CHAPTER IX
UNCLE JIM
Each morning, while we still sat at breakfast, Uncle Jim drove up fromthe General's in his two-wheeled cart to see if there might be anythingdoing. Uncle Jim was a solidly built elderly man, with the browncomplexion and the quizzical, good-humoured eye of the habitualsportsman. He wore invariably an old shooting coat and a cap that hadseen younger, but perhaps not better, days. His vehicle was a batteredbut serviceable two-wheeled cart drawn by a placid though adequatehorse. His weapon for all purposes was a rather ponderous twelve-gauge.
If we projected some sporting expedition Uncle Jim was our man; but ifthere proved to be nothing in the wind, he disappeared promptly. Heconducted various trapping ventures for "varmints," at which he seemedto have moderate success, for he often brought in a wildcat or coyote.In fact, he maintained one of the former in a cage, to what end nobodyknew, for it was a harsh and unsociable character. Uncle Jim began toshow signs of life about July fifteenth when the dove season opened; hecame into his own from the middle of October until the first ofFebruary, during which period one can shoot both ducks and quail; hedied down to the bare earth when the game season was over, and only sentup a few green shoots of interest in the matter of supplying hiswildcat with that innumerable agricultural pest, the blackbird.
Sometimes I accompanied Uncle Jim, occupying the other side of thetwo-wheeled cart. We never had any definite object in view; we just wentforth for adventure. The old horse jogged along very steadily,considering the fact that he was as likely to be put at cross country asa road. We humped up side by side in sociable silence, spying keenly forwhat we could see. A covey of quail disappearing in the brush caused usto pull up. We hunted them leisurely for a half hour and gathered in adozen birds. Always we tried to sneak ducks, no matter how hopeless thesituation might seem. Once I went on one hand and my knees through threeinches of water for three hundred yards, stalking a flock of sprigloafing in an irrigation puddle. There was absolutely no cover; I was inplain sight; from a serious hunting standpoint the affair was quixotic,not to say imbecile. If I had been out with the Captain we shouldprobably not have looked twice at those sprig. Nevertheless, as thegeneral atmosphere of Uncle Jim's expeditions was always one ofadventure and forlorn hopes and try-it-anyway, I tried it on. Uncle Jimsat in the cart and chuckled. Every moment I expected the flock to takewing, but they lingered. Finally, when still sixty yards distant, theleaders rose. I cut loose with both barrels for general results. To myvast surprise three came down, one dead, the other two wing-tipped. Thetwo latter led me a merry chase, wherein I managed to splatter the restof myself. Then I returned in triumph to the cart. The forlorn hope hadplanted its banner on the walls of achievement. Uncle Jim laughed at mefor my idiocy in crawling through water after such a fool chance. Ilaughed at Uncle Jim because I had three ducks. We drove on, and thewarm sun dried me off.
In this manner we made some astonishing bags; astonishing not by theirsize, but by the manner of their accomplishment.
We were entirely open minded. Anything that came along interested us. Weinvestigated all the holes in all the trees, in hopes of 'coons or honeyor something or other. We drove gloriously through every patch of brush.Sometimes an unseen hummock would all but upset us; so we had toscramble hastily to windward to restore our equilibrium.
The country was gridironed with irrigation ditches. They were eight toten feet deep, twenty or thirty feet wide, and with elevated,precipitous banks. One could cross them almost anywhere--except whenthey were brimful, of course. The banks were so steep that, oncestarted, the vehicle had to go, but so short that it must soon reachbottom. On the other side the horse could attain the top by a rush;after which, having gained at least a front footing over the bank, hecould draw the light vehicle by dead weight the rest of the distance.Naturally, the driver had to take the course at exactly right angles, orhe capsized ingloriously.
One day Uncle Jim and I started to cross one of these ditches that hadlong been permitted to remain dry. Its bottom was covered by weeds sixinches high, and looked to be about six feet down. We committedourselves to the slope. Then, when too late to reconsider, we discoveredthat the apparent six-inch growth of weeds was in reality one of fouror five feet. The horse discovered it at the same time. With truepresence of mind, he immediately determined that it was up to him toleap that ditch. Only the fact that he was hitched to the cart preventedhim from doing so; but he made a praiseworthy effort.
The jerk threw me backward, and had I not grabbed Uncle Jim I would mostcertainly have fallen out behind. As for Uncle Jim, he would mostcertainly have fallen out behind, too, if he had not clung like grimdeath to the reins. And as for the horse, alarmed by the check andconsequent scramble, he just plain bolted, fortunately straight ahead.We hit the opposite bank with a crash, sailed over it, and headed acrosscountry.
Consider us as we went. Feet in air, I was poised on the end of mybackbone in a state of exact equilibrium. A touch would tumble me outbehind; an extra ounce would tip me safely into the cart; my onlysalvation was my hold on Uncle Jim. I could not apply that extra ouncefor the simple reason that Uncle Jim also, feet in air, was poisedexactly on the end of his backbone. If the reins slackened an inch, overhe went; if he could manage to pull up the least bit in the world, in hecame! So we tore across country for several hundred yards, unable torecover and most decidedly unwilling to fall off on the back of ourheads. It must have been a grand sight; and it seemed to endure an hour.Finally, imperceptibly we overcame the opposing forces. We were saved!
Uncle Jim cursed out "Henry" with great vigour. Henry was the mare wedrove. Uncle Jim, in his naming of animals, always showed a sterndisregard for the female sex. Then, as usual, we looked about to seewhat we could see.
Over to the left grew a small white oak. About ten or twelve feet fromthe ground was a hole. That was enough; we drove over to investigatethat hole. It was not an easy matter, for we were too lazy to climb thetree unless we had to. Finally we drove close enough so that, bystanding on extreme tip-toe atop the seat of the cart, I could get asort of sidewise, one-eyed squint at that hole.
"If," I warned Uncle Jim, "Henry leaves me suspended in mid-air I'llbash her fool head in!"
"No, you won't," chuckled Uncle Jim, "it's too far home."
It was a very dark hole, and for a moment I could see nothing. Then, allat once, I made out two dull balls of fire glowing steadily out of theblackness. That was as long as I could stand stretching out my entireanatomy to look down any hole.
On hearing my report, Uncle Jim phlegmatically thrust the flexible whipdown the hole.
"'Coon," he pronounced, after listening to the resultant remarks fromwithin.
And then the same bright idea struck us both.
"Mrs. Kitty here makes good with those angleworms," Uncle Jim voiced theinspiration.
We blocked up the hole securely; and made rapid time back to the ranch.