CHAPTER XV
A HUNT FOR FRESH MEAT
"I FEEL just wild for fresh meat, and I mean to ask father if we cantake a little hunt this very afternoon," said Sandy, two days later,while the flatboat was speeding quite merrily down the current.
"Well," remarked his brother, "I would like a chance to get ashoreand stretch my legs, just as much as you do. And I hope he says yes,when you ask him. Fish is pretty good, but a fellow gets tired of itas a regular thing, and I don't think that is the finest kind of fisheither, that we get. Why, when you took in that slippery mudcat, and wehad it for dinner, it tasted better to me."
"We haven't seen a solitary sign of Indians since they tried to getus to come in to the shore," Sandy went on. "And that must have beenGirty, himself, who rumpled up his hair, and tried to look so hardpushed. You remember we saw him that time after we got ashore, whenour boat was smashed, and when Blue Jacket told that Miami chief,Little Turtle, why he stood up for the Armstrong boys. But I'll comeback and let you know what father says."
Ten minutes later he approached Bob again.
"You needn't say a single word," remarked the other, "for I can tell bythe look on your face that it's all right."
"Yes, he says that we have been making such good time we can afford tolose an afternoon, or part of one, in order to try to get some freshmeat, because we all feel the need of it. So, before the sun is morethan half-way down the sky, he will give orders for the boat to be tiedup, if everything looks safe, just like it is right now."
"I'm glad of that," declared Bob; "because, after being used to walkingnearly every day, for miles and miles, it comes pretty hard to just sithere, push a sweep, or tramp up and down around the cabin."
"Oh! I just couldn't stand it much longer!" cried Sandy. "I was reallythinking that I'd have to jump overboard, and swim ashore, to try myluck, if father didn't want to stop the boat, hoping to catch up withyou all below, when you hauled in for the night camp."
Bob looked uneasily at his impulsive younger brother.
"I don't know whether you are joking when you say that, or not, Sandy,"he remarked; "but it would be a foolish move to make, and would bringmore worry to the heart of mother. I hope you won't think of such athing at any time. You are getting too big now to let these things havehold of you so much. There are enough troubles to bother our parentswithout you adding to the burden."
Sandy turned red, and then burst out into a confused laugh.
"Oh! I only said I was _thinking_ of doing something like that, youknow," he declared; "but that is as far as it would go, I give you myword, Bob. Whenever I catch myself wanting to jump at things so, Iremember what Pat said that day we saw the big stag standing knee deepin the water. Too much hurry, too sudden a move, spoils many a goodgame. And I guess it's so. I'm trying as hard as I know how to thinktwice, now, before doing anything."
"That sounds more like you, Sandy, and I'm glad to hear you talk so,"continued Bob; "but did father say anything about how we were to huntthis afternoon?"
"There is only one thing he insisted on," the other started to reply,when Bob interrupted him by saying:
"I think I can guess what that was; we must take some one along withus; and of course we'll be only too glad to do it, since it will be PatO'Mara, who knows more about hunting, and Indian fighting, and takingall fur-bearing animals in traps and snares, than any three others onboard."
"Just what he said, I declare! Seems like you must have been closeenough to hear it all!" exclaimed Sandy, as if surprised; "and yet thatcouldn't be, either, for I saw you sitting here all the time I wasspeaking with father. But I'm glad it's settled. And I do hope we runacross plenty of excitement. It is getting what I call dull, with solittle happening."
To Bob there was so much to see in the new pictures presented withevery bend of the winding river, that he never found the time drag onhis hands; but then Sandy was made up along different lines, and couldnot remain quiet any length, of time without getting nervous.
The time passed slowly, indeed, until they heard the order given toedge the boat in toward the southern shore of the river, so that theycould observe it more closely, in order to make sure that enemies werenot lurking in the undergrowth.
Pat O'Mara gave it as his opinion that there seemed to be no evidencethat the Indians were near by; and, as he, too, wanted to stretch hislegs by a little side hunt, it was finally determined to land.
Of course, there must be more or less danger in leaving the protectionof the strong cabin of the flatboat, and venturing into the depths ofthe forest; but, as has been said before, the life of a pioneer is somade up of taking risks that he assumes chances without much thought oranxiety. When the danger came along they would trust to their abilityto take care of themselves. And every one of the party felt pretty muchthe same way.
Mr. Armstrong had a crude chart of the river, but it was founded onalmost guesswork, so little was the region to the westward known atthe time. The place where Cincinnati now stands was called FortWashington; and, an indefinite distance further down, another markon the map showed where Harrodsburg stood, about where the city ofLouisville can be found to-day, marking the falls of the Ohio duringlow water times.
So, apparently, the early settlers had a pretty good eye for the mostadvantageous natural sites, upon which to found the white man's citiesof the future.
What lay beyond Harrodsburg no one really knew. Somewhere, in somemanner, the Ohio joined forces with the mighty Mississippi; and thisbold little company of men and women were on the way to learn thetruth, taking their lives in their hands in so doing.
When the boat had been tied up, Pat and the two boys started into thewoods, bent upon bringing back fresh meat if it could be procured byany means in their power.
"Sure," remarked the trapper, when they found themselves out of sightof the river, and surrounded by the primeval forest, "we must be aftherkapin' clost enough till each ither to hear a signal whistle. If weesdo be afther catchin' that same, it wull mane to come tegither asquickly as yees can. But only a cooie stands for 'all's well, kape ona-huntin' right along wid yees, an' may the bist man win.'"
When they divided their forces, so as to cover more territory, Pat waswise enough to station himself midway between the brothers. Here hecould keep in touch with either Sandy or Bob, a different sort of callmeaning that he wanted a response from the one it designated, and aboutwhom he might be getting a trifle anxious.
Pat had hunted many a time with such old frontiersmen as Jo Davies,John Hardin and Silas Hardin. He knew pretty much all there was to belearned about the ways of the cunning woods folks, from the littlemink up to the great buffalo that, if angered or wounded, would comecharging full at the hunter, ready to use his wicked short horns inhurling him many feet into the air, or grinding him into the earth, ifhe were so unlucky as to be caught napping.
No small game would do for them now. Birds might flush from thethickets and offer splendid pot shots; but they had agreed not to thinkof taking advantage of anything in the feathered line short of a bigwild turkey. And, with so many mouths to feed, Sandy was more inclinedto wish they might rout a buffalo out of some thicket, than anythingelse.
They advanced for some time, without seeing anything that offered achance for a shot, and Sandy, of course, always impatient, began tothink they might, after all, be compelled to return to the boat withoutany fresh meat, which would be a great pity, since every one yearned sofor a feast.
The afternoon was now waning, and they found themselves some distanceaway from the place where the camp had been made. About this time Patcalled the boys to him for a little consultation. He believed that, byaltering their course, so as to come upon the river about two milesbelow the spot where their friends were tied up, the prospects for gamewould be vastly improved, because the country looked better to his eyesin that quarter.
So the change in direction was made. Bob was just as well satisfied,because he did not much like the idea of keeping on heading deeper anddeeper
into the great hills that lay back from the river, and whichdoubtless held more than one village of the hostile red men.
He noticed with some concern that it was even now beginning to grow alittle dusk under the tall trees that lifted their lofty heads almosta full hundred feet in the air. And then, just when Bob was wonderingif they were to arrive at the river, which could not be more than aquarter of a mile distant, without one single sign of game, he heardthe well-known crash of Sandy's gun away over to the left; because Patcarried one of those long-barrelled rifles, with the small bore, thattook a patched bullet--one that was enclosed in a greased piece oflinen--and made a sharp report entirely different from that of a musket.
Hurrying that way, he found Pat and Sandy bending over a noble youngtwo-pronged buck that had jumped from a thicket where he had beenlying, and fallen when the young Nimrod hastily let fly; for Sandy wasa clever all-around shot.
Pat set to work, assisted by both the boys, to skin the game, andsecure all the edible portions. These parts were made up into threepacks, so that each might carry a share of the burden to camp, whichwas at least two miles distant.
Wondering whether the shot had reached the ears of their friends, andpicturing their delight when they sighted all that fine fresh meat,the three were trudging along through the gathering darkness, when,without warning, Pat stumbled, having evidently caught his foot in sometrailing vine which he had not seen.
Bob hastened to drop his own burden, and bend over to assist Pat torise, for he saw that the other seemed to be having some difficultyabout doing so. When he heard the trapper groan, Bob's alarm increased.
"What has happened to you, Pat?" asked Sandy, who did not yetunderstand the cause of the delay, save that their companion hadtripped.
"Bad cess to the thing; but I'm afther belavin' that I've gone an'twisted me ankle so bad that 'tis mesilf that can't put the same to theground; and that manes a long time before we say camp agin, so it do,"grumbled the trapper.
Somehow Bob began to feel a little anxiety, as though he scented newdifficulties looming up ahead.
The Pioneer Boys of the Mississippi; or, The Homestead in the Wilderness Page 18