Part 4

"Hyops!" said Sandboys. "Planked shad is very good, but it can't hold a candle to planked salmon. But, as I was tellin' you, the place was full of moose too. They used to catch 'em and train 'em to go in harness. I don't believe anybody up there ever thought of buying a horse or a team of oxen to pull their wagons and plough their fields, moose were so plenty, and, when you could catch 'em hungry, so easy to tame. They'd hitch 'em to the plough, for instance, with ropes tied to their horns, and drive 'em around all day, and when night came they weren't a bit tired. But sometimes daddy said they'd strike a fearfully wild one, and then there'd be trouble. Pop told me he hitched one up to the harrow once, and the thing got a wild fit on and started across the field prancin' like a Rocky Mountain goat. He pulled up all the fences in his way with the harrow's teeth, and before he stopped he'd gone right through my grandfather's bay-window, into the dinin'-room, out the back door into the kitchen, takin' all the tables and chiny in the place with him. Where he went to nobody ever knew, though the harrow was found on top o' one of the mountains about sixty miles away, three years afterwards. I'd tell you the name of the mountain, only it had one o' those French-Canadian names too, so of course I can't.

"Time went on, and pop got to be a pretty big boy, and on his thirteenth birthday his father gave him the gun he'd used in the war--the war of the Revylation, I think it was, when George Washington was runnin' things. With it he gave him a powder-flask and some bullets, and I tell you pop was proud, and crazy to go huntin'. His father wasn't anxious to let him, though, until he thought pop knew enough about fire-arms to kill something besides himself, and he told him no, he couldn't. He must wait awhile. So pop tried to be good and obey, but that gun was too much for him. It kept hintin', 'Let's go huntin'--let's go huntin',' and one night pop could not resist it any longer. So after everybody'd gone to bed, he got up, sneaked down stairs into the parlor, took down the gun from the bricky-brack rack, and set out for the lonely woods.

"'If I don't kill nothin',' he said to himself, 'I'll get home before they wake up; and if I do kill somethin', pa will be so pleased an' proud he'll forgive me.' He little thought then he was leavin' home forever. He opened the door softly, an' in half an hour he was off on the mountain, 'longside of a great big lake. Pretty soon he heard a sound, and through the darkness he see two big eyes, flamin' like fire, a-lookin' at where he was. _It was that moose up there as was a-lookin' at him._ For a minute he was scart to death, but he soon recovered, upped with his gun, an' fired--only he was too excited, and he didn't do any more than graze the moose's cheek. You can't see the scar. It's been mended. It was a tarrable exciting moment, for in a jiffy the moose was after him, head down. Pop tried to run, but couldn't. He stumbled, an' just as he stumbled he felt the big moose's breath hot on the back of his neck. He thought he was a goner for sure; but he wasn't, as it turned out, for as he rolled over and the moose tried to butt him to death, pop grabbed holt of his horns, and the first toss of his head the moose gave landed pop right between 'em, sittin' down as comfortably fixed as though he was in a rockin'-chair. If you'll look at the antlers you'll see how there's a place in between 'em scooped out just right for a small boy to sit in. That's where pop sat, hangin' on to those two upper prongs, with, his legs dangling down over the moose's cheeks."

"Phe-e-e-ew!" whispered Bob. "He was in a fix, wasn't he? What did the moose do?"

"Him?" said Sandboys. "He was absolutely flummoxed for a minute, and then he began to run. Pop held on. He had to. He didn't want to go travellin', but there warn't anything else he could do, so he kept holt. That moose run steady for three days, down over the Canadian border into Maine, takin' a short-cut over Maine into New Hampshire, droppin' dead with weariness two miles from Littleton, where I cum from. That let pop out. The moose was dead, and he wasn't afraid any more; so he climbed down, walked into Littleton, and sold the animal's carkiss to a man there, who cut off its head, and sent it up here to this hotel, an' it's been here ever since. Pop took the money and tried to get back home with it; but there wasn't enough, so he worked about Littleton until he had enough; and just then he met my mother, fell in love with her, married her, and settled down right there; and that's how it is that that moose-head is responsible for my bein' here. If the animal hadn't run away with dad, he'd never have met my mother, and I'd have been nowhere."

"It's very interesting," said Bob. "But I should think he'd have sent word to his father that he was all right."

"Oh, he did," said Sandboys; "and a year or two later the whole family came down and joined him, leavin' Canady and its French names forever."

And here the narrative, which might have been much longer, stopped, for the cross old lady near the elevator sent word that that "talkin' must stop," because while it was "goin' on" she "couldn't hear what tune it was the trumpeter was blowin'."

THE GAME OF CHOLE.

BY W. G. VAN TASSEL SUTPHEN.

Chole (pronounced sh[=o]l) is a capital game for the enthusiastic golfer at this time of year, when the fields are brown and bare, and the careful green-keeper has closed the regular golf course for fear of harm to his precious putting greens. It is golf, and yet it is not golf, the essential difference being that but one ball is used, one player striving to advance it towards a certain agreed-upon goal, and his opponent as strenuously endeavoring to thwart him in the attempt. But, on the other hand, it is not hockey or anything resembling it. Each player has for the time being absolute possession of the ball, and cannot be interfered with while he is making his stroke. It is an old Belgian game, and undoubtedly one of the ancestors of our modern golf. As a matter of fact, it is still played in the Low Countries with rude iron clubs and an egg-shaped ball of birchwood. The following extract from a historical paper on the beginnings of golf explains very clearly the purpose and method of the play at chole:

If Tom Morris and Hugh Kircaldy were going to play a match at _chole_, they would first fix on an object which was to be hit. A church door at some five miles distance, cross country, seems to have been a favorite goal. This settled on, match-making began--a kind of game of brag: "I will back myself to hit the thing in five innings," Tom might say. (We will explain in a moment what an "innings" meant.) "Oh, I'll back myself to hit it in four," Hugh might answer. "Well, I'll say three, then," Tom might perhaps say, and that might be the finish of the bragging, for Hugh might not feel it in his power to do it in two, so he must let Tom try. Then Tom would hit off, and when he came to the ball he would tee it and hit it again, and so a third time. But when they reached the ball this third time, it would be no longer Tom's turn to hit, but Hugh's. He would be allowed to tee the ball up and _dechole_, as it was called--that is to say, to hit it _back_ again as far as he could. Then Tom would begin again and have three more shots towards the object; after which Hugh would again have one shot back. Then if in the course of his third innings of three shots Tom were to hit the church door, he would win the match; if he failed, he would lose it.

It is evident, from this explanation, that _chole_ gives first-class practice in driving; in fact it is nothing but a succession of tee shots, and the longest driver ought always to win, unless he is so over-confident of his powers that he is induced to bid too low for the honor of being _choleur_. It may be added that hazards in the _lie_ of the ball are not fairly a part of the game. Each striker has a right to tee his ball, and he should be allowed to do so anywhere within two club-lengths of where the ball has dropped. In the case of a lost ball or a ball in water, the player must go back to the place whence the lost ball was struck, and play a new one, without penalty. Of course only a driver, or play club, is carried, and a caddie is not necessary, as the players themselves should be able to keep track of the ball. In Belgium the game is played with three or more on a side, but in this case the players have to wait too long for their turn to strike, and the interest must be correspondingly diminished. Here is a better plan for a match game at _chole_:

The battle-ground should be a field of about 400 yards in length, the fence at either end serving as the goal over which the ball is to be driven. The width of the field is of no account, providing that there is a clear space of at least fifty yards to give a chance for straight and open play. In practice it might be well to roughly indicate these side-lines by means of stakes, and if the ball is knocked out of bounds it must be brought back precisely as in football. Supposing that there are six on a side, the most skilful player should act as captain, and arm himself with the ordinary wooden driver. The second man should carry a brassey, the third a cleek, the fourth a lofter, the fifth a niblick, and the sixth a putter. Or there may be any other selection among the ordinary clubs used at golf, provided that each side is armed with virtually the same weapons, and, most important of all, that every combination must at least include a driver, a lofter, and a putter. Three is the smallest practicable number for a side, and the maximum may be put down at six or seven. The object of each side is to drive the ball over their adversary's goal-line, but the strokes are taken in turn, and there is nothing resembling the free hitting and scramble of hockey. The captains toss for the opening stroke, and the winner tees the ball at the centre of the field, and strikes it with his driver as far as possible towards the enemy's goal-line. After he has had his stroke, it is the turn of the other side; and now comes in the essential point of the game. The return shot must be made by the _weakest_ club on the opposing side, _viz._, the putter. The idea is that the players shall all strike in regular rotation, but the _order_ of the sides is exactly opposite. In other words, one side strikes in succession with driver, brassey, cleek, lofter, niblick, and putter, their opponents answering with putter, niblick, lofter, cleek, brassey, and driver. It is evident that if A leads off their attack will grow weaker as the less powerful clubs come into play, while B, the defence, will grow stronger in the same proportion. Theoretically, after a full exchange of shots the ball should be again at the centre of the field from where it started, but of course, in practice, accidents will happen and shots will be foozled.

The field should be long enough to give the defence a fair chance to rally, and it therefore should not be less than 400 yards in all. It should not be much longer, as then it would hardly be possible for ordinary players to ever get near enough for a goal. Supposing that in actual play the Captain of the Blues drives off and sends the ball 130 yards out of the 200, the putter on the Red side must reply, and he may succeed in driving the ball back 30 yards. Brassey of the Blues has now a carry of 100 yards to make to put the ball over the fence and win a goal. If he does it, it is perfect play, and the Blues are credited with one point. But if he tops his ball or drives short, the niblick man of the Reds may get it back to, say, the 100-yard point, and the Blues have now a chance with the cleek to get it over. If this attempt fails, the Red goal should be out of danger for a while, for their long driving clubs are now coming into play to carry the war into Africa. But at any stage of the game some one may slip up on a difficult shot, and so the advantage be gained or lost. The exact size of the field will largely depend upon the driving ability of the players, and that can only be arrived at by experiment. Theoretically, the goal should be made on the third or cleek shot--that is, with perfect play on each side. Of course only the captains have the privilege of teeing the ball; all the other players must take it as it lies. A ball knocked into a hazard must be played as in match-play at golf; but if it has not been extricated after _each_ side has taken a shot at it, it may be lifted and dropped a club-length outside of the hazard at a point agreed upon between the two captains. A ball in a hazard may not be teed, and this gives a chance for finesse. For instance, suppose that the ball is perilously near the Red goal, and it is Red putter's turn to play. With a straight drive he can only get it a few yards back, and Blue driver, whose turn it is to follow, will be almost certain to get it over. But if Red putter can play it into a hazard or behind a tree, Blue driver will probably fail to make the goal, and that will give the Reds another chance. Other variations will occur in the playing of the game, and may be readily worked out by any boy with a turn for generalship. After each point the sides change goals, so as to equalize the chances of the hazards, and the side that has lost the goal drives off. A ball driven _through_ or _under_ the goal-fence does not count for either side. It must be brought out to a point half-way distant between the centre of the field and the point where it went over the goal-line, and there teed for the player whose turn it is to strike. A ball over the side-line is brought inside, as in football, and dropped a club-length from the line. In the case of a lost ball, the inning begins again as though no play had been made. A player may not strike the ball back over or through his own goal-line. If he does so, accidentally or otherwise, the ball is brought out and teed precisely as in the former case, where the attacking player had failed to put it fairly over.

The game may be made still more scientific and interesting if a regular field be laid out with chalk lines, as in football. In this case the goal at each end should be a circular pit six feet in diameter and six inches deep. The diagram gives the other proportions and the general arrangement of the field. The "vantage"-lines indicate the spot where the ball is to be teed in the case of a failure of a try for goal. There is no restriction upon the direction in which the ball may be played, except in the case of a player who knocks it over his own goal-line. The ball is then teed at "vantage." Balls out of bounds are placed on the side-line at the crossing-point. To make a goal, the ball must drop in the pit and stay there.

It is evident that the interest of the game will depend upon the evenness with which the players are matched. As a general thing a player should be assigned to the club which he is most expert in handling, and the players are known by the names of the clubs they carry. In no case must the rotation of play be altered, and _driver_ always leads off at the beginning of an inning. It would be possible for two men to play the game, using their clubs in the prescribed rotation, but the match between sides gives a chance for more interesting work. If the sides are uneven, one man may, by special agreement, be allowed to play two clubs.

THE PIRATE'S TREASURE.

BY CAPTAIN HOWARD PATTERSON.

"Ralph," said Grandfather Sterling, one hot August morning, looking over the veranda rail to where the boy was stretched full length upon the lawn, "did I ever tell you about the time that I went hunting for a treasure that had been buried by a pirate on one of the islands in the West Indies?"

The lad came bounding up the steps in delight, for there was no greater treat to him than one of the old sea-captain's stories concerning the long and adventurous life that he had led from the time of his first voyage as cabin-boy until his retirement from the sea about two years before.

"No, indeed, Grandpop, and it will be jolly, I'm sure. Please fill up your pipe, so that you won't have to stop just when you get to the most exciting part. Here's your box of matches; and now, as you often say, 'let the reel hum.'"

Captain Sterling smiled affectionately into the eager face upturned to his, and commenced his story:

"It was when I was second mate of a brig called the _Nellie_, a good many years ago, that this yarn really begins. We were homeward bound from Brazil, with a cargo of coffee, when the yellow fever broke out on board. First the captain sickened and died, then in order followed our first mate, leaving me in command. Next the oldest member of our crew was struck down, and to give him a chance for his life, as well as to humor the wishes of the men, I had him taken out of the dark hot forecastle and brought aft into one of the spare state-rooms in the cabin. Here I nursed him as well as I could; but although the fever broke after the third day, it left him so weak that he could not rally, and his end was hastened on account of his not being able to retain the slightest nourishment. He seemed to be very grateful for my care. On the afternoon of the fifth day of his sickness he said to me that he knew his end was near, and that he wished to show his gratitude while there was yet time. In his chest in the forecastle, he stated that there was a leather wallet, which I was to get and give to him. I did as he requested. He took from it a sheet of paper, on which was rudely sketched the outline of an island, with a compass showing the cardinal points. On the western side of this island there was an indentation resembling a bay having a very narrow entrance from the sea, and in about the middle of the sketch there was a small circle, about west of which a cross was marked.

"'Take this,' he said to me, 'and listen to what I say. This is a chart of a little island known as San Juan, in the Windward West Indies. You will see that I have given its latitude and longitude. Twenty years ago I was one of the officers of the pirate schooner _Don Pedro_. We went on shore at San Juan to divide the contents of the treasure-chest and to carouse. During the night, when all others were sleeping, I stole away to the spring, which is shown by the circle on the chart, and buried my share of the treasure--nearly ten thousand dollars in gold--three feet in the sand. I dug the hole right in the wake of the rising moon, with the spring between it and me. Go to the island, count fifty paces west of the spring, and dig.'

"'But,' I said to him, 'how do you know but what the money was found years ago?'

"'The island is uninhabited, and no one but myself ever knew that I had hidden it there. Two weeks after that the _Don Pedro_ was captured. They hung the captain, and imprisoned the rest of us for life. One year ago I escaped. Since that time I have been waiting for a chance to recover my treasure. I intended to use the wages made on this voyage to buy a passage to St. Croix, which is the nearest inhabited island to San Juan, and then by some means reach the place where my gold is safely hidden. The money is yours now, and I want you to take it as a gift from me for your kindness.'

"Later on, when I visited his room, he was resting peacefully, with a little ivory crucifix pressed against his cold white lips. The spirit of the pirate had sailed on its last voyage across the sea of eternity.

"Three weeks later I carried the _Nellie_ into the harbor of New York, and received a handsome present in money from the owners for my services, with which I bought a passage on a sailing-vessel, known as the _Dart_, bound to St. Croix, and reached that place after an uneventful voyage.

"During our trip I stated to the captain that my business was to look after some interests of an acquaintance, and that I hoped to have the same attended to in advance of the time that the vessel was to sail, so that I might return in her. I volunteered the same explanation at the house where I secured board, and then found myself at liberty to go and come without arousing interest in my movements. Having an object to gain, I made it a point of keeping up very friendly relations with the captain of the _Dart_, several times inviting him to dine with me, and showing him many other courtesies, which he responded to by having me as a guest at his table on board whenever I could make it convenient to visit his vessel. One evening, as we sat under the quarter-deck awning enjoying our Havanas, I said, carelessly:

"'Captain, I've been thinking that I would like to hire your long-boat for the time that we shall be here. Being fitted with lug-sails, she can easily be handled by one man, and I would enjoy running about the harbor in her, and even making little trips along shore when I have nothing else to do.'

"'You can have her in welcome,' he said. 'Don't say a word about pay. As long as you will return her all right you can use her to your heart's content. I will get her overboard in the morning, and have her put in shape for you.'

"The next day I made a trial spin in the boat, and found her all that a sailor could wish for in the way of speed and sea-going qualities. The pirate's island was something less than sixty miles away, and I knew that in the constant trade-winds that I had to count upon to give me a fair breeze there and back, I should be able to reach it in about ten hours.

"During the next two or three days I made several short excursions along the coast, gradually paving the way for the dash I had in view. At last the day arrived when I determined to stretch away for the little coral island below the horizon. In the early morning I left the house, carrying a valise, in which was food sufficient for my anticipated needs, a large garden trowel, and a boat compass that I had brought from the States. Folded in the pocket of my coat I carried a chart of the Windward Islands, and with this equipment I stepped on board, hoisted the two jib-headed sails, and started on my voyage.

"Hour after hour I was swept swiftly onward over the wind-whipped waves, holding the brave little vessel steadily to her course. It was about four o'clock in the afternoon that I lifted the island into sight, bearing directly ahead, and an hour later found me sailing through the narrow inlet that the pirate had laid down on his chart. I ran the boat head on to the sandy beach, securing her painter to one of several stunted palm-trees that grew in a bunch close to the water. The island was not much more than a mile in circumference, and was impoverished in the matter of vegetation, although the cactus-plant showed here and there, and a few cocoanut-trees with a fringe of sickly scrub underbrush occupied the centre of this otherwise barren island. I reasoned that the site of the spring must be found within the little grove; so, providing myself with the trowel and compass, I made my way toward it.

"From the time that I had first become familiar with the pirate's secret up to the hour when I landed on the island my head had been perfectly cool and my nerves tranquil; but now, as I approached the spot that I had travelled two thousand miles to find, I grew dizzy, and my limbs trembled, so that I was obliged to throw myself on the sand to rest for a few minutes and to force a return of my self-control. Then I arose and stepped within the circle of the little oasis.