CHAPTER V

WHEN KATE CAME HOME

"SOME one is in trouble, Bob!" cried the younger Armstrong boy, as these sounds came floating to their ears.

"Yes, and a white man, too," said Bob, as he tossed the bundle of venison up into the crotch of a big oak tree close at hand. "We must see if we can help him."

Sandy was nothing loth. He knew full well that the unwritten law of the woods compelled every man to extend assistance when he met with one in need, and from the nature of the racket they could imagine that something quite out of the ordinary must be taking place.

The two lads set off on a run, eager to reach the spot as quickly as possible. True, they were rather short of ammunition just then, but so long as a single load remained to their guns they were ready to use it in behalf of any one in distress.

"Listen, brother," said Sandy, when they had covered some little distance; "surely we have heard that voice before."

"Yes," returned Bob, with a little laugh, "it is our old friend, Pat O'Mara, without a doubt; but what can he have stumbled into now? Pat is always looking for a 'ruction,' as he calls it, and generally finding what he wants."

"Perhaps the wolves, after leaving us, may have treed him," suggested Sandy, with something like a broad grin appearing on his freckled face.

But the other shook his head in the negative. He seldom jumped at conclusions as did Sandy, and usually weighed his words before speaking.

"Hardly that, boy," he observed; "we would have heard their howls before this. And besides, we have good reason to know that wolves are arrant cowards in the daytime."

"Well, let us run on again, for evidently Pat is in need of help. This may pay him back for dragging me out of that quicksand last summer, when I thought my last hour had arrived," and Sandy once more started on a trot in the direction of the spot whence the shouts arose.

Soon another sound mingled with the cries of the Irish trapper.

"It must be a bear!" said Sandy over his shoulder, as he ran.

Bob was of the same opinion, for the ferocious growls that came down the breeze could surely have been produced by no other among the woods creatures.

Then they burst through a thicket, and suddenly came in sight of a spectacle so remarkable that both boys stood still to gape and grin.

A rather stout man was sitting up in the wreck of an old tree, kicking furiously at a lean black bear, just below him, that was striking with his claws in the endeavor to fasten upon the legging of the other's foot.

While he thus kicked, the man in fringed buckskin was constantly talking, often giving vent to a shout of joy when his foot chanced to land against the head of his hairy enemy.

On the ground lay a rifle; but the bear did not seem to be seriously wounded in any way, which fact puzzled the boys not a little, because Pat O'Mara had the reputation of being a marvellous shot, and they remembered having heard the report of the gun a short time back.

When he saw the new arrivals, the trapper let out a cheer that told of solid satisfaction. And indeed, to tell the truth, his situation was anything but pleasant, and the end uncertain, with that wicked old bear determined to get him by fair means or foul.

"Haroo!" shouted the trapper, waving his coonskin cap vigorously above his red head; "sure yees are the byes to hilp me out av throuble, so ye be! Alriddy he scents me frinds, and is backin' down out av the three. Just take up alongside the fut av the same, and put a flea in his ear before he can turn to do yees any harrm. Haroo! Make a clane job av the same, remimber. An' wan at a time, av ye plaze!"

"You take him first, Sandy," said Bob, with his usual thoughtfulness, always willing that his brother should carry off the honors when there was a choice.

He stood alongside, and held his musket in readiness, so that in case the first leaden missile failed to finish old Bruin he might join in the affair.

The bear, while still angry, was evidently considerably concerned over the coming of reinforcements.

Sandy knew how to do the part of the business that had been entrusted to him.

"Stiddy, lad, stiddy!" warned the trapper, already following the bear down the tree. "Make a sure job av it now; and don't spile the pelt!"

Bang! went the heavy charge which was in Sandy's flint-lock musket. The bear immediately fell in a heap on the ground. Bob stood there, ready to add the finishing touch if absolutely necessary; but among hunters it is always understood that there shall be no interference at such times unless positively needed; and the game had been placed in Sandy's hands.

And in this case there was no need, for the bear, after making a desperate attempt to struggle to his feet, dropped, and lay still; whereupon Sandy and the good-natured Irish trapper united in a cheer that made the woods ring again and again.

"Afther all, it is Sandy's pelt, and it's glad I am he had the good sinse to sind his bullet back av the forelig instid av liftin' the baste's hid," declared the man who had been rescued from the tree.

"But how comes it that we found you in such a queer scrape, Pat?" asked Bob, with a twinkle in his eye; for he knew very well something must have gone amiss, or the usually clever woodsman would not have found himself in so sore a strait.

"Arrah! it's ashamed I am to till yees, me byes; but sure thot was a time Patsy found himself up the wrong tree," admitted the other, who was so good-natured that he could even laugh at a joke on himself.

"And not much of a tree at that, I should say," remarked Sandy dryly, as he surveyed the stump which had been the scene of the trapper's adventure. "Seems to me, Pat, that if I wanted to climb a tree, and fight it out with a bear, I would pick a bigger one than this rotten old thing."

"Oh! ye wud, eh? Phat if the bear was so clost till yer heels that ye had to shin up anything at all?" objected Pat, with a comical grin.

"Well, in that case no one could blame you," returned Bob. "Tell us how it came you failed to kill the beast when you fired."

"Sure, and ye are mistaken, Bob; niver a shot did I take at the ould beggar," said the other, positively.

The boys looked at each other.

"But surely we heard a shot," observed Sandy.

"Yis, but thot was the bear shootin', I give ye my word," the man in buckskin avowed.

"Do you mean to tell us that the bear fired your gun at you?" questioned Sandy, who knew the joking propensity of the jolly Irish trapper.

"Whirra! now, who said he fired _at_ me? Afther chasing me up here the ugly ould baste took a notion to scratch at me gun down on the ground; and as by bad luck the hammer was back, bedad if he didn't manage somehow to pull the trigger. Sure, if ye look here, yees can see the hole the bullet made in the butt av the tree!"

At this frank declaration on the part of the trapper Sandy was unable to keep a straight face any longer, but broke out into a roar. Nor was Pat long in joining him, seeming to think it a fine joke.

"But afther all it was the bear that hild the small ind av the sthick," the hero of the adventure remarked as, with knife in hand, he started to remove the heavy skin of the victim. Sandy tramped back to secure the venison from the crotch in the oak, while Bob aided the trapper.

Pat was a roving blade. He loved the wide expanse of wilderness, and had made several long trips into the west, though as yet never as far as Colonel Boone and his party had gone. He had always been a good friend of the Armstrongs, and was particularly fond of the two brothers.

After about an hour's delay the boys, accompanied by O'Mara, made a start for the cabin in the clearing, each one well loaded with packages of meat. The bear had not been in very good condition, having hibernated all winter, and lived upon his fat; but still the experienced trapper knew just what portions to carry along, such as would afford good stews to the hungry Armstrongs.

It was just noon when they came in sight of the cabin. Of course it was the anxious mother who sighted the boys first, as she stood within the open doorway, shading her eyes with her hand so as to shut out the glare of the sun on the snow.

Soon the newcomers were sitting in front of the big blaze in the yawning fireplace, where a pot bubbled and gave out appetizing odors, telling the story of their adventures; while David, the look of concern gone for the time being from his face, undid the packages of supplies that had been secured.

Indeed it was a happy little party that sat around the plain deal table. What mattered it that the chairs were home-made, that Sandy even had to utilize a three-legged stool; that instead of boards the cabin had only a hard earthen floor; while there was an utter absence of anything beyond the absolute necessities of existence, as lived in those primitive times? (Note 4.)

Love dwelt there, and smoothed all the rough edges. Looking into the proud and apparently happy face of the little mother the two boys were pleased to think fortune had been so very kind, and allowed them to bring home such a goodly supply of meat; for the larder was almost bare.

Pat was always the life of any party. When he chose to exert himself things went on with a whirl, and there was much merriment. If Mr. Armstrong meant to ask his advice about the plans he was forming connected with their emigration to the new country beyond the horizon in the west, he held his peace just then, not wishing to arouse the boys as yet; for he knew Sandy's impetuous ways, and how the facts must soon become public property once he learned them.

The thing that worried David Armstrong most was his uncertainty as to where he could secure money enough to fit out for the long journey. They really needed at least two horses, upon which the bedding and extra clothing, as well as cooking utensils, could be loaded; for no one would think of carrying anything else over such an unknown road, hundreds of miles into the untrodden wilderness, where most of the travelling must be done over the winding buffalo trails.

However, he had a plan, thanks to a suggestion on the part of his thoughtful wife, and with the assistance of Pat O'Mara he fancied he could secure what he wished so earnestly, a loan from a man he had once befriended, and who was now well-to-do.

They had just finished their meal when Sandy discovered something through the little window near which he happened to be sitting.

"Why, would you believe it, mother, here comes sister Kate!" he exclaimed.

All of them made a start to leave the table; and then, influenced perhaps by some hidden fear, they turned to exchange glances. Could anything have happened that the girl was coming home at this unusual hour; for the cabin where she had been employed was half a mile away?

The door opened to admit a pretty little girl with flaxen curls, just now sadly awry; and the eye of Mrs. Armstrong saw instantly that Kate had certainly been indulging in a good cry, something she was seldom guilty of doing, being possessed of a sunny disposition very like her mother's, though perhaps she had also a dash of her father's peppery nature.

At sight of the family Kate was unable to restrain her feelings any longer, for again the tears began to flow down her rosy cheeks.

"Why, Kate, my child, what has happened? Why are you here, when your duty is at the Hodgkins?" asked Mrs. Armstrong, hastening to throw a reassuring arm around the shoulders of the slight figure that was shaking with emotion.

The girl looked up, the tears shining in her blue eyes. There was also a flash of temper to be seen there, and evidently Kate had been recently aroused to a point where she could stand things no longer.

"I am done with the Hodgkins," she cried, stamping her little foot on the clay floor; "I will never go back there again! I hate them, every one! Oh! it was so mean, so cowardly to say that!"

Mrs. Armstrong turned pale, and her husband said something under his breath, as they exchanged uneasy glances.

"Tell us, what did they dare say to you?" demanded Sandy, gritting his teeth.

"They mocked me, and said my father was a barn-burner!" sobbed the girl, bitterly.