Frank in the Woods Part 5

what do you think I seed? There war my trap, with a big beaver in it, ketched fast by the hind leg; an' right behind some big trees that stood near the trap war three Injuns, listenin', an' watchin', an'

waitin' for me to come an' get my game.

"'"That's the way you painted heathen watch for a white gentleman, is it," thinks I; "I'll fix some o' you." So I drawed my knife an'

tomahawk, an' laid them on the ground beside me, an' then, arter examinin' my rifle to see that it war all right, I drawed a bead on the biggest Injun, an' fired. He rolled over, dead as a door nail, an'

the others jumped up an' yelled like two screech owls. I didn't stop to ax no questions; but, throwin' away my rifle, I grabbed up my knife an' tomahawk, an' walked into 'em.

"'They both fired as I came up--one missed, an' the other tuk me in the leg, an' kerflumux I come to the ground. The Injuns thought they had me now, sure, an' they came toward me, drawin' their knives an'

yellin' like mad. But I war on my pins agin in less than no time; an', standin' as well as I could on my broken leg, I swung my tomahawk around my head, an' let fly at the nighest Injun. It tuk him plumb atween the eyes, an' I knowed that the work war done for him. But the next minit the other heathen clinched me, an', liftin' me off my legs, throwed me to the ground like a log. He had two legs to use, an' I had only one; there war where he had the advantage of me. But I had the use of my hands; an' I jest made up my mind that if he wanted my scalp he would have to work for it; so, quick as lightnin', I grabbed the hand that held the knife, an' give it a squeeze that actooally made the bones crack, an' the rascal give one yell, an' let go the weapon.

Then, with the other hand, I ketched him by the scalp-lock, an' done my best to turn him, knowin' that if I could onct get on top of him, I would be all right; but I couldn't use my leg; so, thinks I, I'll hold him here awhile, an' I pulled his head down close to me. But I had bled so much that I begun to give out; an' the Injun, who hadn't made a move arter I got hold of his har, knowed that I war growin' weak, an' the first thing I knowed, he broke away from me, an' sprung to his feet. I tried to get up too, but the Injun grabbed up his knife, an'

pinned me agin. I fit as well as I could, but the rascal knowed I couldn't do nothin'; and, placing one knee on my breast to hold me down, he put one hand to his mouth, an' give a loud yell.

"'It war answered close by, an' somebody come out o' the bushes. At first I thought it war another Injun comin' up to help rub me out; but another look showed me that it war a white feller. He didn't stop to ax no questions, but made a dash at the Comanche, who got off me in a tarnal hurry, an' callin' out some name that showed that he knowed who the white feller war, he begun to make tracks; but he hadn't gone ten foot afore the trapper had him by the neck. The fight war mighty short, for the Comanche wasn't nowhere--the trapper handled him as though he had been a baby, an' in less than two minits he war a dead Injun.'

"That's the way ole Bill used to tell his story," continued d.i.c.k; "an'

he allers used to pint me out as the man that saved him. The white feller's trail that he seed by the creek war my own, an' I war follerin' up the Comanches. Wal, I tuk the old man back to his camp, an', arter two months' doctorin', I got him all right agin. When he got well, he wouldn't let me leave him, nor I didn't want to, for he war jest the kind of a man I wanted for a chum. He hated an Injun as bad as I did, an' I used to like to listen to the stories he told of his fights with them. How do you come on now, youngster?"

"O! I feel pretty well," answered Frank, "only I'm a little weak."

"You can thank your lucky stars that you wasn't rubbed out altogether," said the trapper, as he approached the young hunter. "Me an' Useless got there jest in time. But you won't allers be so lucky."

After wrapping Frank up carefully in the blankets again, he knocked the ashes from his pipe, and sought his own couch.

CHAPTER VI.

The White Buck.

It was a week before Frank was able to travel, during which time George and Archie had been sent back to Uncle Joe's after supplies of bread, coffee, and salt. Early one morning they again set out, the trapper leading the way more slowly than at the former part of the journey, so as not to weary his young companion. They halted at noon for dinner, and about four o'clock in the afternoon they reached a dilapidated cabin.

"This yere is to be our camp for awhile," said d.i.c.k, throwing his rifle into the hollow of his arm. "I camped here last winter; but I see the shantee is well-nigh broke down. But we can soon set it to rights agin."

They leaned their guns against the logs of the cabin, and Archie and George cut down some saplings with which to repair the roof; while the others cleared out the old pine boughs that covered the floor, and erected a new crane over the fireplace, which was a hole about four feet in diameter and a foot and a half deep, that had been dug in the middle of the floor. An opening in the roof directly over this did duty both as chimney and window. Before dark the cabin was put in order again, and the hunters began to prepare their supper.

The next morning the trapper, after giving Frank emphatic directions to remain quiet during the day, set out, with Useless at his heels, to look for "otter signs." George and Archie followed him with their fox-traps; and Frank and Harry, being left to themselves, shouldered their guns, and strolled slowly through the woods, and amused themselves in shooting rabbits, which were very abundant. In a short time they had secured game enough for dinner, and were about to retrace their steps toward the cabin, when the dog, which was some distance in advance of them, suddenly stopped, and, after listening a moment, uttered a low whine, ran back to his master, and took refuge behind him.

"What's the matter with the dog, I wonder?" said Frank, patting the animal's head, and endeavoring to encourage him.

"I don't know," answered Harry, clutching his gun more firmly; "he must have seen or scented some wild animal. Perhaps it would be safer to go back a little way. I shouldn't like the idea of meeting a bear or panther;" and Harry began to retreat.

"Hold on," said Frank; "don't be in a hurry. If it is a panther, we are certainly a match for him. Our guns are loaded with buck-shot."

"I know it; but if I should see one of the 'varmints,' as d.i.c.k calls them, I should be so excited that I couldn't shoot at all. I think we had better"--

"Hush!" interrupted Frank. "Don't you hear something?"

The boys listened, and a faint cry, like the yelping of a pack of hounds, was borne to their ears.

"It can't be dogs," said Frank, "for if it was, Brave would not have been so frightened; besides, it does not sound exactly like them, and I know of no hunter in this part of the country that keeps hounds."

"I wonder if that is what Brave heard?" said Harry.

"It must be," replied Frank, watching the motions of his dog, which appeared to grow more excited as the sound came nearer. "I would like to know what it is."

"We shall soon find out, for it seems to be coming this way. Let's hide behind some of these trees."

The boys, accordingly, concealed themselves, and waited impatiently, with a great deal of anxiety, for the animals to come in sight. Louder and louder grew the noise, and Harry, turning to his companion, with blanched cheeks, exclaimed:

"It's the cry of a pack of wolves. Let's get away from here."

"O, no," said Frank. "They must be in pursuit of something. Let us wait and see what it is."

There was something appalling in the sound, which now began to echo loudly through the woods, and it was no wonder that Harry wished to retreat. Even Brave, although he was a very courageous dog, seemed struck with terror, and crept up behind his master, as if endeavoring to get out of sight. But Frank, with his usual recklessness, determined to stand his ground as long as possible.

The wolves seemed to be running directly toward them, and the boys held their guns to their shoulders, ready to shoot the first one that appeared. In a few moments there was a crashing in the bushes, and a white object was seen gliding among the trees, while behind him followed a pack of a dozen wolves. They ran with their ears laid close back to their heads, and their mouths open, displaying frightful rows of teeth. Frank gazed at them a moment, and then turned his attention to the game. Could he believe his eyes! It was a _white buck_. He was running at the top of his speed; but his tongue was hanging out of his mouth, and his legs were horribly lacerated by the sharp crust, into which he sank at every step. He was evidently almost tired out, and the wolves were gaining on him rapidly. Frank had often heard of white deer, but had never seen one before, and he determined to take a hand in the affair, and, if possible, rescue the buck from his pursuers.

"Shoot the wolves, Harry," he exclaimed, "and save the deer. We want him ourselves."

"Don't shoot--don't," urged Harry. "The wolves will turn on us."

But it was too late. Frank's gun was at his shoulder in an instant, and the foremost of the pack leaped high in the air, and fell to the ground, dead. The others stopped and ravenously attacked their fallen comrade, and in a moment every vestige of him had disappeared. The white buck kept on his way, and soon disappeared from their sight.

"Shoot 'em, Harry," exclaimed Frank, excitedly, turning to his companion, who stood holding his gun in his hand, and gazing at the wolves as though he had suddenly been deprived of all action; "shoot 'em, and don't be standing there like a b.u.mp on a log. They'll pitch into us, sure, and the more we kill now, the less we shall have to deal with by-and-by."

This seemed to bring Harry back to his senses, and he hurriedly raised his gun to his shoulder and endeavored to cover one of the wolves with the sight. But he was trembling violently, and his gun swayed about like a leaf in a storm.

"Why don't you shoot?" exclaimed Frank.

Harry pressed the trigger, and the loud yell that followed showed that the shot had not been thrown away. One of the wolves was severely wounded. Maddened by the pain, he dashed toward the place where the boys were standing, followed by the whole pack.

"Take to a tree, quick!" exclaimed Frank, who began to be surprised at his own coolness; "it's our only chance. Be sure and keep a good hold of your gun." Suiting the action to the word, he swung himself into the lowest branches of a small pine that stood near, and, reaching down, seized Brave by his long hair and pulled him up after him. It was slow climbing among the thick branches, with a gun in one hand and a dog nearly as heavy as himself in the other; and he had scarcely ascended out of reach before the wolves were around the tree. Several of the pack leaped among the branches, and made desperate efforts to reach him, while their dismal howls made his blood run cold.

"Hold on, down there," muttered Frank. "Wait until I get Brave fixed, and then I'll soon be even with you."

After feeling in all his pockets, he found a stout strap, with which he tied his dog fast to the branches, so that he would not fall down among the wolves.

"I say, Frank, where are you?" shouted Harry, from his tree.

"Here I am," answered Frank. "Are you all right?"

"Yes; but I had a narrow escape, I tell you. The wolves pulled off one of my boots as I was climbing up this tree. You're always getting a fellow into some sc.r.a.pe or other, ain't you?"

"I don't call this much of a sc.r.a.pe," answered Frank. "We're safe, at any rate."

"I know it," replied Harry, who seemed to be regaining his courage.

"But we may have to stay up here a week."