The Young Trail Hunters Part 10

"A 'call' is a whistle, made from an eagle's bone. It is generally fancifully carved, and, when sounded, makes a noise that perfectly resembles that made by a young one in calling its mother. So perfect is the imitation of the bleating of a fawn, that, when properly sounded, you will sometimes see half a dozen does, running to see if their young are in danger."

"But don't they stay with their little ones?" asked Hal.

"No: they hide them in the tall gra.s.s at night. You see a fawn gives out no scent until after it's a month old, and can run well; but the old one does, and knowing this she goes off to sleep alone, so that the wolves and panthers won't be attracted by her scent to the fawn. This she continues doing until the fawn is able to protect itself by running. In the fall of the year, therefore, if you select a spot near the foot of a mountain where the gra.s.s is tall and free from bushes, and, between sundown and dark, conceal yourself in it and sound your call, you are very apt to get a choice between four or five good fat doe's."

Well, I was determined to get a deer; so I borrowed the 'call,' and started out. After walking a mile or two, I came to a beautiful stretch of open prairie, where the tall gra.s.s served admirably for concealment.

I lay down upon my belly, and commenced crawling towards a grove of young cedars, near the base of the mountain.

I very soon discovered that propelling myself along, Indian fashion, with my elbows, was of itself no small job, especially when obliged to carry a rifle and keep my head below the level of the gra.s.s about me.

I persevered however, and after working like a beaver for nearly an hour, began to wonder why I did not see any deer, when all at once it occurred to me, that I hadn't sounded the call; and that made me remember, that I had forgotton in which pocket I put it.

I endeavored for some time to get hold of it, but was finally obliged to roll over upon my back before I could fish it out of the depths of my pantaloons pocket. This was easy enough to do, but to resume my former position without betraying my presence--ah! that was another thing. I eventually succeeded in doing it however, and placing the whistle between my lips, put forth my hand to recover my rifle, when, to my horror and dismay, I saw, within four feet of my face, a huge rattlesnake.

To say that I got up, don't half express it, boys. I bounded as man never bounded before, startling deer, fawn, and everything else about me, but the snake. He didn't seem to care a particle, but retained his position near the rifle, looking as angry as if he thought me to blame for jumping; and the worst of it was, there was neither stick nor stone within sight, that I could get hold of.

I said, "Shoo!" but the snake wouldn't shoo worth a cent. I stamped on the ground, and said, "Get out!" but he wouldn't move. There he was, within six inches of my rifle; his long, slender body partially coiled so that he could easily strike any object approaching; with form erect, and long forked tongue, darting in and out of his half-opened mouth, as his flat, ugly head slowly vibrated to and fro like the pendulum of a clock.

It was growing dark too, and I was a long distance from camp, and the country was full of Mescalero Apaches, and I hadn't even a stick to reach him with. What could I do?

I bethought myself of my powder-flask, and taking good aim, hurled it with all the force I could muster. It struck him fairly on the body and with a rattle of defiance, he sprang towards me, and I--well, I jumped.

I managed to get hold of my rifle, but the snake was gone: he was somewhere in the gra.s.s about me, and I didn't know where; so I concluded to stand not on the order of my going, but go at once to camp, and go I did; but, before I was a hundred yards away I remembered that I had left my powder-flask behind. Nor could I find Nat's whistle anywhere about me, or even remember what I had done with it. In the surprise occasioned by my discovery of the snake, I had dropped it.

It was too dark to think of returning to search for it that night; besides, there was a snake loose in the vicinity that I didn't care to encounter.

I knew Nat would laugh at my returning without a deer, but I made up my mind to endure that, without getting angry; for I felt confident, camp was the place for me just then.

Nat asked no questions; but after a time, I voluntarily related to him the mishaps of the afternoon. He laughed heartily, and promised to go with me in the morning and give me a practical lesson in deer-stalking.

The next day we visited the scene of my discomfiture, which Nat p.r.o.nounced a splendid place for stalking, showing me where several fawns had lain the previous night. We also found the 'call,' just where I dropped it when I made my jump, which Nat p.r.o.nounced, equal to any ever made by a first-cla.s.s circus-man: in fact, I felt rather proud of it myself; and when Nat slyly remarked that I was better at jumping than at hunting, I made up my mind that I would have a deer that night, come what would.

Sunset came; and telling Nat that I would not return to camp without the deer, I started for the scene of my former ill luck. I was delighted to find, that by following Nat's instructions, I was able to move over the ground much easier than the night before. Still, it was pretty hard work.

But I persevered; and upon reaching the proper place, sounded my call-- once, twice, thrice; and in a short time, saw a fine fat doe coming directly towards me, apparantly listening for a repet.i.tion of the sound.

Once more I used the 'call:' the imitation was perfect. She approached a little nearer to me, and stopped.

I dropped my head, and once again sounded the 'call,' endeavoring to give it the quick, impatient tone of the young when in danger.

The effect was perfect. I fairly laughed to myself, to see the doe bound towards me until she stood within easy rifle range, when she suddenly stopped again, as though frightened at her own temerity.

I brought my rifle to my shoulder, and was in the act of pulling the trigger, when a slight rustling in the gra.s.s at my right attracted my attention. Thinking of that snake, I turned my eyes in the direction of the sound, and saw, to my horror and amazement, not the snake, but a large panther, not twenty yards away, and creeping stealthily towards me, with glaring eyes, gleaming white teeth, and ears well laid back upon his head. For an instant I was dumbfounded; then, recollecting myself, I turned the rifle and gave him its contents.

The creature made a convulsive leap into the air, and dropped to the ground--dead; and I--well, I believe I started for camp to tell Nat.

We packed the carca.s.s into camp and while removing the skin, Nat took occasion to congratulate me, on being able to so perfectly imitate a fawn as to lure a panther from its lair; advising me however, to give up deer-stalking until I struck a better streak of luck.

"There boys, you see what the 'buck-fever' did for me. We are all liable to take it."

"Yes; but you killed the panther," said Hal.

"True; but it was only a piece of luck that might not happen again in a dozen times, and I didn't kill the deer."

The boys agreed that my story was both amusing and interesting; and as for old Jerry, he laughed most heartily at my experience, saying that it reminded him of his first adventure with a bear.

The boys, eager for another story, urged him to relate it then, but Jerry declined; promising them however, that they should have it the next night.

Early on the following morning, we once more started on the road; and for two days, met with no incident worthy of note.

We were now approaching the section of country bordering on the Rio Pecos, one of the most barren and desolate portions on our whole route.

This stream runs for hundreds of miles through the plains, its course being marked by the growth of no living green thing: in fact, you do not know of its presence, until you stand upon its banks.

It is narrow, deep, extremely crooked, and very rapid, while the water is both salt and bitter. The banks are very steep and there are but few places throughout its entire length where it can be crossed in safety.

But little gra.s.s grows near it, and neither man nor beast can drink the water with impunity.

Upon reaching the top of a long line of bluffs, towards which we had been travelling for the last two days, we came in sight of a large wagon-train encamped, apparantly upon the open plain.

Jerry at once declared it to be Magoffin's; and the boys and myself volunteered to ride forward and ascertain the cause of their delay.

A brisk canter of a couple of hours brought us to the encampment, which sure enough, proved to be Magoffin's train, delayed by the high water in the Pecos.

Right glad were we all, to fall in with our old companions once more; for, aside from the company their presence furnished, we felt infinitely safer than when travelling alone with our small party.

As soon as Jerry arrived with the wagons, a consultation was held; and it was decided to go into camp and wait for the water to subside.

"It's high'n I ever see it afore," said Jerry, standing on the brink and gazing at the turbid, swift current, that almost filled its banks; "and the mischief is, that when she once gits up, there's no tellin' when she'll go down. We may hev to lay here two weeks, afore we kin cross."

"Two weeks!" exclaimed I, why we'd better build a boat."

"Ef we hed a lot of empty casks, we might float our wagons over and swim the mules; but we hain't got 'em, that's sartin."

"I'll tell you what we can do," said Hal; "we can build a raft."

"Yes; or better still, float the things over in one of the wagon-bodies,"

suggested Ned.

"Well thought of," exclaimed I: "we can at least make the attempt."

We soon had one of the wagons unloaded and on the ground; beneath which we carefully stretched a couple of the sheets. One of the men was sent across the stream with a small cord, by which he drew over a rope, to which was attached a common block, after which the wagon-body was launched, and pulled across the river in safety. It was then returned and loaded, reaching the opposite bank without mishap, or leaking a drop.

The wagons were now taken apart; and piece by piece, carried across and put together; into them, the goods as fast as ferried over, were reloaded; and at the end of the second day we were ready to swim our mules. This was accomplished without loss; and thanks to Ned, the day following we were once more on the road.

I ventured to remind Jerry of his favorite saying regarding boys, but the old man had no reply to make, save that "Ned was a most 'stonishin' boy.

He'd killed a Injin, and had a wonderful head on him, which was more'n he could say of t'other one."

In consideration of Ned's valuable services, old Jerry consented that evening, to relate for his especial benefit, the story of his first experience in bear hunting, which I shall give as nearly as possible in the old man's words:--