Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 162 — page 7: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

ind ee —_— ia “Wo, no!” cried Harry, hastily. “It’s sound flesh and blood. Come here, Pete, you villain! What are you up to now?” “ Jess scoutin’, to see who's a-comin’. Dat’s all,”’ rejoined Pete, eme from the bushes, while the dog and his master took a step backward. “ Dar’s dinner on de oil-cloth, and two or t’ree ob de folks out. Marse Will’s away somewhar. De Lord knows whar. “What is it?” asked Jerry, with a slight tremulous- ness still in his voice. “Who? Pete? Why, he’s our man of all work. Pure blood, Jerry. African to the finger-tips. All right, boy, You can scout round for your mester. e will keep our share of the dinner from spoiling.” There was a depressed look about the hound, as he followed Jerry into the camp. It seemed partly shame at his recent terror, and partly doubt as to whether the apparition was not really supernatural. Pete’s decided color was something unusual in that locality. He wasa species of game to which the hound had not been broken. But it was certain that the start which Jerry had received had no effect upon his appetite. He did the duty of two good men at thew nd table, wiping his lips on rising, with an air of supreme satisfaction, like that of one who has approved himself amphy a man. Within the next half-hour they were on their way to the spot at which the deer had vanished. Will had not yet returned, and Jerry was not content to wait longer for him. *“*Jist as like as two ,” he explained, “ that thar buck isn’t half a mile from whar ye last sighted him. Ther’s a famous feedin’ spot fur ‘em jist thar. I’ve brung down more'n one seven-tined critter in that very spot. Puddin’ grass, I call it; fur the deer like it as much as humans love their toppin’-off arter dinner.”’ “How shall we manage, Jerry?’ asked Pierce. “I'd give a cow for ashot at that buck. Do you know the mountain?”’ “Do Il know beans?” rejoined Jerry, with a show of being nettled. ‘“‘ Jist find me the spot, within ten miles from here, as big as the palm of your hand, whar I ain’t set foot, and I'll sell it to you, the big- gest bargain you ever made.”’ ; “ IT hardly think I will go into the real estate busi- ness hereaway,"’ Pierce gravely replied. “Tt’s a bushy bit o° sile,” continued Jerry. “Ther’s four or five paths leadin’'down. Atween them it’s precious brambly. I calculate to station you folks at the deer runs, while me and Nebby— ebychudnezzer his name is, but I call him Nebby fur an easier mouthful—well, we'll scour the top. If that buck's thar we'll rouse him sure. If he aren't, we'll take a stretch over to Pilot Knob. That's the next likeliest place.” The hunters stationed, with ready rifles, and throb- bing hearts in some of their breasts, Jerry and his dog disappeared up the hillside. . An anxious half-hour passed, with no of yore though an occasional yelp from the dog broke thesilence. Atthe end of that time the scout re- appeared, down the path watched by Pierce Brown- ing. He gave at the same time a shrill whistle, the prearranged signal to the others. ‘“‘He’s not thar;” Jerry announced. “ Ain't a mouse on that hill that Nebby hasn't started. Pilot Knob is got to be our next hoit.”’ ‘* Where is it?” “The risin’ ground you see, off yander. It’sa famous hurttin’-ground. I recollect one’t—let me see —about eh or thereaway, years back; any- how, afore this kentry thought o’ fillin’up. Why, you mought a-gone good twenty-five miles on a stretch, in any drection, and found nothin’ but sky an’ woods, deer an’ b’ar; not a human to the squar’ acre, as we’s got it in these days. Well, asl war savin’—”’ 2 “Whom did you find to talk to in those days?” in- terrupted Pierce. “TO my rifle and my dog. They both *preciated me, you kin bet your level dollar on that. But we must leave them on the wait for the arri- val of the others, and cut short Jerry Prime's cele- jade deer story, to look after another of our riends. Will Wildfire had been two or three hours out, yielding to a restless pig Oak would not per- mit bim to stay in camp. He had taken his rifle, with the possibility of getting a shot at something larger than a partridge or a rabbit. But, for an pour or two, he had wandered aimlessly about, with tle thought of game, his whole soul filled with the irit of the woods, a dreaming sensation flooding m as he roamed under the shadows of aboriginal trees, and in the solemn silence of unbroken glens. It was about t o'clock of the afternoon, when he found himself on the verge of a grassy valley, jown which a brook came tumbling and singing, while the warm sunlight flowed into its inmost re- gesses, and kindled into beauty the crimson and gold of the autumn foliage. Will Wildfire in the Woods. — | ; | | | | a Will seated himself on a knoll which commanded | this scene, his eyes and heart full of warm admira- tion, as he looked upon what seemed to him an in- fusion of fairy-land into the heart of the primeval | Wh oy thus for half an hour in complete silence, the rifle resting idly between his knees, and his eyes fixed in entranced delight upon this strangely beau- tiful woodland opening, with its lawn-like grass, and its glistening brook. But sane oe the 7 opposite him, the form of a man appeared; a , gaunt figurs, preceded by a nee cae oe | who mee coursing slowly along, with nose to the ground, “The lads are at hand then,” thonght Will, as he recognized Joe Smith and his dog. ’ 7 ‘ cs f . Ff 7 bas Ani ~ ave * #. b Or ama vat He was not aware of the fact that they had been to engage another aid. The hunter passed on and disappeared. Ten min- utes of silence followed, and then another figure ap- peared upon the scene. And it was one that sent a sudden thrill through Will's heart. For, from the woods to his eft, with a stately step and proud bearing, walked the graceful animal in search of whom so many huntsmen were abroad. For a moment the buck stood, outlined against the sky, with uplifted head and thrown-back antlers, snuffing the air. Will could see his nostrils dilating, as though with suspicion. He half raised his rifle; but let it fall again. ‘“No, no,” he muttered. ‘“‘ That would look too much like murder.”’ Now the buck, seemingly reassured, walked with an easy step down the grassy slope, and paused at the brook, where he bent his head, and eagerly lap- ped the grateful waters. 5H oy I would be called a fool for my pains,” said Will to himself, ‘‘ but hang me, if I have the heart to shoot at that pretty creature, in his inno- vo security. He can go, if I never havea shot ata eer.” Will was now on his feet, looking down upon the buck, and fully revealed himself to eyes of which he did not dream, in the wood behind him. Suddenly the animal raised its head. From a dis- tance came the faint cry ofa hound. It stood look- ing to right and left for an instant, then gathered its body together for the first spring of its flight. The thought of its escape suddenly roused the huuter’s spirit in Will. In a moment his rifle was at his shoulder, his eyes on the sights, his finger on the trigger. The aim he took was as quick as lightning. He pressed the tr sensation shot through his head as though it had been pierced with a hot iron. His rifle twitched nervously up, ae the useless bullet above the pone ree-tops. e weapon dropped from his ands. | er— But at that same instant a | flanks of another hill. He staggered, half wheeled around, and | fell prostrate and lifeless, while a double report | broke on the air. The keen crack of his rifle was | accom ed with that of another. At the same instant the startled animal leaped, with a light bound, across the stream, and darted up the opposite slope, while the musical bay of the names came in a louder strain down upon the rising But it was audible no longer to Will Wildfire’s ear. The spring of the deer and the call of the hound were alike unseen and unheard by his vanished — a as they were in a sleep like the sleep of death. CHAPTER VIIL DEER-STALKING. Ir is an hour after the scene with which we closed our last chapter. At the further foot of Pilot Knob stand two men, the gigantic fi to the right being that of Pierce Browning, while to the left J 7 a the one-eyed hunter, leans heavily upon his e. “It’s pretty much as I thought,” remarked Jerry, with an odd wink of his sound eye. ‘Thar ain’t a mite o’ use tryin’ to drive that buck past a deer run. I hadn’t no ‘*jections to give you folks a trifle of ex- ercise ; er it run all the time in my coat-sleeves that it war jist a waete o’ muscle.” ‘* What is to be done, then?” asked Pierce. “It is against the grain with me to go back empty- handed.”’ ‘*Dunno as I hinted at sich a thing,” retorted Jerry. ‘‘ Hain’t the least idear of sich backin’ down as that. But, as I said afore, we can’trun him down afoot, at the end of a dog’s nose.” ‘** How then?” Jerry made no immediate reply. His gaze was fixed on the ground at his feet, which was covered with fallen leaves, the turf being only here and there visible. With the muzzle of his rifle he swept these leaves a little aside, and closely observed the ground beneath them. “How are you fur bottom? I’m kinder afeard thar’s more weight than go "bout you,” asked Jerry, looking up. ‘* Me?” queried Pierce. “1m the laziest fellow this side the Jerseys, when there's no game afoot. But set me on a good track, and I won't be the last to flinch.” ‘You're my man then,’ was Jerry’s quick reply. ‘We've got to stalk that deer. Long's we flung the other chaps you an’ me mought try it on.” ‘“* Stalk him?” “Sartain. We'll make a still hunt en’t. Thar ain’t no other style.” ‘** But what do you mean?” Jerry glanced at his companion with a look of supreme disdain. Well, l'll prise pone, though, you don’t know no better. Thar ain’t much deer-stalking on the city streets. Ye've heered, I cale’late, *bout how an we up a track?” ‘It’s jist that way we've got to go fur our buck. y, man alive, I've trailed them twenty mile afore now, through the wust kind o’ timber. Wish to Ju- petter, though, that Nebby was home. Dogs is a nuisance on a deer trail.” **Nebby seems well trainee.” “Yes, yes. Calc’late I kin keep the pup at m ——. “though if he breaks at the wrong minute it's Without further remark Jerry started forward ata quick pace, sternly repress ri himteteio x « esing e dog, and ordering Pierce had to exert himself to keep up with his Teoma he Pi nee Dab 5 Bieta rifles at a treshly leose-jointed companion. Holding their \ | | | | eS antlers.” rah '* 4 trail they walked rapidly through the open ——_ with the autumn leaves nestling in the trees, dropping downward like a silent rain. erce new silent for a half-mile of this quick walk, though he was quite at a loss to know what it all meant. His curiosity at length got the advaa- e. a can’t gee for the life of me, where you are go- ing, Jerry,”’ he remarked. ‘“‘ You don’t expect to strike a deer by making a straight wake through the trees?”’ ‘* Not much,” returned Jerry, slackening his pace. “Back thar, Nebby! Jest you keep your paws at my heels, or I'll bu’st your b‘iler.”’ ‘How then?” persisted Pierce. ‘“‘Aren’t we on his trail?’ growled Jerry, in 8 snarling tone. ‘‘Thar’s deer track on the sile as — as if it was printed in butter. See here!’ and e pointed down to a spot amid the fallen leaves. “I spose you kin make that out?” j “‘Tonly see that the leaves are slightly pressed own.” “That’s the mark of a deer’s hoof,” laughed “if “The critter passed here inside o’ two ours.” Pierce looked up in surprise. ‘““How can you make that out?” “Don’t you see it’s a new track? The leaves are coming down here like snow, but thar ain’t one teched it. Why, bless us, I could follera trail like that at five miles an hour, from sun-up to night, and ae miss a foot-print—Back, Nebby, you uneasy villain!” Jorry had again started quickly forward, follo with complete confidence the slight marks w Pierce could barely distinguish. Their path led them up, or rather around the The forest here became more open, while the soil grew barren and stony. Pro- ress was not so easy as on the springy turf; and he deer tracks became fainter, to Judge by Jerry’s slower pace and close watchfulness. He stopped entirely, at length, on a space cover. ed by small flat stones, and looked cautiously around. : ‘Any scent "bout, Nebby?” he asked the whim- ring dog, who was coursing here and there, with is nose to the ground. ‘‘Not as 1 ‘spect much scentin’ from a stag- hound,” he explained. “Only Nebby’s got a good nose, fur one of his breed.” Pierce rested quietly on his rifle, not venturing to compete with his two experienced companions, in the search for the deer trail. Slowly over the stony level Jerry advanced, find- ing indications of the buck’s passage in the most un- promising spots. **See whar his hoof has scraped the moss from that stone,’ he explained. ‘An’ yander’s his track as plain asif it was done in ink. Not an hour old, either, I'll venture to say.” Pierce curiously followed his pointing finger. One of the flat stones appeared to have been displaced from a larger one beneath, its shape being outlined on the lower stone, in a broad moist spot, ‘‘ He weren’t goin’ very fast, neither,” said Jerry. ‘““We ought to overhaul him in a mile or two more.” **But how do you make all that out?” ‘His hoof struck this stone,” explained seret “but not over hard, or it would slid further. He were jist out of a walk.” ‘* And how do you know it was less than an hour oY” ‘‘Tt’s as plain as the nose on Nebby’s face,” laugh- ed the woodsman. ‘ Ye see that stone’s wet. That’s of night-afore-last’s rain. The upper stone has ept it from dryin’.” . ** Exactly.” ‘* Waal, with this air, that stone ought to be as dry = Aa § hand in less nor an hour. But it ain't quite rv ye we \ Pierce's acknowledgment of his sense of Jerry’s shrewdness was prevented by the dog, who gavea quick, knowing yelp, and then a deep bay, as he sprung eagerly forw “‘Hold, hound! Held, villain! Blast me if I don't wing ye!” yelled the scout, half raising his rifle. Ea down on that trumpet, or it'll be worse fur e 7 The hound pen un willingly in his eager co and returned, with drooping ears, at the renew commands of his master. “If the buck’s inside of ear-shot, ye’ve gi’n him a start, and us a five mile further trail, blast yer pie- ter!” growled Jerry, as he stepped ea orward to the spot at which the dog seem the scent. “Yes, yere’s the track ag’in, sure as shootin’,” he —— “The dog’s got a good nose, as I said ore.”’ The spot at which the trail was again taken ug was beyond the stony locality. A thin turf here coy- ered the ground, with a slight spread of fallen leaves. But Jerry seemed to have no difficulty in the tracks of the deer, and he stepped forward at a good pace. They had now passed the curve on te hill, about half-way toitssummit. A few minutes more brought them to the foot of the 3. caren slope, the bottom of the incline here being clothed in bushes. Through these Je made his way, following path which he said had been made by the deer. “Our buck’s gone through it,” he continusd. “They know these bush openings, and don't make new tracks ‘cept they're in a desp'rat’ h . Aha! It’s jest as I ‘spected. The critter’'s 0 tevin’ his Pierce followed the direction of his finger, which es a to have broken, They were rent in an upward | ° ‘ 900KsS to have taken | ere ’ a — ~