Harper's Round Table, October 1, 1895 Part 3

When, then, the Professor rode up to the appointed rendezvous on the following day, he found Wash awaiting him, "Sally Blazer" in hand, and a powder-horn and shot-pouch slung from his neck by a leather strap. His feet, too, were encased in moccasins that his footfall might not startle the shy creatures of the wildwood.

"Ah, my lad, I see you understand the business," remarked the ornithologist, with an approving nod, "and I predict we shall be fine friends."

Thus, too, it proved and for both. That was the beginning of a month of happy, halcyon days spent in the open; a perpetual picnic, scaling the rough but ever-enchanting hills, wandering through the beautiful solemn pine forests, following Nature's most winsome things to their chosen haunts, and always breathing in the resinous health-giving mountain air.

Sometimes, when the tramp was not to be too long a one, small Royal accompanied his father, gay and joyous as a dancing grig, and looking like a little Highland princeling in his outing costume of Scotch plaid, proudly flourishing a tiny wooden gun.

"We are good chums, ain't we, Wash?" he would say, in his precocious friendly little way--"good chums, going hunting together. But we mustn't kill things just for fun. That is naughty. Papa says food or science is the only excuse. He never takes but one egg from a nest, and would rather snare birds than shoot them."

Occasionally, too, pretty Jean would join the party at a given point, driving over with a dainty lunch from the hotel, and then there would be a merry out-door meal in some cozy green nook, near to one of the cold clear mountain springs which furnished the purest and most refreshing beverage.

And what a revelation this experience was to poor little Washington Beauregard! Not only the bits of knowledge he picked up from the ornithologist's learned discourses on the gorgeous Virginia-cardinals and orioles, the red-capped woodp.e.c.k.e.rs and flitting humming-birds, but in a different style of girlhood and more refined mode of life than he had ever known. Day by day, too, he became fonder of and more devoted to his new friends, and looked forward with dread to the time when they must part. All too speedily, then, that date drew on apace, until the morning set for their last pleasant tramp dawned. The Professor and Washington started early, while at noon Jean and Royal met them on the hills above Stonycliff, climbing the last rough incline, that being too steep for the horses and carriage, which were left with the driver at a small clearing part way down the mountain.

"And just think, papa," cried Jean, "we found the squatter's wife at the log house below in sore trouble. Yesterday that horrible eagle, of which we have heard so much, swooped down and carried off her milch-goat almost before her very eyes, and now what she is going to do for milk for her baby she does not know."

"Well, that is a misfortune truly," said the Professor, "and we must see what we can do to help her, but I wish I had been here to have a peep at that abnormal bird. I imagine the stories regarding it are much exaggerated, but if not, it cannot be an eagle, must belong to the semi-vulturine family, though those are rarer than white black-birds in this part of the world. I really am curious to get a glimpse of the creature." And as it chanced, he was destined to have his curiosity satisfied in a way he little dreamed of.

The collation eaten that day under the trees was an unusually bountiful one, reflecting credit on mine host of the Spring House, and after it the ornithologist stretched himself out to enjoy an afternoon cigar, while Jean, followed by her small brother, wandered off to sketch a charming view that had taken her fancy. Meanwhile Wash cleared away the remains of the feast, packing the dishes in the hamper, and carefully saving any fragments of good things for the little ones at home.

He had just completed his task, when a frightened cry of "Sister, oh, sister!" and a blood-curdling shriek from the girl made him s.n.a.t.c.h up his fowling-piece and fly in the direction the young Stuarts had taken.

The Professor also sprang to his feet and followed suit, while, as they emerged from the shadow of the wood, both were almost paralyzed by the sight they beheld. For there stood Jean, white to the very lips, but bravely endeavoring with her climbing-staff to beat off an enormous bird, in whose great cruel talons struggled little Royal, upon whom had been made a sudden and fierce attack.

"My goodness! it's the demon!" gasped Wash, while the father, overcome by a sickening horror, fell back against a tree. Even too, as they approached, the huge, repulsive creature spread its big dusky wings and began slowly to rise, bearing off in its claws the poor child, who stretched out his tiny hand, sobbing piteously, "Oh, papa, save me!"

There was one terrible nightmarish second, when n.o.body had power to move, and then the Professor, with a wild lunge forward, caught at his vanishing boy. But the gay kilt slipped through his fingers, and still the bird of prey soared relentlessly upward and onward.

But at that moment Granddaddy Saunders's old rifle was raised and levelled at the monster.

"Oh, Wash, pray be careful: you may hit the wee laddie," cried Jean, sinking down and covering her face.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "MAY OLD 'SALLY BLAZERS' NOT MISS FIRE THIS TIME!"]

No one knew the danger better than the mountain-bred youth, but he held himself well in hand and kept cool. "I must only maim, not kill, the critter outright," he thought, "and may old 'Sally Blazers' not miss fire this time!"

Then he took careful aim, a bullet whistled through the air, and the "demon's" left wing dropped powerless at his side. They could see the wrathful red gleam in the creature's eyes as it paused, wavered, and careened to one side, but the right pinion still flapped vigorously, and kept it up, while it still retained its clutch on the little fellow, who no longer screamed, but now appeared ominously quiet and white.

"Ef he gits over the precipice all is lost," murmured the young sportsman, with a glance toward the edge of the cliff upon which they stood, and he wasted no time in reloading and firing again. And oh, joy!

again he winged his victim, which, uttering an unearthly, discordant cry, began to flutter slowly downward. But now a fresh danger threatened Royal, for the bird, maddened by pain, suddenly released its hold, and the fair little head must surely have been crushed on the jagged rocks beneath, had not Wash been prepared for this, and, springing forward, caught him in his strong young arms, although the precipitancy with which the child came almost flung both to the ground. There was just an instant, too, in which to stagger to one side, before, with a whirl and a whir, the mighty fowl was upon them, striking the stony ledge with a dull, sickening thud. Wounded, but by no means dead, was the Snaggle-Tooth demon, and he fought desperately with beak and claws, and beat himself against the granite, until a third shot from old "Sally Blazers" finally ended his career forever.

Meanwhile poor little Royal lay stretched on a bed of moss, pale and unconscious, his garments torn to tatters, and blood streaming from his chubby legs and arms.

"He is dead; my bonny wee laddie is dead, and how ever shall I tell his mother?" sobbed the Professor, completely unnerved; but Jeanie never stopped chafing the dimpled hands, and bathing the white forehead with cold water; until, after what seemed an eternity, a low sigh issued from between the child's pale lips.

"No, papa dear, he is breathing, and it is Wash, good brave Wash, who has saved him"; and when the young girl turned and thanked him, and her eyes filled with grateful tears, the uncouth backwoods boy, though he could only stammer and blush, felt it to be the proudest moment in all his fifteen years of life.

Soon Royal regained consciousness, but seemed so dazed and frightened, clinging to his sister and imploring her to "hide him from the awful, scratching claws," both father and daughter looked worried. "For it will kill mamma to see him in this condition," groaned Jean.

"Oh, then," put in Wash, eagerly, "jest tote him down to our house.

Monny would admire to hev yer, 'n' she's a fust-rate nuss."

"Do you think so? Would your sister really not object?"

"'Deed no; she will be plumb right glad."

So it was decided, and so the young Stuarts made the acquaintance of Monongahela, Jemima Calline, Dallas Lee, and the baby, and slept in the room with the "rag kyarpet and the curtings," which was hastily prepared for the unexpected guests, while by the fitful light of six pine knots the killing of the Snaggle-Rock demon was rehea.r.s.ed again and again.

Monny lost her heart to gentle, ladylike Jean, and concocted such a bowl of "yarb tea" for Royal that he slept soundly all night, and awoke his own bright, bonny, little self.

"It has been a strange conclusion to a most satisfactory summer," said Mr. Stuart, when he appeared at the cottage the next day. "And but for you, Washington, would have been a very tragic one."

But when he attempted to reward the boy with money, he stiffened in a moment. "No, thankee, sir," he said. "I can't take it. Why, I love that leetle R'yal most as much as I do Dallas Lee, 'n' I won't be paid for rescuin' him. Besides, I had a grudge agin that air eagle, on my own account, all along of Cotton Ball."

"That vulture, you mean; for I was not mistaken. It belongs to the vulture family, though sometimes erroneously called the 'golden eagle.'

Well, I am not sure but you will get a nice little sum for that specimen, as it is a rare and unusually large one. Suppose I take it to the city, and see what I can do for you?"

To this Wash agreed, and the huge bird of prey, which was found to measure fourteen feet from tip to tip of its broad wings, after lying in state, and being visited by half the county, was shipped to New York, while the amount returned by the Professor for the great carca.s.s seemed a veritable fortune to the Saunders, whom the neighbors say are more "ticky" than ever.

Certainly St. George never won more local fame by his dragon slaying than did Washington Beauregard by his lucky feat, and he is proud of the handsome silver-mounted Winchester rifle, the gift of "his grateful friend Royal Stuart," that hangs side by side with the ancient gun which shot the voracious bird of prey now adorning a city museum, labelled "_The Lammergeir, or Bearded Vulture_," but which in the West Virginia mountains will go down to history as the Demon of Snaggle-Tooth Rock.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Ginseng.

OAKLEIGH.

BY ELLEN DOUGLAS DELAND.

CHAPTER XV.

The drive to Blue Hill had been delightful and the view from the top exceptionally fine, it being one of those clear, still days when distant objects are brought near. It seemed almost possible to lay one's finger upon the spires of Boston and the glistening dome of the State-house miles away.

Bronson had exerted himself to the utmost. He wished to stand well with all men, and particularly with the Franklin family. From a worldly point of view it would have a most excellent effect for him to be seen driving with pretty Edith Franklin, of Oakleigh. He was glad whenever they pa.s.sed a handsome turnout from Milton, and he was obliged to take off his hat to its occupants. He felt that he had really gone up in the world during the last year or two. It was a lucky thing for him, he thought, that he had fallen in with Tom Morgan at St. Asaph's. By the time he left college, which he was entering this year, he would have made quite a number of desirable acquaintances.

His talk was clever, but every now and then he said something that made Edith wince. He spoke of Neal, and was sorry he had gone to the bad altogether. Had he really disappeared?

Edith hesitated; she had not the ready wit with which Cynthia would have parried the question.

"We think he is in Philadelphia," she said, finally.

Bronson laughed.

"Hardly," he said; "I saw him in Boston a day or two ago. He looked rather seedy, I thought, and I felt sorry for him, but I didn't stop and speak. Thought it wouldn't do, don't you know; and I'm glad I didn't, as you feel this way."

"I hardly know what you mean," said Edith, somewhat distantly; "we are sorry Neal went away, that is all."

Though she thought he must have taken the money, Edith felt obliged to defend Neal for the sake of the family honor. She had suffered extremely from the talk that there had been in Brenton: she did so dislike to be talked about, and this affair had given rise to much gossip.