon pitch into a fellow as not. i have heard some remarkable stories——”
curtis did not finish the sentence. he stopped suddenly, looked hard at the bushes ahead of him,[364] listening intently all the while, and finally he drew his paddle out of the water and gently poked don in the back with the blade. when don faced about to see what he wanted, curtis laid his finger upon his lips, at the same time slowly and silently turning the bow of the canoe toward the nearest bank. just then don heard twigs snapping in front of him, the sound being followed by a slight splashing in the water as if some heavy animal were walking cautiously through it. his lips framed the question: “what is it?” and curtis’s silent but unmistakable reply was: “moose!”
for the first and only time in his life don gordon had an attack of the “buck-ague.” his nerves, usually so firm and steady, thrilled with excitement, and his hand trembled as he laid down his paddle and picked up his rifle. he had not yet obtained the smallest glimpse of the animal, but his ears told him pretty nearly where he was.
as soon as he had placed his rifle in position for a shot, curtis gave one swift, noiseless stroke with his paddle, sending the canoe away from the bank again, and up the stream, don trying hard[365] to peer through the bushes, and turning his body at all sorts of angles in the hope of obtaining a view of the quarry; but the alders were thick, and he could not see a dozen yards in advance of him, until curtis brought him to a place where the bank was comparatively clear, and then don discovered something through a little opening in the thicket. he raised his hand, and the canoe stopped.
“that thing can’t be a moose,” thought don, rubbing his eyes and looking again. “it’s too big, and besides it’s black.”
in twisting about on his seat to obtain a clearer view of the huge creature, whatever it was, don accidentally touched the paddle, the handle of which slipped off the thwart and fell to the bottom of the canoe. the effect was magical. in an instant the dark, sleek body at which don had been gazing through the opening in the bushes gave place to an immense head, crowned with enormous ears and wide-spreading palmated antlers, and a pair of gleaming eyes which seemed to be glaring straight at him. it was a savage looking head, taken altogether, but don never took his gaze from it as his rifle rose slowly to his[366] shoulder. he looked through the sights for an instant, covering one of the eyes with the front bead, and pressed the trigger. the rifle cracked and so did the bushes, as the animal launched itself through them toward the bank with one convulsive spring. their tops were violently agitated for a moment, then all was still, and don turned about and looked at curtis.
“you’ve got him,” said the latter, dipping his paddle into the water and sending the canoe ahead again.
“i’ve got something,” replied don, “but it can’t be a moose.”
“what is it, then?”
“i think it is an elephant.”
curtis laughed until the woods echoed.
“i don’t care,” said don, doggedly. “he’s got an elephant’s ears.”
“do an elephant’s ears stick straight out from his head, and does he carry horns?” demanded curtis, as soon as he could speak. “elephants don’t run wild in this country—at least i never heard of any being seen about here. it’s a moose, easy enough. i saw his horns through the alders, and i tell you they are beauties. if you were a[367] taxidermist now, you could provide an ornament for your father’s hall or dining-room that would be worth looking at.”
it was a moose, sure enough, as the boys found when they paddled around the bushes and landed on the bank above them. there he lay, shot through the brain, and looking larger than he did when he was alive. his shape was clumsy and uncouth, but his agility must have been something wonderful; his expiring effort certainly was. he lay fully six feet from the bank, which was about five feet in height. the place where he had been feeding, which was pointed out to the boys by the muddy water and by the trampled lilies and pickerel grass, was thirty feet from the foot of the bank; so the moose, with a ball in his brain, must have cleared at least thirty-six feet at one jump. his long, slender legs did not look as though they were strong enough to support so ponderous a body, to say nothing of sending it through the air in that fashion.
“do you know that i was afraid of him?” said don, after he had feasted his eyes upon his prize and entered in his note-book some measurements he had made. “when he was staring at me[368] through those bushes, i thought i had never seen so savage a looking beast in all my life.”
“he was savage, and you had good reason to be afraid of him,” answered curtis, quickly. “if you had wounded him he would have trampled us out of sight in the brook before we knew what hurt us. when his horns are in the velvet the moose is a timid and retiring animal; but after his antlers are fully grown, and he has sharpened and polished them by constant rubbing against the trees, he loses his fear of man and everything else, and would rather fight than eat. now you would like to have bert and the rest see him, i suppose. well, if you will stay here and watch him, i will go down and bring them up. we’ll camp here to-night, for we shall have to cut the moose up before we can take him away. he’s heavy, and weighs close to seven or eight hundred pounds.”
don agreeing to this proposition, curtis stepped into the canoe and paddled toward the pond, not forgetting to leave the axe they had brought with them so that his companion could start a fire and build a shanty during his absence. but don was in no hurry to go to work. he was so highly[369] elated at his success that he could not bring his mind down to anything. for a long time he sat on the ground beside the moose, wondering at his gigantic proportions and verifying the measurements he had taken, and it was not until he heard voices in the brook below him that he jumped to his feet and caught up the axe. he had a cheerful fire going when his friends arrived, but there were no signs of a shanty.
“look here,” shouted bert, as he drew his canoe broadside to the bank. “you were good, enough to keep your moose until we could have a look at him, and so i brought my trophies along. you needn’t think you are the only one who has gained honors to-day. what do you think of that?”
as bert said this, he and hutton lifted a queer looking animal from the bottom of the canoe and threw it upon the bank. it was about as large as an ordinary dog, rather short and strongly built, with sharp, tufted ears and feet that were thickly padded with fur. its claws were long and sharp, and so were the teeth that could be seen under its upraised lip. its back was slightly arched, and as it lay there on the bank it looked a good deal[370] like an overgrown cat that was about to go into battle. don had never seen anything like it before.
“what in the world is it?” he exclaimed.
“that’s just the question i asked myself when i stumbled on him and his mate a little while ago,” said bert. “it’s a luciver.”
“here’s the other,” cried curtis; and a second lynx, somewhat smaller than the first, was tossed ashore. “it’s the greatest wonder to me that they didn’t make mince-meat of bert, and i believe they would have done it if he hadn’t been so handy with that pop-gun of his.”
“well, that pop-gun had proved itself to be a pretty good shooter,” returned bert, complacently. “you see, don, i was beating a coppice in which hutton told me i would be likely to flush a grouse or two, and hutton himself was on the other side of the ridge. all on a sudden i felt a thrill run all through me, and there right in front of me, and not more than ten feet away, was this big lynx. of course he heard me coming, but as he was making a meal off a grouse he had just killed, he didn’t want to leave it. he humped up his back, spread out his claws, showed his teeth[371] and spit just like a cat; and believing that he was going to jump at me, i knocked him over, giving him a charge of number eight shot full in the face. it killed him so dead that he never stirred out of his tracks, but he looked so ugly that i was afraid to approach him. while i was thinking about it, i happened to cast my eyes a little to the right, and there was his mate looking at me over a log. i gave him the other barrel, and he came for me.”
“good gracious!” exclaimed don, looking first at his brother’s slender figure and then at the dead luciver’s strong teeth and claws. bert was too frail to make much of a fight against such weapons as those.
“but the luciver didn’t get him,” chimed in hutton, “although he made things lively for him for a little while. i heard the rumpus, and knowing that bert had got into trouble, i ran over the ridge to take a hand in it. when i got into the thicket there was bert, making good time around trees, over logs and behind stumps, and the luciver was close at his heels, following him by scent and hearing, as i afterward learned, and not by sight, for bert’s shot had blinded him. while i was[372] watching for a chance to fire at him, bert, who was trying his best to load his gun as he ran, managed to shove in a cartridge, and after that the matter was quickly settled.”
“don got the moose, but i had the excitement,” added bert.
the young hunters ate a hearty supper that night, but they slept well after it, for they did not go to bed till they had cut up the moose, and hung the quarters out of reach of any prowling lucivu that might happen to come that way. the habits of this animal and those of the moose afforded them topics for conversation long after they sought their blankets, and the sun arose before they did.
stowing the heavy carcass in their cranky little canoes and transporting it to the lodge occupied the better portion of the day, but they were not too tired to await the return of the fire-hunters, who set out at dark in quest of deer. they returned at midnight and reported that they had “shone the eyes” of two which they could have shot if they had been so disposed; but being sportsmen instead of butchers they could not see any sense in shooting game they could not use.[373] about the time they began to look for the teamsters, who had been engaged to return on a certain day and carry them and their luggage back to dalton, they would begin fire-hunting in earnest, and procure a supply of venison for the club-dinner, which was to be eaten before the southern boys went home.
the days passed rapidly, and every one brought with it some agreeable occupation. curtis and the other dalton boys took care to see that the time did not hang heavily upon the hands of the guests, and were always thinking up something new for them. the teamsters came as they promised, and found four fine deer waiting for them. the next morning the wagons were loaded, the foremost one being crowned by the antlers of don’s moose, to show the people along the road that one of their number had gained renown while they had been in the woods, and the homeward journey was begun.
if time would permit we might tell of some interesting incidents that happened in connection with the club dinner, which came off on the evening of the last day that don and his companions spent in dalton. to quote from some of the boys[374] who sat down to it, “the spread was fine,” so were the toasts, speeches and songs, and don gordon had abundant opportunity to talk to the owner of the eyes and the curls that had haunted him every day of the long month he spent at the lodge. he would have been glad to stay in dalton always. he said he was coming back, but the excuse he gave was that he wanted another trial at glass-balls with the champion. perhaps his friends believed that that was his only reason for desiring to return, and perhaps they didn’t. at any rate they looked very wise, and exchanged many a significant wink with one another.
“good by, boys,” said egan, when the stage-coach drew up in front of mr. curtis’s door the next morning. “we are indebted to you for a splendid time, and we should like a chance to reciprocate. curtis is going to spend a month with me next fall, and i should be delighted to have you come with him. don, bert and hop will be there too, and we’ll make it as pleasant as we can for you.”
the southern boys separated in boston and took their way toward their respective homes, don and bert stopping in cincinnati long enough to[375] purchase a couple of revolving-traps and a supply of glass-balls, and reaching rochdale in due time without any mishap. their shoulder-straps created all the surprise that don could have desired, and the latter knew by the way his mother kissed him that she was entirely satisfied with the way he had conducted himself during his last year at school. they never grew weary of talking about the fine times they had enjoyed at the lodge, and don gave everybody to understand that he was going back to dalton some day on purpose to win that medal from the champion. he had a right to compete for it now, for he was a member of the club.
“but you will have to win it three times before you can bring it home with you,” said bert.
“so much the better,” answered don, “for then i can see that handsome little—ah! i mean the lodge, you know.”
“yes, i know,” said bert, dryly.
“by the way, has anybody heard anything of lester brigham and jones and williams?” exclaimed don, anxious to change the subject.
yes, everybody had heard of them. mr. brigham had been industriously circulating the articles[376] and papers that lester had sent him, and had celebrated his son’s return by giving a big supper and a party. the house was crowded, and lester and enoch were lionized to their hearts’ content.
don and bert spent a portion of their next vacation at the homes of egan and hopkins as they had promised, seeing no end of sport and some little excitement. what they did for amusement, and what lester and his enemies did when they returned to bridgeport in january, shall be narrated in the third and concluding volume of this series, which will be entitled: “the young wild-fowlers.”
the end
