perhaps the reader may think that while the seven heroes were together, instead of packing henry, the seventh (observe the comma immediately after henry; observe, also, that it is not written henry vii.), off home, it would have been better to relate a few more of their exploits. not so. in imposing on marmaduke, each one was guilty of a breach of trust, so that it would not be right to have them appear with such a stain on their reputation. as for jim, he premeditated villainy; and in good romances no villain can long be regarded as a hero—unless he happens to be a highwayman, and it would be preposterous to attempt to have jim play the highwayman. now, the intention is to write this story on a moral basis; therefore, a few years are suffered to elapse, and they are supposed to reform in that time.
marmaduke did no wrong, so that his history might be[349] continued, without doubt. but this story could not go on, unless all the boys, jim included, were in it.
suppose, therefore, that six years have passed since the burning of “nobody’s house.” the boys, now men, are still alive, and in good health and spirits. how they have spent those six years is not difficult to imagine. all of them regularly attended school till they were big and awkward, when most of them were sent to a university, to complete their education.
it was originally the intention to relate some thrilling incidents that took place while they were students; but being too lazy to collect sufficient scientific facts to do so with effect, that intention was reluctantly given up.
gentle reader, if you are ever at a loss for something to sigh about, just think what you have missed in not reading how four sophomores barely escaped blowing themselves and a leaky steamboat up into the clouds, fancying that they understood the theory of working a steam-engine. to torture you still further, imagine, also, a scene in which a learned professor’s “focus cannon” mysteriously, unadvisedly, and to the heroes’ amazement and horror, shot a ball into a pair of glass globes, which the affectionate students were about to present to him.
it was autumn; and the seven young men, heroes still, were preparing to journey far northward, to hunt deer, or whatever else their bullets might chance to strike.
will and henry prevailed on uncle dick to accompany them—greatly to the satisfaction of the elders, who fondly hoped he would keep a fatherly eye on the reckless hunters, and prevent them from destroying themselves.
fully equipped, the party of eight set out for the “happy hunting grounds,” firm in the resolution to kill all the game still remaining in the great northwest. if plenty of ammunition and fire-arms would avail, then certainly they should bring home a great supply of animal food.
but whether the fourfooted creatures of the forest were forewarned that a band of mighty hunters was on the war-trail, and fled from their sylvan haunts, or[350] whether they obstinately remained, and bade defiance to the nimrods’ balls, is a mooted point, which the intensely interested reader may set at rest as he pleases.
having arrived at the outskirts of a growing settlement, close to a genuine forest, the eight hunters fell to work, and soon built an uncomfortable and unsafe little shanty.
“this will be life in earnest,” charles observed joyously.
the young ladies of his native village politely spoke of him as “mr. growler;” but his moustache was still so white that we should not be justified in so honoring him.
“yes; this is the artless life our forefathers lived;” said marmaduke, poetical as ever.
“no,” corrected stephen, “our forefathers didn’t range through the forest with castile soap in their bundles and charms dangling on their watch chains.”
“come, now, considering that you smuggled the soap into marmaduke’s pack, you are rather hard on him,” said will.
“oh, i smuggled it there for my own use as well as for his,” stephen explained.
this proves that steve was as fond as ever of monkey tricks.
of course the hunters were to depend on what they killed in the chase for food; and so, as soon as they were fairly settled, will and henry set out to shoot something that would make a delicious stew for dinner.
all at once a strange, shadowy form was espied by will, lurking in the edge of the wood; and without a moment’s hesitation he raised his gun and fired. now, at home, will was considered an excellent marksman; therefore, henry, who was beside him, was not surprised to see that, whatever the animal might be, it was stone dead.
they hurried to the fallen prey, and were almost as much disappointed as the small boy is when he finds that his fish-hook has captured a demonstrative crab instead of a good-natured chub.
“well,” the destroyer said, with a grim smile, “i have[351] done what steve has often tried to do, but never did—i have slain a grimalkin!”
“cats have no business to prowl around here, and they deserve to be shot, though we haven’t come all this distance to shoot them,” henry said peevishly. “but let us hide this hoary fellow; for if steve should hear of it, he might be tempted to box it up and send it home as your first deer.”
it would not be worth while to give the weary and fruitless tramp the cousins took; it is sufficient to say that they shot nothing that a civilized cook would take pride in preparing for the table. at last henry was fortunate enough to disable a brace of woodcocks, and after an exciting chase they secured them, and then returned to their quarters.
next morning the entire party went hunting, resolved to kill something. they penetrated far into the forest, talking as freely as if they were in a desert or on the ocean. consequently, they did not see much game.
“hist!” mr. lawrence suddenly exclaimed. “what enormous beast is that yonder?”
“it’s a bear?” will cried with rapture. “a genuine bear!”
“are there bears here, in this part of the world?” jim asked uneasily. “did we come to hunt bears?”
“of course we did; of course there are;” henry said with disgust. “jim, i wish our good old professor could have you among his students. there would be virgin soil, and you would make an apt student, i am sure.”
“yes, it is a bear,” george said emphatically. “a large bear, and probably a ferocious one. there is the true bearish head, thick and heavy; the cropped ears; the thick snout; and the long shaggy coat. it is larger than even the one in the museum, isn’t it, henry?”
henry thought it was.
“i see the very place to plant a fatal shot,” george hinted.
“plant it, then,” steve growled.
george, eager to slay the monster, fired quickly.
the smoke cleared away, and there lay the bear, in exactly the same position.
[352]
“it is stone-dead, surely enough!” will said, as though surprised.
“no; i fancied i saw it move a little,” mr. lawrence said.
“then let us all fire a round of balls into it,” steve suggested.
“i won’t have it riddled with shot!” george said angrily. “i saw just where to hit it, and i hit it there, and it’s dead.”
but his wish was disregarded, and some of the hunters cowardly fired. then they advanced cautiously, still fearing that the bear might have life enough in him to give battle. but the “bearish head” was not raised; the “thick snout” was not dilated.
steve, who was ahead, suddenly gasped out a plaintive “oh.” then the others also saw. the sun shone through the trees, and left a peculiar shadow on the grass and brushwood. that was the bear.
“let us clap this bear into the museum,” stephen presently observed.
the disgusted hunters concluded to separate, and meet at a certain time and place, if they didn’t get lost or eaten up.
will wandered off alone, and shot scores of useful birds and animals—not useful to him, as a hunter, but useful in the economy of nature. but after one shot had been thus thrown away, a yell of anger and terror rang through the forest, and with his heart beating time to his footsteps, will hurried in the direction of that yell.
he soon came up to a man, sitting on a fallen tree, distorting his features, and nursing his finger in his mouth, with a gurgling noise, peculiar to a sobbing school-boy trying to soothe the pain inflicted by a hasty-tempered wasp.
“hello, there!” cried this man. “did you shoot that bullet?”
“yes, i have just discharged my gun,” will answered. “did—did it hit you, sir? if so, i am extremely sorry, for, i assure you, i had no intention—”
“that’ll do!” broke in the wounded man, removing[353] his finger for a moment. “it is plain enough that you are no hunter,” contemptuously. “a genuine hunter doesn’t go cracking around like a boy with a pop-gun, nor talk like as if he was writing to the post-master general. but, i say, do you know what you have done? you have smashed my little finger!”
“what? are you really hurt? did the ball strike your finger?”
“of course it did,” angrily; “and it’ll be the dearest bullet you ever bought! i tell you, i’m sick of having city chaps tearing through our woods, and scaring the deer and things, and if they keep it up much longer, the whole population’ll be shot off. oh, cracky, but my finger smarts! i was never shot before.”
“let me see your wound,” will said.
but the “child of nature” showed no disposition to let will examine his injured member, and will was both amused and relieved to hear him make the following observation: “no, it ain’t so much the finger that troubles me; it’ll soon heal; but i had a bully good silver ring on it, that i found in an old dust-heap, and that there bullet has busted it.”
then the shooter stepped up to the rustic, saying: “come, i must see your finger. if it is badly hurt i will bind it up for you; i have the materials all ready in my pockets.”
“well, you are quite right in carrying rags, and salve, and thread, and pins, and soft cotton, and strings, and such trash, always stuffed in your pockets, for you look like as if you might blow your head off any minute,” the wounded man insultingly said, as he got a nearer view of will.
without further delay he submitted his finger to will’s examination. will presently observed: “i think your strong silver ring saved the finger, if not the entire hand, from a severe wound, as the bullet struck its ornamental carvings and then glanced. in a day or so your finger will be as sound as ever. well, i’m sorry i hurt you, but i must be off. good-day.”
“now, just wait a minute,” said the man with the[354] silver ring. “you don’t know how much i think of a good ring. i’m a very affectionate feller, and as there’s nothing else for me to take to, i think a heap of a good ring. and this one’s ruined and busted now. it may be ever so long before i can get as good a one—and you made fun of it, too! i say, what did you say about ‘carvings.’”
“but the ring saved your hand,” will persisted.
“i don’t say nothing about that; but your bullet has spoilt my ring, and i mean to have the worth of it. do you understand that? i ask for the worth of it.”
“certainly; how much is your ring worth?”
“eh? well, i don’t know; it was a pretty valuable ring. how high will you go?”
poor will was becoming tired. he longed to leave the barbarian’s company, and was fumbling in his pocket for a small gold piece that was there, when a rustling in the underwood drew his attention.
“wumblers! there’ll be another bullet here next! whoop! here comes another hunter full drive! oh! cracky, there’s buck after him! lemme see your gun, and i’ll show you how to knock ’em over.”
this was quite true. romantic marmaduke had stumbled on the fresh track of a deer, and following on, had soon come up with it.
so much he freely confessed to his inquiring fellow-hunters. but how the deer came to give chase—whether he showed the white feather at the critical moment, or whether he chanted poetry to the hunted creature, and so infuriated it past endurance—is a question which he could not, or would not, answer.
will’s heart beat fast. here was a large deer within range of his rifle. if he should kill it on the spot he would achieve a valiant deed, as well as put an end to marmaduke’s ignominious flight.
“lemme see you gun,” the man said eagerly.
will did not choose to comply with his request, but levelled his rifle at the approaching animal, and fired.
while hunting the last two days, he had suffered so many disappointments that he himself was perhaps somewhat[355] surprised to see the deer plunge forward and gasp out his life in a short but awful agony.
“good for you, old feller; you can shoot some, after all!” the forester ejaculated.
marmaduke stopped his flight, saw will, heaved a sigh, and said pathetically, “it is hard to see the noble beast cut off in all his pride and strength.”
“yes, but better than to suffer from his fury, i hope;” will replied. “but how under the sun did the chase begin?” he asked, glancing from his rifle to the deer with intense satisfaction.
but the chased one was reticent on that point, as stated above; and to evade an answer, he turned to the man with the marred silver ring, and asked, “what gentleman is this?”
“what was it you said about cutting up the buck, just now, stranger?” this gentleman eagerly inquired. “if you’re going to cut him up, i’ll help you; and for my share i’ll take a haunch.”
alas! though forest-born and familiar with woodland scenes and noble deer, this man had not a poetic soul, and he interpreted marmaduke’s beautiful apostrophe as a wish that the deer should be cut up!
“your share! what have you to do with it?” marmaduke inquired, coming down to the things of this world with startling abruptness.
“well, this here feller went and shot me; and i’m going to help you cut up your deer; and for all my trouble and suffering i only ask for a haunch. i’ll have it, too!” determinedly.
