Читать книгу The Cave by the Beech Fork - Henry S. Spalding - Страница 12

Table of Contents

Owen and Martin trudged along the river bank for some minutes without uttering a word. Just as they were crossing a ravine, a large fox-squirrel sprang upon the trunk of a tall oak and ran to the top of the tree, which was so high that any but a practised eye would have looked for the animal in vain. After a short but careful search Owen discovered the bushy tail, and, changing his position a little, could see the squirrel looking down at him from its dizzy height. More for the sake of breaking the monotony of the walk than for the value of the squirrel, he raised his rifle and fired. There was a slight buzzing noise, and the ball fell on the ground in front of him.

"Powder wet!" he exclaimed. "That's what the rain does for a fellow's rifle."

"I had better try mine," said Martin, at the same time cocking his rifle and discharging it without raising it to his shoulder. "All right!" he continued, as the clear, sharp report echoed back from the cliffs.

"Halloo, youngstars! Any turkeys up in that there tree!" exclaimed some one from the top of the hill.

The boys looked up and saw Jolly Jerry. They had met the old trapper before, and were glad to find that they were not alone in the forest.

"No!" answered Owen. "It's only a fox-squirrel. I was trying my rifle."

"You are early this mornin', boys," said Jerry, coming down the hill.

"We were out all night," replied Martin.

"You was! I reckon you was almost frozed," replied the trapper. "Did you sleep under a tree?"

"We did at first; but it soon began to rain, and we went up under—under the—the bluffs," answered Owen with some hesitation, little dreaming of the importance of the answer.

Jerry put several other questions to see whether either of the two boys would say anything about the cave. But now that they were on their guard, they answered promptly and evasively. Jerry was satisfied—to press them farther might lead to suspicion; he therefore terminated the conversation abruptly, and began to look among the branches of the tree for the squirrel. Owen offered to point it out to him, but he motioned the boy aside, adding that he had not trapped in the forest twenty years for nothing. He continued his search for ten minutes, shifting his position continually. "Boys," he finally asked, "are you dead sure thare's a squirrel in that thare oak?"

"Yes, sir," said Owen, "just where it was when I first saw it."

Jerry looked a second time; much to the amusement of the two boys, he was again unsuccessful.

"Youngstars!" he concluded, "if thare's a squirrel in that thare oak, I'll eat him—bones, hair—and all, sure as my name's Jerry the Trapper."

"Wait until I load my rifle," said Owen, "and I'll bring it down for you." He had already dried his rifle, but could not use his powder, for the water had penetrated into the horn.

"Now I am ready," he continued, having used some of Martin's powder and loaded with great care; "do you want it barked, half-barked, or shot through the head?"

Owen's terms may need a short explanation. Frequently when a squirrel was in a high tree, with only a leg or a bushy tail visible among the thick branches, the huntsman could judge its position, and aim in such a way as first to pierce the bark and then the squirrel; this was called half-barking. But if he sent the ball under the squirrel, and killed it by the force of the shock without drawing blood, it was called barking or whole barking.

The trapper, who was not a little surprised at Owen's liberal offer, answered in his brusk, good-natured way: "Not partic'lar, youngstar, not partic'lar."

"Mother always prefers them shot through the head; she says that they are better when they bleed as soon as they are killed," said Owen.

"That's where we disagree; I'll take the feller barked. Bark him, youngstar, bark him if you can," said Jerry, at the same time getting in position to shoot the squirrel after Owen had fired, for he was convinced that only a champion marksman could touch it at such a height.

"I reckon I've got to eat him—hair, bones and all!" exclaimed the trapper, as the report of the rifle died away and the squirrel came tumbling through the branches of the oak.

"Did it touch a hair?" said Martin, holding up the squirrel and showing it to the astonished trapper. This was followed by a prolonged whistle from the latter, who continued for some time to examine the squirrel carefully, scarcely crediting the evidence of his senses.

"It's all luck! huntsman's luck! comes once in a lifetime! just like settin' a dead-fall for a weasel and catchin' a wildcat! I only seen it done once," expostulated Jerry. "Youngstar," he continued, "do you see that yeller-hammer off yonder through them there bushes?"

"Yes, sir," said Owen, looking in the direction indicated.

"If you send a ball through his right eye I'll eat him whole—head, feathers, and all."

"That's a hard shot," replied Owen. "The bushes are thick; then, besides, a yellow-hammer can't keep in the same place long enough for one to take aim. Look at it; its head is moving as fast as the spindle of a spinning-wheel."

"Try it, Owen," put in Martin. "I have seen you make harder shots than that."

While Owen was loading his rifle, the yellow-hammer flew, passing over the head of the trapper. Up went his rifle—crack—and the bird fluttered to the ground.

"I reckon you can't beat that, youngstars!" exclaimed Jerry, with evident satisfaction. "I've been practicin' for the shootin'-match next month. I ain't been there since Coon-Hollow-Jim, as they calls him, is been takin' the prizes; but I am goin' to out-shoot him, sure as my name's Jerry the Trapper."

"It would take a good marksman to beat that shot you just made," said Martin.

"That it would! that it would!" said Jerry, evidently pleased with the compliment.

"Owen, here, can shoot on the wing," continued Martin. "I've seen him"—here Martin paused for a moment, then added: "I've seen him hit them now and then." For Owen, too, had been practicing for the shooting-match to which Jerry referred. It was, as yet, a secret, however, which had been confided to no one but Martin.

"I say, youngstars, has you seen any notice of the shootin'-match?" inquired Jerry.

"No, sir," said Owen, "and I passed the cross-roads yesterday."

Jerry had accomplished his mission by detaining the boys for nearly half an hour, and, as they were anxious to continue on their way homeward, he parted with them without further display of his prowess with the rifle.

"Good mornin', youngstars," said he, putting the squirrel into his game sack and starting down the river. "I'll keep part of my promise by making my dinner on this here feller."

"Good morning!"

"Good morning!" said Owen and Martin almost simultaneously.

When Jerry had gone some distance down the river he turned and yelled to the boys: "If you meet my friend Stayford, tell him he'll find me near old Bowman's shipping place!"

"Why didn't I ask him about that dead-fall?" said Owen, looking down the narrow path where Jerry had disappeared.

"What dead-fall?" inquired Martin.

"One that will catch weasels and foxes. A weasel has been stealing our chickens every night."

"And can't you trap him in the ordinary dead-fall?" asked Martin.

"No! he is too sharp for them. The common dead-fall is good enough for wildcats and wolves. All that you need then is a heavy beam of wood, supported by a smaller piece, to which the bait is fastened; but this is too clumsy for a weasel, for he can make his escape before the trap falls."

"If we meet Stayford we'll ask him how Jerry fixes his small traps. I have caught foxes, but always used the long box-trap."

"I captured a weasel about two weeks ago," said Owen, "and what do you think he did? Gnawed his foot off and escaped."

While the boys were conversing about the sly little marauder of the chicken-coop and planning its destruction, they were hailed by Walter Stayford. He affected surprise to find them out in the woods so early, then questioned them as Jerry did, and received the same answer. The boys on their part had no suspicion of his being the man whom they had met in the cave, as it was too dark for them to see his features when he first appeared there. At Owen's request, Stayford explained how Jerry constructed his dead-falls for minks, weasels and other small rodents, whose skins possessed a market value. Instead of the one large log used for crushing the animal to death, he substituted four smaller ones, arranged parallel to each other, and about two inches apart. The trigger which supported these logs did not consist of a single strip of wood, but of three thin pieces shaped like the figure four, the bait being at the end of the horizontal piece and directly under the center of the dead-fall. The trigger thus set was very delicate, and fell if it was but slightly touched.

When Stayford had explained to the boys how to construct the trap he pushed on toward the place which Jerry had appointed for their meeting.

"Ha, ha!" he laughed to himself, as he walked along; "that was my plan, and it worked like one of Jerry's dead-falls."

It was indeed a good scheme to ascertain whether or not the boys would divulge the secret. No sooner had they left the cave than Jerry, who had already donned his hunting coat and cap, passing out into the forest by one of the secret entrances, and making a detour through the wood, reached the path about a mile up the river. Here he entertained the boys until Stayford could gain the path still farther up the Beech Fork. For this reason he pretended to look for the red-squirrel, and proposed to devour it whole if Owen succeeded in bringing it to the ground.

When Jerry and Stayford met they congratulated each other on the happy success of the ruse by which they had just tested the veracity of the two prisoners whom they had restored to liberty.

"They're all correct," said the trapper. "They ain't none of your gray foxes what one hound can ketch; but genuine red foxes, what can't be cornered by a whole pack."

"I watched them closely while I questioned them," said Stayford, "but not a word they uttered, nor any expression of their faces could give a clue to the fact that they were in the cave."

Returning to their underground home, the two men secured the rock door, threw themselves upon their beds of straw, and were soon fast asleep.

The boys hastened homeward, discussing excitedly their strange adventure so long as their way permitted them to go together, and even when their paths separated, Martin's following the river, and Owen's leading over the hills, their thoughts were much the same. Was there connected with that cave a secret which they did not know? Did this dark, weird, treacherous cavern shelter beneath its gloomy arches some strange occupant? They felt that there was a mystery in the history of the cave yet to be revealed.