Chapter 10

When did the snow begin? How do you know? What time is it now? Is snow still falling? Read the lines that show this. Of what sorrow does the snow remind the poet? Read the lines which show that peace had come to the parents. Make a list of the comparisons (or similes) used by the poet. Read the lines which show that the storm was a quiet one. Which lines do you like best?

OLD EPHRAIM

For some days after our arrival on the Bighorn range we did not come across any grizzly. There were plenty of black-tail deer in the woods, and we encountered a number of bands of cow and calf elk, or of young bulls; but after several days' hunting, we were still without any game worth taking home, and we had seen no sign of grizzly, which was the game we were especially anxious to kill, for neither Merrifield nor I had ever seen a bear alive.

Sometimes we hunted in company; sometimes each of us went out alone. One day we had separated; I reached camp early in the afternoon, and waited a couple of hours before Merrifield put in an appearance.

At last I heard a shout, and he came in sight galloping at speed down an open glade, and waving his hat, evidently having had good luck; and when he reined in his small, wiry cow-pony, we saw that he had packed behind his saddle the fine, glossy pelt of a black bear. Better still, he announced that he had been off about ten miles to a perfect tangle of ravines and valleys where bear sign was very thick; and not of black bear either, but of grizzly. The black bear (the only one we got on the mountains) he had run across by accident.

Merrifield's tale made me decide to shift camp at once, and go over to the spot where the bear-tracks were plentiful. Next morning we were off, and by noon pitched camp by a clear brook, in a valley with steep, wooded sides.

That afternoon we again went out, and I shot a fine bull elk. I came home alone toward nightfall, walking through a reach of burnt forest, where there was nothing but charred tree-trunks and black mold. When nearly through it I came across the huge, half-human footprints of a great grizzly, which must have passed by within a few minutes. It gave me rather an eery feeling in the silent, lonely woods, to see for the first time the unmistakable proofs that I was in the home of the mighty lord of the wilderness.

That evening we almost had a visit from one of the animals we were after. Several times we had heard at night the musical calling of the bull elk--a sound to which no writer has as yet done justice. This particular night, when we were in bed and the fire was smoldering, we were roused by a ruder noise--a kind of grunting or roaring whine, answered by the frightened snorts of the ponies. It was a bear which had evidently not seen the fire, as it came from behind the bank, and had probably been attracted by the smell of the horses. After it made out what we were, it stayed round a short while, again uttered its peculiar roaring grunt, and went off; we had seized our rifles and had run out into the woods, but in the darkness could see nothing; indeed it was rather lucky we did not stumble across the bear, as he could have made short work of us when we were at such a disadvantage.

Next day we went off on a long tramp through the woods and along the sides of the canyons. There were plenty of berry bushes growing in clusters; and all around these there were fresh tracks of bear. But the grizzly is also a flesh-eater, and has a great liking for [v]carrion. On visiting the place where Merrifield had killed the black bear, we found that the grizzlies had been there before us, and had utterly devoured the carcass, with cannibal relish. Hardly a scrap was left, and we turned our steps toward where lay the bull elk I had killed. It was quite late in the afternoon when we reached the place.

A grizzly had evidently been at the carcass during the preceding night, for his great footprints were in the ground all around it, and the carcass itself was gnawed and torn, and partially covered with earth and leaves--the grizzly has a curious habit of burying all of his prey that he does not at the moment need.

The forest was composed mainly of what are called ridge-pole pines, which grow close together, and do not branch out until the stems are thirty or forty feet from the ground. Beneath these trees we walked over a carpet of pine needles, upon which our moccasined feet made no sound. The woods seemed vast and lonely, and their silence was broken now and then by the strange noises always to be heard in the great pine forests.

We climbed up along the trunk of a dead tree that had toppled over until its upper branches struck in the limb crotch of another, which thus supported it at an angle half-way in its fall. When above the ground far enough to prevent the bear's smelling us, we sat still to wait for his approach; until, in the gathering gloom, we could no longer see the sights of our rifles. It was useless to wait longer; and we clambered down and stole out to the edge of the woods. The forest here covered one side of a steep, almost canyon-like ravine, whose other side was bare except for rock and sage-brush. Once out from under the trees there was still plenty of light, although the sun had set, and we crossed over some fifty yards to the opposite hillside, and crouched down under a bush to see if perchance some animal might not also leave the cover.

Again we waited quietly in the growing dusk until the pine trees in our front blended into one dark, frowning mass. At last, as we were rising to leave, we heard the sound of the breaking of a dead stick, from the spot where we knew the carcass lay. "Old Ephraim" had come back to the carcass. A minute afterward, listening with strained ears, we heard him brush by some dry twigs. It was entirely too dark to go in after him; but we made up our minds that on the morrow he should be ours.

Early next morning we were over at the elk carcass, and, as we expected, found that the bear had eaten his fill of it during the night. His tracks showed him to be an immense fellow, and were so fresh that we doubted if he had left long before we arrived; and we made up our minds to follow him up and try to find his lair. The bears that lived on these mountains had evidently been little disturbed; indeed, the Indians and most of the white hunters are rather chary of meddling with "Old Ephraim," as the mountain men style the grizzly. The bears thus seemed to have very little fear of harm, and we thought it likely that the bed of the one who had fed on the elk would not be far away.

My companion was a skillful tracker, and we took up the trail at once. For some distance it led over the soft, yielding carpet of moss and pine needles, and the footprints were quite easily made out, although we could follow them but slowly; for we had, of course, to keep a sharp look-out ahead and around us as we walked noiselessly on in the somber half-light always prevailing under the great pine trees.

After going a few hundred yards the tracks turned off on a well-beaten path made by the elk; the woods were in many places cut up by these game trails, which had often become as distinct as ordinary footpaths. The beast's footprints were perfectly plain in the dust, and he had lumbered along up the path until near the middle of the hillside, where the ground broke away and there were hollows and boulders. Here there had been a windfall, and the dead trees lay among the living, piled across one another in all directions; while between and around them sprouted up a thick growth of young spruces and other evergreens. The trail turned off into the tangled thicket, within which it was almost certain we should find our quarry. We could still follow the tracks, by the slight scrapes of the claws on the bark, or by the bent and broken twigs; and we advanced with noiseless caution.

When in the middle of the thicket we crossed what was almost a breastwork of fallen logs, and Merrifield, who was leading, passed by the upright stem of a great pine. As soon as he was by it, he sank suddenly on one knee, turning half round, his face fairly aflame with excitement; and as I strode past him, with my rifle at the ready, there, not ten steps off, was the great bear, slowly rising from his bed among the young spruces. He had heard us, but apparently hardly knew exactly where or what we were, for he reared up on his haunches sideways to us.

Then he saw us and dropped down again on all-fours, the shaggy hair on his neck and shoulders seeming to bristle as he turned toward us. As he sank down on his fore feet, I had raised the rifle; his head was bent slightly down, and when I saw the top of the white bead fairly between his small, glittering, evil eyes, I pulled trigger. Half-rising up, the huge beast fell over on his side in the death throes, the ball having gone into his brain, striking as fairly between the eyes as if the distance had been measured.

The whole thing was over in twenty seconds from the time I caught sight of the game; indeed, it was over so quickly that the grizzly did not have time to show fight. He was a monstrous fellow, much larger than any I have seen since. As near as we could estimate, he must have weighed above twelve hundred pounds.

THEODORE ROOSEVELT.

=HELPS TO STUDY=

Theodore Roosevelt, President of the United States from 1901 to 1909, was one of the greatest hunters of the present generation. As he was in weak health as a young man, he went West and lived for some time the life of a ranchman and hunter, killing much wild game. In later years he went on a great hunting trip to Africa, and finally explored the wilds of the Amazon river, in South America, in search of game and adventure. "Old Ephraim" narrates one of his earlier hunting experiences, and is taken from the book, _The Hunting Trips of a Ranchman_.

Give an account of the capture of the grizzly bear. Why did not Merrifield fire? Compare the weight of the bear with that of the average cow or horse. Tell of any bear hunt of which you know.

SUPPLEMENTARY READING

Watchers of the Trail--Charles C. D. Roberts. Monarch, the Bear--Ernest Thompson Seton. Wild Animals I Have Known--Ernest Thompson Seton. African Game Trails--Theodore Roosevelt.

MIDWINTER

The speckled sky is dim with snow, The light flakes falter and fall slow; Athwart the hill-top, rapt and pale, Silently drops a silvery veil; And all the valley is shut in By flickering curtains gray and thin.

But cheerily the chickadee Singeth to me on fence and tree; The snow sails round him as he sings, White as the down of angels' wings.

I watch the slow flakes as they fall On bank and briar and broken wall; Over the orchard, waste and brown, All noiselessly they settle down, Tipping the apple-boughs, and each Light quivering twig of plum and peach.

On turf and curb and bower-roof The snow-storm spreads its ivory woof; It paves with pearl the garden-walk; And lovingly round tattered stalk And shivering stem its magic weaves A mantle fair as lily-leaves.

All day it snows: the sheeted post Gleams in the dimness like a ghost; All day the blasted oak has stood A muffled wizard of the wood; Garland and airy cap adorn The sumach and the wayside thorn, And clustering spangles lodge and shine In the dark tresses of the pine.

The ragged bramble, dwarfed and old, Shrinks like a beggar in the cold; In [v]surplice white the cedar stands, And blesses him with priestly hands.

Still cheerily the chickadee Singeth to me on fence and tree: But in my inmost ear is heard The music of a holier bird; And heavenly thoughts as soft and white As snow-flakes on my soul alight, Clothing with love my lonely heart, Healing with peace each bruised part, Till all my being seems to be Transfigured by their purity.

JOHN TOWNSEND TROWBRIDGE.

=HELPS TO STUDY=

When did this storm begin? Read lines which show this. Give reasons for your answer. What comparisons are used by the poet in describing the snowfall? Which comparison do you like best? What healing thought does the storm bring to the poet? Compare it with the same thought in _The First Snowfall_.

A GEORGIA FOX HUNT[177-*]

I

In the season of 1863, the Rockville Hunting Club, which had been newly organized, was at the height of its success. It was composed of men too old to go in the army, and of young men who were not old enough, or who, from one cause and another, were exempted from military service. Ostensibly, its object was to encourage the noble sport of fox-hunting and to bind by closer ties the congenial souls whose love for horse and hound and horn bordered on enthusiasm. This, I say, was its [v]ostensible object, for it seems to me, looking back upon that terrible time, that the main purpose of the association was to devise new methods of forgetting the sickening [v]portents of disaster that were even then thick in the air. Any suggestion or plan calculated to relieve the mind from the weight of the horror of those desperate days was eagerly seized upon and utilized. With the old men and the fledgling boys in the neighborhood of Rockville, the desire to escape momentarily the realities of the present took the shape of fox-hunting and other congenial amusements. With the women--ah well! Heaven only knows how they sat dumb and silent over their great anguish and grief, cheering the helpless and comforting and succoring the sick and wounded. It was a mystery to me then, and it is a mystery to me now.

About the first of November the writer hereof received a long-expected letter from Tom Tunison, the secretary of the club, who was on a visit to Monticello. It was brief and breezy.

"Young man," he wrote, "they are coming. They are going to give us a [v]ruffle. Their dogs are good, but they lack form and finish as well as discipline--plenty of bottom but no confidence. I haven't hesitated to put up our horn as the prize. Get the boys together and tell them about it, and see that our own eleven are in fighting trim. You won't believe it, but Sue, Herndon, Kate, and Walthall are coming with the party; and the fair de Compton, who set all the Monticello boys wild last year when she got back from Macon, vows and declares she is coming, too. Remember the 15th. Be prepared."

I took in the situation at a glance. Tom, in his reckless style, had bantered a party of Jasper county men as to the superiority of their dogs, and had even offered to give them an opportunity to gain the silver-mounted horn won by the Rockville club in Hancock county the year before. The Jasper county men, who were really breeding some excellent dogs, accepted the challenge, and Tom had invited them to share the hospitality of the plantation home called "Bachelors' Hall."

If the truth must be confessed, I was not at all grieved at the announcement in Tom's letter, apart from the agreeable change in the social atmosphere that would result from the presence of ladies in "Bachelors' Hall." I was eagerly anxious to test the mettle of a favorite hound--Flora--whose care and training had cost me a great deal of time and trouble. Although it was her first season in the field, she had already become the pet and pride of the Rockville club, the members of which were not slow to sound her praises. Flora was an experiment. She was the result of a cross between the Henry hound (called in Georgia the "Birdsong dog," in honor of the most successful breeder) and a Maryland hound. She was a grand-daughter of the famous Hodo and in everything except her color (she was white with yellow ears) was the exact reproduction of that magnificent fox-hound. I was anxious to see her put to the test.

It was with no small degree of satisfaction, therefore, that I informed Aunt Patience, the cook, of Tom's programme. Aunt Patience was a privileged character, whose comments upon people and things were free and frequent; when she heard that a party of hunters, accompanied by ladies, proposed to make the hall their temporary headquarters, her remarks were ludicrously indignant.

"Well, ef dat Marse Tom ain't de beatinest white man dat I ever sot eyes on--'way off yander givin' way his vittles fo' he buy um at de sto'! How I know what Marse Tom want, an' tel I know, whar I gwineter git um? He better be home yer lookin' atter deze lazy niggers, stidder high-flyin' wid dem Jasper county folks. Ef dez enny vittles on dis plan'ash'n, hits more'n I knows un. En he'll go runnin' roun' wid dem harum-skarum gals twell I boun' he don't fetch dat pipe an' dat 'backer what he said he would. Can't fool me 'bout de gals what grows up deze days. Dey duz like dey wanter stan' up an' cuss dersef' case dey wuzent borned men."

"Why, Aunt Patience, your Marse Tom says Miss de Compton is as pretty as a pink and as fine as a fiddle."

"Law, chile! you needn't talk 'bout de gals to dis ole 'omen. I done know um fo' you wuz borned. W'en you see Miss Compton you see all de balance un um. Deze is new times. Marse Tom's mammy useter spin her fifteen cents o' wool a day--w'en you see Miss Compton wid a hank er yarn in 'er han', you jes' sen' me word."

Whereupon, Aunt Patience gave her head handkerchief a vigorous wrench, and went her way--the good old soul--even then considering how she should best set about preparing a genuine surprise for her young master in the shape of daily feasts for a dozen guests. I will not stop here to detail the character of this preparation or to dwell upon its success. It is enough to say that Tom Tunison praised Aunt Patience to the skies; and, as if this were not sufficient to make her happy, he produced a big clay pipe, three plugs of real "manufac terbacker," which was hard to get in those times, a red shawl, and twelve yards of calico.

The fortnight that followed the arrival of Tom's guests was one long to be remembered, not only in the [v]annals of the Rockville Hunting Club but in the annals of Rockville itself. The fair de Compton literally turned the heads of old men and young boys, and even succeeded in conquering the critics of her own sex. She was marvelously beautiful, and her beauty was of a kind to haunt one in one's dreams. It was easy to perceive that she had made a conquest of Tom, and I know that every suggestion he made and every project he planned had for its sole end and aim the enjoyment of Miss Carrie de Compton.

It was several days before the minor details of the contest, which was at once the excuse for and the object of the visit of Tom's guests, could be arranged, but finally everything was "[v]amicably adjusted," and the day appointed. The night before the hunt, the club and the Jasper county visitors assembled in Tom Tunison's parlor for a final discussion of the event.

"In order," said Tom, "to give our friends and guests an opportunity fully to test the speed and bottom of their kennels, it has been decided to pay our respects to 'Old Sandy'."

"And pray, Mr. Tunison, who is 'Old Sandy'?" queried Miss de Compton.

"He is a fox, Miss de Compton, and a tough one. He is a trained fox. He has been hunted so often by the inferior packs in his neighborhood that he is well-nigh [v]invincible. He is so well known that he has not been hunted, except by accident, for two seasons. He is not as suspicious as he was two years ago, but we must be careful if we want to get within hearing distance of him to-morrow morning."

"Do any of the ladies go with us?" asked Jack Herndon.

"I go, for one," responded Miss de Compton, and in a few minutes all the ladies had decided to go along, even if they found it inconvenient to participate actively in the hunt.

"Then," said Tom, rising, "we must say good night. Uncle Plato will sound 'Boots and Saddle' at four o'clock to-morrow morning."

"Four o'clock!" exclaimed the ladies in dismay.

"At four precisely," answered Tom, and the ladies with pretty little gestures of mock despair swept upstairs while Tom brought out cigars for the boys.

My friend little knew how delighted I was that "Old Sandy" was to be put through his paces. He little knew how carefully I had studied the peculiarities of this famous fox--how often when training Flora I had taken her out and followed "Old Sandy" through all his ranges, how I had "felt of" both his speed and bottom and knew all his weak points.

II

Morning came, and with it Uncle Plato's bugle call. Aunt Patience was ready with a smoking hot breakfast, and everybody was in fine spirits. As the eager, happy crowd filed down the broad avenue that led to the hall, the fair de Compton, who had been delayed in mounting, rode by my side.

"You choose your escort well," I ventured to say.

"I have a weakness for children," she replied; "particularly for children who know what they are about. Plato has told me that if I desired to see all of the hunt without much trouble, to follow you. I am selfish, you perceive."

We rode over the red hills and under the russet trees until we came to "Old Sandy's" favorite haunt. Here a council of war was held, and it was decided that Tom and a portion of the hunters should skirt the fields, while another portion led by Miss de Compton and myself should enter and bid the fox good morning. Uncle Plato, who had been given the cue, followed me with the dogs, and in a few moments we were very near the particular spot where I hoped to find the venerable deceiver of dogs and men. The hounds were already sallying hither and thither, anxious and evidently expectant.

Five minutes went by without a whimper from the pack. There was not a sound save the eager rustling of the dogs through the sedge and undergrowth. The ground was familiar to Flora, and I watched her with pride as with powerful strides she circled around. Suddenly she paused and flung her head in the air, making a beautiful picture where she stood poised, as if listening. My heart gave a great thump. It was a trick of hers, and I knew that "Old Sandy" had been around within the past twenty-four hours! With a rush, a bound, and an eager cry, my favorite came toward us, and the next moment "Old Sandy," who had been lying almost at our horses' feet, was up and away with Flora right at his heels. A wild hope seized me that my favorite would run into the shy veteran before he could get out of the field. But no! One of the Jasper county hunters, rendered momentarily insane by excitement, endeavored to ride the fox down with his horse, and in another moment Sir Reynard was over the fence and into the woodland beyond, followed by the hounds. They made a splendid but [v]ineffectual burst of speed, for when "Old Sandy" found himself upon the blackjack hills he was foot-loose. The morning, however, was fine--just damp enough to leave the scent of the fox hanging breast high in the air, whether he shaped his course over lowlands or highlands.

In the midst of all the confusion that had ensued, Miss de Compton remained cool, serene, and apparently indifferent, but I observed a glow upon her face and a sparkle in her eyes, as Tom Tunison, riding his gallant gray and heading the hunters, easily and gracefully took a couple of fences when the hounds veered to the left.

"Our Jasper county friend has saved 'Old Sandy,' Miss de Compton," I said, "but he has given us an opportunity of witnessing some very fine sport. The fox is so badly frightened that he may endeavor in the beginning to outfoot the dogs, but in the end he will return to his range, and then I hope to show you what a cunning old customer he is. If Flora doesn't fail us at the critical moment, you will have the honor of wearing his brush on your saddle."

"Youth is always confident," replied Miss de Compton.