CHAPTER VIII--A NOVEL BEAR TRAP
"You don't know of anybody hereabouts that wants to hire a good hand, Is'pose?" asked a stranger one August afternoon, as, without unslinginghis pack, he set his gun against the log wall beside the door, andleaned upon his axe at the threshold.
By degrees Seth Beeman had enlarged his clearing so far that he alreadyneeded stronger hands than Nathan's to help him in the care of the landalready in tilth and in the further extension of his betterments, but hescanned the man closely before he answered. Though unprepossessing,low-browed, and surly looking, he was evidently a stout fellow, andaccustomed to work. At length a reply was made by asking such questionsas were a matter of course in those days, and are not yet quite obsoletein Yankeeland.
The stranger readily said his name was Silas Toombs, that he was fromJersey way, and wished, when he had earned enough, to take up a right ofland hereabouts, in a region he had often heard extolled by his father,who had served here in Captain Bergen's company of Rogers's Rangers.Seth had previously ascertained that no grown-up son of any of hisneighbors could be spared to help him, so he finally hired this man, whoproved to be efficient and faithful, although not a genial companion,such as an old-time farmer wished to find in his hired help. Ruthtreated him with the kindness so natural to her, though she couldscarcely conceal her aversion. This, if he understood, he did not seemto notice any more than he did the undisguised dislike of Nathan.
The remainder of the summer and half of the fall passed uneventfully,till one day, when Ruth had been called to the bedside of Mrs. Newton,who was ill of the fever so prevalent in new clearings, Nathan and hissister were left in charge of the house, while their father and hiredman worked in a distant field.
The children spent half the pleasant forenoon in alternate rounds ofhousework and out-door play, now sweeping the floor with hemlock brooms,now running out into the hazy October sunshine to play "Indians" withNathan's bow and arrows and Martha's rag doll. This was stolen andcarried into captivity, from which it was rescued by its heroic littlemother. Then they threw off their assumed characters and ran into thehouse to replenish the smouldering fire, and to find that the sunshine,falling upon the floor through the window, was creeping towards the"noon mark," making it time to begin dinner.
Nathan raised the heavy trap-door to the cellar and descended theladder, with butcher knife and pewter plate, to get the pork, but hadbarely got the cover off the barrel when he was recalled to the upperworld by a loud cry from his sister:
"Nathan, Nathan, come here quick!"
He scrambled up the ladder and ran to her, where, just outside the door,she was staring intently toward the creek.
"Who be them?" she asked anxiously, as she pointed at two figures justdisclosed above the rushes, as they moved swiftly up the narrow channelin an unseen craft.
"I guess they're Injins," said Nathan, after a moment's scrutiny, "and Iguess they're a-trappin' mushrat. Let's run over to the bank and see."
So they ran to the crown of the low bank, where they could command agood view of the rushy level of the marsh, and the narrow belt of clearwater that wound through it, reflecting the hazy blue of the sky, thetops of the scarlet water maples, the bronze and yellow weeds, and, hereand there, the rough dome of a newly built muskrat house. At each ofthese the two men, now revealed in a birch canoe, halted for a littlespace, and then, tying a knot in the nearest tuft of sedge, passed on tothe next. There was no mistaking the coppery hue of the faces, thestraight black hair, though men of another race might wear the dirty,white blanket coats, and as skilfully manage the light craft.
"Yes, they be Injins," said Nathan, "and I wish they'd let my mushratalone. But I s'pose there's enough for them and me."
Presently the Indians passed quite near them, and one, speaking sosoftly that the children thought his voice could never have sounded theterrible war-whoop, accosted them:
"How do? You Beenum boy?"
"Yes," Nathan answered; and then, obeying the Yankee instinct ofinquiry, asked: "Be you gettin' many mushrat?"
"No ketch um plenty," the Indian replied. "Ol' Capenteese ketch um mos'all moosquas," and Nathan understood that he attributed the scarcity ofmuskrats to Job, whose fame as a hunter and trapper was known to everyWaubanakee who visited this part of the lake.
"Me come back pooty soon," the Indian said, pointing up the creek withhis paddle. "Den go house, see um Beenum. Buy um some pig eese.[1]S'pose he sell um lee'l bit?"
[1] Pork
Nathan nodded a doubtful assent, and then, reminded of dinner-getting bythe mention of pork, caught Martha's hand and hurried homeward, whilethe Indians resumed their way upstream.
When the children entered the open door, they were for a moment dumbwith amazement at the confusion that had in so short a time usurped thetidiness whereof they had left the room possessed. The coverlets andblankets of one bed were dragged from their place, two or three chairswere overturned, and the meal barrel was upset and half its contentsstrewn across the floor.
"What in tunket," cried Nathan, when speech came to his gaping mouth."Has that old sow got outen the pen?" Then he saw in the scattered mealsome broad tracks that a former adventure had made him familiar with,and he heard a sound of something moving about in the cellar.
"It's a bear," he cried, "and he's down cellar."
As quick as the thought and words, he sprang to the open hatch, andheaved it upright on the hinges, to close it. But just as it hung inmidway poise, the bear, alarmed by the noise overhead, gave a startled"whoof," and came scrambling up the ladder. His tawny muzzle was abovethe floor, when Nathan, with desperate strength, slammed down the hatch,and its edge caught the bear fairly on the neck, pressing his throatagainst the edge of the hatchway. The trap door had scarcely fallen whenthe quick-witted boy mounted it and called to his frightened sister tomount beside him, and with their united weight, slight as it was, theykept him from forcing his way upward, till in his frantic struggles hedislodged the ladder and hung by the neck helpless, without foothold.
The children held bravely to their post, hand in hand, while to thegasping moans of the angry brute succeeded cries of anger, that were inturn succeeded by silence and loss of all visible motion but such as wasimparted to the head by the huge body still slowly vibrating from thefinal struggle. When this had quite ceased they ventured off the trapdoor, and, pale and panting, they stood before the ghastly head asfrightful now in death, with grinning, foam-flecked jaws, protrudingtongue, and staring, bloodshot eyes, as it had been in living rage.Nathan caught his sister in his arms and hugged her, shouting:
"We've killed him. We've killed a bear," while she, in the same breath,laughed and cried, till they both bethought themselves of thedinner-getting not yet begun.
"I can't get down cellar," said Nathan, "for I dasn't open that door.What be we goin' to do?"
A grunt of surprise caught his attention, and, looking up, he saw thetwo Indians at the door, staring with puzzled faces on the strangescene. Then one, with a hatchet half uplifted, cautiously approached thegrim head, which, after an instant's scrutiny, he touched with hishatchet and then with his finger.
"He dead. You boy do dat?" And Nathan told him all the adventure. TheIndian gave the boy an approving pat on the head that made Nathan'sscalp shiver.
"You big Nad-yal-we-no. Too much good for be Pastoniac. You come 'longme to Yam-as-ka, I make you Waubanakee. Den be good for sometings.Nawaa," he said to his companion, and the other coming in, the tworeached down and laid hold of the bear's forelegs, and when, by theirinstructions, Nathan lifted the door, they dragged the limp, shaggycarcass out upon the floor.
When the full proportions of the huge brute were revealed, the boy'srejoicings broke forth anew, just as his father and the hired man camehurrying in, when he received fresh praise for his deed. The dinner wasbounteous, if late, and the Indians, Toksoose and Tahmont, had theirfull share of it, with a big chunk of pork and as much bear's meat asthey cared to take, which was small, since they
liked better thedaintier meat of the musquash, wherewith their trapping afforded them anample supply.
When toward nightfall the mother returned, she was told the story by thevictors, and with equal delight was it rehearsed when Job happened tocome, and the unstinted praise of the old hunter was sweetest of all.Many a day was the tale rehearsed for the benefit of new listeners. Evenwhen Nathan was an old man, and looked back on the many adventures ofhis life, not one stood forth so clearly in the haze of the past as thisadventure with the bear, wherein he had borne the chief part.
A Hero of Ticonderoga Page 8