Two Little Savages

  XXII

  The Coon Hunt

  Yan did not forget the proposed Coon hunt--in fact, he was mostimpatient for it, and within two days the boys came to Caleb aboutsundown and reminded him of his promise. It was a sultry night, butYan was sure it was just right for a Coon hunt, and his enthusiasmcarried all before it. Caleb was quietly amused at the "_coolnight_" selected, but reckoned it would be "better later."

  "Set down--set down, boys," he said, seeing them standing ready for animmediate start. "There's no hurry. Coons won't be running for threeor four hours after sundown."

  So he sat and smoked, while Sam vainly tried to get acquainted withold Turk; Yan made notes on some bird wings nailed to the wall,and Guy got out the latest improved edition of his exploits inDeer-hunting and Woodchuck killing, as well as enlarged on his plansfor gloriously routing any Coon they might encounter.

  By insisting that it would take an hour to get to the place, Yangot them started at nine o'clock, Caleb, on a suggestion from Guy,carrying a small axe. Keeping old Turk well in hand, they took thehighway, and for half an hour tramped on toward the "Corners." Led bySam, they climbed a fence crossed a potato field, and reached the cornpatch by the stream.

  "Go ahead, Turk. Sic him! Sic him! Sic him!" and the company sat in arow on the fence to await developments.

  Turk was somewhat of a character. He hunted what he pleased and whenhe pleased. His master could bring him on the Coon grounds, but hecouldn't make him hunt Coon nor anything else unless it suited his ownfancy. Caleb had warned the boys to be still, and they sat along thefence in dead silence, awaiting the summons from the old Hound. He hadgone off beating and sniffing among the cornstalks. His steps soundedvery loud and his sniffs like puffs of steam. It was a time of tenseattention; but the Hound wandered, farther away, and even his noisysteps were lost.

  They had sat for two long minutes, when a low yelp from a distant partof the field, then a loud "_bow-wow"_ from the Hound, set Yan'sheart jumping.

  "Game afoot," said Sam in a low voice.

  "Bet I heered him first," piped Guy.

  Yan's first thought was to rush pell-mell after the Dog. He had oftenread of the hunt following furiously the baying of the Hounds, butCaleb restrained him.

  "Hold on, boy; plenty of time. Don't know yet what it is."

  For Turk, like most frontier Hounds, would run almost any trail--hadeven been accused of running on his own--and it rested with those whoknew him best to discover from his peculiar style of tonguing justwhat the game might be. But they waited long and patiently withoutgetting another bay from the Hound. Presently a rustling was heard andTurk came up to his master and lay down at his feet.

  "Go ahead, Turk, put him up," but the Dog stirred not. "Go ahead," andCaleb gave him a rap with a small stick. The Dog dodged away, but laydown again, panting.

  "What was it, Mr. Clark?" demanded Yan.

  "Don't hardly know. Maybe he only spiked himself on a snag. But thisis sure; there's no Coons here to-night. There won't be after this. Wecome too early, and it's too hot for the Dog, anyway."

  "We could cross the creek and go into Boyle's bush," suggested theWoodpecker. "We're like to strike anything there. Larry de Neuvilleswears he saw a Unicorn there the night he came back from Garney'swake."

  "How can you tell the kind of game by the Dog's barking?" asked Yan.

  "H-m!" answered Caleb, as he put a fresh quid in his lantern jaw. "Yousurely can if you know the country an' the game an' the Dog. Course,no two Dogs is alike; you got to study your Dog, an' if he's goodhe'll larn you lots about trailing."

  The brook was nearly dry now, so they crossed where they would. Thenfeeling their way through the dark woods with eyes for the most partclosed, they groped toward Boyle's open field, then across it to theheavy timber. Turk had left them at the brook, and, following itscourse till he came to a pool, had had a bath. As they entered thetimber tract he joined them, dripping wet and ready for business.

  "Go ahead, Turk," and again all sat down to await the opinion of theexpert.

  It came quickly. The old Hound, after circling about in a way thatseemed to prove him independent of daylight, began to sniff loudly,and gave a low whine. He followed a little farther, and now his tailwas heard to '_tap, tap, tap_' the brush as he went through a drythicket.

  "Hear that? He's got something this time," said Caleb in a low voice."Wait a little."

  The Hound was already working out a puzzle, and when at last he gotfar enough to be sure, he gave a short bark. There was anotherspell of sniffing, then another bark, then several little barks atintervals, and at last a short bay; then the baying recommenced, butwas irregular and not full-chested. The sounds told that the Hound wasrunning in a circle about the forest, but at length ceased moving,for all the barking was at one place. When the hunters got therethey found the Dog half-way in a hole under a stump, barking andscratching.

  "Humph," said Caleb; "nothing but a Cottontail. Might 'a' knowed thatby the light scent an' the circling without treeing."

  So Turk was called off and the company groped through the inky woodsin quest of more adventures.

  "There's a kind of swampy pond down the lower end of the bush--alikely place for Coons on a Frog-hunt," suggested the Woodpecker.

  So the Hound was again "turned on" near the pond. The dry woods werepoor for scent, but the damp margin of the marsh proved good, and Turkbecame keenly interested and very sniffy. A preliminary "_Woof!_"was followed by one or two yelps and then a full-chested"_Boooow!"_ that left no doubt he had struck a hot trail at last.Oh, what wonderfully thrilling horn-blasts those were! Yan for thefirst time realized the power of the "full cry," whose praises are sooften sung.

  The hunters sat down to await the result, for, as Caleb pointed out,there was "no saying where the critter might run."

  The Hound bayed his fullest, roundest notes at quick intervals, butdid not circle. The sound of his voice told them that the chase wasstraight away, out of the woods, easterly across an open field, and ata hot pace, with regular, full bellowing, unbroken by turn or doubt.

  "I believe he's after the old Callaghan Fox," said the Trapper."They've tried it together before now, an' there ain't anything but aFox will run so straight and fetch such a tune out of Turk."

  The baying finally was lost in the distance, probably a mile away, butthere was nothing for it but to wait. If Turk had been a full-bred andtrained Foxhound he would have stuck to that trail all night, but inhalf an hour he returned, puffing and hot, to throw himself into theshallow pond.

  "Everything scared away now," remarked Caleb. "We might try the otherside of the pond." Once or twice the dog became interested, butdecided that there was nothing in it, and returned to pant by hismaster's feet.

  They had now travelled so far toward home that a very short cut acrossfields would bring them into their own woods.

  The moon arose as they got there, and after their long groping in themurky darkness this made the night seem very bright and clear.

  They had crossed the brook below Granny de Neuville's, and werefollowing the old timber trail that went near the stream, when Turkstopped to sniff, ran back and forth two or three times, then stirredthe echoes with a full-toned bugle blast and led toward the water.

  "_Bow--bow--bow--bow_," he bawled for forty yards and came to astop. The baying was exactly the same that he gave on the Fox trail,but the course of the animal was crooked, and now there was a break.

  They could hear the dog beating about close at hand and far away, butsilent so far as tongue was concerned.

  "What is it, Caleb?" said Sam with calm assurance, forgetting howrecent was their acquaintance.

  "Dunno," was the short reply.

  "'Tisn't a Fox, is it?" asked Yan.

  But a sudden renewal of "_Bow--bow--bow--_" from the Hound onehundred yards away, at the fence, ended all discussion. The dog hadthe hot trail again. The break had been along the line of a fence thatshowed, as Caleb said, "It was a Coon, 'cept it might be some ol
dhouse Cat maybe; them was the only things that would run along top ofa fence in the night time."

  It was easy to follow now; the moonlight was good, and the baying ofthe Hound was loud and regular. It led right down the creek, crossingseveral pools and swamps.

  "That settles it," remarked the Trapper decisively. "Cats don't taketo the water. That's a Coon," and as they hurried they heard a suddenchange in the dog's note, no longer a deep rich '_B-o-o-w-w_.' Itbecame an outrageous clamour of mingled yelps, growls and barks.

  "Ha--heh. That means he's right on it. That is what he does when he_sees_ the critter."

  But the "view halloo" was quickly dropped and the tonguing of the dogwas now in short, high-pitched yelps _at one place_.

  "Jest so! He's treed! That's a Coon, all right!" and Caleb ledstraight for the place.

  The Hound was barking and leaping against a big Basswood, and Caleb'scomment was: "Hm, never knowed a Coon to do any other way--always getsup the highest and tarnalest tree to climb in the hull bush. Now who'sthe best climber here?"

  "Yan is," volunteered Sam.

  "Kin ye do it, Yan?"

  "I'll try."

  "Guess we'll make a fire first and see if we can't see him," said theWoodpecker.

  "If it was a Woodchuck I'd soon get him for you," chimed in Hawkeye,but no one heeded.

  Sam and Yan gathered stuff and soon had a flood of flickering redlight on all the surrounding trees. They scanned the big Basswoodwithout getting sight of their quarry. Caleb took a torch and found onthe bark some fresh mud. By going back on the trail to where it hadcrossed the brook they found the footprint--undoubtedly that of alarge Coon.

  "Reckon he's in some hollow; he's surely up that tree, and Basswood'sare always hollow."

  Yan now looked at the large trunk in doubt as to whether he couldmanage it.

  Caleb remarked his perplexity and said: "Yes; that's so. You ain'tfifteen foot spread across the wings, are you? But hold on--"

  He walked to a tall thin tree near at hand, cut it through with theaxe in a few minutes, and threw it so as to rest against the lowestbranch of the big Basswood. Up this Yan easily swarmed, carrying astout Elm stick tied behind. When he got to the great Basswood he feltlost in the green mass, but the boys below carried torches so as toshed light on each part in turn. At first Yan found neither hole inthe trunk nor Coon, but after long search in the upper branches he sawa great ball of fur on a high crotch and in it two glowing eyes thatgave him a thrill. He yelled: "Here he is! Look out below." He climbedup nearer and tried to push the Coon off, but it braced itself firmlyand defied him until he climbed above it, when it leaped and scrambledto a lower branch.

  Yan followed it, while his companions below got greatly excited, asthey could see nothing, and only judged by the growling and snarlingthat Yan and the Coon were fighting. After another passage at armsthe Coon left the second crotch and scrambled down the trunk till itreached the leaning sapling, and there perched, glaring at the huntersbelow. The old Hound raised a howl when he saw the quarry, and Caleb,stepping to one side, drew his revolver and fired. The Coon fell deadinto their midst. Turk sprang to do battle, but he was not needed, andCaleb fondly and proudly wiped the old white pistol as though it alonewere to be thanked for the clever shot.

  Yan came down quickly, though he found it harder to get down than up.He hurried excitedly into the ring and stroked the Coon with a mixtureof feelings--admiring its fur--sorry, after all, that it was killed,and triumphant that he had led the way. _It was his Coon_, andall admitted that. Sam "hefted" it by one leg and said, "Weighs thirtypounds, I bet."

  Guy said: "Pooh! Tain't half as big as that there big Woodchuck Ikilled, an' you never would have got him if I hadn't thought of theaxe."

  Yan thought it would weigh thirty-five pounds. Caleb guessed it attwenty-five (and afterward they found out that it barely weighedeighteen). While they were thus talking the Dog broke into an angrybarking such as he gave for strangers--his "human voice," Caleb calledit--and at once there stepped into the circle William Raften. He hadseen the lights in the woods, and, dreading a fire at this dry season,had dressed and come out.

  "Hello, Da; why ain't you in bed, where you ought to be?"

  Raften took no notice of his son, but said sneeringly to Caleb: "Yeain't out trying to get another shot at me, air ye?" 'Tain't worthyour while; I hain't got no cash on me to-night."

  "Now see here, Da," said Sam, interrupting before Caleb could answer,"you don't play fair. I know, an' you ought to know, that's all rotabout Caleb shooting at you. If he had, he'd 'a' got you sure. I'veseen him shoot."

  "Not when he was drunk."

  "Last time I was drunk we was in it together," said Caleb fiercely,finding his voice.

  "Purty good for a man as swore he had no revolver," and Raften pointedto Caleb's weapon. "I seen you with that ten years ago. An' sureI'm not scairt of you an' yer revolver," said Raften, seeing Calebfingering his white pet; "an' I tell ye this. I won't have ye and yerSheep-killing cur ramatacking through my woods an' making fires thisdry saison."

  "D---- you, Raften, I've stood all I'm goin' to stand from you." Therevolver was out in a flash, and doubtless Caleb would have lived upto his reputation, but Sam, springing to push his father back, camebetween, and Yan clung to Caleb's revolver arm, while Guy got safelybehind a tree.

  "Get out o' the way, you kids!" snarled Caleb.

  "By all manes," said Raften scoffingly; "now that he's got meunarrumed again. You dhirty coward! Get out av the way, bhoys, anOi'll settle him," for Raften was incapable of fear, and the boyswould have been thrust aside and trouble follow, but that Raften as heleft the house had called his two hired men to follow and help fightthe fire, and now they came on the scene. One of them was quitefriendly with Caleb, the other neutral, and they succeeded in stoppinghostilities for a time, while Sam exploded:

  "Now see here, Da, 'twould just 'a' served you right if you'd got ahole through you. You make me sick, running on Caleb. He didn't makethat fire; 'twas me an' Yan, an' we'll put it out safe enough. Youskinned Caleb an' he never done you no harm. You run on him just asGranny de Neuville done on you after she grabbed your groceries. Youought to be ashamed of yourself. Tain't square, an' 'tain't being aman. When you can't prove nothin' you ought to shut up."

  Raften was somewhat taken aback by this outburst, especially as hefound all the company against him. He had often laughed at Granny deNeuville's active hatred against him when he had done her nothing butgood. It never occurred to him that he was acting a similar part. Mostmen would have been furious at the disrespectful manner of their son,but Raften was as insensitive as he was uncowardly. His first shockof astonishment over, his only thought of Sam was, "Hain't he got acheek! My! but he talks like a lawyer, an' he sasses right back like afightin' man; belave I'll make him study law instid of tooth-pullin'."

  The storm was over, for Caleb's wrath was of the short and fiercekind, and Raften, turning away in moral defeat, growled: "See that yeput that fire out safe. Ye ought all to be in yer beds an' aslape,like dacint folks."

  "Well, ain't you dacint?" retorted Sam.

  Raften turned away, heeding neither that nor Guy's shrill attemptto interpolate some details of his own importance in this presenthunt--"Ef it hadn't been for me they wouldn't had no axe along, Mr.Raften"--but William had disappeared.

  The boys put out the fire carefully and made somewhat silently forcamp. Sam and Yan carried the Coon between them on a stick, and beforethey reached the teepee they agreed that the carcass weighed at leasteighty pounds.

  Caleb left them, and they all turned in at once and slept the sleep ofthe tired camper.