Читать книгу Camping in the Winter Woods: Adventures of Two Boys in the Maine Woods - Elmer Russell Gregor - Страница 8

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The boys awoke one morning to find Ben hard at work oiling the rifles. Delighted at the sight, they hurried into their clothes, for they felt sure the oft talked of deer hunt was about to take place. They fairly bolted their breakfast, so eager were they to be off; but Ben restrained them and reminded them that many things must be attended to first.

When they had finished washing and stowing away the dishes, which they did with all possible speed, he taught them how to make a suitable pack of their blankets and a few camp necessities. Then he made them change their heavy hunting-boots for lighter, softer moccasins, explaining that these would enable them to travel through the woods more quietly.

Finally, after putting the cabin in order and attending to a dozen other chores, which the boys, in their eagerness to be away, thought might have been dispensed with, he announced that he was ready to go.

Armed with their rifles, and each with a pack on his back, the three hunters left the cabin and struck off through the woods. The air was crisp and exhilarating, and their high spirits prompted a rapid pace.

Ben kept his gaze on the ground ahead of him, in the hope of finding deer signs. Noting this, the boys quickly imitated his example. They flushed many grouse, and one alighted in a tree in plain sight of them, and stood conspicuously exposed to their aim. They were anxious to try a shot at so easy a mark, but were reminded that they were after larger game. Ben warned them that a needless shot ringing through the woods would frighten away any deer which might be lingering in the vicinity. The hint was sufficient, and, casting a longing look at the foolish bird, they followed obediently on after the guide.

At last they climbed to the top of a dividing ridge, and here Ben halted. He pointed to a slight depression in the carpet of dead leaves, and said it was a deer track. He explained that deer in their journeyings traveled along the summits of these low hills, which were then termed “runways.” Ben said that the ridge on which they stood was one.

Leading the way to a near-by boulder, he bade one of the boys climb to the top to watch the surrounding country for any sign of a buck. He left it to them to decide which one would remain there. Ed said he would stay; and, after cautioning him not to shoot until he saw the whole body and antlers of the animal aimed at, Ben ordered him to remain until he stopped for him on the way home. He told him, if he succeeded in shooting a deer, to fire two shots in rapid succession and, after a minute’s pause, two more.

Ed climbed to the top of the big rock, and sat down with his rifle across his knees. He waved his hand to Ben and George when they turned just before they disappeared from sight among the trees.

George was placed at another “runway,” about a mile farther on; and, after cautioning him as he had Ed, Ben said he was going on to try to scare out a deer. He said that anything he might start would be sure to come over one or the other of these “runways,” and warned George to be on his guard. Then with a wave of his arm he disappeared, and the boys were left alone in the heart of the wilderness.

Each boy remained at his post, expectantly gazing through the aisles of the vast forest which surrounded him. The noise of the wind through the tops of the trees; the squeaking of a leaning pine as it rubbed chafingly against its neighbor; the snap of a twig, or the sudden call of a jay, caused them to start nervously.

Several times George half rose and cocked his rifle when he thought he heard some animal walking about near him. But after watching with straining eyes and thumping heart and seeing nothing, he relaxed and made up his mind it must have been the wind, or a squirrel scurrying about among the leaves.

Suddenly a shot sounded from the direction in which he guessed Ed to be, and George jumped to his feet. Another roared through the woods a moment later, and echoed loudly between the mountains. For a minute or so all was still. Then two reports rang out in rapid succession and, after a minute, two more!

“Gee whiz! Something is up!” declared George, aloud. He wished he might find Ed and learn the cause of the shots, but he dared not leave the place until Ben came for him. He doubted if he would be able to find the way to his friend; and, as the guide had forbidden him to leave the spot, he sat down to await developments.

Ed became hungry and brought out his lunch. He was just about to bite into one of the appetizing sandwiches when the sharp crackling of twigs close by caused him to drop it and seize his rifle.

Then a loud, frightened snort drew his attention, and, looking in the direction from whence it came, he beheld a big buck standing broadside to him. Its head was turned to look at him; the great ears were thrown forward and moved nervously about; and the sensitive muzzle twitched apprehensively as the dreaded man-scent came to it on the breeze.

For a moment Ed was helpless, and stood gazing with surprised, startled eyes at the magnificent creature before him. Then he managed to recover, and quickly brought up his rifle. He aimed where Ben had told him to, behind the shoulder, and with trembling fingers pressed the trigger. At the report the buck made a tremendous leap, fell to its knees, recovered, and bounded away. He fired again, this time at random, and the deer crashed from sight into the heavy timber.

“Wouldn’t that make you sick?” cried Ed, disgustedly, as he sat down and wiped the beads of nervous perspiration from his brow. “I must have hit him, or he wouldn’t have tumbled down,” he assured himself.

Then he remembered the signal and rose and fired the four shots, two at a time, which would bring Ben and the proper advice.

After what seemed a very long time, he heard another sound near at hand and cocked his rifle. He uncocked the weapon a moment later when he was hailed by Ben and George.

“I got a shot, and I think I hit him!” he cried, as he ran to meet them.

“Where is he?” Ben asked, quietly, after he had cautioned George, who had begun to whoop.

“He went off that way,” explained Ed, pointing in the proper direction.

A look of disappointment came over the face of the guide, and George at once subsided into gloomy silence.

“I hit him, I tell you,” Ed declared, emphatically. “He fell and then jumped up and ran off.”

“Where was he standing?” Ben asked, a bit more hopefully.

Ed got his bearings from the rock on which he had been sitting, and went over to about where he thought the buck had been when he had fired at it.

Ben stooped over and scanned the ground closely in a wide circle. He was silent for some minutes while thus engaged; then he straightened, laughing, and pointed to a low bush beside them.

“You hit him, sure, and hit him hard,” he declared. “And we’ll get him—he’s shot through the lungs!”

The boys looked at the bush and saw several red splashes on its brown leaves. Following close behind Ben, who was crouching along near to the ground, they saw other darker spots at their feet.

“He won’t run very far. I started him in a swamp. Just got a glimpse of him as I was crawling under a fallen tree-top, and couldn’t shoot,” Ben explained.

“My, he’s big!” said Ed.

“Better not talk any more now,” the guide cautioned them, looking keenly ahead.

They crossed a brook, and when they reached the opposite side there was a rustling of undergrowth. The lads cocked their rifles and the buck jumped to its feet and stood facing them.

“Shoot!” cried Ben.

The boys brought up their rifles at the same instant, but George was the first to pull trigger. His bullet went straight through the heart, and the buck dropped dead.

Ben ran forward and cut its throat with his hunting-knife. He complimented the lads on their good shooting, and said they must have been practising before they came to the woods. Ed told him he had a rifle-range in the cellar of his home, and said that George and he had engaged in many contests.

The guide showed them how to cut a slit in the flesh of the deer’s hind legs and insert a stout stick from one leg to the other to spread them apart. He called it a gambrel and briefly explained its use. Then, with their assistance, he raised the carcass by aid of poles. The deer once swung up, Ben quickly cut it open and removed its entrails. He put aside the liver, which he promised to cook for breakfast.

He would have skinned the buck, but twilight was fast gathering, and they must choose a suitable camp-site and build some sort of a shelter for the night. Therefore he decided to leave the deer hung up until daylight, when he could remove the hide and quarter the carcass.

They washed in the clear, cold water of a little stream. Then Ben began his search for a camping-place. At last he found a spot to his liking on top of a pine-clad knoll. He led the boys to it, and bade them slip their packs.

Ben looked around until he found two trees growing on a parallel line, about six feet apart. He cut a pole about an inch wider than the space between their trunks. After cutting some notches in the pole’s upper side, he placed it between the trees and drove it down until it became securely wedged about six feet from the ground. Next he cut and trimmed two logs, each about eight feet long and some five inches through. He placed them on the ground, one extending back from the base of each tree.

At his order the boys had cut some long straight poles, about two inches in diameter. They were placed against the notched ridge-pole between the trees, the end of each pole fitting nicely into the notch cut to hold it, and the lower end resting on the ground some eight or ten feet back.

They had the roof, sides, and door of the lean-to completed, and were ready to go on with the “shingling,” under Ben’s directions. He bade them cut many armfuls of balsam and hemlock branches. These he dexterously wove between the roof-poles until he had made a thick covering, or mat, over their little shelter. Then he placed small trees and branches against the sides.

When the boys returned, each with a back-load of balsam tips for bed-making, they were astonished to find a cozy bough-house ready for them. The delicious aroma of fried bacon rose from the pan which Ben was shaking over a bed of glowing coals. Hastily throwing their boughs inside the shelter, the two hungry young hunters sat down to supper.

That night they made a big camp-fire, for the autumn air was chill. As the flames leaped and danced and threw a circle of orange-colored light into the dark, somber woods, the lads sat on a great log and listened attentively to Ben, who told them tales of the forest.

Finally the fire died low and the blackness crept in upon the little group before the shelter. Ben rose and declared it was time to turn in. By the aid of the lantern they made their beds of boughs, rolled themselves in their blankets, put out the light, and soon drifted off to sleep.

George was awakened by the hooting of an owl in a tree close by, and lay for some time listening to the mournful serenade. He heard the deep, heavy breathing of the guide, and knew he was slumbering soundly. Ed did not stir, and he was sure that he, too, was far away in the “land of nod.” The bird continued its dismal hooting; and then, as the fire flickered into new life for a moment, an idea seized the waker.

George rose and slipped noiselessly from his blankets. Then he felt around until he had secured his rifle, and, once in possession of it, he stole quietly out into the darkness.

The owl ceased calling, and the sleepy young hunter strained his eyes in an effort to locate it. Then again came the mocking call, and it seemed to the eager youth as he stood there peering aloft into the dark that the uncanny bird was actually laughing at him.

The fire again flared up and sent its flickering shafts of light high into the surrounding tree-tops. This was the opportunity for George to get his shot. Boldly outlined on the limb sat the owl. George took quick but accurate aim and pulled the trigger as the owl started to vacate its illuminated perch.

The report of the rifle reverberated through the silent woods like the crash of thunder. Awakened by the noise, Ed and the guide sat up just as the owl crashed through the branches and sailed headlong into the lean-to. Its heavy body struck Ed squarely in the face and tumbled him over backward with the force of the blow.

“What in tarnation has happened?” cried Ben, leaping from his blankets and grabbing the lantern.

“There’s something in here!” yelled Ed, rushing from the shelter. “Where’s George? He’s gone!” he cried, in alarm.

George was helpless with laughter at the results of his shot. When Ben had lighted the lantern and discovered the owl lying on the blankets, the guilty marksman appeared, grinning broadly.

“Well, say, young feller, you certainly stirred things up considerable for this time of the night,” said Ben, as he threw the dead owl at the disturber of his dreams.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” protested Ed.

“Thought I did,” laughed George, unloading his rifle and crawling beneath his blankets. “Will you show me how to skin the owl, Ben?” he asked, meekly.

“Sure I will,” promised the guide; and then he extinguished the lantern and ordered the boys to go to sleep.