Читать книгу The Young Wild-Fowlers - Castlemon Harry - Страница 4

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When the man in the sink-boat discovered the approaching yacht he laid down his gun, got upon his knees, and shook both his fists at the boy who stood at the helm.

“You’re always around when you are not wanted, Gus Egan,” said he, fiercely. “If you know when you are well off, you will learn to mind your own business. I’ve the best notion in the world to send a charge of duck-shot after you.”

“He would do it in a minute if he thought he could escape the consequences,” said Egan, in a low tone. “He is one of the fellows who has so often threatened me. The detective took his big gun away from him, and now he has to resort to a sink-boat to get birds for market.”

“I shouldn’t like to make an enemy of that man,” observed Bert, as he passed the glass over to Hopkins. “Unless his countenance belies him, he is capable of doing anything.”

“His face is a true index to his character,” replied Egan. “He is accused of almost everything that’s bad, and some day there will be trouble in this neighborhood. He is under indictment for shooting ducks contrary to law, but he says he will get up the biggest kind of a fight before he will be arrested, and he means every word of it.”

“If that yawl of yours scares just one more flock of ducks for me, she will never scare another,” continued the man in the sink-boat. “You have done about damage enough on this bay by taking the bread out of poor men’s mouths, and it is high time you were larnt better manners.”

Egan, who did not act as though he had either seen or heard the occupant of the sink-boat, kept the Sallie away a point or two, so as to clear the outer edge of the decoys, and ran on down the bay until he came opposite to a small board cabin that stood on the shore in the midst of a little grove; then he threw the yacht up into the wind and called out: “O Eph!” whereupon an aged negro, who was sitting on a bench beside the open door, arose and hobbled down to the beach, bowing and pulling at his almost brimless hat as he came.

“That’s old Eph, the terrapin hunter,” observed Egan. “He makes anywhere from ten to forty dollars a week out of his ‘birds,’ as they are called, but, like the most of his race, he spends his money as fast as he gets it, and what will he do when the rheumatism gets a good grip on him and he has to quit work, I don’t know. I suppose he will have to fall back on father for support, because he belonged to our family before the war.”

“Terrapins are nothing more nor less than mud-turtles, I believe?” said Curtis, inquiringly.

Egan replied that that was just what they were—turtles that were caught in tide-water; and then he called out to the negro, who had by this time reached the water’s edge:

“I say, Eph, have you two or three diamond-backs to spare?”

“Ise allers got some for you, Marse Gus,” was Eph’s answer.

“All right. Come aboard and get this basket.”

The negro stepped into a canoe that lay on the beach close at hand, and a few strokes with the paddle brought him alongside the yacht. The basket containing their lunch was passed down to him with the request that he would have three diamond-backs, cooked in his best style, ready for them at one o’clock sharp. The negro promised compliance and shoved off for the shore, after exchanging a few complimentary remarks with Egan, who, it was plain, was a favorite of his, while the yacht filed away on her course.

“What is a diamond-back?” asked Don, as soon as they were fairly under way.

“It is a terrapin not less than seven inches in length, measuring along the under shell,” answered Egan. “They are better than the larger and coarser kinds, just as a two and a half pound yellow pike is better than one that weighs nine or ten pounds. They bring from twenty-five to thirty-six dollars a dozen, while the river turtles are worth only nine dollars; but the latter are extensively used by hotels and restaurants where they are served up as diamond-backs, just as red-heads are served up as canvas-backs. However, as both those species of ducks live on the same kind of food—wild celery—there is not so much difference between them as there is between the tide-water and river terrapin. Hallo! Hand me that glass a moment, Curtis.”

The boys looked around to discover what it was that had called forth this exclamation from the skipper, and all they could see was a neat little schooner standing up the bay. Egan leveled the glass at her for a second or two, and then handed it back to Curtis, saying:

“Just as I expected. Now look out for breakers.”

Curtis, in turn, took a look at the schooner and was surprised to see that she was manned by academy boys, to wit, Enoch Williams, Jones, and Lester Brigham. As the little vessels dashed by each other, moving swiftly in opposite directions, no sign of recognition was exchanged between the crews. They seldom spoke now.

Don and his brother had made commendable progress during their last year at school, and had both received well-earned promotions at the close of the examination. Don was now lieutenant-colonel of the academy battalion, and Bert was the ranking captain; while Lester and his two friends had not been able to win so much as a corporal’s chevrons. Of course this made them angry, and they were waiting for an opportunity to be revenged upon Don and Bert. How the latter could be blamed because Lester and his cronies had failed in their examination, it would have puzzled a sensible boy to determine. Probably Lester did not understand the matter himself; but there was one thing he did understand, and that was, that things were going altogether too smoothly with Don and Bert. It would have afforded him infinite pleasure if he could have been the means of getting them into some serious trouble. During the last school term he had watched them as closely as a cat ever watched a mouse, in the hope that he would see a chance to report them for some neglect of duty; but he had his trouble for his pains. As soldiers and students there was not the least fault to be found with them, and if it had not been for Enoch, Lester would have given up in despair. How his friend encouraged him we shall see presently.

“Those fellows will be up to some sort of mischief before we see the last of them,” observed Curtis, after he had taken a good look at the schooner.

“That is my opinion,” said Egan, “and I believe that Enoch has been up to something already. I don’t know it to be a fact, but still I am pretty certain that he is hail fellow well met with these big-gunners, and if he is, he will bear watching.”

“What is that long black streak out there on the water?” asked Bert, suddenly.

Egan looked in the direction indicated, and a moment later the Sallie came up into the wind, then filled away on the other tack and started back up the bay.

“That is a bed of ducks,” said the skipper. “I shouldn’t wonder if there were thousands in it. They are only a short distance from the foot of Powell’s Island, and it will be no trouble at all to toll them in so that we can get a shot at them.”

“Well,” said Bert, when Egan paused, “we should like to be told what tolling is.”

“I would rather show you than try to explain it to you,” was the reply. “The only way to find out is to see for yourself.”

The Sallie kept on up the bay until she came opposite to the cabin of the old terrapin hunter, who at once responded to Egan’s lusty hail.

“I want to borrow Bogus for a little while,” shouted the skipper. “And I say, Eph, bring out a lot of chips with you.”

The negro disappeared behind his cabin, and in a few minutes came back again, carrying his hat in his hands, and followed by a little yellow dog. The two got into the canoe, and presently both the dog and the hatful of chips were deposited on the yacht’s deck.

“There is a big bed of ducks off Powell’s Island, and we are going to shoot some of them,” said Egan. “So, perhaps, you had better postpone the cooking of those terrapin until about three o’clock. Be sure and have them ready then, for we shall be hungry.”

The old negro went ashore, leaving his dog and the pile of chips behind him; and the yacht came about and started down the bay again. She held straight for the head of the island, and, running into a little bay thickly lined with trees on both sides, was tied up to an abrupt bank where the water was deep enough to float her. Bogus seemed to know just what he was expected to do; for when the boys, having buckled on their cartridge-belts, shouldered their guns and stepped ashore, he took up his position at Egan’s heels, and stayed there until he was sent out to perform his allotted part in tolling the ducks.

The young wild fowlers, led by Egan, directed their course toward a sheltered cove on the other side of the island, and were presently crawling on their hands and knees through the calamus and dry marsh grass which formed a good cover almost to the water’s edge. The bay seemed to be full of ducks. None of the visitors, except Hopkins, had ever seen so many in one flock before, and they were greatly disappointed to discover that they were far beyond the reach of the heaviest gun in the party. Indeed, it would have required a good rifle to throw a ball into the midst of them, and the course they were following was taking them farther away from the island every moment.

“We shall get no ducks out of that flock,” said Don.

“Then it will be your fault,” replied Egan, confidently. “If you will do good work after I bring them within range, we will have canvas-backs for dinner to-morrow. Now, Bogus, let’s see how smart you are.”

Egan had brought the chips with him in a game-bag. As he spoke, he took one of them out and tossed it into the water, whereupon Bogus jumped to his feet and skipped in after it. He seized the chip, tossed it into the air, caught it when it descended, and played with it with as much apparent delight as a cat plays with a ball of yarn; the visitors watching his antics with the greatest surprise.

“You have read of the curiosity exhibited by the antelope of the Western plains—how hunters have been known to decoy them within gun-shot by simply waving a colored handkerchief above the grass, have you not?” said Egan, by way of explanation. “Well, the canvas-back has just as much curiosity, as you can see for yourselves.”

The boys, whose attention had been fully occupied by the extraordinary performances of the dog, now turned their eyes toward the flock, and were astonished as well as gratified to observe that a few of them had left the main body and were coming slowly toward the shore. Even at that distance one could see that they were attracted by, and interested in, the actions of the dog. Presently, other ducks came out of the bed and joined them; then a second and larger body appeared, and, what was very surprising to the visitors, they betrayed the greatest excitement. They would sit up in the water, sustaining themselves by the help of their wings, and then settle down and swim swiftly about, performing the most intricate maneuvres.

“Easy, boys,” whispered Egan, as Curtis raised his head to obtain a better view of the approaching flock. “If you want to get a shot, you must not show so much as an inch of the top of your hat. They’ve got sharp eyes; and that is what makes them so easy to toll. If they were not constantly on the watch, they would not have seen the dog.”

When Bogus grew tired of playing with the first chip Egan threw out to him, the boy tossed him another. The intelligent and well-trained animal did not act as though he saw the ducks at all; but it was evident that he knew they were coming, for the nearer they approached the shore the more energetically he played. He never uttered the faintest whimper, but kept silently to his work; and the ducks, growing bolder as their number increased, approached with more rapidity and confidence, showing by their actions the liveliest curiosity.

“Now watch them closely, and I will show you something else,” whispered Egan. As he spoke, he began throwing the chips first to the right and then to the left of his place of concealment, and as the dog ran from one to the other, the ducks turned also, closely following all his movements as if they feared that they might lose the most interesting part of the performance. When those in front thought they had come near enough, and showed a disposition to stop, their companions behind pushed them on, while the ducks in the rear came crowding through to inquire into the matter.

By this time the dog had an interested audience of at least five or six hundred ducks in front of him, and not more than seventy-five yards from the shore. They were coming nearer all the while, and, finally, Egan reached for his double-barrel; but, just at that moment, the whole immense flock arose as one duck, with a great roaring of wings and splashing of water, and flew swiftly down the bay.

“Which one of you fellows showed his head?” demanded Egan, laughing heartily at the expression of disappointment and chagrin he saw on the faces of every one of his companions. “The next time we try to toll a flock of canvas-backs, remember what I told you about their sharp eyes, and be careful to keep out of sight. Look at Bogus! He thinks he was to blame for it, and he expects a whipping.”

The boys glanced toward the beach, and there was the dog which had done his part of the work so faithfully, going through all sorts of antics, and saying, as plainly as a dumb brute could say it, that he was very sorry the flock had gone off without giving the young hunters a chance for a shot, and that, if it were his fault, he would be careful to do better next time. First, he would sit up and beg, and then he would lie down and hold up both his paws imploringly, as if he were trying to ward off the blows of a switch; but a friendly word from Egan dispelled all his fears, and made a happy, light-hearted dog of him again.

“You didn’t do it, old fellow,” said the boy, as Bogus came bounding to his side; “and I can’t think what did do it, unless one of these careless friends of mine—— Hold on! I take it all back. There’s the cause of the trouble,” added Egan, nodding his head toward the upper end of the bay.

The others looked in the direction indicated, and saw Enoch Williams’ schooner coming down under full sail. Whether or not her crew knew that Egan and his companions were trying to toll the ducks within gun-shot, was a question; but they knew it a moment after they hove in sight, for the young hunters arose from their places of concealment, and stood out in full view of the schooner, which ran down as far as the foot of the island, and then came about, and started back up the bay.

“That move seems to indicate that they knew we were here, and that they came down on purpose to frighten the ducks away,” said Hopkins, with no little indignation in his tones.

“What else could you expect of such fellows as they are?” demanded Egan. “Never mind. There is more than one flock of canvas-backs on the bay, and they can’t drive them all away from us, no matter how hard they try. Now, we will take a short sail, and then we will run back to Eph’s, and get our terrapin.”

As it happened, Hopkins and Egan were both mistaken in their opinions regarding the object the schooner’s company had in view when they followed the Sallie down to Powell’s Island. Enoch and Jones had an idea in their heads, but they did not know that Egan and his friends were after the ducks until they saw them rise from their hiding-places. They were acting as volunteer spies upon the movements of Egan and his guests, and if we step aboard the schooner, and listen to some of the conversation that took place between Enoch and his two companions, we may be able to understand why they did it.

It will be remembered that Egan and his guests had got into the way of spending a portion of their vacations at one another’s homes, the first being spent in Mississippi. When Lester Brigham saw how they enjoyed themselves at Don Gordon’s Shooting box, he proposed to his friends, Enoch and Jones, that they should pass their vacations in the same way; and so it came about that while Egan, Hopkins, and Don and Bert Gordon were hunting and fishing with Curtis in the wilds of Maine, Lester’s Maryland friends were visiting with him at his home near Rochdale. It was not accident that had brought them all together in Maryland during this particular vacation. Lester had come there with a fully developed plan in his head, and Enoch and Jones were ready and eager to help him carry it out. Lester and Jones had been at Enoch’s home two weeks, impatiently awaiting the arrival of Egan’s guests, who, as we have said, were sojourning with Hopkins, enjoying themselves in shooting quails and snipes. On the morning of which we write they went out for a sail on the bay before breakfast, and it was while they were on their way home that their eyes were gladdened by the sight of the Sallie under sail.

“There they are at last!” exclaimed Enoch, who was the first to discover Egan’s boat as she moved gracefully away from her anchorage. He was standing at the helm of his schooner, the Firefly, and Lester and Jones were sitting near him in the cock-pit.

“They? Who?” inquired the former, who, for a wonder, happened to be thinking about something besides his contemplated revenge on the boys who had unintentionally excited his jealousy.

“Why, your particular friends, the Gordon boys.”

“Good!” exclaimed Lester. “I wonder if they are all there.”

“If you will run down and get the spy-glass you can soon find out,” was the reply.

The glass was brought, passed rapidly from hand to hand, and then the three plotters looked at one another while a smile of triumph lighted up their faces. They saw the Sallie frighten away the ducks that were about to swing to the decoys that were anchored around the sink-boat, and Enoch and Jones were so delighted when they saw the occupant of the boat rise up and flourish his fists in the air, that they could scarcely refrain from shouting.

“They have got themselves into trouble already,” said Enoch, as he brought the glass to bear upon the angry gunner. “That man in the sink-boat is Amos Barr. They have made him mad by scaring away his ducks, and I am glad of it, for he is one of the most vindictive men on the bay.”

We have already told how the two yachts passed each other without any exchange of courtesies between the crews. The Firefly ran between the decoys and the shore and was thrown up into the wind, so that her skipper could talk to the man in the sink-boat.

“Good morning, Mr. Barr,” said Enoch, pleasantly. “Egan came along just at the wrong time, didn’t he?”

“He is always around when he ain’t wanted, and I told him so,” was the gruff response.

“Do you believe it is all unintentional on his part?” asked Jones, in a significant tone. “Don’t you think that he does it on purpose—that he is just snooping around to see what he can find that is worth looking at?”

“I know it,” answered Barr, shaking his clenched hand at the rapidly receding cutter. “When he told that detective that I was a duck-shooter, and that I and my partners had a big gun hid somewhere about the bay, didn’t he do it a purpose? Of course he did. He wanted to get me into trouble; but he wasn’t by no means as smart as he thought he was. We had more’n one big gun, me and my partners did, and—by the way, did you know that we had got our best gun back?”

“No!” replied Enoch, who was surprised to hear it.

“Well, we’ve got it safe and sound, and if one of them detectives ever gets a chance to put an ugly hand on it again, I’m a Dutchman. Simpson, he—but I don’t reckon I had best say any more,” said Barr, with a hasty, suspicious glance at Lester.

“O, you need not be afraid of my friend Brigham,” exclaimed Enoch. “He is true blue, and he hates Egan and all his crowd as cordially as Jones and I do. What about Simpson?”

“Mebbe I will tell you all about it some other time,” answered Barr, cautiously. “’Tain’t best to say too much to nobody these times.”

“I know that. Those ‘gentlemen sportsmen’ (Enoch sneered as he uttered the words), who live up north, and rent some of our shooting-points, are bound to break up your business if they can.”

“And how would they feel if we-uns should go up where they live, and set about breaking up their business—should try to take the bread out of the mouths of their children?” exclaimed Barr, in savage tones. “The birds we shoot bring we-uns in our grub and clothes. Being wild, they don’t belong to nobody; but they belong to we-uns who live here, more’n they do to folks who don’t live here, and we have a right to get ’em in any way we can. Them fellers up north can’t break up our business, for we won’t let ’em; an’ as for the folks who live round here and tries to help ’em do it—”

“Fellows like Gus Egan, for instance,” interrupted Enoch.

“Yes, he is one of the worst in the lot of the mean fellers that won’t let us shoot the ducks because they want to shoot them theirselves,” assented Barr. “As for him, and others like him, that I could call by name if I wanted to, they are getting theirselves deeper and deeper into a furse every day. Something’s going to happen if them detectives comes down here this season. You hear me speaking to you?”

As Barr said this, he played with the lock of his heavy duck-gun, and looked very fierce indeed.