Читать книгу The Deer Stalker - Zane Grey - Страница 5

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It took nearly two weeks for the two rangers, working during the mornings, to put up the wire fences as planned by Eburne. It was an experiment and not at all satisfactory to the men. But wire and lumber were scarce and must be replenished from Kanab before any further plans could be attempted.

The wide end of the corral, which extended by wings down along the meadow, was left open. The head that surrounded the spring had a gate for the deer to pass out. At a point close to the water, Eburne planned to place the traps to be sent by Cassell, and if these proved unsatisfactory he would construct one of his own design. The question as to how the trapped animals would act kept the ranger awake at night.

At length the Cleveland-Cliff traps arrived, and the driver who had packed them in his rickety Ford had also guided two automobiles loaded with tourists. He had not lost the opportunity to enlarge upon the wonders of Buckskin, the thousands of deer, and the hospitality of the rangers. Soon he departed, pocketing the generous tips bestowed by the sight-seers and leaving the rangers in an awkward situation.

One of the rules of the forest service demanded courtesy to visitors. An old slogan was that the national parks belonged to Americans. Eburne and Blakener greeted the strangers with a certain amount of reserve. Now that the vanguard of the summer tourists had arrived, the rangers realized that in addition to guarding their country’s natural resources, they would have to serve as guides, cooks, and information bureau.

Thad did not have time to examine the traps until the visitors had left. Then he found them to be boxlike constructions, nine feet long, eight high, and between four and five wide. The entrance was a trap door. Manifestly the idea was to leave the door open for the deer to enter and pull at the bait of hay, which action would release the catch and close the door.

“Well, these traps won’t do as they are, that’s certain,” declared Eburne.

Blakener, too, was doubtful of the traps’ practicability, but he expressed himself in quite different language. They carried one of the contraptions up to the cabin porch, where, after supper, they studied it. It was easy to see where they could be improved.

Next morning they set about the task of lengthening the boxes and adding another trap door to each. When completed, they were rather heavy; and packing them out to the fenced-in water hole taxed the strength of the rangers. Finally they were set and baited to suit Eburne, and he repaired to his hiding place above the spring.

The crudely reconstructed traps did not look very enticing; however, they were made of old lumber and had nothing conspicuous about them. Thad had not the slightest doubt about deer going into them to nibble at the hay.

On this day the deer appeared slow in coming, and Thad grew tired of waiting. At long last, however, a whole troop filed across the meadow and entered the corral. Thad’s position was such that he did not have a good view of the traps, and he crawled to a more advantageous, though less comfortable, place. The bucks were plainly curious about the traps, but the does and fawns gave them a wide berth. Eburne’s instruction had been to make a speciality of the latter. Young bucks would be acceptable, but the tough old stags were not wanted.

It turned out that the desirable deer were not likely to be captured in this sort of trap. The older, bolder bucks, however, plainly showed they were going after that hay. Eburne espied one, presently, warily enter the trap. He waited, but nothing happened. If the buck was pulling on the hay, which Eburne doubted, it certainly did not spring the trap door. The failure of the trap to spring nonplused the ranger. At the same time he was pleased to see the other deer grouped around the trap which contained the buck. The fawns were especially amusing. They imitated the actions of their mothers, yet they seemed to have a good many ideas of their own as they flipped their short tails and kicked out with their hind legs.

There were probably twenty-five deer in this group, and their excitement over the buck in the trap seemed to make them forget why they had come to the spring. They forgot to drink or to exercise their usual caution.

Suddenly a crack and a bang sounded from the second trap, which Eburne could not see very well from where he sat. This was followed by a clattering and scraping, mixed with solid thumps. It was obvious that a buck had sprung the door of the trap.

Eburne was rising to get a better view when a crashing sound from the first trap warned him to expect violent action in that corner. The box trap rocked; and then, right out of the top of this eight-foot pen shot a big buck deer. Thad yelled with delight to see that magnificent leap. “Good boy!” he shouted.

The deer was unhurt but pretty badly scared. He bounded straight against the wire fence, staggered back, then, recovering himself, ran with prodigious leaps down into the meadow, followed by the whole troop. They halted at the edge of the forest to look back. Then one by one they trotted out of sight into the brown and green forest.

Meanwhile the trapped buck in the box was making a battering ram of himself. He could not break out, however, or scale the side of the trap. Eburne ran toward the spring, yelling for his partner Blakener to come. It did not take more than a glance to see that the deer had injured himself. Blood dripped from his mouth. Eburne was afraid the jaw was broken. But the deer would not stand still long enough for Eburne to make closer observations. As he stood there, Blakener came running from the cabin.

“Say, Blake, we’ve got one—a big buck,” shouted Thad. “He sure raised the dickens. There was another buck got in the other trap. For some reason the door didn’t work at first. Maybe he didn’t pull on the hay. But when he did spring the trap—wow, he leaped right out of the box!”

“Stop your—kiddin’,” panted Blakener.

“Honest. Look, see the trap door down—the hay pulled off the wire.”

“By golly—” exclaimed Blakener, peering into the trap. Then he was interrupted by a terrific commotion in the other box. The captured buck had begun to thrash and crash around again.

“He’ll kill himself. I knew this would happen,” declared Eburne in distress. “We’ll let him out into our pen.”

Suiting action to word, Eburne lifted the slide door at the back of the trap. They had set the trap against an opening of appropriate size in the fence. The buck rushed out blindly, colliding with the wire of this small round pen, bounced back, and then began to circle. Eburne closed the slide door in the trap. They now had the buck captive, but in quarters where he could see and move. Thad had built this little side pen for the does and fawns he hoped to catch. It was soon evident that the buck would not further injure himself. Eburne feared, however, that serious harm already had been done. The buck limped; he had skinned his knees and breast; his lower jaw hung down, dripping with blood.

“Bad hurt,” said Blakener regretfully. “What’ll we do? Let him go?”

“No. Not unless he kicks up more fuss,” replied Eburne. “I’m afraid he’s done for. We’ll hold him a while, anyway.”

“How about the traps?” queried Blakener.

“I’m afraid they won’t do,” replied the ranger. “Certainly not for big, strong deer. They’d be fine for fawns. But the foxy little things wouldn’t go in. One out of a hundred might, but that would not make this kind of trap of any use to us. We’ll try my pen trap idea.”

On the other side of the corral Thad had constructed another small wire enclosure with a trap gate. There was water inside. A board pen, ten by twenty feet, had been built alongside this, into which deer could be quickly driven after they were captured. By shutting off access to the spring in the larger corral Eburne felt confident that even does and fawns might be induced to seek the water in the small pen.

While the rangers were talking over the advisability of trying this trap on the next herd of deer, a motorcar came humming out of the forest and halted before the cabin. The discordant honk of a horn disturbed the forest stillness. It frightened the captured buck into renewed frantic efforts to escape.

“Blake, there are some of your tourist friends,” said Eburne banteringly. “I think I see a lady with red hair.”

“Humph! So you do,” replied Blakener. “Well, I don’t see that you have anythin’ on me. The fame of my sour-dough biscuits has penetrated to the outside world, an’ also your fame as the ranger who loves deer. Strikes me you get off easier than I.”

“Yes, when you have to dispense biscuits and I merely sentiment,” replied Thad, laughing.

Together they returned to the cabin. This time Eburne was rather agreeably surprised. The tourists turned out to be a family from Boston touring the West and sensibly and happily appreciative of the country and the rangers. The deer stalker was not a little thrilled to hear the well-remembered Yankee twang. The red-haired lady was an attractive girl, neither handsome nor plain, neither aristocratic nor common, and her appearance, talk and action stirred a strange regretful emotion in Eburne. He was almost sorry to see the pleasant family depart soon afterward.

“Well, they fooled us,” ejaculated Blakener. “Didn’t even want no biscuits!”

“I’m kind of ashamed of my remarks about tourists,” confessed Eburne. “They were nice people. And the auburn-haired girl—”

“She took my eye all right,” interrupted Blakener as his comrade hesitated. “Not too pretty! Not stuck on herself!—Thad, some day there’ll be a girl; she’ll ride up here to V. T. Park—an’ you’ll be done with rangerin’ forever.”

“Could be,” rejoined Thad musingly.

“Some day, Thad, you’ll have to choose between stalkin’ deer and trailin’ after another kind of dear. For your sake I hope it comes soon.”

“Right now is a good time to change the subject,” said Eburne and went out to watch his deer trap. He approached by way of the knoll above the spring and kept out of sight. A number of deer had come in, none of which appeared unduly excited by the sight of the captured buck in the side corral. Soon Thad ascertained that the buck was lying down. He espied also two other deer inside the opposite pen—a buck and a doe, of a size and age that he did not want to experiment with. It would have been an easy matter to pull the string arranged at hand for this purpose and thereby shut the trap gate. But he waited for these deer to go out and hoped others more suitable for capture would come in. He was, however, doomed to disappointment. The does and fawns were extremely cautious, and though they evidently were thirsty, they left without getting a drink. The ranger watched for two hours longer, during which time many deer came as far as the new trap he had erected around the water. Not many fawns, however, were included in the number; and it was the young deer that Eburne wanted to take. It occurred to him that some other watering place, where does and fawns were more plentiful, might yield better results.

Before sunset that day he had planned a more elaborate trap, on a large scale, which he intended to build after giving the present one another tryout. The ranger’s new idea was to extend the fences clear beyond the meadow, taking in a hillside. These fences would be narrowed into a chute, with a gate attached that could be shut behind the deer. Then the animals could be separated by some means or trick he had not yet worked out, and the deer he wanted to keep could be let into a round corral with a very high fence. Here they could be fed and watered until tame enough to handle.

Next morning the ranger was not surprised to find the captured buck dead. It had a broken jaw and leg and many contusions. He dragged it to the cabin, removed the skin, and saved most of the meat. The autopsy failed to reveal the least sign of fat around its ribs. Though Eburne had expected that the matured deer might do themselves some serious injury when captured, the actual realization of this first tragedy depressed him as if it had come as a surprise.

Early that afternoon, out of a small bunch of deer coming in for water, a yearling doe and a tiny fawn ventured far enough into Eburne’s pen to permit him to spring the trap gate and capture them. He was elated and at once ran down to the fence. The other deer beat a precipitous retreat.

Eburne found the doe in better condition than most of the deer he had seen. It was badly frightened, yet ran round the pen instead of butting into the fence. The fawn was rather unsteady on its legs, either from weakness or extreme youth. It was red, fuzzy, with white spots, and the prettiest little animal Thad had ever seen. But for the antics of the doe, the fawn might not have been especially wild. At any rate, Thad had no difficulty in catching it and he packed it in his arms up to the cabin. Blakener was delighted. The two rangers had rescued and saved many a motherless lamb, and they were pretty sure this was an orphaned fawn. Whether it liked milk or not was of little concern to them; they fed it by force. And when Eburne at last set it down on the floor, it did not make any wild efforts to escape. It seemed bewildered rather than frightened.

“You poor forlorn little thing,” said Eburne compassionately.

“Thad, let him stay right in here,” suggested Blakener. “He’ll soon get tame. Why he’s so young he’s shaky on his legs— What’ll we call him?”

“Say, Blake, you’re as softhearted as I am,” declared Eburne with a grin. “We forget we’re capturing deer for our superiors to ship and sell somewhere. That reminds me, I’ve got a yearling doe out there in the trap. Let’s go out and see if we can move her into the large pen. I believe if we open the gates she’ll go out of one pen and into the other.”

But the rangers found further proof of their meager knowledge of deer. The doe would not drive. Instead she ran so frantically and plunged into the fence so violently that they were forced to abandon the attempt. They left the gate open, but still the doe did not come out. Eburne concluded that she had hurt herself.

“Let’s get out of sight,” he suggested to Blakener.

“It’s pretty discouragin’,” admitted Blakener as they climbed the knoll to conceal themselves. “These wild deer can’t be herded or trapped or driven.”

“Seems so,” agreed Eburne. “But I’m not satisfied yet that we can’t catch them. We may hit on just the right way.”

“But if out of a dozen or so deer we trap only one isn’t bad hurt—that won’t be a success.”

“In any event it’s far from humane. However, nothing was said about that. We’ve orders to trap deer alive for shipment out of the preserve. . . . Hello! There goes our doe. She limps, she’s going on three legs.”

The rangers watched the sleek, graceful form hobble down the aisle into the open meadow and out among other deer working in for water. Her advent occasioned a halt. The deer took a long time to come in. Blakener went back to the cabin while Eburne kept to his post. Before time to quit arrived he might have pulled the trap gate on several deer, but they appeared to be of a size and age that he did not want. At dusk he gave up for the day and trudged wearily back to camp.

When Thad entered the big room of the cabin, it was bright with light from fire and lamp. As he strode in, he espied the little captive fawn edging behind a chair. The ranger halted. The fawn peeped out, with long ears erect and large dark eyes shining, slowly drew its head back out of sight, and then very slyly peeped out again. The action captivated Eburne.

“Hey, your name’s Bopeep,” he called cheerily. When he moved again, the fawn darted to a far and dark corner of the room.

Blakener appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Thad, she’s sure goin’ to be a pet. Just before you came in I seen her standin’ right here in the door. Big, gentle, soft eyes, like a woman’s! It got me somehow. Hang this deer trappin’. Well, she stood here till I moved.”

“Ahuh!” replied Thad, “you’re figuring about the same as I, Blake.”

“An’ how’s that?”

“Well, if Bopeep peeps at me any more as she just did, she’s one fawn that’ll never be shipped.”

“You said a lot,” replied Blakener soberly. “Come in here, an’ I’ll bet she peeps at you inside of five minutes.”

Eburne complied with a laugh and thought he had divined why his partner was late in getting supper. While he washed his hands and face and then stood up to wipe them dry, Blakener remained stock-still, his hands white with flour, and an expression of infantile pleasure on his face.

“What’d I tell you?” he whispered dramatically.

Then Thad espied Bopeep almost on the threshold. What wonderful dark, mournful, eloquent eyes! They drew a pang from the ranger’s heart. The fawn was exquisitely timid and shy, yet scarcely frightened.

“What do you know about that?” whispered Blakener. “Lookin’ for her mother. Now ain’t that cute?”

During mealtime and for an hour after, Bopeep occupied most of the rangers’ attention. They decided to let her stay in the cabin. It seemed to Eburne that this dark-eyed little fawn somehow brought out the loneliness of their lives. Blakener was not only amusing but pathetic. Thad divined in this simple reaction the fact that they both needed something to love. It was a melancholy realization and lingered long with him while he lay on the floor in his blankets, watching the flickering shadows of the dying fire. Outside the wind rose and soughed through the pines.

Next morning Eburne wrote letters to officers of the forest service, telling of the difficulties of deer-trapping and that he did not believe the plan would ever be practical or successful or humane. And if he was to continue his experiments, he should have a truckload of wire and lumber sent in at once. These letters were to be given to the first tourists who passed that way.

Eburne entered more earnestly into the business of trapping deer. He was convinced that the experiment would prove a failure, but he felt duty bound to do his best. That day resulted in several captures, only one of which appeared to be of any value. This was a yearling buck, which by dint of much effort and patience Thad finally got into the large corral.

Darkness had set in when he returned to the cabin. Blakener informed him that the important letters had gone to Kanab; also that Bopeep had shown unmistakable signs of becoming tame. Eburne was delighted and thought it made up a little for the unsatisfactory day. He was immensely curious to find out if these little fawns could be caught and tamed in sufficient numbers and to an extent that would warrant the labor and the sacrifice of other deer.

The following afternoon proved to be one of those times when more deer than usual entered the park. Not all of these came to water, but by midafternoon Eburne was sure several hundred deer had passed through the lane and out the corral gate. He had a number of chances to spring the trap gate, but he chose to let them go.

Then just before sunset a doe and a fawn unsuspectingly entered the trap. Eburne pulled the string that dropped the gate. He was congratulating himself on an easy capture when the doe became wild to escape and plunged around the enclosure. He concluded to remain where he was until she had quieted down. Presently, after a crashing thud into the fence, she did become quiet. Thad could not see very well. He waited a little while. Then, as he did not see any movement of gray forms or hear any sounds, he hurried down to the corral.

The doe was lying on the ground motionless, and the little fawn was standing beside her, shaking and bewildered. The ranger went inside. Examination proved that the doe had broken her neck. The accident shocked Thad more than any of the other tragedies, probably on account of the forlorn little fawn. He had no difficulty in catching it in his arms and at once strode off toward the cabin.

“It’s a little buck,” said Eburne to Blakener. “We’ll call him Bo.”

Blakener was delighted with the new addition to the household, yet when he heard the particulars of the capture, he regretted the necessity of this work. The little buck was slightly larger than Bopeep, but not so brightly spotted. He was very thin and poorly nourished.

“His mother was in the poorest condition of any deer I’ve seen,” said Eburne. “We can’t even use the meat. No wonder her fawn is thin. Let’s feed him.”

The two rangers had to use force. Blakener held Bo between his knees and opened his mouth while Eburne poured milk down his throat. Bo squirmed and choked, but he had to swallow. Bopeep stood close by, tremendously interested in this procedure. When he was released, to stagger in terror away from his captors, she followed him and stayed close to him.

“He’ll tame easier because of Bopeep,” said Eburne. “Well, Blake, you look after our menagerie while I go back to the rotten job.”

* * * * *

By the time another week had passed, many things had happened. Eburne was a sadder and wiser man. Out of four captured deer, three had died of injury or grief and one had shown some slight indication of recovering. Another fawn had been added to keep company with Bo and Bopeep.

The matter of caring for the fawns was something entirely different. The rangers liked it immensely. Bopeep, especially, became lovable and as tame and playful as a kitten. Bo followed Blakener about the cabin as if he were his mother. And the third fawn was responding rapidly at least to kindness, if not to the kind of nourishment given him. In a few days more he became a pet like his comrades, but he did not thrive. And he died from no cause that the rangers could discover.

Bo and Bopeep grew to be such pets that they were permitted to go outdoors and follow the rangers around. One day Bo disappeared. Blakener, who was alone at the cabin when this happened, hurriedly searched all over the park, but in vain. Upon Eburne’s return the two rangers decided that Bo had not become lost but had run off. They reluctantly gave up the search. On the morning of the third day, however, he came home and quite blithely pattered upon the porch and into the cabin, to the infinite amazement and pleasure of the rangers.

“Oho, you came back!” ejaculated Eburne. “Starved, hey? Lost all that fat we put on you?”

Bo manifested satisfaction over his return to the cabin and the companionship of Bopeep, but he did not appear to be hungry. This worried Eburne, who remarked to his comrade that these little wild creatures were extremely delicate and hard to understand. That evening Bo drank heartily of cold water, behind the rangers’ backs, as it were; and the overindulgence killed him.

This was a blow to the rangers. It absolutely convinced Eburne of the almost impossible task of saving any number of fawns, even if they could be secured. He wrote and dispatched a detailed report of all that had happened and his reluctance to go on with this deer-trapping work.

Beautiful summer weather had come, and every day more motoring tourists visited V. T. Park. Blakener resigned himself more or less gracefully to the inevitable, but Thad hated the sound and sight and smell of automobiles. Most of the tourists were agreeable and diverting, pleasant to meet, but he would rather have avoided them.

“Say, Thad, if I was you I’d go to Kanab an’ lay that proposition of McKay’s before the supervisors,” suggested Blakener. “You’ve got a good excuse. That wire and lumber you ordered hasn’t come. Reckon you can find out a lot of things interestin’ for us.”

“Blake, it’s a good hunch. I’ll go,” declared Eburne. “Take good care of Bopeep while I’m gone. I’ll find out when that investigating committee is due. And about this plan for opening the forest to the hunters. If the time proves right I’ll submit McKay’s proposition to the authorities. And don’t you think I won’t look into the Settlemire-Dyott deal, whatever it is.”

“Fine and dandy,” replied his partner. “Reckon you’ll be gone a week or so. It’s gettin’ on into June now, Thad. Soon you’ll be leavin’ for your summer station at Big Spruce.”

“Yes, unless I get fired—which is altogether possible,” rejoined Eburne. “Believe me, Blake, I’m going to let my hair down with these officers.”

“Huh! It won’t do no good,” growled Blakener.