maxims and hints on angling, chess, shooting, and other matters; also, miseries of fishing. with wood-cuts. by richard penn, esq., f.r.s. _a new edition, enlarged._ london: john murray, albemarle street. mdcccxlii. london: printed by william clowes and sons, stamford street. contents maxims and hints for an angler 1 miseries of fishing 25 maxims and hints for a chess player 55 maxims and hints on shooting and other matters 81 the following extracts from the common-place-book of the houghton fishing club are respectfully dedicated to his brother anglers by a member of the club. london, _march, 1833._ maxims and hints for an angler. "you see the ways the fisherman doth take "to catch the fish; what engines doth he make? "behold! how he engageth all his wits, "also his snares, lines, angles, hooks, and nets: "yet fish there be, that neither hook nor line, "nor snare, nor net, nor engine can make thine; "they must be groped for, and be tickled too, "or they will not be catch'd, whate'er you do." john bunyan maxims and hints for an angler: by a bungler. [loosely thrown out, in order to provoke contradiction, and elicit truth from the expert.] i. are there any fish in the river to which you are going? ii. having settled the above question in the affirmative, get some person who knows the water to show you whereabout the fish usually lie; and when he shows them to you, do not show yourself to them. iii. comparatively coarse fishing will succeed better when you are not seen by the fish, than the finest when they see you. iv. do not imagine that, because a fish does not instantly dart off on first seeing you, he is the less aware of your presence; he almost always on such occasions ceases to feed, and pays you the compliment of devoting his whole attention to you, whilst he is preparing for a start whenever the apprehended danger becomes sufficiently imminent. v. by wading when the sun does not shine, you may walk in the river within eighteen or twenty yards below a fish, which would be immediately driven away by your walking on the bank on either side, though at a greater distance from him. vi. when you are fishing with the natural may-fly, it is as well to wait for a passing cloud, as to drive away the fish by putting your fly to him in the glare of the sunshine, when he will not take it. vii. if you pass your fly neatly and well three times over a trout, and he refuses it, do not wait any longer for him: you may be sure that he has seen the line of invitation which you have sent over the water to him, and does not intend to come. viii. if your line be nearly _taut_, as it ought to be, with little or no gut in the water, a good fish will always hook himself, on your gently raising the top of the rod when he has taken the fly. [illustration: "whence he is to be instantly whipt out by an expert assistant, furnished," &c. to face page 6.] ix. if you are above a fish in the stream when you hook him, get below him as soon as you can; and remember that if you pull him, but for an instant, against the stream, he will, if a heavy fish, break his hold; or if he should be firmly hooked, you will probably find that the united strength of the stream and fish is too much for your skill and tackle. x. i do not think that a fish has much power of stopping himself if, immediately on being hooked, he is moved slowly with the current, under the attractive influence of your rod and line. he will soon find that a forced march of this sort is very fatiguing, and he may then be brought, by a well-regulated exercise of gentle violence, to the bank, from whence he is to be instantly whipt out by an expert assistant, furnished with a landing-net, the ring of which ought not to be of a less diameter than eighteen inches, the handle of it being seven feet long. xi. if, after hooking a trout, you allow him to remain stationary but for a moment, he will have time to put his helm hard a-port or a-starboard, and to offer some resistance. strong tackle now becomes useful. xii. bear always in mind that no tackle is strong enough, unless well handled. a good fisherman will easily kill a trout of three pounds with a rod and a line which are not strong enough to lift a dead weight of one pound from the floor, and place it on the table. xiii. remember that, in whipping with the artificial fly, it must have time, when you have drawn it out of the water, to make the whole circuit, and to be at one time straight behind you, before it can be driven out straight before you. if you give it the forward impulse too soon, you will hear a crack. take this as a hint that your fly is gone to grass. xiv. never throw with a long line when a short one will answer your purpose. the most difficult fish to hook is one which is rising at three-fourths of the utmost distance to which you can throw. even when you are at the extent of your distance, you have a better chance; because in this case, when you do reach him, your line will be straight, and, when you do not, the intermediate failures will not alarm him. xv. it appears to me that, in whipping with an artificial fly, there are only two cases in which a fish taking the fly will infallibly hook himself without your assistance, viz. 1. when your fly first touches the water at the end of a straight line. 2. when you are drawing out your fly for a new throw. in all other cases it is necessary that, in order to hook him when he has taken the fly, you should do something with your wrist which it is not easy to describe. xvi. if your line should fall loose and wavy into the water, it will either frighten away the fish, or he will take the fly into his mouth without fastening himself; and when he finds that it does not answer his purpose, he will spit it out again, before it has answered yours. xvii. although the question of fishing up or down the stream is usually settled by the direction of the wind, you may sometimes have the option; and it is, therefore, as well to say a word or two on both sides. 1. if, when you are fishing down-stream, you take a step or two with each successive throw, your fly is always travelling over new water, which cannot have been disturbed by the passing of your line. 2. when you are fishing up-stream, you may lose the advantage of raising so many fish; but, on the other hand, you will have a better chance of hooking those which rise at your fly, because the darting forward of a fish seizing it has a tendency to tighten your line, and produce the desired effect. 3. if you are in the habit of sometimes catching a fish, there is another great advantage in fishing up-stream, viz. whilst you are playing and leading (necessarily down-stream) the fish which you have hooked, you do not alarm the others which are above you, waiting till their turn comes. xviii. the learned are much divided in opinion as to the propriety of whipping with two flies or with one. i am humbly of opinion that your chance of hooking fish is much increased by your using two flies; but i think that, by using only one, you increase your chance of landing the fish. xix. when you are using two flies, you can easily find the bob-fly on the top of the water, and thus be sure that the end-fly is not far off. when you are using only one fly, you cannot so easily see where the fly is; but i think that you can make a better guess as to where the fish is likely to be after you have hooked him. xx. also, when you are using two flies, you may sometimes catch a fish with one of them, and a weed growing in the river with the other. when such a _liaison_ is once formed, you will find it difficult, with all your attractions, to overcome the strong attachment of the fish to your worthless rival the weed. xxi. if the weed will not give way in the awkward juncture above alluded to, you must proceed to extremities. "then comes the tug of war;" and your line is quite as likely to break between you and the fish, as between the fish and the weed. xxii. when, during the season of the may-fly, your friends, the gentlemen from london, say that they "have scarcely seen a fish rise all day," do not too hastily conclude that the fish have not been feeding on the fly. [illustration: "you will find it difficult, with all your attractions, to overcome the strong attachment," &c. to face page 12.] xxiii. the only "rising" which is seen by the unlearned is the splash which is made by a fish when he darts from a considerable depth in the water to catch an occasional fly on the surface. there is, however, another sort of "rising," which is better worth the skilful angler's attention, viz. xxiv. when a fish is seriously feeding on the fly, he stations himself at no greater depth than his own length, and, making his tail the hinge of his motions, he gently raises his mouth to the top of the water, and quietly sucks in the fly attempting to pass over him. a rising of this sort is not easily seen, but it is worth looking for; because, although a fish feeding in this manner will rarely go many inches on either side for a fly, he will as rarely refuse to take one which comes (without any gut in the water) directly to him. xxv. if your fly (gut unfortunately included) should swim over a fish without his taking it, look out well for a darting line of undulation, which betokens his immediate departure; and remember, that it is of no use to continue fishing for him after he is gone. xxvi. the stations chosen by fish for feeding are those which are likely to afford them good sport in catching flies, viz. 1. the mouths of ditches running into the river. 2. the confluence of two branches of a stream, which has been divided by a patch of weeds. 3. that part of a stream which has been narrowed by two such patches. 4. fish are also to be found under the bank opposite to the wind, where they are waiting for the flies which are blown against that bank, and fall into the river. xxvii. if, during your walks by the river-side, you have marked any good fish, it is fair to presume that other persons have marked them also. suppose the case of two well-known fish, one of them (which i will call a.) lying above a certain bridge, the other (which i will call b.) lying below the bridge. suppose further that you have just caught b., and that some curious and cunning friend should say to you in a careless way, "where did you take that fine fish?" a finished fisherman would advise you to tell your inquiring friend that you had taken your fish just _above_ the bridge, describing, as the scene of action, the spot which, in truth, you know to be still occupied by the other fish, a. your friend would then fish no more for a., supposing that to be the fish which you have caught; and whilst he innocently resumes his operations below the bridge, where he falsely imagines b. still to be, a. is left quietly for you, if you can catch him. xxviii. when you see a large fish rising so greedily in the middle of a sharp stream, that you feel almost sure of his instantly taking your may-fly, i would advise you to make an accurate survey of all obstructions in the immediate neighbourhood of your feet--of any ditch which may be close behind you--or of any narrow plank, amidst high rushes, which you may shortly have to walk over in a hurry. if you should hook the fish, a knowledge of these interesting localities will be very useful to you. xxix. when your water-proof boots are wet through, make a hole or two near the bottom of them, in order that the water, which runs in whilst you are walking in the river, may run freely out again whilst you are walking on the bank. you will thus avoid an accompaniment of pumping-music, which is not agreeable. xxx. never mind what they of the old school say about "playing him till he is tired." much valuable time and many a good fish may be lost by this antiquated proceeding. put him into your basket _as soon as you can_. everything depends on the manner in which you commence your acquaintance with him. if you can at first prevail upon him to go a little way down the stream with you, you will have no difficulty afterwards in persuading him to let you have the pleasure of seeing him at dinner. xxxi. do not be afraid of filling your pockets too full when you go out; you are more likely to leave something behind you than to take too much. a man who seldom catches a fish at any other time, usually gets hold of one (and loses him of course) whilst his attendant is gone back for something which had been forgotten. xxxii. if your attendant is a handy fellow at landing a fish, let him do it in his own way: if he is not, try to find a better man, or go home. although so much depends upon his skill, you will rarely derive much comfort from asking him for his opinion. if you have had bad sport, and say to him, "which way shall we go now?" he will most probably say, "where you please, sir." if you ask him what he thinks of the weather, he is very likely to say that last week (_when you were in london_) it was "famous weather for fishing;" or he will perhaps say, that he expects that next week (_when you are to be at home again_) it will be very good. i never knew one of these men who was satisfied with the present hour. xxxiii. do not leave off fishing early in the evening because your friends are tired. after a bright day, the largest fish are to be caught by whipping between sunset and dark. even, however, in these precious moments, you will not have good sport if you continue throwing after you have whipped your fly off. pay attention to this; and if you have any doubt after dusk, you may easily ascertain the point, by drawing the end of the line quickly through your hand,--particularly if you do not wear gloves. xxxiv. no attempt is here made to give directions as to the best seasons for cutting the woods which are fittest for the making of rods, or as to the mode of preparing them; because the worst rod which is kept for sale at the present day is probably as good as the best of the first few dozen which any amateur is likely to make for himself. xxxv. lastly--when you have got hold of a good fish, which is not very tractable, if you are married, gentle reader, think of your wife, who, like the fish, is united to you by very tender ties, which can only end with her death, or her going into weeds. if you are single, the loss of the fish, when you thought the prize your own, may remind you of some more serious disappointment. r. p. _rod cottage, river side, 31st may, 1829._ [illustration] postscript. i forgot to say, that, if a friend should invite you to his house, saying that he will give you "an excellent day's fishing," you ought not to doubt his kind intention, but you certainly ought not to feel very sure that you will have good sport. provide yourself for such a visit with everything which you may want, as if you were going into an uninhabited country. above all things, take a landing-net with you. your friend's (if he has one) is probably torn and without a handle, being a sort of reticulated shovel for taking fish out of the well of a punt. take warning from the following story:-mr. jackson and mr. thompson went last week to the house of mr. jenkins, for a few days' fishing. they were received with the utmost kindness and hospitality by mr. and mrs. jenkins, and on the following morning after breakfast, the gardener (who was on that day called the fisherman) was desired to attend them to the river. thompson, who had a landing-net of his own, begged to have a boy to carry it. jack was immediately sent for, and he appeared in _top_ boots, with a livery hat and waistcoat. arrived at the water-side, thompson gave his gnat-basket to the boy, and told him to go on the other side of the river, and look on the grass for a few may-flies. jack said that he did not exactly know what may-flies were, and that the river could not be crossed without going over a bridge a mile off. thompson is a patient man, so he began to fish with his landing-net for a few may-flies, and after he had necessarily frightened away many fish, he succeeded in catching six or seven may-flies. [illustration: the boy exclaiming, "damn 'un, i miss'd 'un," instantly threw a second brick-bat. to face page 23.] working one of them with the blowing-line much to his own satisfaction, and thinking to extract a compliment from his attendant, he said, "they do not often fish here in this way--do they?" "no," said the boy, "they drags wi' a net; they did zo the day afore yesterday." our angler, after much patient fishing, hooked a fine trout; and having brought him carefully to the bank, he said, "now, my lad, don't be in a hurry, but get him out as soon as you can." jack ran to the water's edge, threw down the net, and seizing the line with both hands, of course broke it immediately. nothing daunted, thompson now mended his tackle and went on fishing; and when he thought, "good easy man," that the very moment for hooking another trout was arrived, there was a great splash just above his fly;--and the boy exclaiming, "damn un, i miss'd un," instantly threw a second brick-bat at a rat which was crossing the river. mine host, in order to accommodate his friends, dined early; and when they went after dinner to enjoy the evening fishing, they found that the miller had turned off the water, and that the river was nearly dry,--so they went back to tea. r. p. [illustration: _f. r. lee, esq., r.a._] miseries of fishing. "_quã¦que ipse miserrima vidi._" miseries of fishing. i. making a great improvement in a receipt which a friend had given you for staining gut--and finding that you have produced exactly the colour which you wanted, but that the dye has made all your bottoms quite rotten. ii. suddenly putting up your hand to save your hat in a high wind, and grasping a number of artificial flies, which you had pinned round it, without any intention of taking hold of more than one at a time. iii. leading a large fish down-stream and arriving at a ditch, the width of which is evident, although the depth of it may be a matter of some doubt. having thus to decide very quickly whether you will lose the fish and half your tackle, or run the risk of going up to your neck in mud. perhaps both. iv. feeling rather unsteady whilst you are walking on a windy day over an old foot-bridge, and having occasion to regret the decayed state of the hand-rail, which once protected the passing fisherman. v. fishing for the first time with flies of your own making--and finding that they are quite as good as any which you can buy, except that the hooks are not so firmly tied to the gut. vi. taking out with you as your aide-de-camp an unsophisticated lad from the neighbouring village, who laughs at you when you miss hooking a fish rising at a fly, and says with a grin. "you can't vasten 'em as my vather does." [illustration: "and having occasion to regret the decayed state of the hand-rail," &c. to face page 28.] vii. making the very throw which you feel sure will at last enable you to reach a fish that is rising at some distance--and seeing the upper half of your rod go into the middle of the river. when you have towed it ashore, finding that it has broken off close to the ferule, which is immoveably fixed in the lower half of your rod. viii. feeling the first cold drop giving notice to your great toe that in less than two minutes your boot will be full of water. ix. going out on a morning so fine that no man would think of taking his water-proof cloak with him--and then, before catching any fish, being thoroughly wet through by an unexpected shower. x. when you cannot catch any fish--being told by your attendant of the excellent sport which your predecessor had on the same spot, only a few days before. xi. having brought with you from town a large assortment of expensive artificial flies--and being told on showing them to an experienced native, that "they are certainly very beautiful, but that none of them are of any use here." xii. after trying in vain to reach a trout which is rising on the opposite side of the river--at last walking on; and before you have gone 100 yards, looking back, and seeing a more skilful friend catch him at the first throw.--weight 3 lbs. 2 oz. [illustration: "looking back, and seeing a more skilful friend catch him at the first throw." to face page 30.] xiii. having stupidly trodden on the top of your rod--and then finding that the spare top, which you have brought out with you in the butt, belongs to the rod which you have left at home, and will not fit that which you are using. xiv. having steered safely through some very dangerous weeds a fish which you consider to weigh at least 3 lbs., and having brought him safely to the very edge of the bank,--then seeing him, when he is all but in the landing-net, make a plunge, which in a moment renders all your previous skill of no avail, and puts it out of your power to verify the accuracy of your calculations as to his weight. xv. fishing with the blowing-line when the wind is so light that your fly is seldom more than two yards from you, or when the wind is so strong that it always carries your fly up into the air, before it comes to the spot which you wish it to swim over. xvi. wishing to show off before a young friend whom you have been learnedly instructing in the mysteries of the art, and finding that you cannot catch any fish yourself, whilst he (an inexperienced hand) hooks and lands (by mere accident of course) a very large one. xvii. attempting to walk across the river in a new place without knowing exactly whereabouts certain holes, which you have heard of, are. probing the bottom in front of you with the handle of your landing-net,--and finding it very soft. [illustration: "probing the bottom in front of you with the handle of your landing-net." to face page 32.] xviii. going some distance for three days' fishing, on the two first of which there is bright sunshine and no wind, and then finding that the third, which opens with "a southerly wind and a cloudy sky," is the day which a neighbouring farmer has fixed upon for washing two hundred sheep on the shallow where you expected to have the best sport. xix. being allowed to have one day's fishing in a stream, the windings of which are so many, that it would require half a dozen different winds to enable you to fish the greater part of it, from the only side to which your leave extends. xx. finding, on taking your book out of your pocket, that the fly at the end of your line is not the only one by many dozen which you have had in the water, whilst you have been wading rather too deep. xxi. wading half an inch deeper than the tops of your boots, and finding afterwards that you must carry about with you four or five quarts in each, or must sit down on the wet grass whilst your attendant pulls them off, in order that you may empty them, and try to pull them on again. xxii. jumping out of bed very early every morning, during the season of the may-fly, to look at a weathercock opposite to your window, and always finding the wind either in the north or east. [illustration: "you must sit down on the wet grass whilst your attendant pulls them off, in order," &c. to face page 34.] xxiii. having just hooked a heavy fish, when you are using the blowing-line, and seeing the silk break about two feet above your hand; then watching the broken end as it travels quickly through each successive ring, till it finally leaves the top of your rod, and follows the fish to the bottom of the river. xxiv. receiving a very elegant new rod from london, and being told by one of the most skilful of your brother anglers, that it is so stiff,--and by another, that it is so pliant, that it is not possible for any man to throw a fly properly with it. xxv. being obliged to listen to a long story about the difficulties which one of your friends had to encounter in landing a very fine trout which has just been placed on the table for dinner, when you have no story of the same sort to tell in return. xxvi. hooking a large trout, and then turning the handle of your reel the wrong way; thus producing an effect diametrically opposite to that of shortening your line, and making the fish more unmanageable than before. xxvii. arriving just before sunset at a shallow, where the fish are rising beautifully, and finding that they are all about to be immediately driven away by five-and-twenty cows, which are preparing to walk very leisurely across the river in open files. xxviii. coming to an ugly ditch in your way across a water-meadow late in the day, when you are too tired to jump, and being obliged to walk half a mile in search of a place where you think you can step over it. [illustration: "finding that they are all about to be immediately driven away by five-and-twenty cows." to face page 36.] xxix. flattering yourself that you had brought home the largest fish of the day, and then finding that two of your party have each of them caught a trout more than half a pound heavier than yours. xxx. finding yourself reduced to the necessity of talking about the beautiful form and colour of some trout, which you have caught, being well aware that in the important particular of _weight_, they are much inferior to several of those taken on the same day by one of your companions. xxxi. telling a long story after dinner, tending to show (with full particulars of time and place) how that, under very difficult circumstances, and notwithstanding very great skill on your part, your tackle had been that morning broken and carried away by a very large fish; and then having the identical fly, lost by you on that occasion, returned to you by one of your party, who found it in the mouth of a trout, caught by him, about an hour after your disaster, on the very spot so accurately described by you--the said very large fish being, after all, a very small one. xxxii. arriving at a friend's house in the country, one very cold evening in march, and being told by his keeper that there are a great many large pike in the water, and that you are sure of having good sport on the following day; and then looking out of your bed-room window the next morning, and seeing two unhappy swans dancing an awkward sort of minuet on the ice, the surface of the lake having been completely frozen during the night. r. p. london, _march, 1833._ [illustration] [illustration: _f. r. lee, esq., r.a._] more miseries. (continuation of story from page 24.) on a subsequent occasion our honest anglers repeated their visit to mr. jenkins, who, with the view of making himself more agreeable to his guests, had, in the meantime, agreed to pay an annual rent to the miller, for the exclusive right of fishing in some water belonging to the mill, which was said to contain the largest fish in the river. now, this miller had a son, who, whilst he followed his father's daily occupation of preparing matter for the _loaves_, sometimes thought of the _fishes_ too; and he was better known in the neighbourhood for his great skill in fishing, than for any unusual acquaintance with the mysteries of grinding. he had frequently used much argument and entreaty to dissuade his father from letting the fishery; but the prudent old miller thought that â£15 per annum, to be paid by mr. jenkins, would be more profitable to him, than any pleasure which his son might derive from catching many fine brace of trout during the season. [illustration: "he now sallied forth, not 'equal to both,' but 'armed for either field.'" to face page 43.] such was the state of affairs in this part of the world, when mr. jackson and mr. thompson arrived early one morning, by special invitation, to make a first trial of their skill in the new water. the usual conversation about the state of the weather was quickly despatched at breakfast. the wind was, for once, pronounced to be in the right quarter. it was unanimously agreed that there could not well be a more favourable day for fishing, and that, therefore, the gentlemen ought to lose no time in going down to the river. our old friend, thompson, who, as we have already seen, was not always very successful with a fly, had lately, in order that he might have two strings to his bow[a], been learning another branch of the gentle art, called "spinning a minnow;" and he now sallied forth, not "equal to both," but "armed for either field," and walked with a confident step to a celebrated spot below the mill. this new acquirement had been kept a profound secret from jackson, who went out, as usual, fly-fishing, and proceeded to a part of the stream above the mill. it was not to be expected that the young miller would work cheerfully at the mill that morning. he felt that, although he had been cruelly deprived of the fishery by his father, he surely had a right to _look_ at the gentlemen if he pleased; he therefore put on his dusty hat and walked, in a surly mood, to the river side,--taking with him, as the companion of his sorrows, a ragged little boy, who had often witnessed his exploits with envy and admiration, and occasionally imitated his great example in a very humble manner by fishing for gudgeons in the canal. the youth and the boy found thompson so busily engaged in arranging his new spinning-tackle, that he did not perceive that they had established themselves within a few yards of him. there he stood upon the bank, deeply impressed with the value of some excellent instructions which he had lately received for his guidance, and fully sensible of the vast superiority over jackson which he now possessed. having at last settled every preliminary to his entire satisfaction, he was just about to cast in his minnow for the first time, when the miller attracted thompson's notice by that peculiar sort of short cough which is a relief to suppressed insolence, and acts as a safety-valve to prevent explosion. poor thompson! he did not feel quite qualified for a performance of the kind before a critic so well able to judge, and so little disposed to admire; but he considered that it would be _infra dig._ to appear disconcerted by the young miller's presence,--so he assumed a look of defiance, and manfully commenced operations. after one or two bad throws, and sundry awkward attempts at improvement, a fine trout (_mirabile dictu!_) darted from under the bank and seized his minnow. "who cares for the miller now?" thought thompson; but, alas! the happy thought passed through his mind- "too like the lightning, which doth cease to be ere one can say--it lightens." he unfortunately (vide maxim ix.) held the fish a little too hard against the stream, and pulled him so very triumphantly, that the thrilling sensation of tugging pressure on the rod suddenly ceased, and the hookless end of the broken line flew into the air!! at this awful crisis the young miller's cough became very troublesome, and the boy coolly called out to him-"_i say, jack!--i'll lay a penny that wouldn't ha' happened if you had had hold on 'im!!!_" * * * * * long before thompson had recovered from the effects of this sad disaster, jenkins came up to him to announce that luncheon was ready. overwhelming our poor sufferer with a torrent of well-meant condolence, he said-"well, thompson! "what! no sport? "that _is_ unlucky! "i am very anxious that _you_ should catch a good fish. _jackson_ has just caught a brace of very fine ones! "this is exactly the spot where i expected that you would have the best sport! [illustration: "i'll lay a penny that wouldn't ha' happened if _you_ had hold on 'im!!" to face page 46.] "the miller tells me that the largest fish lie there[b], near that broken post under the opposite bank. pray cast your minnow close to that, and you will be sure to run a fish almost immediately." jenkins little knew what he was asking. the aforesaid post was at a formidable distance,--it could only be reached by a most skilful hand. thompson felt by no means disposed to attempt it, because, although jenkins appeared to think that it would be an easy task for so finished an angler as thompson, he himself had no doubt that the odious miller, who was still looking on, was of a very different opinion. he therefore thought that it would be wise to leave the question undetermined, and not to give a _casting_ vote on the occasion. and now thompson, turning his back on the river, walked home arm-in-arm with his friend mr. jenkins, grieving much about the fish which he had lost, and perhaps a little about those which jackson had caught. the brace of very fine trout, said to have been caught by mr. jackson, were exhibited by him in due form to mr. thompson and the ladies, just before luncheon. whilst he was pointing out the beautiful condition of the fish, without at all underrating their weight, miss smith, who was staying on a visit with her sister, mrs. jenkins, pleasantly remarked that mr. jackson was very _lucky_ to have caught two such fine fish whilst mr. thompson had not caught any. this led to an interesting conversation about the caprice of the fickle goddess, so often alluded to in the lamentations of an unsuccessful angler. thompson took no part in the discussion, and he did not refer them to the miller or the little boy for any other explanation[c] of the cause of his failure; but he begged that they would allow him to eat his luncheon, without waiting for the rest of the party, as he was anxious to return as soon as possible to the river, where he expected to have great sport in the evening. [illustration: _geo. jones, esq. r.a._ "he begged that they would allow him to eat his luncheon without waiting for the rest of the party." to face page 49.] after luncheon, our unfortunate hero did not catch any fish, and he found that he could not throw his minnow within several yards of the far-famed post, even when he was not annoyed by spectators. he contrived, however, to get fast hold of another, at a much less distance from him; in consequence of which, he was obliged to abandon a second set of his best minnow tackle (price 2_s._ 6_d._) to its fate in the middle of the river. [illustration: "his ears were assailed by a loud repetition of the cruel cough." to face page 51.] at the end of _his day's sport_, thompson omitted to use the wise precaution of taking his rod to pieces[d], before leaving the river side. on his way homewards, in the evening, he met the little boy, who slily asked him if he had had good sport _since_. this brought to his recollection the fact of his having to pass through the mill, in order to cross the river; and the prospect of his being asked a similar question by the miller was not agreeable. when he arrived at the mill, all was quiet; and he, therefore, flattered himself that the miller was comfortably enjoying his pipe at the ale-house.--thompson was now so elated at the idea of passing through unobserved, that he quite forgot the exalted state of his rod, until he was reminded of it by a sudden jerk which broke off the top, leaving his third and last set of tackle, with a brilliant artificial minnow, sticking fast in a projecting rafter[e] above his reach. hastily shoving the broken joint (thompson never swears) into the butt of his rod, he hoped that he should be able to conceal all knowledge of this last misfortune. he, however, felt very unwilling that the shining little minnow should remain in its present position, as a glaring proof of his awkwardness; and it immediately occurred to him, that a small ladder, which was close at hand, was a thing exactly suited to the occasion; but at the very moment when he became convinced, by actual experiment, that it was too short for his purpose, his ears were assailed by a loud repetition of the cruel cough, and his eyes were met by a killing glance from those of the miller's son. on the following day, thompson returned, much out of spirits, to london. on that day, too, the young miller resumed his duties at the mill, less out of humour than before. very shortly after this the old miller died, and the son then took the fishery into his own hands; and, however closely he may now resemble his late grandfather (who formerly lived on the river dee), in caring for nobody, he never, whilst thompson lives, will be able to say "nobody cares for me." * * * * * "so ends my tale:" for i fear that the reader must think that, like thompson, he has now had quite enough of "the miseries of fishing." i feel, however, assured that he will forgive me for relating this story, because, although his attention may be fatigued by the perusal of it, his eye will be gratified by the beauty of several new illustrations, which i owe to the kindness of my friends, the distinguished artists, whose names are printed under their welcome contributions to my little book. r. p. _whitehall, march, 1839._ [illustration: _sir francis chantrey, r.a._] footnotes: [a] it was a long one, when he talked about fishing. [b] there the fish did not _lie_, but the miller did. he well knew that, since the letting of the fishery, his son had taken good care that the best of them should be gradually removed to billingsgate by a more summary process than that of rod and line. [c] neither did mr. jackson think it necessary to explain to the ladies, or even to his friend thompson, that the very fine fish, about which he had received so many compliments, had been taken by fixing his landing-net at the mouth of one of the narrow water-courses, up which they had worked their way in search of minnows;--a secret method of ensuring good sport, well known to some few very cunning anglers, whose motto is "unde habeas quã¦rit nemo, sed oportet habere."--juv. [d] i understand that thompson has written a long letter, complaining of my not having given any maxim or hint on this important point. i beg leave here to apologise for the omission; and i have no hesitation in advising him, if he should ever put his rod together again, not to omit taking it to pieces as soon as he has done fishing. [e] piscium et summã¢ genus hã¦sit ulmo.--hor. maxims and hints for a chess player. "_lorsque je veux, sans y faire semblant, me livrer aux mã©ditations d'une douce philosophie, je vais ã  la pãªche. ma longue expã©rience me tient en garde contre les inconveniens d'une mauvaise pratique; et je jouis de mon succã¨s, qu'aucun jaloux ne vient troubler. ma pãªche finie, eh bien! je rentre dans le mouvement de la vie, je fais ma partie d'ã©checs; je triomphe, mon sang circule; je suis battu, mais je me releve._"--tactique des recreations. maxims and hints for a chess player. [illustration] i. win as often as you can, but never make any display of insulting joy on the occasion. when you cannot win--lose (though you may not like it) with good temper. ii. if your adversary, after you have won a game, wishes to prove that you have done so in consequence of some fault of his rather than by your own good play, you need not enter into much argument on the subject, whilst he is explaining to the by-standers the mode by which he might have won the game, _but did not_. iii. nor need you make yourself uneasy if your adversary should console himself by pointing out a mode by which you might have won the game in a shorter and more masterly manner. listen patiently to his explanation--it cannot prove that your way was not good enough. _tous les chemins sont bons qui mã©nent ã  la victoire._ iv. when you are playing with an opponent whom you feel sure that you can master, do not insult him by saying that you consider him a stronger player than yourself,--but that perhaps particular circumstances may prevent him from playing with his usual force to-day, &c. &c. men usually play as well as they can: they are glad when they win, and sorry when they lose. v. sometimes--when, alas! you have lost the game--an unmerciful conqueror will insist on "murdering pizarro all over again," and glories in explaining how that your game was irretrievable after you had given a certain injudicious check with the queen,[f] (the consequence of which _he says_ that he immediately foresaw,) and that then, by a succession of very good moves on his part, he won easily. you must bear all this as well as you can, although it is certainly not fair to "preach'ee and flog'ee too." vi. a good player seldom complains that another is slow. he is glad to have the opportunity thus afforded to him of attentively considering the state of the game. do not, therefore, be impatient when it is your adversary's turn to move. take as much time as you require (_and no more_) when it is your own turn. vii. if, whilst you are playing, your adversary will talk about the state of the game, it is very provoking, but you cannot help it, and the pieces will give you ample revenge, if you can avail yourself of their power. viii. if the by-standers talk, it is still more annoying: they always claim the merit of having foreseen every good move which is made, and they sometimes express great surprise at your not making a particular move; which, if you had made it, would probably have led to your speedily losing the game--before which time they would have walked away to another table. ix. almost every moderate player thinks himself fully qualified to criticise the move by which a game has been lost.--although, if he had himself been in the loser's place, he would, very probably, have been check-mated twenty moves sooner than the opportunity occurred for committing the particular mistake, which he thinks he should have avoided. x. amongst good players, it is considered to be as much an indispensable condition of the game, that a piece once touched must be moved, as that the queen is not allowed to have the knight's, or a rook the bishop's move. xi. some persons, when they are playing with a stranger who entreats to be allowed to take back a move, let him do so the first time: then, almost immediately afterwards, they put their own queen _en prise_; and when the mistake is politely pointed out to them, they say that _they_ never take back a move, but that they are ready to begin another game. xii. do not be alarmed about the state of your adversary's health, when, after losing two or three games, he complains of having a bad head-ache, or of feeling very unwell. if he should win the next game, you will probably hear no more of this. xiii. never (if you can avoid it) lose a game to a person who rarely wins when he plays with you. if you do so, you may afterwards find that this one game has been talked of to all his friends, although he may have forgotten to mention ninety-nine others which had a different result. chess players have a very retentive memory with regard to the games which they win. xiv. if, therefore, any one should tell you that on a certain day last week he won a game from one of your friends, it may be as well to ask how many other games were played on the same day. xv. there is no better way of deciding on the comparative skill of two players than by the result of a number of games. be satisfied with that result, and do not attempt to reason upon it. xvi. remember the italian proverb, "never make a good move without first looking out for a better." even if your adversary should leave his queen _en prise_, do not snap hastily at it. the queen is a good thing to win, but the game is a better. xvii. between even, and tolerably good, players a mere trifle frequently decides the event of a game; but when you have gained a small advantage, you must be satisfied with it for the time. do not, by attempting too much, lose that which you have gained. your object should be to win the game, and the dullest way of winning is better for you than the most brilliant of losing. xviii. if your knowledge of "the books" enables you to see that a person, with whom you are playing for the first time, opens his game badly, do not suppose, as a matter of course, that you are going to check-mate him in ten or twelve moves. many moves called _very bad_ are only such if well opposed; and you can derive but little advantage from them unless you are well acquainted with the system of crowding your adversary,--one of the most difficult parts of the game. xix. some players have by study acquired mechanically the art of opening their game in a style much above their real force; but when they have exhausted their store of _book-knowledge_, they soon fall all to pieces, and become an easy prey to those who have genuine talent for the game. others do not know how to open their game on scientific principles, and yet, if they can stagger through the beginning without decided loss, fight most nobly when there are but few pieces and pawns left on the board. all these varieties of play must be carefully studied by those who wish to win. it is only talent for the game, combined with much study and great practice, which can make a truly good player. xx. although no degree of instruction derived from "books" will make a good player, without much practice with all sorts of opponents, yet, on the other hand, when you hear a person, who has had great practice, boast of never having looked into a chess-book, you may be sure either that he is a bad player, or that he is not nearly so good a player as he might become by attentively studying the laborious works which have been published on almost every conceivable opening, by such players as ercole del rio, ponziani, philidor, sarratt, and lewis. xxi. between fine players, small odds (viz. pawn, with one, or with two moves) are of great consequence. between inferior players they are of none. the value of these odds consists chiefly in position; and in every long game between weak players, such an advantage is gained and lost several times, without either party being aware of it. xxii. almost all good players (_and some others_) have a much higher opinion of their own strength than it really deserves. one person feels sure that he is a better player than some particular opponent, although he cannot but confess that, for some unaccountable reason, or other, he does not always win a majority of games from him. another attributes his failure solely to want of attention to details which he considers hardly to involve any real genius for the game; and he is obliged to content himself with boasting of having certainly, at one time, had much the best of a game, which he afterwards lost, _only by a mistake_. a third thinks that he must be a good player, because he has discovered almost all the many difficult check-mates which have been published as problems. he may be able to do this, and yet be unable to play a whole game well, it being much more easy to find out, at your leisure, the way to do that which you are told beforehand is practicable, than to decide, in actual play, whether, or not, it is prudent to make the attempt. xxiii. a theoretical amateur, with much real genius for the game, is often beaten by a fourth-rate player at a chess club, who has become from constant practice thoroughly acquainted with all the technicalities of it, and quietly builds up a wall for the other to run his head against. the loser in this case may _perhaps_ eventually become the better player of the two; but he is not so at present. xxiv. a person sometimes tells you that he played the other day, for the first time, with mr. such-a-one, (a very celebrated player,) who won the game, with great difficulty, after a very hard fight. your friend probably deceives himself greatly in supposing this to be the case. a player who has a reputation to lose, always plays very cautiously against a person whose strength he does not yet know: he runs no risks, and does not attempt to do more than win the game, which is all that he undertook to do. xxv. when you receive the odds of a piece from a better player than yourself, remember he sees everything which you see, and probably much more. be very careful how you attack him. you must act in the early part of the game entirely on the defensive, or probably you will not live long enough to enjoy the advantage which has been given you. even though you may still have the advantage of a piece more, when the game is far advanced, you must not feel too sure of victory. take all his pawns quietly, _if you can_, and see your way clearly before you attempt to check-mate him. you will thus perhaps be longer about it, but winning is very agreeable work. xxvi. many persons advise you, when you receive the odds of a rook, _always_ to make exchanges as often as you can, in order to maintain the numerical superiority with which you began. this is very cunning; but you will probably find that "_master is yorkshire too_," and that he will not allow you to make exchanges early in the game, except under circumstances which lead you into a ruinous inferiority of position. xxvii. you will never improve by playing only with players of your own strength. in order to play well, you must toil through the humiliating task of being frequently beaten by those who can give you odds. these odds, when you have fairly mastered them, may be gradually diminished as your strength increases. do not, however, deceive yourself by imagining, that if you cannot win from one of the _great players_ when he gives you the odds of a rook, you would stand a better chance with the odds of a knight. this is a very common error. it is true that, when a knight is given, the attack made upon you is not so sudden and so violent, as it usually is when you receive a rook--but your ultimate defeat is much more certain. if, in the one case, you are quickly killed, in the other you will die in lingering torments. xxviii. when you hear of a man from the country, who has beaten every body whom he has ever played with, do not suppose, as a matter of course, that he is a truly good player. he may be only a "triton of the minnows." all his fame depends upon the skill of the parties with whom he has hitherto contended; and provincial philidors seldom prove to be very good players, when their strength is fairly measured at the london chess club, particularly such of them as come there with the reputation of having never been beaten. xxix. an elderly gentleman, lately returned from india, is apt to suppose that his skill has been much impaired by the change of climate, or some other cause, when he finds, to his great surprise, that his style of play does not produce such an alarming effect in the chess clubs of london or paris, as it used to do at rumbarabad. xxx. when you can decidedly win, at the odds of a rook given by a first-rate player, you will rank among the chosen few. it would be very difficult to name twenty-five persons in london to whom mr. lewis could not fairly give these odds, although there are many hundreds who would be much offended at its being supposed to be possible that any one could give them a knight. xxxi. a first-rate player, who is to give large odds to a stranger, derives great advantage from seeing him first play a game, or two, with other persons. his style of play is thus shown, and the class of risks which may be ventured on is nicely calculated. that which, before, might have been difficult, thus becomes comparatively easy. xxxii. there is as much difference between playing a game well, by correspondence, and playing one well over the board, as there is between writing a good essay, and making a good speech. xxxiii. no advantages of person and voice will enable a man to become a good orator if he does not understand the grammatical construction of the language in which he speaks: nor will the highest degree of ingenuity make any man a good chess player, unless his preparations for the exercise of that ingenuity are made upon the soundest principles of the game. xxxiv. every game perfectly played throughout on both sides would be by its nature drawn. since, then, in matches between the most celebrated players and clubs of the day some of the games have been won and lost, it seems to follow that there _might_ be better players than have been hitherto known to exist. xxxv. most of the persons who occasionally "play at chess" know little more than the moves and a few of the general rules of the game. of those who have had more practice, some have acquired a partial insight into the endless variety of the combinations which may be formed, and their beautiful intricacy:--a few play moderately well; but, however small the number of good players may be, it would be difficult to find any one who, after having played a few hundred games, would not think it an imputation on his good sense to be considered a very bad player;--and this is the universal feeling, although it is well known that men of the highest attainments have studied chess without great success; and that the most celebrated players have not always been men of distinguished talents. xxxvi. he who after much practice with fine players remains for a long time without taking his station amongst them, will find at last that there is a point which he cannot pass. he is obliged to confess his incurable inferiority to players of the higher order, and he must be content with easy victories over a large majority of those whom he meets with in society. [illustration] conclusion. chess holds forth to the philosopher relaxation from his severer studies,--to the disappointed man, relief from unavailing regret,--and to the rich and idle, an inexhaustible source of amusement and occupation. it has, however, been frequently urged as an objection to the study of the game, that no man can pursue it, with a fair prospect of becoming a good player, without devoting to it much time and attention which might be more beneficially employed. although it may perhaps be true in the abstract, that even a high degree of skill is not _per se_ worth the time and trouble which it must have cost, it should be remembered that on this "mimic stage" of life much besides chess may be seen and studied with advantage. the real character of a man's mind may, almost always, be known by his behaviour under the varying circumstances of this most interesting game. the triumph of the winner, and the vexation of the loser, are often coarsely displayed amongst inferior players; and, although good players very rarely give way to this degrading weakness, still, the good breeding of some of them, towards the end of a difficult match, is not always quite perfect. the temper of the student cannot fail to derive very material benefit from the severe discipline to which it will be subjected. when he begins to play well he will find that he has learnt to submit patiently to contradiction; and that he has become convinced of the necessity of abandoning his most favourite schemes, whenever he sees that from a change of circumstances they can be no longer pursued with safety.--he will have felt the full value of using caution and circumspection, when called upon to exercise his judgment in cases of complicated difficulty, and he will have acquired the faculty of fixing his undivided attention on the business in which he is engaged. if such qualities of the mind are called forth and strengthened in the pursuit of a harmless and delightful recreation, the time cannot have been wholly wasted, although the professed object of study may have been only the art of giving check-mate. r. p. _whitehall, march, 1839._ [illustration] footnote: [f] _infandum regina jubes renovare dolorem._ maxims and hints on shooting and other matters. [illustration: drawn by the late sir francis chantrey, r.a.] maxims and hints on shooting, _&c. &c._ i. let the person to whose care a young dog is intrusted for education be furnished with an instrument like a short trumpet, which produces a few harsh and discordant notes; and whenever it may be necessary to correct the dog, in order to enforce obedience, let such correction be accompanied by the noise of this instrument rather than by "the thundering voice and threatening mien" usually employed on such occasions. when the dog's education has been properly completed under this system, although you may be comparatively a stranger to him on first taking him into the field, you will find that by carrying with you a duplicate of the _un_musical instrument you will have his master's voice in your pocket, and you will be able at once to make a very commanding impression upon him, by sounding a few of the harsh and discordant tones which he has been taught to fear and obey. ii. you must not insist upon its being admitted without dispute, that the man who made _your_ gun is the best maker in london. this town is a very large place, and it contains a great many gunmakers. you must also remember that it "stands within the prospect of belief" that there may be other persons who think themselves as competent to select a good gun, and to shoot well with it afterwards as you are. iii. in like manner, although you may prefer using one kind of wadding to another, or may perhaps like to wear shoes and gaiters rather than trousers and laced boots, you must not suppose that every man who takes the liberty of forming a different opinion from yours on these subjects is a mere bungler. iv. however steady your pointer may be, remember that he is but a dog. if you encourage him to run after one hare because it has been wounded by yourself, you must not be angry with him for chasing another which may be shot at by your friend. canine flesh and blood cannot bear this. v. although you may be a very agreeable gentleman, generally speaking, you will choose an unlucky moment for making yourself particularly so, if you should on some fine morning after breakfast volunteer to accompany two of your friends who are preparing to leave the house for a day's partridge-shooting without any expectation of being joined by a third person. vi. when you are obliged to walk on the left-hand side of a man who carries the muzzle of his gun too low, do not be so very polite as to take no notice of this dangerous habit. he will, perhaps, appear quite offended when you venture to question your perfect safety. but be that as it may, your position was so awfully unpleasant whilst you were constantly stared at by the eyes of a double-barrelled gun that your friend's looking rather cross at you is a matter of much less consequence. vii. when a long search amongst high turnips has been made, at your particular request, for a bird which you erroneously suppose that you have brought down, and which (naturally enough under such circumstances) cannot be found, you must not say that your friend's retriever has a very bad nose, or fancy that "poor old trigger, if he had been still alive, could have easily found the bird." viii. should a farmer's boy come running to you with a partridge which he has lately picked up after seeing it fall in the next field, your companion in arms will perhaps assure you that this bird can be no other than that which _he_ shot at, as you may remember, immediately after you had both of you passed through the last hedge, and which he afterwards saw flying very low, and very badly wounded, exactly in the direction which the boy has come from. an _enfant trouvã©_ like this seldom waits long for a father to adopt it. ix. sometimes towards the end of a fatiguing day, when you feel like an overloaded gun-brig, labouring against a heavy sea of turnips, you may perchance espy a large covey of partridges in the act of settling near a hedge a long way before you. supposing in such case that your brother sportsman should be a much younger man than yourself, and yet should not have also seen these birds, it is not always quite prudent that you should announce the fact to him immediately. if you wish to have a shot at them, you would, perhaps, do well to say nothing about them till your weary limbs have borne you unhurried a little nearer to the hedge in question. the good old rule of _seniores priores_ is sometimes reversed in a large turnip-field. x. in the case of a double shot a gamekeeper never hesitates an instant in deciding whether the bird was killed by his master's gun or by another person's, fired at the same moment. xi. when you are making your way through a thick wood with too large a party, it is better that you should be scolded by some of your friends because you trouble them with very frequent notice of your individual locality, than that you should be shot by any of them because you do not. xii. on the day of a great battue, if one of the party (not you) should shoot much better than the others, and if this should by chance be talked of after dinner (as such matters sometimes are), do not say much about the very large number of hares and pheasants killed by you--on some other occasion. xiii. when you are shooting in a wood, if some hungry fox, in pursuit of his prey, should chance to cross your path, it depends entirely upon the "custom of the country" whether you ought to kill him or not. bob short says, in his rules for whist, "when in doubt, win the trick." xiv. never ask beforehand whether or not you are to shoot hares in the cover into which you are going, but never shoot one after you have been told not to do so. xv. a singular species of optical delusion often takes place in the case of a man shooting at a woodcock in a thick cover. according to the impression said to be made upon the shooter's eye, the bird appears to fall dead more frequently than he can afterwards be found--so that the truth of this appearance must never be relied on when the evidence of the bird himself cannot be brought forward to support it. xvi. on a grand occasion you need not always trouble yourself to keep an account of the number of head killed by you, particularly if you do not dine with the party on that day; because, in your absence, the total number brought home may perhaps be accounted for after dinner, without any reference being made to the amount of your[g] performances. xvii. when you sit down (_horresco referens_) in a dentist's chair,[h] in order to have your teeth cleaned, and point out to him, with fear and trembling, one of them which you think must be drawn;--if he should tell you that the tooth can be easily stopped, and may still be of much service to you, do not immediately thereupon feel quite bold and very comfortable. after a moment's further inspection he may, perhaps, add very quietly, in a kind of whispering soliloquy, "here are two others which must be removed." xviii. if you should stop, with a tired horse, at the door of the "king's head" anywhere, and should say to the bowing landlord thereof, that, unless you can find some other means of pursuing your journey, you shall be obliged to have a chaise immediately, you must not expect to be told by him that a very good coach, which is going your way, will change horses at the "red lion," nearly opposite, in less than ten minutes. should this be the real state of the case, he will feel that he has no time to lose; and therefore, instantly seizing the handle of the hostler's bell, and ringing a louder peal than usual, he will at once show you into a back parlour, for fear that you should see the coach before a chaise can be got ready for you. xix. should it have been your fate to travel often, _more majorum_, on the box of a stage-coach, more than one coachman has probably told you a story, two miles long, about some mare so vicious and unmanageable that she had been rejected by every other coachman on the road, and that nobody but himself had ever been able to drive her, saying at the same time, "she is now, as you see, sir, as quiet as a lamb." you must not believe all this, although it may perhaps be very true that the mare kicks sometimes, and that the man is not a bad coachman. xx. although our friend the coachman is supposed to have been so very communicative to you on the last occasion, he may not perhaps be equally so on all others: for instance, if, when the roads are very bad, and the coach is heavily laden, he should, near the end of a difficult stage, pull up at some turnpike, and enter into a long talk apparently about a bad shilling or a lost parcel, he is very likely not to explain to you and the other passengers that his real reason for thus stopping is because his horses are so much distressed that they would otherwise be scarcely able to reach the end of their ground. the conference at the gate is held in order to facilitate the ratification of the treaty for fresh horses to be exchanged in the next town. xxi. on arriving at the place where "the coach dines," walk to the nearest baker's shop, and there satisfy your hunger in a wholesome manner. at the dinner which is prepared for the passengers it frequently happens that if there should have been any cock-fighting in the town lately,[i] the winner and the loser of the last battle appear at the top of the table as a couple of boiled fowls; and whenever there is a roast goose at the bottom, it is probably some old gander, who, after having lived for many years in the parish, is at last become so poor that he is obliged to be "taken into the house." xxii. if you have children, who are clever, do not question them too closely in company. supposing, for example, that at the close of a social meal in the country, you should be sitting at table with your guests, on the eve of their departure from your hospitable roof: if, under these circumstances, some nice little fellow, who has lately rushed into the room, and is now busily employed with a bunch of grapes, should be called upon by you to join in the general expression of regret that your friends are to leave you to-morrow, he may perhaps say, "yes, papa, we shall have no grapes after dinner to-morrow." xxiii. if you are thought to excel in any particular game or sport, do not too often lead to it as a subject of conversation: your superiority, if real, will be duly felt by all your acquaintance, and acknowledged by some of them; and you may be sure that "a word" in your favour from another person will add more to your reputation than "a whole history" from yourself. xxiv. on seeing a new invention for the first time, do not instantly suggest a material alteration of it, as if you felt quite sure that this sudden thought of yours must be a very clever one. it may be reasonably supposed that the inventor did not hastily build up his work in its present form; and it would, therefore, be very unkind that you should bring the whole broadside of your intellectual guns to bear upon it in a moment. besides, after all, it is just possible that the thing may be better as it is--without your improvement. xxv. the great merit of an important discovery frequently consists in the first application of some well-known principle of action to a class of objects to which it had not before been applied. when such discovery has been brought before the public in one instance, the application of the same principle to other nearly similar objects requires a much lower degree of inventive talent. a sub-inventor of this sort often views the result of his labour with all the pride of a mother, when he is only entitled to the praise due to an accoucheur. xxvi. when your friends congratulate you on your recovery from the effects of a serious accident, it is very proper that you should thank them sincerely for their kindness in so doing: but it is by no means necessary that you should give a very detailed description of all your sufferings, and of every symptom attending the gradual progress of your recovery; nor need you explain exactly what was at first said by mr. drugger, the apothecary, and what was afterwards the opinion of sir astley cooper. you had better not do this; although some persons think that what the nurse occasionally said ought not, in a case like theirs, to be omitted. xxvii. on the same principle, if you should have lately been robbed, and should feel disposed to communicate the particulars of this sad affair, you really must not begin your account of it by telling us every thing which you were dreaming about just before you first heard the noise of thieves in your house on the eventful night of the robbery, adding always in conclusion, by way of appendix to your copious narrative, a correct list of the articles stolen. if you do this too often, you must not be surprised if some of your hearers should at last be almost tempted to regret that when you were robbed you were not murdered also. xxviii. if it should be mentioned in conversation that a celebrated mare, belonging to mr. swindle, of newmarket, has lately trotted sixteen miles within the hour, in harness, do not think it necessary to recount the wonderful performances of a famous gig-horse which you once had. xxix. after having lost several games at billiards, when you are playing at a gentleman's house, it is not polite that you should attribute your failure to the inaccuracies of the table. these sundry defects of level are less likely to be complained of by the winner than by you; and he, therefore, stands less in need of this caution than you do. xxx. when the lord of the manor is showing the beauties of his house and grounds to you, and points out a very fine row of trees for your particular admiration, make no allusion to the magnificence of the avenue at wimpole; and if he should afterwards show to you one of his pictures, which he values highly as the work of some celebrated master, remember that, although you may have been told privately, by a good authority, that the picture is not really what your friend supposes it to be, you are not called upon to display your borrowed knowledge as your own, and to make yourself odious by endeavouring to convince him that he has been deceived in the purchase. xxxi. do not bestow extravagant praise upon every article lately bought by you, as if you considered that it had acquired increased value from having fallen into the hands of so distinguished a purchaser. other persons will estimate the worth of it rather by its own merits than by yours. xxxii. it is quite unnecessary that you should always, in order to show the extent of your reading, claim a previous acquaintance with every expression which may be referred to in conversation as having been used by some celebrated author in one of his works. it is much easier for another person to quote lines which never were written than it would be for you to find them.[j] xxxiii. do not consider it to be at all times your bounden duty to correct every mistake which may be made in your presence as to a name or an unimportant date. some persons are so extremely sensitive on these points that they never allow the offender to escape a summary conviction. however interesting the conversation may be, they always feel justified in interrupting it if they can show that the anecdote which they have cut short related to the late general a., and not to his brother the admiral. xxxiv. if one of your party should be prevailed upon to sing a comic song for the amusement of the company, he will of course do it as well as he can, and it would not be flattering to him that you should immediately afterwards talk about the great pleasure which you formerly derived from hearing the same song sung by mathews, or bannister. xxxv. beware of the amiable weakness of repeatedly telling long stories about your late father or uncle. they may have been excellent persons, and their memory may be deservedly respected by you; but it does not therefore necessarily follow that a full account of everything which was said or done by either of these worthy men on some trivial occasion should be very interesting to other people, not even to such of your friends as may be lucky enough not to have heard it before. xxxvi. if you should have lately suffered any great reduction of income from causes over which you had no control, it is better that you should bear your misfortunes quietly than that you should be very extensively communicative to your acquaintance on the subject of your grievances. if, for instance, you tell them in confidence that you now have only 600_l._ a-year to live upon, such of them as have but 500_l._ will perhaps think that you still have at least 100_l._ more than you ought to have. xxxvii. do not think yourself an accomplished traveller merely because you have visited places where you _might_ have acquired much information. many a man has passed some time in a foreign town without learning more about the beauties of its cathedral or the manners and customs of its inhabitants than was previously known to others through the instructive medium of a book and pair of spectacles at home; and therefore although you may have really been at rome, and may have actually seen with your own eyes both the apollo belvidere and raphael's transfiguration, you must not, on that account only, consider yourself qualified to take a leading part in every conversation on subjects connected with the fine arts. xxxviii. many persons who are possessed of much information have a tedious and unconnected way of imparting it. such men are like dictionaries, very instructive if opened in the right place, but rather fatiguing to read throughout. xxxix. the foundation of good breeding is the absence of selfishness. by acting always on this principle--by showing forbearance and moderation in argument when you feel sure that you are right, and a becoming diffidence when you are in doubt, you will avoid many of the errors which other men are apt to fall into. xl. artists, medical men, and engineers are much to be feared by those persons who are apt to talk a little sometimes on matters which they do not very well understand. if, reader, you are, like me, subject to this infirmity, mind what you are about when any professional men are present. r. p. _whitehall, february, 1842._ london: printed by william clowes and sons, stamford street footnotes: [g] acting on this principle, i was once supposed to have killed a brace less than nothing, viz., i went out partridge shooting with two other persons. at the end of the day one of these said that he had killed twelve brace, and the other claimed eleven brace. when the birds were afterwards counted, the number of them was forty-four. i therefore conclude that the brace which was wanting must have been considered as my share of the day's sport. [h] "whose iron scourge and torturing hour the bad _extract, and clean_ the best." [i] "thus fell two heroes, one the pride of thrace, and one the leader of the epeian race; death's sable shade at once o'ercast their eyes: _in dish_, the vanquish'd and the victor lies." _pope says_, "in dust." [j] _e. g._ vide quotation, p. 56. * * * * * transcriber's notes: the original text does not have a table of contents. one was created for this version. obvious punctuation errors repaired. page 6, illustration caption, "asssitant" changed to "assistant" (an expert assistant) page 37, "your's" changed to "yours" (heavier than yours) generously made available by the internet archive.) automatic pistol shooting [illustration] [illustration: automatic pistols] automatic pistol shooting together with information on handling the duelling pistol and revolver by walter winans chevalier of the imperial russian order of st. stanislaus commander of the royal spanish order of isabella the catholic commander of the royal order of the crown of rumania officer of the star of rumania olympic champion for double-rifle shooting in 1908 gold medallist fifth olympiad, stockholm, 1912 revolver champion, five years national rifle association of great britain seven years of the south london rifle club and ten years of the north london rifle club one year duelling pistol champion at gastinne-renette's, paris vice-president of the national rifle association of great britain member of the association of american international riflemen, life member of the american national rifle association, life member of the united states revolver association and of le pistolet club of paris president of ashford rifle club, ashford miniature rifle club and the surrenden miniature rifle club g. p. putnam's sons new york and london the knickerbocker press 1915 copyright, 1915 by walter winans the knickerbocker press, new york preface though my last edition of _hints on revolver shooting_ was published only four years ago, i find it now necessary, owing to the advance of the automatic pistol, to revise it thoroughly and to add new chapters. till quite recently, the automatic pistol had many defects, both as to balance and as to safety, chiefly in the latter respect, so that only a very careful expert could handle one without danger to the public and to himself. this has now been altered, and with safety bolts and external hammers several automatic pistols are quite safe for the use of experts. they are still very dangerous in the hands of ignorant persons; a revolver is dangerous enough in such cases but the automatic is much more so. i shall try to explain how any one possessing mechanical knowledge can, by observing certain precautions, safely carry and shoot an automatic pistol. of course, some men who, for years, have shot small game, and who are good shots, are still very careless in handling a gun. such men should never touch an automatic pistol. i have made the above remarks as i do not want to be responsible for any accidents with automatics; and i advise any one not sure of himself to confine himself to revolvers and single-shot pistols. the automatic pistol is gradually replacing the revolver except as a gallery pistol. up to the present no automatic pistol can shoot gallery, or light-charge, ammunition, and the full charge, because of the noise, is very unpleasant in a shooting-gallery. it is a great pity that the .44 smith & wesson break-down model of revolver (shooting gallery ammunition) is no longer made, as it is still the best revolver for gallery shooting. m. gastinne renette, of 39 avenue d'antin, paris, for his gallery, uses them still, together with his duelling pistols of the same calibre and powder charge. i mention this as he is the only dealer who can now supply the old smith & wesson revolvers. walter winans. 17 rue de tervueren, brussels, belgium. contents chapter page i.--the automatic pistol 1 ii.--selecting a pistol 5 iii.--cleaning and care of pistols 10 iv.--sights 14 v.--learning to shoot 21 vi.--rapid firing 40 vii.--traversing target 43 viii.--gallery shooting 48 ix.--twenty-yards stationary target 52 x.--disappearing target 61 xi.--stationary fifty-yards target 77 xii.--team shooting and coaching 79 xiii.--shooting in competitions 82 xiv.--duelling 85 xv.--shooting off horseback 98 xvi.--pistol shooting for ladies 102 xvii.--stage shooting 106 xviii.--trick shooting 116 xix.--shooting in self-defence 120 xx.--shooting in the dark 131 automatic pistol shooting chapter i the automatic pistol this is the pistol of the future and the revolver has now to give place to it, just as the horse has to give place to the automobile for traction purposes. still, like the horse, the revolver seems still to have before it a future for certain purposes, and one uses a revolver where one would not care to use an automatic pistol. the superiority of the revolver consists in its being adaptable to reduced charges and also in its being less complicated and less apt to be discharged accidentally by an ignorant person. at one time, the revolver was considered the most dangerous fire-arm in existence, but the automatic far surpasses it in this respect. when the chambers of a revolver are emptied, it is harmless; but when the magazine is taken out, after an automatic pistol has been charged, _one cartridge still remains in the chamber_. this has been the cause of several accidents; a man thinks the pistol is safe after he has extracted the magazine. the automatic pistol is barred from gallery shooting by the fact that the mechanism is operated by the recoil from a full-charge cartridge only, and this full charge makes too much noise. i do not advise the purchase of any automatic pistol which does not have at least one safety bolt and which does not have also an external hammer. there are two makes which, from personal experience, i can recommend; one is the colt .45 which has been adopted by the united states government for army and navy purposes. this has a grip at the proper angle for shooting. hardly any other automatic pistol is properly designed in this respect, their grips being too much at a right angle, so that the barrel tends to point too high, this creating a strain on the wrist, since the wrist must be held in an unnatural position. the colt automatic of the u. s. army pattern has a stock as pleasant to aim with as a duelling pistol. next, it has a hammer which can be put to full and half cock, just like that of an ordinary pistol or revolver. it has, besides, two safety appliances; one a slide which can be moved with the thumb just before firing, like the safety bolt of a shotgun, the other a safety bolt which is pressed by the palm of the hand in the act of squeezing the trigger, like that of the smith & wesson safety revolver, later described. the pistol is, therefore, as "fool-proof" as it seems possible to make it, but yet there is the danger of a cartridge being left in the chamber when the magazine is taken out. i again warn all shooters of automatic pistols to bear this fact constantly in mind whenever handling an automatic. however, i do not like the sights of this colt automatic. the front sight is a black, upright, narrow rod when aiming, and the notch in the hind sight is far too small. this arrangement of sights may be all very well for deliberate aiming at a black bull's-eye on a white target, but it is of no use for practical shooting in a bad light. the front sight should be a "shotgun" silver "bead," and the hind sight a large "u"-shaped notch that will show the full bead in it with a little to spare at the sides. with these alterations, i think the u. s. regulation colt automatic is the best automatic i know. the savage automatic is also very good, and i can confidently recommend it, especially for those who find the .45 colt too large for their purpose. the following chapters on learning to shoot with the revolver and duelling pistol apply equally to the automatic pistol, except that the butts to be shot against should be more solid when using the automatic, owing to its penetration, and the shooting with it should take place only out-of-doors, as the noise is very bad for indoors. chapter ii selecting a pistol you must first decide for what purpose you want the pistol; a "general utility" one is about as much use as a hunter who goes in harness--not much good for either purpose. if you want a hunter, buy an english hunter; if a harness horse, buy an american trotter. in the same way, for whatever purpose you want a pistol, buy one, if by any means you can do so, especially for that purpose. anyhow, it is useless to compete with a short-barrelled pocket automatic against target pistols. this class of pistol is intended only for self-defence at short range, and has no pretensions to accuracy. a long barrel theoretically gives greater accuracy, especially at long range, owing to there being more length to burn the powder in, and to the sights being farther apart, which minimizes error in aiming; but practically this advantage is more than counterbalanced by making the pistol heavy at the muzzle, so that it therefore balances badly. the balance ought to be as near the trigger as possible. for a pocket pistol, a short barrel may be absolutely necessary for portability. in england some men use very long barrels, but i prefer shorter pistols, and i do not consider that anything over 7-1/2 inches is a "military" revolver nor should it be permitted in military competitions. see that the trigger-pull is "sweet," and has no "drag." also, have your trigger-pull as light as can safely be used. the pull is often left by makers very heavy, so as to be alterable to suit customers, and the shopman may forget to have this altered. if you are not hampered by rules, about three or three and a half pounds is the best trigger-pull for general purposes. i do not like a double-action revolver, except for a pocket one, as it cannot do accurate shooting when cocking with the trigger. for a man whose hands are apt to get moist, roughing the trigger may prevent slipping; but it may also make the finger sore if roughed too sharp. some pistols have too narrow a trigger, almost like a piece of wire; a wide, spoon-shaped trigger is best, as less likely to cut the finger, especially when coupled with a heavy trigger-pull. get a pistol which, when you grip the stock properly, has the barrel and your arm as nearly in a horizontal line as possible. many makes of revolvers and automatic pistols have the stock much below the level of the barrel, which consequently is above the hand. this makes shooting more difficult; you are apt to cant the weapon to one side, and the recoil is more severe on your wrist. a man who holds a pistol properly does not need a big stock, even if he has a big hand. for rough work, and in strong sunlight, a pistol is best blued. i temporarily paint the rib, etc., when target shooting on sunny days, with "sight-black." revolver ammunition is usually made in the following calibres: .32, .38, .41, .44, .45, .455. most of these can be had loaded with various smokeless powders, as king's semi-smokeless, riflite, cordite, walsrode, etc. the union metallic cartridge company, u. s. a., have supplied me with great quantities of .44 "gallery ammunition," loaded with both round and semi-round bullets. these have a small charge of black powder, and i should prefer this ammunition out of a smith & wesson russian model revolver for self-defence, as well as for competitions up to twenty yards, and i find it the most accurate for exhibition shooting. i believe most professional stage-shooters use it. it is a great pity this revolver is no longer made and can only be bought second-hand. if a second-hand one is otherwise good, a new barrel can be put to it. i suppose the various english makers of ammunition could supply "gallery" charges in any of their various calibre cartridges, but i know of none and should not advise the beginner to try loading this sort of ammunition in english cartridge-cases for himself. the dome of the cap is generally higher than in american cartridges; if, therefore, the small powder charge used in gallery ammunition be put in the case and the bullet pressed down, the bullet will come down on the dome, stop up the flash-hole, and cause a misfire. the way to obviate this is to take a wad of suitable calibre, make a hole in the centre, and push the wad down to the bottom of the cartridge before putting in the powder, so as to fill up the base of the cartridge and let the bullet "seat" on the powder, higher than the dome. makers can do this properly, but an amateur may put the wad in too loosely, and a little powder get under the wad. the result would be that, on the shot being fired, the wad would be driven half-way up the barrel, and might at the next shot cause a burst. be sure to use only low-pressure powder, if you use smokeless, as high-pressure powders are dangerous in a "break-down" action revolver. gallery ammunition in a .38 new model solid frame smith & wesson revolver gives good shooting. many people do not understand this difference in powder pressure, and injure their revolvers by experimenting with what become practically "blasting" instead of propelling charges. chapter iii cleaning and care of pistols always clean your pistol the moment you have finished shooting. if you leave it over till the next day, you may as well throw it away as expect to win prizes with it. the larger the calibre, the easier it is to clean and the less chance is there of spoiling the rifling by jamming the rod in it. i prefer wooden rods as less apt to spoil the rifling, but the very narrow calibres require a metal rod (soft metal for preference), as the wood would have to be too thin and would be liable to break in the bore. clean from the breech, not the muzzle end if the make permits of this; the last fraction of an inch at the muzzle is where the rifling, if damaged, spoils the shooting most. for the same reason, it is as well to have the rifling "reamed off" at the mouth of the muzzle, so that the edge of it is protected. examine the interior of your barrel at frequent intervals after cleaning, to see if there is any damage going on from corrosion. use the cleaning fluids recommended for the particular powder you are using, as what may be good for one powder is of no use for another. the great thing is to clean very thoroughly. i use cotton-wool of the best quality rather than tow, and i do not use boiling water unless in very exceptional cases, for fear of overlooking a spot in drying, and getting rust in consequence. if necessary to use water to remove fouling, let it be as hot as possible, but this cannot be done if the barrel is not capable of being separated from the action. do not try to oil the lock, or put it right; send it occasionally to the maker to be seen to. it is also well to have a cleaning kit with wooden not metal (except for calibres of .32 or less) cleaning rods, cotton-wool, cleaning fluids, screw-drivers, etc., all in proper compartments, and to _put them back when used_. see that the cotton-wool is absolutely dry and clean before using it. throw away such pieces after once using. do not use too big a piece on your rod, such as would get the latter jammed in the barrel, as you may ruin the shooting qualities of the barrel by using force to remove it. have the cleaning rods long enough, or you may bark your knuckles. i do not care much for detachable stocks for pistols. they only turn a pistol into an inferior carbine, and the pistol is not meant for a long-range weapon. i also do not like the cardboard cases in which american pistols are usually packed, for permanent use; they are not strong enough and are apt to injure the sights, especially fine sights. a holster, again, is not the thing in which to keep a pistol habitually, as the sights get knocked about; if the holster is used out-of-doors it gets damp inside and rusts the weapon. great care should always be taken to see that the holster is absolutely dry inside before placing a pistol therein. to dry the inside of a holster, make some oats very hot in a saucepan and fill the holster with them, emptying them out when cold. some american holsters are made of india-rubber, to prevent perspiration from the body rusting the pistol, but such an one is very liable to retain dampness inside after rain. the holster which i prefer (for wearing, _not_ as a pistol-case) is a cowboy holster, without any button to the flap. if you fasten the flap, you cannot get the pistol out in a hurry. a lining of rabbit fur is useful in keeping out sand or dust. my pistol-cases are good, strong, and solid, of leather, with brass corners like gun-cases. each case holds four, placed either side by side, each pistol in its own compartment, or, with a tray, two in the tray and two below. if you have only two pistols, they can be put in a case without this upper tray, or the tray can be used for cartridges. under all circumstances, use a good lock,--not the sort that any key fits,--keep the case locked, and wear the key on your watch-chain, so that you are sure nobody but yourself can open the case. keep the case in a dry place, and look at the pistols occasionally, when they are not in constant use, to see that they are not rusting. keep your cartridges, if not in the same case as the pistols, also locked in a good leather case. this may be fitted with compartments for various calibres and loads. the word "loaded" may with advantage be inscribed inside the lid of the pistol-cases. people then feel less encouragement to meddle with the contents. chapter iv sights sights are made in many forms. some suit one man best; others another. you cannot decide which suits your individual case without trying each sort for yourself. when you find one form which suits you, it is a pity to risk spoiling your shooting by changing to others; a beginner should never do so, as he will get into an uncertain way of taking his sights, instead of always the same, which is the only way to make reliable, consistent, shooting. of course, all your sights may be useless if you are going to shoot in a competition, consequent on the authorities making some new rule as to "fit for rough usage"; and then you will have to shoot with whatever will pass the rules. my patent sight has, so far, complied with every rule, and it can be used for hammering nails without sustaining damage. the main point is to have a front sight at once easily seen, and of which you see each time the _same amount_; not sometimes more and at other times less, else you cannot keep your elevation. also the "u" in the back sight should have bevelled edges, so as to give a sharp edge, else it looks "woolly." again, if you are not able to see daylight each side of the front sight when it is in the "u," you cannot be aware that you are not covering part of the front sight on one side or the other, and, therefore, whether your aim is in horizontal axis with your barrel. the reason i prefer a "u"to a "v"-shaped notch in the hind sight is because in the "v" you do not see this daylight so well. as soon as you can shoot well enough to know whether bad shots are the fault of the sighting of the revolver or of your own holding, you can sight the pistol properly for yourself; and in this way you can do the sighting much more accurately, and with greater nicety, than by taking it to a gunmaker and saying: "alter the sights to shoot three inches higher and two to the left at twenty yards, and open the 'u' a little," etc. to do this, have front and hind sights made of horn, put in temporarily, without any "u" in the hind sight, and both hind and front sights a little higher than you think necessary. then go to the range with your pistol and several files of various sizes, including some that are round. make a slight "u" in the _measured_ centre of the top edge of the back sight. shoot a few shots at the range you want to sight for (taking care that you do not go clean over the top of the butt, owing to being sighted too high), and then keep working with the files, first at one sight and then at the other, till you get them approximately right. do not cut the "u" down too close to the barrel, as it will then give you a blurry aim, especially when the barrel gets hot. if you find you shoot too high, unless you cut this "u" down take out the front sight and put in another higher one, rather than file the "u" unduly low. remember when filing: filing at the bottom of the "u" makes you shoot _lower_; filing at the top of the front sight makes you shoot _higher_; filing on the side of the "u" or the front sight makes you shoot _towards_ the side on which you have filed. therefore, by filing a very little at a time, where necessary, you can at last get your sighting perfect. be sure to file a very little at a time, or you will overdo it. as in sculpture, you can easily take off, but cannot replace. if you have taken off too much anywhere, you may be able to correct this by filing so as to alter the direction. for instance, if you have been shooting too much to the right, you can correct this by filing on the left of the front sight or the left of the "u," whichever makes the more symmetrical job; but if, by doing so, you make the front sight too small or too narrow or make the "u" too wide, there is nothing to do but to put in a new front or hind sight and begin shooting and filing again. when you have got the sighting perfect, work carefully with your file (taking great care not to spoil the edge of the "u" nearest to the eye when aiming), and give a chamfered or bevelled edge to the other side of the "u," so that it has a knife-edge. this is to make the "u" look clear and yet allow the back sight to be strong. on this principle, you can let the hind sight be strong and over a quarter of an inch thick, and yet have a nice, clear "u." do not have the "u" deeper than a semicircle. if this "u" is too deep, it hampers your view of the object aimed at. in fact, it should not be quite a real "u," but a semicircle. you can also file all round the front sight, giving it a taper toward the muzzle, but keeping unaltered the silhouette that you see when aiming, so that the outline shall then stand clear to the eye. a gunmaker's vise (padded, so as not to bruise the revolver) is a useful thing, as it leaves both your hands free to use the files. i cannot tell you how much you may undercut the front sight, assuming you intend to use it in competition, as the rules alter so from year to year. i have an undercut bead-sight which some years was allowed at bisley as "military," and in other years not. the best plan, if you are in any doubt as to its passing, is to send your revolver to be passed by the committee before competing. when you have finished, and have had a final shoot to see if this finishing has not spoilt your elevation, etc., you can send your pistol to the maker, and ask him to make your sights precisely like your model ones, and to fix them permanently on the pistol _without screws, if for bisley use_, so as to comply with the rules. when you get the pistol with these sights, if the work has been properly done, a very little more filing will put the matter right. should you not be shooting at bisley, or at any of those clubs which shoot under bisley rules, you can, of course, get a pistol with smith & wesson's "ira paine" adjustable sights. carry a miniature folding gilt screw-driver and sight-case on your watch-chain, as i do, and you will then be able to shoot in any light, at any range, or in any style of shooting, by merely giving a slight turn to the adjusting screws to alter your elevation or direction; or take out a sight from your little case of sights, if a sight breaks or you want a different size or shape. public opinion has not yet been educated to the point of considering this "a practical military sight," but this will come--in time. extracts from specifications of walter winans's revolver front sight "great difficulty has hitherto been experienced in seeing the same amount of front sight each time aim is taken, unless the base of the sight is sufficiently undercut to form a 'bead-sight'; such undercutting being, however, detrimental, as it weakens the 'sight' and renders it very liable to injury, and is not permissible in bisley revolver competitions. the object of my invention is, therefore, to overcome this difficulty, and to this end i make the 'sight' of metal, horn, wood, or other hard substance, with a strong, wide base, preferably of the 'barleycorn' or triangular section. "the face of the upper part of the 'sight' facing the marksman (as much of it as it is desirable to see in aiming) is made vertical, or inclined slightly towards the marksman, so as to cause it to appear black, as if in shadow. the visible part of the sight below the face inclines forward from the marksman, and downward, so as to reflect the light and enable the face of the sight to be at once distinguished by its difference of shade from the lower part. it may be polished or plated to assist in reflecting the light, while as a contrast, the vertical face is cross-filed, or 'roughed,' or may be hollowed out so as to be in shadow, and give it a 'dead' black appearance. "in the drawing, i have shown what i consider the best means of carrying this out. fig. 1 is a side view, full size, of a portion of a revolver barrel fitted with my improved 'front sight.' "fig. 2 and fig. 3 are sections of the barrel at a b, showing two forms which the sight may assume in section, one having straight sides, the other concave. i show in figs. 4 and 4*, on a larger scale, for the sake of clearness, a side and plan view of the sight shown in fig. 1, and in fig. 5 a modification of this shape. figs. 6 and 7 are end views, showing two sectional forms of the sight, and corresponding in size with figs. 4 and 5. in figs. 1 and 4, it will be seen that _a_ is the vertical face of the sight, which is designed to present a dark appearance to the marksman; and _b_ is the polished, inclined surface, which takes a rounded form. in the modification, fig. 5, the face _a_ is slightly inclined towards the marksman, and the bright or polished surface _b_ takes the form of a flat incline." chapter v learning to shoot it is assumed that you have procured an accurate pistol, properly sighted. it is best to use a single-shot pistol or revolver as an automatic pistol cannot well be used as a single loader and for a beginner is very dangerous with the magazine charged. first, make sure that it is unloaded. _always_ do this before handling a pistol. take a bottle of sight-black and paint both sights over with the liquid. i have seen men try to compete, with their sights in a shiny state, which made it impossible for them to make good shooting on a white target with black "bull." for game shooting, or for military purposes, of course, a "dead" white (ivory for choice) tip to the front sight is preferable, or my patent military front sight, which answers the purposes both of a light on dark, or dark on light sight. with a pistol the first thing to consider is safety. it is, owing to its shortness, one of the most dangerous of firearms to handle. even an expert must exercise great care; and in the hands of a beginner or a careless person it may be fearfully dangerous. i have had many very narrow escapes in teaching men how to shoot; it is not even safe to be behind them; they will turn round with the pistol at full-cock, pointing it at you, and say: "i cannot understand why it will not go off; see! i am pulling as hard as i can at the trigger." it is indispensable to have a safe background. some people think that if the target is fastened to the trunk of a tree it is all safe, since the bullet will not go through the tree. this may be so if the tree is hit, but the bullet will, most likely, go past the tree when the beginner fires; or, what is just as dangerous, graze the tree and go off at an angle. also, in shooting with round bullets, and light gallery ammunition, the bullets may rebound from a hard tree and come back on the shooter. this i have actually seen happen. a good background is a high sandy bank, a thick pile of fagots, or, if not closer than fifty yards, a high brick or stone wall. the target may be stood some fifteen yards away from the wall to prevent danger of a bullet coming back on the shooter, and then the shooter can be far enough from the wall, if the wall is a background. if a lot of shooting is done, it is not very good for the wall, and if many shots hit the same spot they may gradually make a hole. iron butts are expensive, especially for the large surface required by a beginner; at twenty yards, a beginner could not in my opinion safely shoot at a background less than twelve feet high and some ten in width. even then there should not be any one beyond it within half a mile, lest he should happen to let off by accident. shooting out to sea is safe, if one keeps a good lookout for boats; but the glare from the water is bad. a sand or chalk pit is a good place to shoot in, or one can shoot against a high chalk cliff. it is dangerous to shoot anywhere where people cross unexpectedly, as from round the corner of a building. the great thing is that _the pistol should never point in any direction where it would matter if it went off by accident_. this rule should be observed even with an empty pistol, because so many "i-did-not-know-it-was-loaded" accidents occur. having got a butt, the learner should take a firm, narrow wooden table and place it some ten yards from the target. this target is preferably a "bisley fifty-yards target," four-inch bull's-eye. the bisley cardboard targets are cheap; and, by pasting white patches on the white and black on the bull's-eye bullet-holes, one target can be used for a long time. i refer to the fifty-yards target because this four-inch bull's-eye is very easy to hit at ten yards' range. the bisley revolver "bull's-eyes" count, at all ranges, seven points; the concentric rings counting one point less, each, till the outermost one, which counts two points. the highest possible score, therefore, for the six shots is forty-two, or six times seven. it is best to shoot at this very big "bull" at ten yards, as making "bull's-eyes" encourages the beginner; and, as he gets more proficient, the two-inch twenty yards "bull" can be substituted. this i think preferable to going back farther from the target as your skill increases; also it is safer, for the nearer the shooter is to the butt the wider his shots would have to be for him to miss it; whereas, if he goes back to fifty yards he may easily shoot over a very high butt. place your empty pistol on the table, the weapon lying on its left side with the muzzle towards the target. the table is preferably a narrow one, so that, during the process of loading, the muzzle points to the ground beyond the table and not to the table itself, an accidental discharge being thus immaterial; a foot wide is about right; the length does not matter, so long as it will hold your field-glasses, cleaning things, and cartridges. position.--the position for shooting which i am now going to describe, is the one in which i shoot and the one which i have found from experience suits me best. this position, however, will have to be modified according to the build of the shooter; a stouter or shorter-necked man than myself might have to stand more sideways. stand facing the target; the right foot pointing straight for the target, or perhaps a shade to the left (if the ground is slippery, this gives you a firmer foothold); the left heel distant from six to nine inches to the left of the right foot, according to your height (my distance is eight inches), and about an inch farther back; the feet turned out about as much as is natural to you when standing. stand perfectly upright, not craning your head forward; the left arm should hang down straight and close to the side in the position of "attention." some people bend the left arm and rest the hand on the hip; but i think this looks affected, and it is not as workmanlike as if the arm hangs straight down. if you are trying to "hold" an especially important shot, and find yourself wobbling off your aim, it is a great help to grip your thigh hard with your left hand; this especially applies in a gusty wind. now lift the pistol with your right hand (the weapon is empty, remember) and cock it. there are two ways of cocking: one using both hands and one using only the shooting hand. i do not refer to the double-action revolver cocked by pulling back the trigger, as i do not think shooting with much accuracy can be done by this method; and it is, moreover, the cause of half the accidents happening with the "i-did-not-know-it-was-loaded" shooters. the cocking by the trigger is only useful in a revolver for self-defence at very close quarters. to return, this single-handed cocking is done by putting the thumb on the hammer and by the action of the thumb muscles alone bring it to full-cock. take particular care that the first finger is clear of the trigger, or else you will either break or injure the sear notch, or have an accidental "let-off." with practice, this way of cocking becomes very easy, and can be done with great rapidity. i personally can also let the pistol down to half-cock (manipulating the pistol with one hand, with the trigger finger and thumb); but i would not advise a beginner to try this, except with an empty pistol and even then only one that he does not mind the chance of spoiling, as he is very apt to break the nose of the sear if he bungles it. by practice, the thumb and forefinger muscles (_abductor pollicis_ and _adductor indicis_) develop enormously, and you need not mind if at first it seems difficult; but stop at first as soon as they feel tired, or you may strain them. pistol-shooting is good also for the flexors of the forearm and for the dorsal muscles. a small hammer with short "fall" is easiest to cock, as well as to make good shooting with, for such a hammer takes less time in falling, and the aim is, in consequence, less likely to be disturbed. the beginner will find that it assists the cocking to give the pistol a slight tilt to the right and upwards, taking great care to bring it back with the hind-sight _horizontal_ afterwards, as holding the sights tilted is one of the chief causes of bad shooting. for double-handed cocking, assist the right hand by taking the pistol barrel in the left hand; keep the barrel horizontal and pointed at the target, _not_ towards your left-hand neighbour (if you are competing), as is often done; and, while it is thus steadied, cock gently, not with a jerk, bringing the hammer well beyond full-cock, so that it sinks back into the bent with a well-defined click, keeping the first finger clear of the trigger. now, stand with the pistol in your right hand, just clear of the table; right arm full stretch. the first finger must be outside the trigger-guard (_not touching the trigger_) during this stage. some englishmen shoot with the second finger on the trigger and the first along the pistol; but this is a clumsy way, and the first finger is apt to be burnt with the escape of gas from the cylinder, if a revolver is used. the habit was acquired from shooting the martini rifle, the clumsy "grip" of which made this manner of holding necessary. the great thing is to have your grip _as high as you can_ on the stock, in line with the axis of the barrel, or as near this as is practicable. with the smith & wesson russian model (now no longer manufactured) i have it actually in line with the bore of the barrel. some pistols for the british market often have specially long, big handles, or stocks, because of the habit (or is it the regulation position?) of holding the stock low down with the little finger beneath, prevalent in england. now this sort of position makes the recoil come at an angle to the wrist, throws the barrel up at the recoil, spoiling the accuracy, and puts more strain on the wrist than is necessary. i remember a very strong-wristed man firing one of my heavily charged fifty-yards revolvers and spraining his wrist at the first shot, owing to holding it in this way; whilst i have fired hundreds of rapid-firing shots straight on end with it without hurting myself. i take the recoil just as a man catches a hard-thrown ball, letting arm, hand, and wrist fly up together. the pistol barrel, hand, and arm should all be nearly in one line, the thumb along the left side, so as to prevent jerking to the left in pressing the trigger (in the same way as the left arm is fully extended in shooting with the shotgun), and not crooked, as all beginners insist on holding it. you must be constantly on the watch that you do not crook your thumb, until the extended position becomes second nature to you. some makes of pistols, however, have the extractor lever in a position which renders this grip with extended thumb impossible. for the benefit of beginners who are not target rifle-shots, the following explanation may be necessary: the target, for the convenience of locating shot-holes, is supposed to represent the face of a clock. the top of the bull's-eye (which we term "bull" for brevity) is called xii o'clock, as that is, of course, where the numeral xii appears on a clock face, and so on for all the other numerals: half-past four, for instance, is half-way between where the numerals iv and v appear on a clock. i was once shooting in the presence of a foreign naval officer, and when i made a "half-past five" "bull" shot he said, "south-east," his professional instinct making him liken the target to the face of a compass. first take a deep breath, and fill your lungs. now slowly bring your right arm to the horizontal, keeping your eyes fixed on the bottom edge--at "six o'clock"--of the "bull"; whilst you are doing this, put your forefinger inside the trigger-guard, and gradually begin to feel the trigger and steadily increase the pressure on it _straight back, not sideways_. whilst you are doing all this, also gradually stiffen all your muscles so that you are braced up, especially about the right shoulder, as though you were walking along the pavement and saw a man coming towards you whom you meant to shoulder out of your path. you may breathe naturally until the pistol is levelled, then hold your breath; if you cannot get your aim satisfactorily before you feel you want to take a fresh breath, lower the pistol, take a deep breath, and try again. if you have followed these directions carefully, you will find, when the hind sight comes to the level of your eyes (closing your left eye or not, as you find best, without any lowering of the head), the front sight will be seen through the middle of the "u" pointed at the bottom of the bull's-eye, the top of the front sight just touching it at "six o'clock." if everything has been done perfectly, at the moment this occurs the pressure on the trigger will have been increased sufficiently to cause the hammer to fall, and, after it has fallen, you will see the top of the front sight _still_ just touching the bull's-eye at its bottom edge. if the pistol had been loaded (assuming, of course, that it was an accurate shooting one and properly sighted), you would have had a central bull's-eye for your shot. most likely, however, you will find that the pistol came up all of a tremble, and that, as the hammer fell, the front sight was jerked very wide of the "bull" and perhaps even hidden by the hind sight. do not be discouraged, but cock and try again. by the way, it is best to use a "dummy" cartridge or an exploded one whilst doing this "snapping" practice, as otherwise the jar may do damage to the plunger and perhaps break the mainspring. there are dummy cartridges, made with a rubber "buffer," for this practice. if you still find your hand shaky (and it is not naturally so), it most probably arises from your gripping too hard. the action of "letting off" should be like squeezing an orange--a squeeze of the _whole hand_. start with a light grip when your hand is down, and gradually squeeze as you come up, the trigger-finger squeezing _back_; and the hammer will fall without the least tremor or without the sights moving off the point they covered during the fall of the hammer. the main thing of all in pistol shooting is to _squeeze straight back_. whenever you find yourself shooting badly see if you are not "_pulling off to one side_"; and in nine cases out of ten you will discover that this was the cause of your bad shooting. some men can never squeeze the trigger straight back, and have to allow for this by getting the hind sight "set over" to one side to correct it; but this is a slovenly way of shooting, and, as the pull to one side may vary according to the "jumpiness" of the shooter, it prevents his being a really first-class shot. keep the hind sight perfectly horizontal; beginners are prone to cant it on one side, which puts the bullet to the side towards which you cant. after a little practice, you will be able to "call" your shots, that is to say, you will be able, the moment the cartridge explodes, to say where the shot has struck the target, as you know where the sights were pointed at the "squeeze-off." after six shots, make a pencil-cross over each bullet-hole, so as to know where your former shots hit. after twelve hits it is best to take a fresh target. at the end of the day's shooting, you can cover the holes by pasting black patches on the bull's-eye holes and white on the rest, and use the target again. i will now say why i insist upon the importance of a table being before the shooter. the usual procedure for a beginner with the pistol is this: he cocks the pistol with both hands, pointing it at the spectators on his left whilst doing so; he then holds it with his right arm close to his side, pointing it to the ground at his right foot. he then brings it up with a flourish, high above his head, and lowers it to the target, jerks the trigger, and "looses off." of course he does not hit the target, but makes a very wild shot. after a few more shots on this principle, getting more and more wild, and making bigger flourishes with his pistol, he finally lets it off by accident whilst his arm is hanging by his side; and he is lucky if he does not make a hole in his right foot. i remember once a man telling me (he professed to be an expert with the revolver) that i was wrong in keeping my revolver pointed in front of me towards the target when preparing to shoot. "you ought to hold it like this," he said, letting his right arm hang close to his side and keeping the revolver pointing downwards; "then it is quite safe." at that moment it went off and blew a big hole in the ground within an inch of his foot! by my system of having a table in front of the shooter, close to which he stands, and from which he lifts the pistol, he cannot shoot down into his feet. but he must never turn round or leave the table without first unloading the pistol and placing it on the table; nor, on any account, must he let any one go up to the target or be in front or even get level with him whilst the pistol is in his hand. now, as to the trick of lifting the pistol above one's head before firing: i cannot understand why people want to do this. it only frightens spectators; besides, the shooter is running the risk of shooting himself through the head; and in competitions or in self-defence time is too valuable to waste in such antics. when you are pretty confident that you can keep your sights properly aligned at the bottom edge of the "bull" while the hammer is falling, you can try a few shots with a loaded pistol. it is best to load only some of the chambers, if using a revolver, irregularly spin the cylinder round, after the revolver is closed and at half-cock, so as not to know which chambers are loaded, and every time you find you jerk off with a shot, return to the snapping-empty-cartridge practice. this latter is good practice, even when you become a skilled shot. place the box of cartridges beside, and to the right of, the pistol. use only a very small charge (gallery ammunition for choice) at first, as nothing puts a beginner off so much as the fear of recoil. stand behind the table, the pistol being between you and the target, and take the pistol by its stock in the right hand. do not turn the muzzle to the left, but straight out towards the target. put it in your left hand and load it. this procedure varies with different makes of revolvers; with the smith & wesson, russian, and winans models, you lift the catch with your left thumb and press the barrel down with the same hand till it (the barrel) is perpendicular, pointing to the ground. but whatever the mechanism, when the pistol is open for loading, the barrel should be pointing downwards, yet in line for the target. if a cartridge projects too much, remove it, as it is dangerous and may explode prematurely from friction against the breech of the revolver. in loading, of course have the pistol at half-, not full-cock. close it by elevating the breech with the right hand, not by raising the barrel with the left, as in the latter case the cartridges may drop out. this rule applies also to the hand ejecting revolvers. see that the snap, or other fastening, is properly closed. if your shot goes wide of the bull, be sure, before you alter your aim for the next shot, whether it is not your "squeeze-off" which is wrong. a practised shot can correct the shooting of his pistol by "aiming-off" enough to rectify any error in sights. but the beginner had better not attempt this: he will find enough to do in trying to hold straight under the bull. do not mind if your score does not "_count_" much; those who do not understand shooting judge the goodness of a score by how much it counts, or by how many shots are in or near the bull's-eye. in reality, it is the _group_ which constitutes a good score. one score may consist of the highest possible,--forty-two points (all six shots bull's-eyes),--and another may only count twelve points; and yet the latter may be far the better "shoot." i will explain: in the first case, the shots may be "all round" the bull, "nicking" the edges; they would require, therefore, a circle of more than four inches (on the target you are at present shooting at) to cover them. the other score may consist of all six bullet-holes cutting into each other at an extreme edge of the target, but making a group which could be covered with a postage-stamp. the first "shoot" is a wild, bad score for ten yards' range at a four-inch bull, although it counts the highest possible in conventional scoring. the other is a magnificent shoot, that any one might be proud of; the fact of its being up in the corner merely showing that the sights were wrong, not the shooter's "holding." a few touches of the file, or knocking sideways the hind sight, will put this error right. never mind, therefore, about scoring many points; merely shoot for _group_. you will gradually find your groups getting smaller and smaller as you improve; it is then merely a matter of filing to get good scoring. as your four-inch bull's-eye is too large for real shooting at ten yards, you must remember that the sighting of the pistol should put the bullets _one inch only into_ this size bull at "vi o'clock," not into the middle of it. the reason is that, practically, the trajectory of a pistol is the same at twenty as at ten yards; and as the english regulation bull at twenty yards is two inches, you want the twenty-yards sighted pistol to put the shots into the centre of the two-inch bull when you aim at the bottom edge. in other words, you want it to shoot an inch higher than your aim at that distance. therefore, if with your four-inch bull, aiming at the bottom edge, you go into the bull one inch up, it means a central bull's-eye shot on a two-inch bull. the reason i recommend aiming at the bottom of the bull's-eye instead of at the middle of it is that if you try to put a black bead in the middle of a black bull's-eye, you cannot see either properly; if you whiten the bead of the fore sight, then you cannot see it clearly against the white of the target in "coming up" to a bull. nobody can hold _absolutely_ steady on the "bull" for more than a fraction of a second; you have to "come up" from below and "squeeze off" as you get your sights aligned. it is best to have your cleaning appliances on the table, or otherwise handy, when shooting, and every now and again to have a look through the barrel and a wipe-out; you might otherwise be inclined to attribute to bad shooting what may be caused by leading or hard fouling in the barrel. i have a little cupboard under my table with a lock and key, in which i keep my cleaning apparatus, cartridges, etc. (but _not_ the pistol), to save the trouble of carrying them to the range. always clean a pistol as soon after shooting as possible, and clean very thoroughly. for real work, i prefer a pistol when it is half worn out, as everything then works smoothly and there is less danger of jambing. rust in the rifling may entirely spoil accuracy, as, if you work it off, the bore gets enlarged and the bullets "strip." i never like to compete with a perfectly new pistol; all pistols have their peculiarities, and it is necessary to get used to one, to "break it in," before trusting it to obey one's slightest hint. it is sometimes useful to be able to shoot with the left hand; as, for instance, if the right hand is disabled, the right arm held, etc., and for an officer with a sword in his right hand. if the novice has resolution enough to divide his practising, _from the beginning_, between both hands, he will be able to shoot nearly as well with his "left" hand as with his right. i have put quotation marks round "left" as i mean by this the hand not usually employed; a left-handed man's right hand being in this sense his "left." i have also noticed that a left-handed man can shoot more evenly with both hands; that is to say, he is not much better or worse with either hand, not being so helpless with his right hand as a normally handed man is with his left. in all the directions for shooting, for left-handed work merely change "right leg" to "left leg"; "right arm" to "left arm," etc. chapter vi rapid firing rapid firing, in my opinion, is the most practical style of shooting; a pistol is not a weapon for deliberate shooting, but for lightning rapidity at short range. if you are using a revolver it is necessary to get one which works as loosely and as easily as possible. a half-worn-out revolver is best, as it works freer. next, file the mainspring as weak as it is possible to have it without risk of too many misfires. if it has one misfire in every twenty shots, or so, it does not matter, the great thing being to have it cock easily. an automatic pistol is the weapon for this, a revolver being quite out of date. a very big front sight and a big "u" in the back one are advisable. as the target rises, "come up," quickly, increasing the pressure on the trigger as you "come up," so that the pistol goes off the moment it is horizontal and the sights are _about_ right. i say _about_ because there is not time to correct the aim. be sure to _squeeze back_--not jerk off. it is possible, with practice, to get this "snap shot" into the "bull" or touching it. as this first shot goes off, _be especially careful to take all pressure off the trigger_. unless you are very careful you will keep a slight pressure on the trigger with your first finger, and if you are using an automatic the next shot will go off before you mean it to. your right arm--and in fact, the whole of your body--should be immovable. your aim at each shot ought not to be disturbed enough to be more than a few inches off the "bull." after each shot begin a steadily increasing pressure _straight back_, and _without a jerk_, trying at the same time to get your sights as near the "bull" as you can before the pistol goes off again. you can fire as quickly as you can get your aim. if using an automatic pistol, all that you have to do is to _release the pressure on the trigger the moment each shot goes off_, and _instantly_ begin to squeeze again as you get your next aim. do not keep on too long; half a dozen practice scores are ample at a time. one only gets erratic and wild if one continues too long, and the pistol also gets hot. the sighting may have to be different in this from that required for slower shooting. some men shoot up in one corner when snap-shooting with the heavy trigger-pull of the automatic pistol; and it is preferable to have the sighting so that one can aim straight under the "bull," instead of having to make allowance for the jerking off. the trigger-pull should be as light as is deemed compatible with safety, but the automatic pistols so far on the market have a very heavy trigger-pull. wearing glasses to protect the eyes against half-burnt powder fumes is very important in shooting an automatic. chapter vii traversing target _target moving across the line of fire at twenty yards_ this is not so difficult as rapid-firing. the chief difficulty is that when your aim is right horizontally, you may be wrong vertically, and _vice versa_. when first practising, have a target made with a black band two inches wide running down the middle of the target, instead of the usual bull's-eye. begin your practice at this, having it first put up with the black band vertical, and then with it horizontal. shooting at it vertical will show you if you are getting the right allowance in front in your aim. when it is horizontal, it will show you if your elevation is correct. this can be elaborated by having black bands painted or pasted on the back of an ordinary target, and, with its back towards you, shooting at them. then, by turning it over after the six shots have been fired, you will see what score you would have made on a regulation target. the reason for this practice is that there are two things to attend to. one is the "_allowance_" _in front_, the other is the "_elevation_"; and if a beginner tries to think of both at once, it will confuse him. if, after you have got pretty certain of your "allowance," you go to "elevation," you will most likely lose your "allowance," and have to go back to the vertical band; and so on, alternately, till you can trust yourself at the regulation bull. most people, unless they use alternate hands, find the "run" one way easier than the other. i prefer higher elevation in sights for this competition. instead of aiming to touch the "bull" at "vi o'clock" to get a central "bull," the aim should be at the actual elevation you want the bullet to go, so as to enable you to aim off at "iii o'clock" and "ix o'clock" for right and left runs respectively. some people who are slower on the trigger--that is, who take longer to give the order to the trigger-finger when their eye says the aim is right--may need more allowance. there is in astronomical work a technical term ("reaction time") for the process of timing first contact in eclipses, and each observer deducts his own personal error, which seems constant to him. this allowance varies in revolver shooting with different men. some men aim at a spot, and wait for the target to come up to it; but this is useless, as any one knows who has shot moving game with a gun. stand absolutely square to the front, or perhaps a little more toward the side on which you find it most difficult to follow the target. plant the feet slightly farther apart than for other competitions, _and swing the whole of the upper part of the body from the hips_. do _not_ swing your right arm, keeping the rest of the body still. the shoulder-joint does not give so smooth a horizontal swing as swinging from the hips. moreover, if you swing the arm, you have to turn the head, or else have to look out of the corners of your eyes, instead of straight before you. let the whole of the upper part of your body be held rigid, and swing only on the hips. lift your pistol from the table as the target appears, and swing with the target, bringing up the pistol on a diagonal line (this is the resultant of the vertical rise from the shoulder and the horizontal swing of the hips). let the sights come horizontal to the eyes a little in front of the proposed allowance; and, as you keep your arm moving in front of the bull, gradually let the bull _overtake you_, till it is the right allowance behind your sight; and _still keep on swinging_. all this time be gradually squeezing the trigger, so that it squeezes off just when the aim is right. _be sure not to stop swinging before the pistol goes off._ i do not think there is any advantage in keeping your arm up between runs of the target; it tires the arm, and you cannot make the diagonal swing up to your spot in front of the bull. i do not think it is of any use deciding to fire upon a certain part of the "run": it is best to fire when you feel you are aiming right, and you may get this feeling sooner in the "run" on some days than on others. there is a tendency to "follow" too long, and then, owing to lack of time, to jerk off just as the target disappears. i have made "bulls" when the target was almost out of sight, in fact, i did so in my record shoot, at bisley, where there used to be such a competition: but this is a bad habit to contract, and a risky sort of shot, as it is almost sure to be too far behind, or even to be fired into the shield in front of the target; though, of course, if you have not a good aim, it is better to delay as long as possible, rather than to shoot earlier with a bad aim. be sure in your range that your shield is bulletproof, or you may get into the habit of making "bulls" when the target is "sitting" behind the shield, by shooting through it. to economize space, you can have this target run in front of your disappearing-target apparatus, putting the latter out of the way when not needed; this latter will also serve for stationary-target purposes, and to hold the fifty-yards target. do not have a target which runs by gravitation, as shooting at a target which is running downhill requires quite different sighting from that needed with one running horizontally. chapter viii gallery shooting a private gallery can easily be fitted up in the cellars of large country, or even town, houses. all that is needed is a gallery of a certain length--ten yards will suffice at a pinch, with the targets and butt (such as i describe in the chapter on stage shooting) at one end. the targets should be lighted from above, preferably by a skylight in the daytime, and by gas, lamp, or electric light at night. when artificial light is used, it should be screened, so that from the firing-point the targets are distinct, but the source of light invisible. at the firing-point it is difficult to get a satisfactory light. if this gallery is not made in a greenhouse, which, of course, would give ample light to sight by in the day, i think there is no use in trying to get the light to shine on your sights. if it is behind you, you stand in your own light. if enough above you to prevent this, the light only shines on the top edges of your sights, and is thus worse than useless. i find it best to have enough light behind you to enable you to load by, and to trust to seeing the sights in a black silhouette against the target. you may, for this reason, have to alter your sights from the elevation which suits you out-of-doors. you should have a ventilating shaft straight above the muzzle of your pistol, and, if possible, a fan to draw off the fumes and smoke; one worked by electricity or water-power is best. it is expedient to use only the lightest gallery ammunition, and it deadens the sound if you have the walls covered with some material hung loosely. boiler-felt is very good for the purpose. also, if you shoot through a hole in a partition screen, it helps to deaden the sound. i prefer a big-calibre pistol in competition, as it gives a better chance to score; a shot which would be just out of the bull with a small bullet, may just cut the bull with a large ball. the bullet-hole is also more easily seen, but the bullet must be spherical, or you will have to use too heavy a charge of powder to propel it. the self-registering targets, such as are used for miniature .22 calibre rifles, i do not find very satisfactory; the larger size of the bullet makes it liable to strike two compartments at the same time, giving you a double score, and the impact of the bullet is, moreover, too heavy for the mechanism. i prefer card targets or the gastinne renette target which registers hits at the firing-point. on no account have targets that necessitate any one's going down the range, or coming out from a mantlet, to change. there is sure to be an accident sooner or later. have them made to draw up to the firing-point for examination and change, and never let any one turn round with a pistol in his hand. in fact, observe all the rules as to table to fire from, etc., which i give in the chapter on learning to shoot. all these rules apply equally to gallery shooting. as the gallery is generally narrow, it will be difficult to have traversing targets, but you can have the bisley targets. such a gallery will be an endless source of amusement in the winter evenings, after dinner; and the ladies can shoot as well as the men. it is advisable to handicap the good shots, so as to give all an equal chance. gallery shooting is by far the most scientific style of pistol-shooting, if you use a very light load, fine sights, and hair-trigger; therefore you can have smaller bull's-eyes and subdivisions than the bisley ones. the american and french targets are better subdivided for this purpose. messrs. de la rue make me special "ace of hearts" packs of cards for use as targets. for experimental work also, a gallery is much more reliable than shooting out-of-doors. when shooting gallery ammunition in which the bullets are "seated" low down, it is best to have a groove line impressed in the cartridge shell to prevent the bullet working up; if you have not got this impression in the shell, look into the cartridges before putting them into the chambers, as a bullet may have worked itself up, which would cause a weak, low shot. push the bullet down with a loading rod, or pencil, before you insert the cartridge into the chamber, if you find it shifted. also, if, after firing a few shots from a revolver with this ammunition, you, for any cause, stop and want to re-load the chambers which have been fired, it is as well to take out all the cartridges that have not been fired and examine them, as the jar of firing may have started some of the bullets. chapter ix twenty yards stationary target i have already described how to stand and shoot at a stationary target. there are a few points to be observed, however, which specially apply to this range when shooting at bisley. before competing at any one of the limited-entry competitions, it is well to be sure that you are shooting up to your proper form, as mistakes cannot be corrected after once commencing. personally i think it best (if shooting every day or most of the ten days) not to enter in a limited-entry competition till after the first two days of the meeting, as one gets steadied down by then and grows more accustomed to the surroundings. as sighting varies from day to day, and even from hour to hour, it may be as well to have a pool shoot for sighting purposes first; but i personally never do so, as i think it is a pity to chance wasting a good score in pool. the moment you have "found the spot," leave off pool; do not stop to finish a score. i prefer doing my sighting on an "unlimited-entry" competition ticket, so that in case i make a "highest possible," that score is not wasted. the early morning, from 9 till 11 a.m., is the best time for shooting; and then, perhaps, late in the evening. one should watch for a good time when the light is favourable; often the wind will drop late in the evening, half an hour before "gunfire," after blowing hard all day. there is often a good light after rain. i rather like shooting in the rain, and have made some of my best shots in it. the light is then good; and there is then no glare on the target; bullets make very big, ragged holes on a wet target; and sometimes a shot which would not cut the bull on a dry target may do so on a wet one, owing to its making a larger hole.[1] the flat-topped bullets make very big, "clean" holes. [1] at bisley a bullet must _cut_ the bull to count; at the clubs if it _touches_ it scores a bull. if you have a target with a doubtful shot, that is to say, one for which you think you are entitled to a higher count than the range officer gives you, do not touch it, or thrust anything (your finger or a pencil) into the hole to demonstrate that the shot cuts into the bull's-eye or the line you claim. if you push anything into the hole you will spoil its outline and destroy all evidence of the point at which the bullet had cut. in doubtful cases, the range officer puts a bullet of the same calibre (which has been pushed with a rod through a revolver barrel previously) into the hole, and examines it whilst in this position with a magnifying-glass. accept the range officer's decision as final; _never_ "protest" a decision of his. look at the target through your glass and see that it has no bullet-holes in it before you begin to shoot; and refuse to shoot at a patched target, except at pool. a patch may fall off a shot made by a previous competitor and confuse your score, besides making the target indistinct and throwing doubt on a record score by you if you should happen to make one on such a target. also see that the bull's-eye is black; some are badly printed, and the "bull" is grey and indistinct. shoot very slowly and deliberately. there is no hurry. the time limit of two minutes would be ample within which to fire twenty-four shots--and you have only to fire six. if you are dissatisfied with your aim, or your arm is getting tired, or a gust of wind comes, put the revolver down without firing. look down on the grass to rest your eyes, and wipe your hands; a little sawdust is a good thing to rub them with on hot days. when it is gusty, putting up the pistol just as you think a lull is coming, instead of waiting _for_ the lull, gives you a better chance of being "up" when the lull does come, and you can then "snap" the shot before the next gust. if you _have_ to shoot in a very high wind--as in a match, or in shooting off a tie--it is best to "snap" your shots (see chapter on rapid firing) and not try to hold against the wind. if a shot strikes a little too high, or too low, or too much to either side, aim "off" the "bull" the next shot to correct it. do not keep altering the amount you see of your front sight if you hit too high or too low; you will never make a good score in that way. if you are out half an inch at "x o'clock," aim your next shot at half an inch off "v o'clock"; if you hit half an inch above the bull at "xii o'clock," aim half an inch below "vi o'clock" with your next shot; do not take a "coarser" sight. this is where a practical shot has the advantage over a mere "target shot." if a shot is in the "bull" (i will assume you can easily see shots in, or partly in, the "white" at twenty yards; i can see them at fifty), and you are not sure of its exact locality, examine it with your glass. if you are "holding" exceptionally steady, and have shot well into the "bull," though not actually central, do not aim differently to try to get the actual centre with the next shot; as a rule, if you are anything more than half in the "bull," it is better to let well alone and "hold" the same as before. i remember on one occasion i had five shots in one ragged hole at "v o'clock" in the "bull" on the sliding target; and for fear lest i should put my last shot through the same hole and have it counted as a miss, i tried to hit the "bull" at "ix o'clock" clear of that hole, and got just out of the bull. if you have several bullets in one ragged hole, it is advisable, if there be time, to draw the range officer's attention to this before you fire the next shot, so that in case you go into the same hole or group again, he may record it and not think it a miss. if he watches the target whilst you shoot, through his glasses, he will see where your bullet goes, even if you do go into this group. at the stationary targets, _and at those only_, it is advisable to use both hands in cocking. in cocking, if using a revolver, if there is not a distinct click, or if the action feels "woolly" or soft, put it back at half-cock, and open the revolver and see what is the matter. most likely a bit of fouling, or piece of metal from a cartridge or bullet, or a cartridge with too thick a head or protruding cap, is the cause. when the revolver is at full-cock, take the cylinder between the forefinger and thumb of the left hand, still holding the stock in the right hand and keeping the muzzle towards the target, and gently try to revolve the cylinder towards the right. this, at least, is the normal direction, though some makes revolve to the left. you will, perhaps, once in a dozen times, find that it goes over an appreciable amount till it locks. any revolver, even the best, may sometimes not bring the cylinder round quite true to the barrel; and if it does not coincide, the shot will not be accurate, owing to the bullet not going into the barrel true, and thus getting a small shaving taken off its side. a bit of fouling, metal from cartridges or bullet, "proud cap," or thick cartridge-head may cause this. by attending to the cocking in the elaborate way i have indicated, this cause of inaccuracy is avoided. (this is very important in cases where a miss would be dangerous: as when shooting objects off someone's head, or those which are held in the hand or mouth, or for the last shot on which everything depends in a match or a record score.) also every time you open the revolver, look to see whether the caps have been hit absolutely true in the centre. by my way of cocking, even if the revolver is not acting quite perfectly, the chambers ought to come true. if they do not, clean them very carefully. if, in spite of this, the caps are still hit on the side, it is useless to continue with that revolver until the maker has put it right. shoot with the smallest charge, lightest bullet, and largest calibre the rules allow, as it is easier to shoot with a small than with a "kicking" charge, and the bullet of larger calibre is more apt to cut into the bull. (this applies to all competitions at ranges not over twenty yards; beyond that distance, a big charge is more accurate. see chapter on fifty-yards target.) i do not like too small a front sight. i think that one which, in aiming, you see easily is the best. the semicircular "u" of the hind sight should be wide enough to enable you to see all round the bead of the front sight. in pistol-shooting, the chief difficulty is in "holding" and "squeezing off" without disturbing your aim. there is no need to strain your eyes with a microscopic front sight and it makes you slow and every fraction of a second is valuable in practical shooting. another fault of too fine a front sight is that it is liable to get bent, just enough to spoil your aim, yet not enough to be noticeable until too late. if you try to straighten it, the odds are that you break it off and then have to waste a day or more getting another fixed, which, most likely, does not suit when done. i always have my bisley sights made solid with the revolver, without any screws, and have some made to shoot higher, others lower, each on a separate revolver. if i find that the light, or my shooting, does not suit one sort of sight, i take another revolver. i have some fifteen revolvers prepared in this way. the permission to have a hind sight adjustable by being hammered to one side is worse than useless. the sight works loose, gets knocked askew, and when you begin shooting you find it is constantly shifting and spoiling your shooting. i do not call it by any means a practical military sight. if you only have one pistol have it with my front sight, sighted to your normal or average shooting, at twenty or fifty yards, to whichever you decide to confine yourself, and both back and front sights made fixtures. wear nailed boots, or those with corrugated rubber soles, so as not to slip. the rubber, however, is rather apt to get cut in standing on spent cartridges. a broad-brimmed cowboy hat, or sombrero, is the best headgear, except in a wind, as it keeps the glare off your eyes. i took to using these years ago, and now i see them in use by nearly all shooting men, as well as in the english army, though (unlike in the u. s. army) often rendered less serviceable by having the brim looped up on one side. i keep some of various widths of brim, and use the one most suitable for the occasion. also a swedish leather jacket is very good when it gets chilly, as it is very light and does not hamper your right arm as a heavier coat would do. if you do not possess one, an extra waistcoat will serve, as this will leave your arm free. an overcoat or mackintosh hampers your right arm. you are freer in a flannel shirt with turn-down collar, loose round the wrists, and no braces. a silk handkerchief tied loosely round the neck, cowboy fashion, keeps the sun off the nape of your neck. chapter x disappearing target this target, which has the two-inch bull's-eye, like the twenty yards stationary target, appears and disappears at intervals of three seconds--three seconds in sight and three seconds invisible--and is shot at from a distance of twenty yards. the rules forbid the pistol being raised from the firing-table before the target appears; and it must be lowered to the table after each shot. shooting in this competition is the groundwork of all the competitions other than at stationary targets; so i shall go very fully into the way of becoming proficient at this, as the other competitions should then come comparatively easy. in order to do the best possible work, you ought for practice to have an exact copy of the disappearing mechanism used at bisley; and also (and this is very important), the range should orientate as at bisley and should have the background of the same colour. at bisley, at one time in the afternoon the shooting is against the setting sun; at which time the wise shot takes a rest and lets others waste their entries, as it is impossible to make good shooting under these circumstances. by having the points of the compass the same as at bisley, you will soon find out which sort of light suits you best, and at what hour of the day it comes. personally, i find the light from 9 to about 11 a.m. (during which time it is more or less over one's left shoulder) the best for shooting in july. as the sun comes round, you will find that the point to aim at varies gradually as the light strikes the front sight more or less on the side. variations in elevation, owing to varying intensities of sunlight, can also be remedied by having several pairs of spectacles with plain glass (unless, of course, you need optical glasses to see clearly with), of different tints of smoke or yellow colour. you can then, when you find a certain strength of light best for your shooting, keep to this strength artificially, whatever the real light may be, putting on glasses of a shade sufficient to modify the light as required. the glasses should have round, and not oval, frames, and these should be a good two inches in diameter, so that the rims do not interfere with your view. large round goggles, with plain window-glass, are a great protection against particles of burnt-powder, especially in a head wind; and after a hard morning's shooting, the surface of the glass will be found covered with adhesive black spots. it is as well to have one pair of plain white glass (_i. e._, ordinary window-glass), and to wear either these or one of the smoked or yellow pairs whenever shooting, or even looking on at shooting, as the powder blowing back constantly into the eyes irritates them; and a sudden dab in the eye may even spoil a score by making one flinch at a critical moment. i have known a man incapacitated from shooting for several days through getting his eyes inflamed from particles of powder and smoke blowing in his face in a head wind, and from the irritating fumes of the nitro-powders; and the look of many competitors' eyes towards the end of the shooting shows how it affects them. a solution of boracic acid and rose-water (of course you must get a chemist to dispense the right quantities) is a very good thing to bathe the eyes with during and after a hard day's shooting, and it makes the eyes feel very comfortable the next day. also, it is important to protect the ear-drums from the constant banging, else you get your ears "singing" and finally become more or less deaf. a pistol is worse than a rifle or gun in this respect, owing to the shortness of the barrel and the consequent proximity of the concussion to the ear. the left ear is more apt to suffer than the right, which is more sheltered by the arm, and a neighbour's shot, for which the ear is unprepared, affects it more than one's own. this is particularly noticeable if your neighbour stands slightly behind you. some use cotton-wool in the ears. i find it apt to mix with the natural wax in the ears, a small amount of the cotton-wool remaining behind each time the wool is removed; and, what is more, it does not sufficiently deaden the sound. for practising in private, a pair of small down pillows tied over the ears deaden the sound best, or a racing motorist's skull cap with ear shields but both are very hot in warm weather and cannot be worn in public. "elliot's perfect ear protectors" are the best i have yet found; these are made in the united states and sold in england by gieve mathews & seagrove, the hard, portsmouth. the concussion of pistols, bad at all times, is of course aggravated by the use of the heavy military ammunition obligatory at bisley. if you cannot get a copy of the bisley disappearing-target mechanism, the next best thing is to have the target hinge over and be brought up again by some mechanical means. if this is not practicable, a stationary target may be made to answer, as i shall presently show. my reason for wanting the actual bisley arrangement is because that comes up with a jerk (some of the men operating it are very jerky), and the target "wobbles" for a fraction of a second, both just as it gets upright and just before it disappears, and this is apt to disconcert any one not used to it. next, get a metronome, with bell attachment. set it to beat half-seconds (be very particular to get the time absolutely correct), and set the bell to ring at every sixth beat. you have now intervals of three seconds marked with a "ring" at the end of each. count the beats to yourself when the metronome is working: "one, two, three, four, five, six"; "one, two, three," etc. get your man to work the lever which actuates the target (the lever in every case being a yard or two behind you, so that there is no danger of shooting the man or of burning his eyes with the side flash from the chambers of the revolver). let him, at the stroke of the bell, bring up the target sharply, so that it comes with a bang, and lower it at the next ring in the same way, and keep it down till the next ring, then jerk it up, and so on; jerking it as roughly as the mechanism will allow. if you have to practise on a stationary target, pretend to yourself that it disappears at each alternate ring of the metronome. the firing-point _must_ be like the bisley one; it will not do to stand with the revolver hanging at your side; it must rest on a ledge the same height as at bisley, or else your practice will be useless for bisley, as quite a different way of working the muscles and resting them between shots is in use in the two styles of shooting, and it takes less time to "come up" from a ledge than when the arm is hanging by the side. owing to the slope of the ground at bisley, some of the ledges are higher than others; choose the one that suits you best, and have your practice ledge that height; and when shooting at bisley, do so from the ledge you have previously chosen. stand squarely, well behind this ledge. you will only get disqualified if you get into the way of resting the lower part of your body against the ledge; or even if you stand close to it and your coat happens to hang in front; or if you happen to have a "corporation" some competitor may have you disqualified as resting against the ledge. the position of the legs and body is as for the twenty-yards stationary target, except that the rod which works the target is best kept between the feet, and these have to be a little wider apart. (n.b. if you are a short man, it is better to stand to one side of the rod.) stretch your arm out its full length, and, holding the pistol with the sights uppermost, rest the lower side of the barrel lightly against the ledge. the part of the barrel adjacent to the chamber is the part to rest on the ledge, as it is less likely to slip. there is a notch between the barrel and lower part of the frame of the revolver, and when this is resting on the edge of the table, and the arm is straight, then you are standing at the right distance from the table. if you have to stretch too much or to lean forward, move slightly closer until you are comfortable; if your arm is bent, move backward till it comes straight. (all this is done with an _empty_ revolver.) now stand in this position, watching the target go up and down, and counting all the while, "one, two, three," etc., to yourself, till you get the rhythm of the thing. keep your eyes all the time fixed on the bull's-eye _when it is vertical to you_; do not follow it down with your eyes, but keep a mental picture of it, while it is away, on the background. you will gradually be able to know exactly _where_ it will be, and _when_ it will be there, and you will then be able to aim at the imaginary spot; so that when the target appears the sights will not have to be shifted to the bull's-eye, but _the bull's-eye will come to the sights_. now, cock the pistol, of course using only your right thumb, and not shifting your left hand, body, or pistol in the slightest. (if you cannot do this neatly, cock the pistol first, and then "set" yourself at the ledge.) now, at the word "one," slowly (_i. e._, without hurry or jerk) bring your arm up, quite straight, till the revolver is level with your eye, and you are looking through the sights. if you have been following the above directions carefully, you will find you are aiming at the bottom edge of the bull's-eye, without having had to shift your hand or to align the sights; the sights and also the target have, in fact, "come up" to your eye, not your eye to them. the speed with which you raise your arm should bring the sights touching the bottom edge of the "bull" at the word "two"; but it is better, at first, to be slower: as long as you get the sights touching the "bull" before it disappears, it will do--for the present. at the word "six," lower the pistol to the table, but keep your eyes on the imaginary spot at which the "bull" disappeared. keep the pistol down while you count six, and then raise it as before. after a few minutes of this drill, begin to squeeze the trigger slightly while the pistol is resting against the ledge. with practice you will be able to regulate the squeeze so that it will require only half a pound more pressure to fire the pistol. then as you lift the pistol, gradually tighten the squeeze, and keep gradually tightening it, never diminishing the pressure, but not increasing it if your aim is getting wrong, and beginning to increase it again as you correct your aim. if you are increasing the squeeze properly, you will find, just as your aim is perfect, and a fraction of time before the word "six," the hammer will have fallen and you will not have jerked or moved off your aim. with an automatic pistol there is no need to cock it after the first shot, but with a revolver the instant the hammer has fallen, cock quietly with your right thumb, and lower your pistol to the table as before. in all cocking, i mean it to be understood that it must be done with one movement of the right thumb, the finger well clear of the trigger so as not to break or wear the sear-notch, and the left arm, left hand, and body not moved in any way, as already illustrated. after you have done this a few times, and have confidence, you may load several chambers of the revolver, having exploded, or empty, cartridges in the other chambers, so as not to injure the nose of the hammer or the mainspring. the cartridges, loaded and unloaded, should be put in in irregular order, and the barrel spun round, so that you do not know when you have a loaded one to fire. now, go through the same drill as before; most likely, if the first cartridge is an empty one, you will be surprised to find you jerked it off instead of squeezing, owing to fear of the recoil; but if this is so, expecting your next shot to be also an empty cartridge, you will give a nice, smooth, gradual "let-off," with the result that you will get a "bull," or close to it. the following shot, in consequence of your being too eager, will almost certainly be a very wild one, most likely below the target. this is caused by jerking the trigger, which results in bobbing the muzzle down. it is curious that, contrary to the usual idea that in firing quickly with a pistol one is prone to "shoot over," the exact reverse is the case, and that snatching at the trigger generally gives a low left shot. i have my pistols for rapid-firing competitions sighted to shoot higher than the others, to counteract this. after a little of this sort of practice, you can get to loading all the chambers of a revolver. now the great thing is "time." time and shoot like a machine. at bisley one sees men fire one shot directly the target appears; the next too late--after the target has begun to go down; and whenever a shot goes wide, they dance about, stamp, or swear, and shift their position constantly, half raise the pistol and lower it again, and more antics follow in the same fashion. a man who shoots in this style may as well go home, for all the prizes he will win. i never trouble to look at his target; seeing his "form" tells me what his target must look like. by your constant practice with the metronome, you ought to get the "time" so impressed on your mind that you could work the target at the proper intervals without any metronome to indicate the time. your hand "comes up" simultaneously with the target; you fire _just_ before it disappears (some of my highest possibles were made with the target just on the "wobble" of disappearing as i fired each shot); every instant must be utilized for the aim, and there must be no hurry or flurry. in fact, you become a "workman." do not get into the trick of "coming up" too soon before the target appears. there is nothing to be gained by it, and you might be disqualified. if a shot goes wrong or there is a misfire (you are allowed another shot for a misfire), keep on just as though nothing had happened; pay no attention to the number of shots you have fired in the score, or how many more you have to "go." i have often started to "come up" again for a shot, not knowing that my sixth had already "gone," so mechanical had my shooting become. in practice, never fire if you feel you are "off" the "bull"; better "come down" with the target, without shooting, and fire the next time the target "comes up." in this way you will perhaps "come up" ten times for your six shots; but you will have good shots for those that you have fired, and will be encouraged much more and get better practice than by firing a lot of wild shots, which as you fired, you knew were badly aimed. at bisley, i find this the easiest competition of any, more so, _if there is no wind_, than the stationary twenty-yards target, but one can only keep it up for a short time. one gradually gets into the swing of it, till one can "throw" each shot right into the "bull's" centre. this keeps up for a few entries; as one's arm tires, one begins to lose the absolute precision. it is then useless to continue shooting and it is time to take a rest. you need a large front sight and open "u," so as to get your aim quickly. my favourite revolver has very coarse sights,--a front sight which, in aiming, seems nearly as large as the "bull." i like the sun as much behind me as possible for this and any other quick-firing or moving-object competition, as you can then at once see the hit on the target and can correct it, if necessary, at the next shot. at a stationary target, this seeing the hit at once does not matter, as you have plenty of time to locate your shot with your telescope. in any competition in which unlimited entries are allowed, it is best to give up shooting an entry at your first bad shot and to start a fresh entry instead of shooting out the full six shots. many men say, "it is better to keep on, as it is practice." in my experience i find that everyone has strings of better shots than his average and these may commence at any time. if you have a three, for instance, as your second shot of a score, you may have four sevens to finish up with; then your next score may begin with two sevens and then a two. there are thus two scores spoilt, whereas, if you had retired at the shot counting three in your first score, and started another score, you would have had a string of six sevens in your second score, making a highest possible score of forty-two. i have so often seen this sort of thing happen to others (though i have never allowed it to happen to myself) that i am sure it is false economy at bisley, except in the limited-entry series, not to stop and begin afresh the moment you get a shot out of the bull. another thing men do is to keep shooting pool to "get practice," as they call it, till they shoot themselves out and make bad scores in competition. the place to practise is _at home_; there is no economy in paying half-a-crown for every six shots at bisley, when you can shoot as much as you like at home for nothing. the rapid-firing and fifty-yards competitions being more difficult, you may allow yourself one or two sixes in a score before beginning again; but stop at the first shot scoring less than six points. if possible, choose a time when there is no one shooting at the target next you; as, even if you do not find yourself "letting loose" at the sound of his firing,--he most likely, timing himself all wrong,--the smoke from his shots may drift across you, and spoil your view of the target. do not shoot whilst a man is "arranging his things," or "bringing up his target" next you; it will distract your attention. shoot one entry in each series of competitions,--disappearing, rapid-firing, etc.,--and then take the competition in which you have done worst (comparatively worst, should be said, as thirty-six in the rapid-firing is equal to forty-one at the stationary twenty-yards) and beat that score. the moment you have beaten that sufficiently for one of your scores in another series to be the worst, go at that one; and so keep pushing the worst along. this gives you a better aggregate than any other system, and prizes are given for aggregates. be sure to look through your barrel after each entry, and wipe it out frequently. quick shooting, especially in hot, dry weather, cakes and leads the barrel and spoils accuracy. if the pistol sticks or grates, however slightly, it is apt to spoil one's "time." at bisley, you must not "wipe out" during the shots of an entry. where, however, there is no rule against it, "wipe out" after every shot at stationary targets, and use only one of the chambers if using a revolver. when you open the revolver after each entry, look carefully to see if the caps were struck in the centre, especially if you have made a bad shot. should they be hit on the side, clean the revolver; if this still continues, take another. it is useless to keep on while this is happening. be very careful to see that you are using your own ammunition, the proper sort for each particular pistol, and not taking some other that happens to be lying about. also be very particular to have your pistol passed, the trigger-pull tested, and ammunition examined before shooting, by the official appointed for the purpose by the national rifle association, whose office is at the firing-point. this should be done every day, morning and afternoon,--as the trigger-pull may have altered,--so that there shall be no chance of disqualification after a good score is made. although it is, as a rule, best to finish your shooting at one class of competition, either moving or stationary, the change from one to the other gives a rest if you find yourself getting tired or discouraged. moreover, as above explained, you secure a better "aggregate" by shifting from one series to another, though such changing would easily confuse a beginner. for the beginner, therefore, it may be as well to study one particular competition and compete in _it only_ at bisley the first year. this will probably place him high in the prize-list, and encourage further perseverance another year. chapter xi stationary fifty-yards target now we come to the fifty-yards target. to shoot in this series (known as "the long range") you require the smallest and finest sights which you can see clearly without trying your eyes. there is no advantage in having them smaller than you can see properly. also, it is well to have several pistols with sights of different sizes, and differently sighted: some high, some low, some to the right, and some to the left, so as to suit varying light. by the bisley rules, you are not allowed to adjust your sights. i have experimented with peep-sights; but one cannot hold a pistol steadily enough to get the full advantage of a peep-sight. have a zeis glass and locate each shot, correcting the next, if necessary, by altering your aim--as the rules will not permit you to alter the sights; shoot very deliberately; rest your eyes frequently; stop at every breath of air, and only fire when you are "dead sure." clean after each entry. do not keep on too long at this range. a few entries now and again are best, as it is very straining to the eyes and trying to the muscles. i prefer a heavy charge, as giving more accuracy at fifty yards; but one cannot stand many shots with a heavy charge without feeling the consequences. i do not think this deliberate shooting at fifty-yards at a stationary mark worth practising as a pistol is for quick shooting at a moving or momentarily appearing mark. chapter xii team shooting and coaching when you are a member of a team, do exactly what the captain of the team directs you. never mind if you think that he is wrong, and that you could do better work in your own way. it is "his show," and he alone is responsible; merely shoot as well as you can in his way. of course, if he should ask your advice, that is a different thing. should another member of your team ask your advice, refer him to your captain. if you are captain of a team, and have the choice of men, select, preferably, men whose nerve can be relied upon; a veteran who does not get "rattled," even if only a moderate shot, is preferable to a brilliant beginner who may go all to pieces at a critical moment. the man i prefer in a team is one who always shoots a good consistent score,--never brilliantly, yet never badly; you can always rely upon him to shoot up to his form. if you have two such men, let one of them shoot the first score,--if possible against your adversaries' best man,--so as to give your team confidence that they are likely to hold their own. reserve yourself--or your most reliable shot, who can be trusted not to lose his head--for emergencies, such as these: to shoot last, when everything depends upon making a good score; when the light is bad and likely to improve later; if there is a wind that may drop later; for pulling up a score when the other team is leading; for getting the sighting when you retire to the fifty-yards range; to shoot, "turn and turn about," against the most nervous or dangerous man of the other team, etc. you should specially notice if any of your team are getting nervous; prevent their watching good shooting by their adversaries, or looking at and comparing scores. encourage them to think that their own team is so strong that their own individual shortcomings do not matter. you can, in this way, "nurse" a man along who is on the verge of "going to pieces." if possible, do not let your men know how the scores stand. if there is a wind, rain, or bad light, consult with your most "weather-wise" man, and decide how to "place" your bad shots so as to give them the easiest "shoot." that is to say, if the wind is likely to drop later, shoot your strong shots when the weather is unfavourable. it is also a good thing to have a reliable member of the team stand behind each one who is shooting, to "spot" for him, keep time for him, and otherwise coach him, watching the time constantly, so as to let his man know _instantly_--if he asks--how much longer the time-limit allows him. coaching is allowed in team shooting, _but not in ordinary individual competitions_. do not let any member of your team leave the range on any account till the competition is over. have a man or two extra, in case of anything disabling or preventing one of your team from shooting. do not let two men shoot with the same revolver, as both men may be wanted to shoot at the same time. do not scold a man, however badly he may be doing; you only flurry him, and it does no good. do not have any refreshments for your team until the competition is over. chapter xiii shooting in competitions when shooting in competition, be careful not to spoil your opponent's scores. never approach or leave the firing-point while he is aiming or about to shoot. if he is about to shoot, and there be time, reserve your shot till he has fired; and do not fidget with your revolver or cartridges or get your target drawn up whilst he is aiming. keep perfectly still and silent till his shot has gone off. do not speak to him at any time, except to answer some question of his. if he is at all nervous, you might by a slight movement or word ruin his score. read carefully, _before_ shooting, the rules of the competition in which you are about to engage, and be sure you comply with every detail of them. if you find you have, inadvertently, transgressed a rule, report to the range officer at once, and get your score cancelled. write your name very distinctly on your score-card; i have known a man to lose a prize owing to his name being illegible on the score-card. see that your shots have been entered properly and rightly added up and corrections initialled. have your target dated and signed by the range officer, with the name of the competition also inscribed, and keep it as evidence in case your card should get lost. be sure you do not by mistake have a score entered on a ticket belonging to another series. before shooting in competition i put a weight in a chemist's scale equal to the _average_ weight of one of my loaded cartridges. i weigh each cartridge against it; put all of the correct weight aside for bisley, and keep the others for practice. by this means i minimize the chance of a weak or too strong shot. when you are at the firing-point, pay no attention to what any one else is doing, or to what scores have been, or are being, made, or to any of your scores being beaten; the great thing is to have the average all round high for the aggregate prizes. if you are constantly watching the scores of others, rushing from range to range as your various scores are passed, you will have much less chance of making good scores than if you keep plodding on, constantly adding a point or two to your aggregate. you can afterwards try to beat individual scores, if necessary. of course, if you at any time, in any one series, get a score which you think is up to the limit of your skill, you may let that series alone till you have reached your limit in another series. never watch a good man shooting; it will only make you doubt if you can beat him. it is also tiring your eyes uselessly. do not read or use your eyes any more than is absolutely necessary. when resting, dark glasses will be found a great relief to the eyes. i find that if i am getting tired of shooting, a half-hour's gallop on a horse that does not pull freshens me up, and helps to divert my thoughts; others may prefer lying quietly down and shutting the eyes. if you find yourself getting stale, drop the whole thing, even for several days. it will not be time wasted, as you will shoot better afterwards; and you will certainly get worse if you keep on without rest. never protest or dispute a score or decision. the range officers are doing their best under very trying circumstances. if you think any decision wrong, say nothing about it and forget it; you will only spoil your shooting if you worry about it. just set your teeth and make a score a point better than the disputed one ought, in your opinion, to have been. the protesting man is a nuisance both to himself and everyone else. should you see a man infringing the rules, leave it to others to protest. chapter xiv duelling the mere word duelling appears to shallow minds a subject for so-called "humour," like mothers-in-law and cats, but a moment's thought will show that, in certain circumstances, the duel forms the only possible solution to a difficulty. and it is not an unmixed blessing that duelling is abolished in england as "vanoc" in _the referee_ truly says. "for some reasons," he writes, "the abolition of duelling [he means in england] is a mistake. insolent and offensive language is now too frequently indulged in with impunity.... the best rule of all is never to take liberties yourself, and never to allow liberties to be taken with you, and to remember that self-defence is still the noble art." i think, though, that the still nobler art is the defence of others, and there are cases--which need not be gone into here--when a man _must_ fight. one of the reasons for this "humorous" attitude in the english mind (it does not exist abroad) is because sometimes abroad young men, wishing to advertise themselves, or their political ideas, fight duels, all the time never intending to hit each other, and in fact intentionally firing in the air. when two good shots "mean business," a pistol duel is a very deadly affair, as is shown by the number of men who have been killed in them. a duel with swords gives more advantage to a younger or a taller man, or to a man in the pink of condition, but a pistol duel will enable a much older man to hold his own. the challenged has the right to choose weapons, and if he choose pistols it is understood that the meeting should be conducted with single-shot duelling pistols. the british public are accustomed to confuse the words "pistol" and "revolver," and most pistol duels are described as "duels with revolvers" by those not understanding such things; but the revolver is not recognized as a duelling weapon, and any fight with revolvers would on the continent lead to a trial for murder if any one were killed. in challenging, the person considering himself aggrieved asks two of his friends to act as his seconds, and these he sends to his adversary. the latter at once appoints two seconds for himself, and the four seconds then make all the necessary arrangements. first they call upon a gunmaker--combatants in a duel are not allowed to use their own weapons--and two single-shot muzzle-loading duelling pistols of regulation pattern are chosen. in the presence of the seconds these are loaded by the gunmaker and put into a case, which is then sealed. this case is taken to the duelling ground by the gunmaker and the seal is not broken until everything else is ready, the reason of course being to prevent tampering with the pistols, or loads, or obtaining practice with that particular pair of pistols. a doctor is present at the duel with all necessary appliances. on the ground the seconds draw lots for where their men are to stand, it being of advantage to have sun and wind at one's back, or left rear. the distance is twenty-five metres, marked by canes stuck in the ground, and the shooters stand facing each other. when all is in readiness, the seconds break the seal of the pistol case, then the director of the duel takes the weapons out, holding them by the barrels, one pistol in each hand, and presents the butt ends to the duellist to whom the lot has fallen to have first choice. the other pistol is handed to his adversary. if shots are exchanged without result, the duellists exchange places for the next shot. it is not permissible to try the trigger-pull by cocking and lowering the hammer, but about how light or heavy the pull is can be ascertained to some extent when cocking. a light click indicates a light pull, and a loud click a heavier one. it is usual, especially if the duellists are good shots, and if they happen to be very angry with each other, to give them a very heavy trigger-pull in order to make it more difficult for them to hit each other. for the same reason the words of command in such cases are given very quickly. this prevents getting aim. it is well always to give a good strong pull back when firing, so as to avoid pulling off to the side if you have been given a very heavy trigger-pull. finally the duellists cock their pistols, the seconds stand clear, and the director of the fight stands midway between the duellists and about six metres back of the line between them. the duellists stand with their right elbows touching their right hips, butt of pistol to thigh, and their pistols pointing at the ground. the director calls: "attention--feu! un--deux--trois!" if either is not ready at the word "attention," he says so, but otherwise _after_ the word "feu" he raises his pistol and must fire before the word "trois" is spoken. if he does not have the butt of his pistol to his thigh, and muzzle to ground; or if he raises his pistol or even moves it before the word "feu"; or if he fires after the word "trois" has been spoken, and he kills his man, he is liable, if his adversary's seconds lodge a complaint, to be tried for murder. the usual speed at which these words are spoken is a hundred words to the minute, but, as i have said, the director often hurries the words in order to baffle the duellists and prevent their injuring each other fatally. whether the duel should continue if neither combatant is sufficiently injured after the interchange of shots to prevent his going on shooting is a matter that the seconds have arranged between them before the duel begins. it depends chiefly upon the gravity of the reason for which the duel is fought. the position to stand in, in my opinion, should not be quite sideways. of course one should, theoretically, make as small a target as possible for one's opponent, and therefore the coat should be buttoned close. but whereas if standing quite sideways one makes a smaller mark, if hit when in that position the wound will probably prove more dangerous. a bullet which would perforate both lungs of a man standing sideways, will most likely go through one lung only if he be standing more full face. several other internal organs are also safer when the shooters stand full face; by leaning forward the ribs are closer together and afford protection to the heart and lungs; also from a shooting point of view, one can make much better practice when standing more or less facing the object to be hit, than when craning one's head round to try and look over one's right shoulder, and so hampering one's right arm and straining the eyes. it is generally considered that one should look as dark as possible to one's opponent, and turn up one's collar to avoid showing a white mark. but with this i am not sure that i quite agree. personally i should prefer to shoot at an entirely black target without a white collar or white patch anywhere diverting one's eye, unless that white was at a place one wanted to hit. but, if a very bad shot were going to fire at me, i should prefer his trying to hit my collar, as he would then be more likely to shoot over my head, or to miss me by shooting past me, than if he tried to hit me in the middle of the body. the white collar would, however, be hidden by the right hand and pistol as soon as the pistol was raised, if aim were taken at an opponent's head. the position safest _for yourself_ is to aim at your opponent's head, and to get on to that position immediately after the word "feu," keeping your own head low. your right hand and the pistol-butt protect your throat and a good deal of your face and head if you lower your face as much as possible. some men stand in the position of lunging in fencing, which makes a still smaller target of the body, but then this exposes them to a more raking fire, and a shot which would only pierce the thigh of the right leg, if the duellist were standing upright, might glance along the thigh and penetrate the abdomen if he were standing in a lunging attitude, but it looks more manly to stand perfectly erect. a level-headed man would never agree to fight a duel unless he deemed it justifiable, and then most likely his whole attention would be concentrated upon killing his opponent, and considerations of personal safety would be neglected; in the same way that a steeplechase rider thinks only of winning and not of his personal safety--if it is otherwise he is no good as a cross-country rider. as the great object is to hit an opponent before he hits you,--as, if he hits you first, even slightly, he may spoil your aim,--it is better to hit him as low as possible, provided the bullet strikes high enough to injure him. it takes time to raise the pistol to the level of his head, or even of his armpit, whereas with practice you can flip the wrist up and hit him in the thigh or hip without raising the arm at all, and immediately after the word "un." if you hit him in the thigh it would not be of much use in a serious duel, so the hip level is the point to try for. an instance of perfect timing was that of a recent fatal duel where one man killed the other immediately after "feu," before his adversary had time to raise his pistol. in the report of a certain duel which took place in france recently several of the english papers made stupid jokes because one of the duellists did not fire his pistol (he placed it behind his back) at the word "feu." the writers seemed to think he had forgotten to fire, because, when questioned as to why he did not fire, he answered, "_j'ai oubliã©_." of course any one conversant with duelling would have known that by acting thus he meant that he did not desire to kill or to wound his adversary. a good shot who for any reason did not wish to hit his adversary would always put his pistol behind him rather than shoot wide and get credit for making a miss. it is more dignified to do this, if one does not want to shoot an adversary, than to miss on purpose. moreover, the latter act might be misconstrued into an attempt to kill. by french law, if a man is killed in a duel, the body must be left where it fell and the police informed at once. the police then make an investigation. the adversary is arrested and tried subsequently at the court of assizes. he ought, of course, to stop by the body and give himself up. he and his seconds may be condemned to imprisonment. not wanting to kill an adversary is also the reason so many duels are bloodless. men, in the heat of an argument, challenge each other. in cooler moments, they see that the cause of quarrel was not of sufficient importance to warrant their killing, or attempting to kill, each other. yet neither likes to apologize lest this should look like cowardice; so the two exchange a shot, and both miss on purpose. in this connection i may mention that the american law does not apply in the case of a duel fought by a citizen of the united states outside the geographical limits of that country; for, according to mr. r. newton crane, no offence is committed by the fact that an american citizen has participated in a duel beyond the jurisdiction of the united states. the citizenship of the combatant is, in such circumstances, immaterial. "on the other hand," he continues, "sending, knowingly bearing, or accepting a challenge, in england or america, renders the sender, bearer, or accepter liable to punishment by the laws of england or america as the case may be, whether the duel is subsequently fought or not, and whether it is fought in england or america or abroad, and whether the offending party is an englishman, american, or a foreigner. provoking a man to send a challenge is also an indictable offence. "the law applicable to the punishment for actually fighting the duel is, on the other hand, the law of the place where the duel is fought, and that law only applies to the offence. "provocation, however great, is no excuse, though it might weigh with the court in fixing the punishment. under the english law the punishment for sending, bearing, or accepting a challenge is fine or imprisonment without hard labour, or both. each of the states of the united states has penalties for the offence, which though differing in detail are practically the same in substance as those provided by the english law." whilst for a revolver i advocate holding the thumb along the top of the grip, the stock is too straight for this hold with the duelling pistol, and the thumb must therefore be turned down. how far you hold up the stock must be determined by practice. if you hold very high up, and you have a muscular or fat hand, the flesh between your thumb and forefinger will hide your hind sight. hold it as high up as possible, however, and do not get too much of the forefinger round the trigger; also remember to squeeze straight back in practising for duelling. a metronome to beat 100 to the minute is used. you cock the pistol and stand with the left foot behind the line of fire,--the right foot may be outside,--your elbow touching your hip, the butt of the pistol touching your thigh, and the pistol pointing at the ground. be very careful not to touch the trigger, as the pull is so light; be careful also not to point the muzzle at your right foot, for in that case you might put a bullet through your foot in the event of an accidental discharge. the assistant, speaking at the speed of the metronome, says: "attention! feu! un--deux--trois!" at the word "feu" you raise the pistol, which must be fired before the word "trois." the target consists of a black figure of a man in profile. shoot as i recommend at a disappearing target, but there are some differences. besides the grip and balance of the duelling pistol being different from those of the revolver, the pistol has to be raised from pointing to the ground, instead of from the hip level. this has a tendency to make you shoot low, as the time taken in raising the arm has to be hurried. if your last shot was low, aim higher; if it was high, aim lower. if you are careful to squeeze, instead of jerking, you are almost sure always to hit the figure, the only misses allowable being a graze of the waist to the left, or under the chin to the right. doctor devilliers has patented a bullet for practising duelling, the competitors shooting at each other. the bullet is useful also for indoor shooting where a leaden bullet would be dangerous. the composition of the bullet is a secret, but the bullet is light, and, when propelled by a cap with fulminate only, gives a hard rap where it strikes. when shooting with it at a man the following precautions must be observed, according to the inventor. 1. "don't shoot at less than twenty metres." it is useless to shoot with it at more than twenty metres, as the bullet rapidly loses its accuracy beyond that distance; the blow at twenty metres distance is not severe if one is properly protected against it. 2. "wear goggles, a fencing mask, and gloves." the goggles are now made part of the mask, and are of very thick glass, while instead of the shooter's wearing a glove, a metal shield is affixed to the pistol. _the hand must not be lowered before your opponent fires._ i once shot against a friend who omitted this precaution, and my bullet cut away the flesh at the lower part of his thumb. 3. "wear a black linen blouse." this may be necessary to prevent your clothes being soiled, but it makes you a bigger target for your opponent. therefore a tight-fitting coat is better. i shoot with no body protection. 4. "in winter be careful that the bullets do not freeze." i find it best to keep the loaded pistols on ice for some time before shooting--not letting them freeze, however--and not to let the pistol get too hot, for if the barrel gets hot the bullet does not take the rifling. chapter xv shooting off horseback when shooting off a standing horse at a stationary mark, turn the horse facing to the left at an angle of forty-five degrees. this is to prevent his flinching at the shots, as any but a very seasoned horse would be sure to do if you shot straight over his head or close past his ears. also, if he were to toss his head when you were shooting over it, you might both kill him and get either a rearing backward fall, with the horse on top of you, or else a "purler" over his head. if the horse shies away from the outstretched arm, tie a handkerchief over his off eye, as the bullfighters do, until he is accustomed to the noise and flash. there should be a bar in front of the horse to prevent his getting closer to the target than the distance for which the match is arranged; but if the bar is low, and the horse a good fencer, he is apt to jump at the bar. it is very difficult to get a horse to keep absolutely still, and for that reason it is often more difficult to shoot when the horse is fidgeting than when he is swinging along in a gallop. for shooting on a gallop or canter, the french rubber balloons filled with water, put up on the "heads and posts" principle, are very good marks, as they can be shot at with wooden or devilliers bullets, shooting alternately to the right and left. these rubber balloons are filled with water by a syringe which can be set to inflate them to any size, and the mouth of the balloon is closed by simply squeezing the metal mouth together. i can also recommend a target on the principle of the bisley "running deer," travelling on rails parallel to a railing, on the other side of which the shooter gallops and which prevents his getting too close to the target. firing blank ammunition at "lightning paper" stuck in the cleft of a stick is very good practice. the paper flares up on being touched by burning particles of powder, but of course the shooting must be done at a distance of a few feet only. i do not think there is much advantage in cantering too slowly; the speed at which the horse goes smoothest, without raking or boring, is the best. for practical purposes, shooting behind one, when galloping, is useful. this is, i think, best practised with blank ammunition at the lightning paper, or with devilliers bullets, otherwise it would be too dangerous. it is an assistance, when first learning, to catch hold of the pommel of the saddle with the bridle hand as you swing your body round to fire. when shooting alternately to right and left, be sure to lift the muzzle of the revolver clear of the horse's head as you swing it from side to side, or you may shoot your horse through the head, if he should happen to toss it at that moment. it is useless to try to shoot off a horse unless both you and your horse understand "school" riding. an ordinary hunter, ridden in the ordinary hunting style, needing both hands to lug at his head, and requiring half a field to stop or turn him in, is very dangerous at this game. the horse must turn, change legs, stop dead, and start again under the control of one hand only. a horse that naturally leads with his near leg when allowed to choose his own lead is preferable, as, having to range up on the near side of the mark, you can shoot better leading on the near leg, as this turns you slightly towards the mark. a horse is smoothest in his natural lead, and is rougher and consequently more difficult to shoot off when leading on the other leg. one can wear the holster as the cowboys do--a belt round the waist and the revolver hanging on the right hip, not round the waist in front as army men carry it. in front it is in the way of your bridle hand, and it is not so handy to draw; but, worn on the hip, it is also dangerous in case of a fall, and is perhaps best in a saddle holster. the revolver must fit loosely, so as to draw easily; but the holster must be deep enough, and must hang so as not to drop the pistol out in galloping. the flap of the saddle--where the hunting-horn is carried--is a good place to hang the holster, but this arrangement might hurt one if the horse rolled over; and one might be left defenceless by the horse galloping off with the pistol. i prefer a short-cheeked, single-rein curb with a loose curb-chain. why do writers so often talk of "pressing with the _knee_" to turn a horse? one uses the _knees_ to grip with and the _legs_ for turning and collecting, etc. i do not recommend a martingale if it can possibly be avoided, as it is apt to throw a horse down. chapter xvi pistol shooting for ladies a pistol puts the weakest woman, who is a good shot, on an equality with the strongest man. it is especially suitable for ladies to defend themselves with, as they have, as a rule, steadier hands than men, and there are certain pistols, just suited for ladies, which give no recoil, and yet are practical weapons. "u. m. c." gallery ammunition in a big .44 calibre smith & wesson russian model gives practically no recoil, and i have seen a lady do very good target shooting with it. with this revolver and load i have killed three rabid, or alleged rabid, dogs, so it is a practical killing load. i use the same revolver and ammunition for shooting park bucks. every lady should, to my mind, know how to use a pistol. she may at any time be in china or some other country where there are savage natives; and there is none of that danger of bruising the body which is so harmful to ladies using guns or rifles. the smith & wesson hammerless safety revolvers of .38 and .32 calibre are especially suitable for self-defence for ladies; but i should not recommend a lady to use these or any other short, light self-defence revolvers unless it be actually necessary, as the recoil is heavy and apt to hurt a lady's hand (particularly between the first finger and thumb) and tear the skin. this is inevitable in a revolver made as light and as portable as possible, and expected, nevertheless, to shoot a very heavy charge. the best plan is to fire a few shots (the hand being protected with a thick driving glove, from which the forefinger has been cut off), or, better still, ask a good shot, who also knows your "sighting," to do so for you, just to get the sights filed right, and then keep this pistol for self-defence only, and do practising and competing with a more accurate and more pleasant shooting weapon. the pistol to be used for practice and in competitions must depend upon your physique. if you are moderately strong, i think the .44 russian model smith & wesson, with the union metallic cartridge co.'s gallery ammunition, is as good as any; or, if this is too heavy, the .38 or .32 calibre colt and smith & wesson revolvers, with gallery ammunition, are very good and are specially intended for the use of ladies. the first-named revolvers are no longer made, but the solid frame revolvers of the same make and calibre are very suitable also, if shot with a gallery charge, if a second-hand russian model revolver cannot be found. the smith & wesson .32 calibre in .44 calibre frame, which i like for fifty-yards target shooting is rather heavy for a lady. ladies who are of slight build may find it too heavy; but with gallery ammunition it has no recoil whatever, which is a great advantage for ladies. always have a barrel not shorter than five inches and not longer than six inches, and save the weight, if you want a light weapon, in the general makeup of the revolver, fluted barrel, etc., not in length of barrel, as you lose so much accuracy with a three-inch or four-inch barrel that it spoils any pleasure in shooting. if you confine yourself to light ammunition, you can get a very light revolver which is safe with _that_ charge, and has no recoil to speak of. the smith & wesson, which has interchangeable barrels of .32 calibre for revolver, and .22 for single-shot pistol, is a very suitable weapon for a lady. the lighter forms of single-shot stevens pistols of .22 calibre are exceptionally well adapted to the use of ladies who prefer a single-shot pistol. the colt .22 calibre revolver is very nice for ladies' use. in mentioning particular firms, both here and elsewhere in this book, i must not be understood to mean that the weapons of any one maker are better than those of another. all first-class makers turn out good revolvers and pistols; and i merely mention those revolvers and pistols which i have used and am personally acquainted with, and which i find answer my requirements. a lady can carry a pistol hidden for self-defence in many more ways than a man, owing to her draperies affording more places for concealment. cloaks, capes, etc., make good hiding-places for a pistol; inside a muff is about one of the best places; and a small pistol in the right hand, inside a muff, that hand hanging down by the side, is ready for instant use. as ladies often carry their muffs in this way, it does not arouse suspicion. it is very important for ladies to protect their ears when shooting, with elliot ear protectors. chapter xvii stage shooting this subject can be subdivided into two parts: real, expert, very accurate work, requiring great skill and nerve; and conjuring tricks, that is to say, shooting assisted by apparatus and the arts of the conjurer. the greatest insult that can be offered to a professional shot is to call him a conjurer. to begin with the unaided shooting: you must have a safe background to shoot against. the best, in my opinion, is a steel plate, leaning towards you at an angle of forty-five degrees, and below it a shallow tray, filled with sand, to catch the bullets, which flatten on the steel and drop into the tray. as only very light powder-charges are used, and as the bullets for this purpose are round, or semi-round, this is sufficient. it is usual to have something for the bullets to go through before striking the steel plate. green baize is good for the eyes as a background; but it is dangerous, being very inflammable; it gives off fluff, some of which stands out from the baize, and the rest falls to the ground. this is like tinder and is liable to catch fire from burning particles of powder. some fabric dipped in a non-inflammable mixture should be used; either green, white, or black, whichever you find suits your eyesight best. the butt is either put "prompt" side of the stage (so that the shooter's right arm is nearest the audience), and at a slight angle, in order that people may see the target; or it is placed at the back of the stage, the shooter standing with his back to the audience. in either case, the shooter keeps his "tools" on a side-table, and when he shoots he stands quite clear of any table, so as to afford an uninterrupted view of all his proceedings. the range is about fifteen feet. this may seem very short, but it looks a long shot on a stage; and it must be remembered that the shooting is at very small objects and no misses are allowable. the golden rule to be borne in mind in stage shooting is: never hazard a shot that is not very easy to you, and which you cannot be practically sure of successfully accomplishing. if you try a difficult shot and succeed once in three times--such as hitting a cork thrown into the air--hardly any of the audience will think of you as aught but a bad shot; whereas, if you hit six stationary glass balls--each as big as an orange--in rapid succession, they will think you wonderful! several professional self-styled champion pistol shots, use both hands to hold their pistols which is never allowed in any pistol competition, and stamps them as no pistol champion. weapons one or more .44 russian model smith & wesson target revolvers; ira paine target sights; hair-trigger; union metallic cartridge co.'s gallery ammunition. i use the revolvers which formerly belonged to ira paine; several front sights, the finest about the size of the head of a small pin, the stalks as fine as a needle; hind sight adjustable, both laterally and vertically, with screw adjustment; trigger-pull so light that laying the finger on the trigger almost sets it off. with such a revolver, of course, extreme care must be taken never, for an instant, to have the barrel pointed in any direction except that in which it would be safe for the bullet to travel, and also to keep the finger off the trigger till you actually want the bullet to go. ira paine when shooting at objects on the head of an assistant, used to "come down" from above, instead of "coming up" in the usual way; so that if the pistol went off by accident there would be no danger to the assistant, as there would be if the muzzle travelled up his body to his head in sighting from below. i do not approve of shooting at objects on the head or in the hands of an assistant; it is not, in my opinion, justifiable to risk life in this way. the other weapon is a stevens, or smith & wesson, single-shot .22 pistol. some people use this to give variety to the show; but i prefer a duelling pistol. see that a narrow plank of wood--metal would, if struck, make a bullet glance--is put in front of the butt with slits and clips in it for holding objects. as mentioned before, i do not like assistants holding them in the fingers, though, for this purpose, steel thimbles are generally worn over the thumb and forefinger, and are concealed by a glove. professionals sometimes shoot objects on the heads of assistants--generally a lady with her hair piled up very high, or wearing a steel skull-cap under a wig. devilliers bullets make such shooting practically safe in case of the assistant being hit. the following shots i recommend to amateurs as safe. beginning with the easiest, we have: six stationary balls in a row or else the french rubber balloons. (the balls are cast from a mixture of resin and whiting; they are very brittle and break at a graze.) take them as quickly as you can be sure of them. with practice, you can "snap" the six off in about four seconds. next extract the used cartridges, and have them put in a row on the edge of the board, standing them on their bases. hit them in quick succession. this requires a little more care, as they are small; but their height prevents your being likely to miss vertically, and you have merely to pay attention to keeping your horizontal aim correct. be sure not to shoot too low; for if you do, and hit the plank, you will jar all of them off it. this can be varied, if you are a really good shot, by placing the spent cartridges on their sides with the cap end towards yourself; but it requires good shooting. shooting at an object with a wine glass on each side without breaking the glasses is a trick in which the difficulty varies according to how close the glasses are. put up a piece of paper with a black pencil line ruled vertically on it; hit this line. this requires care not to "pull off" to one side. a similar line horizontal. this is more difficult, as the elevation must be absolutely correct if you want to hit the line. hit a swinging ball. take the shot on a turn; do not follow, but aim at an imaginary spot just inside of where the ball is at one end of its swing, aiming at "ix o'clock," as the ball is momentarily stationary at its farthest swing to the right, or _vice versa_. put six balls in a row; hit one with the revolver in the right hand, a second with the revolver in the left; a third and fourth with the revolver upside down, pulling the trigger with the little finger and using alternate hands. the remaining two shots to be made with the revolver held half canted to the right, and then half canted to the left. after a little practice, none of these positions are difficult. the upside-down shot, as soon as you get used to aiming at the top edge of the ball instead of the bottom, is a very steady, easy position. for the two side ones, you aim at "ix" and at "iii o'clock," respectively. hang your watch on a hook on the board, and place a ball resting on this hook. break the ball. this is easy, as the ball is, comparatively, a big mark. aim at the top edge of the ball, so as to break it by a grazing shot near the top; this is less risky for the watch. do the same with any watches lent by the audience. a man once kept lending me his watch for this trick; i found out afterwards that it would not go, and he had hoped that i would hit it and thus be compelled to give him another! borrow small objects from the audience, and hit them. stamps on envelopes, visiting cards, bits of pencil, etc., are suitable; but do not shoot at anything which will make a bullet glance, or you may hit some of your audience. thus a walnut is very dangerous, causing bullets to glance. an orange or an egg explodes beautifully when hit, but both are rather messy. the coloured balls for christmas trees are nice to shoot at; but a bullet sometimes makes a hole without breaking them. put up the ace of hearts and hit it. it is usual to have a pack composed of only aces of hearts. have several ace cards placed on top of each other, and when the bullet goes through the group, have the cards "dealt" among the audience; or, if at a charity bazaar, sold singly. put up the six of hearts, and hit the six pips. this requires some doing to get all six shots neatly in the separate pips. put a card edgeways towards you and cut it in half. this is a pretty trick and brings down the house when well done. it requires the same skill as hitting the vertical pencil lines. if you are not very sure of yourself, and you succeed on the first shot, do not risk a second try. _this rule applies to all the difficult shots._ my best score at this game was five cards out of six shots, the cards being placed edgewise at a range of fifteen feet. hit a string from which an object is hanging. get string which is weak, and have the object pretty heavy, or else you may "nick" the string without its breaking. berlin wool, with a weight so heavy that it strains the wool to nearly breaking-point, breaks with more certainty than string or twine. there is an ingenious, though scarcely legitimate, way of making this shot very easy. you merely double a piece of string and tie a knot, hanging it over two nails, the distance between which is a fraction under .44 inch. two hooks on the ball are the same distance apart, so that the ball is thus hung by a double string. if you hit _between_ these, _both_ strings are necessarily cut by a .44 bullet, if your aim be true, while _one_ is cut even if you hit half an inch out. put a rubber balloon filled with red fluid on top of an empty claret glass; break the ball, and the glass will be filled with the fluid. take care the ball fits very loosely, and rests only slightly in the glass, or the latter will break also. knock a cork off a bottle; an ordinary wine bottle or a wooden or metal one is dangerous if hit, as causing the bullet to glance; it is better to have a plaster of paris bottle, painted black. put up a bunch of six grapes, and take them off one at a time. put up candles and snuff them. hit two balls simultaneously, one swinging past a stationary one, or both swinging from opposite ways. you have to take them just as one is about to cover the other. have a ball swung round horizontally at great speed centrifugally from a small wheel spun by clockwork. this requires very good "timing," you aiming at a side and pulling when the ball is at the opposite side, or you will be too late. stand two balls with a steel knife-edge between them, vertically towards you and rather nearer to you than the balls. hit the knife-edge in such a manner as to split the bullet in two pieces, which fly off and break the balls. the knife must be securely fastened, and the precise distance between the back of it and the balls (which varies according to the distance they are apart) must be determined by experiment. trick shooters use shot for this instead of a bullet. hitting an object with a paper on the muzzle hiding the mark. cut a round hole, just big enough to slip over the muzzle, in a piece of thick paper the size of an ordinary envelope. slip this over the muzzle, up against the front sight. when taking aim, it will be found that with the left eye closed the paper hides the object. by keeping both eyes open, however, shooting is easy, the right eye working the sights and the left seeing the object. the paper must not project much to the left, or it would hide your view with the left eye. fix a nail slightly in a block of soft wood and drive it home with a shot. chapter xviii trick shooting we now come to the conjurer's style of shooting, which i would not advise any one to practise, even for a charity bazaar; it will ruin his reputation as a shot. however, i will describe hereunder some of the devices in connexion with this trick shooting. the chief apparatus--under different forms--is a lever some twelve inches long. this lever is pivoted in its centre; one end has a steel disk about a foot in diameter, or less, according to the shooter's skill--of a size he is sure of never missing,--the other end has a steel point at right angles. the lever is placed vertically at such a height that the steel spike is just opposite the middle of the ball which is placed on the assistant's head. the steel disk is some eight inches above the man's head; the whole of this apparatus is hidden from the audience behind the "back-cloth" of the scenery. the locality of the disk is indicated to the shooter by something in the scenery, as a pattern, or a trophy of flags, etc. the assistant stands with his back against the back-cloth, and the ball is on his head so that the steel spike is just clear of the middle of the ball; the shooter then fires at the trophy of flags, or what not (which is eight or more inches above the man's head, and therefore a practically easy and safe shot); the bullet hitting the disk, drives it back; the other end of the lever with the spike comes forward; the spike goes through the scenery, breaks the ball, and at once returns out of sight. the trick is varied by having the lever inside a dummy figure, the performer shooting into the figure to break small objects on its head or in its mouth. a bellows is sometimes behind the back-cloth with the nozzle at the flame of a candle which is blown out when the bellows is hit; and the shooter is supposed to have snuffed the candle. the shooting can be done at quite long range from the back of the gallery to the back of the stage (for instance) by lengthening the lever so as to minimize risk to the assistant. another way in which the candle trick is done, is to have each candle inside a large concave reflector; the splash from the bullet comes back from the reflector and puts out the candle. shooting at anything moving--swinging balls, etc.--is done with shot; the shooting in this case must be done with a back-cloth over the butt, as the splashes on a naked steel plate would betray the use of shot. this makes very easy what in legitimate shooting requires nice "timing." the cartridge is either simply filled with special shot even smaller than "dust" shot and a wad, or if the cartridges are likely to be seen they are loaded with hollow wooden black-leaded bullets, full of shot, which the rifling of the barrel breaks, and these are substituted by "palming" for real bulleted cartridges shown to the audience. shot is sometimes fired out of a smooth bore revolver. two balls are broken with a revolver in each hand, shot simultaneously. this is always considered very wonderful, the performer pretending to take a long time over his aim, etc. one revolver is loaded with shot, the other with blank ammunition. the one loaded with shot is aimed between the two balls; the spread of shot breaks both balls. knocking ashes off cigar whilst being smoked by assistant: a long hat-pin is put into the cigar, the point just reaching up to the ashes. on the shot--a blank cartridge--being fired, the assistant pushes the knob of the pin with his tongue, and dislodges the ashes. objects held in the fingers or resting on the shoulders of assistants are shot with cork or devilliers bullets, and the assistant wears hidden steel epaulets and finger-tips. blindfold shooting is done by seeing down the side of the nose on to a looking-glass fixed at an angle behind the hind sight. what is called shooting through a wedding-ring and breaking a ball is done with the lever apparatus; the bullet does not go through the ring, but above it. shooting at the trigger of a loaded rifle fixed in a rest, the shot from the rifle breaking a ball on the shooter's head, is also another form of the lever apparatus. i think that in stage performances there should be a committee of shooting men appointed by the audience to see that the shooting is genuine and not trick shooting. chapter xix shooting in self-defence this chapter is written entirely from the technical point of view as a branch of pistol shooting, while the legal aspect of the question is treated by law experts in the appendix of my larger treatise, _the art of revolver shooting_. fortunately, however, in the great majority of cases, the object of protecting oneself--or, what is more important, protecting someone else--is attained without actually shooting. the mere fact of being armed is generally sufficient, and in many cases wearing the revolver openly or having it in one's hand, even unloaded, suffices. as polonius says: "beware of entrance to a quarrel, but being in, bear't that the opposed may beware of thee." but, if shooting _has_ to be done, everything depends on _getting the first shot_. i am _not_ dealing with the ethical aspect of the case; and, putting _that_ aside, if you can take your adversary unawares, and "get the drop on him" before he gets it on you, you have a great advantage. a short-barrelled pistol is best if it has to be concealed, but of as big a calibre as you can carry without its being too bulky and showing in your pocket. if there is no necessity for concealment, carry one six inches in the barrel. some prefer a large-bore army revolver, with the barrel cut down to two inches. i am assuming that the shooting will be done at a distance of only a few feet, and without aim in the ordinary sense of the word. it is very dangerous to carry an automatic pistol loaded in the pocket, unless it has a safety bolt. the proper way to carry a revolver (unless a "safety revolver" is carried) is to leave one chamber unloaded, and lower the hammer on that empty chamber. the revolver here described obviates these risks. this is the smith & wesson .38 calibre safety hammerless pocket revolver. this revolver cannot go off accidentally, even when all the chambers are loaded, as there is a safety catch which prevents the revolver being discharged unless it is pressed at the same time that the trigger is pulled. any one used to revolver shooting, who holds this revolver as i have described in my instructions for revolver shooting, and _squeezes the trigger_, will be able to shoot without thinking of the safety catch, for he presses it unconsciously in gripping the stock. a person not accustomed to a revolver cannot, however, fire it; in fact, if a man not an expert revolver-shot wrested the revolver from you, it would be harmless in his hands against you. indeed, the pistol could without danger be given, loaded, to a small child to play with, as it requires a stronger grip than a child's to discharge it. most revolver accidents occur either from the hammer receiving an accidental blow, slipping from the thumb, catching in something, or from the trigger being touched unintentionally, or the revolver being left at full-cock. in this smith & wesson safety revolver all these causes of accident are impossible, and it is always ready for instant use. its further advantages are: 1. there is no external hammer to catch in anything. 2. pressure on the trigger cannot discharge the revolver unless the stock is properly grasped at the same time. 3. the revolver cannot be kept at full-cock. 4. being hammerless, and having no projections, it can be drawn more quickly than an ordinary revolver. 5. it can be carried with absolute safety loaded in the pocket, with the knowledge that a fall or blow will not discharge it. this revolver is also made in smaller calibre (.32), with both 3 in. and 1-1/2 in. barrel. in the latter case it is called a bicycle revolver, and takes up less room in the pocket. this calibre might be better for a lady's use; but for a man i prefer the large calibre, as being more powerful. the cocking by trigger action in this revolver is so arranged that it can, with a little practice, be held at full-cock whilst the aim is taken, instead of the cocking and firing being a continuous action, as in other double-action revolvers. as to its accuracy i can put all the shots in a "man" target at twenty-five yards with it. carrying the pistol in the hip pocket is in my opinion a mistake, as the movement of putting back the hand to draw will instantly put an adversary on his guard and most likely draw his fire. for a case where you are likely to be robbed, the inside breast-pocket (where bank-notes are usually carried) is a good place for the pistol, as, when you are asked for your money, you can appear to be taking it out of this pocket whilst you are really drawing the pistol, or it can be shot from this pocket without drawing it. usually the right-hand side-pocket of a jacket is the handiest, or, rather, the pocket on the side of the hand you can shoot with best. shooting through the pocket is as quick and unexpected a way as any; another is to turn partly away, and in doing so draw and fire from behind your back, or under your other arm. but, assuming that you would prefer, if possible, to capture your assailant without shooting him, try whether you cannot unexpectedly "get the drop" (_i. e._, an aim) on him, and make him hold up his hands before he can draw his revolver. as in fencing and boxing, the great thing is never to take your eyes off your opponent's for an instant; and if by any subterfuge you can induce him to take his eyes off you, or distract his attention to anything else, then is the time to "get the drop" on him, or, as a last resource, to shoot. knocking a chair over, throwing something past or at him, with your non-shooting hand, or calling out to some imaginary, or real, person behind him may often have the desired effect. if he is a really "bad" man, and armed, the worst thing you can do is to take a pistol in your hand--or even make towards it--unless you mean to shoot instantly; it will only draw his fire, or he may unexpectedly disarm you in the way described below. supposing you are unarmed and your adversary has a pistol, you may be able to render his weapon harmless by ejecting his cartridges. this does not apply to an automatic pistol. the way to do this varies with different makes of revolvers, but the principle in each case consists in making a downward stroke on the barrel of his revolver with one of your hands, and in the same movement operating the opening catch or lever with your thumb. if you get an assistant to take an empty revolver and point it at you, and you practise this trick, you will find it very simple and effective, but of course there would be no use in trying it with an adversary who suspected you were about to do so. the smith & wesson russian model can be rendered harmless by seizing the middle of the barrel with your thumb under the catch, you being to the left and using your right hand, or _vice versa_. simultaneously with seizing the revolver give a quick quarter turn to your wrist to the right, and all the cartridges will fly out. with the webley, you place your thumb over instead of _under_, the catch in seizing the revolver, and press your thumb towards the palm of your hand in making the wrench. with solid frame revolvers, like the new colt and smith & wesson, you operate the catch, and instead of twisting your wrist, you push out the cylinder with your first and second fingers, at the same time pushing the extractor plunger with your little finger, but this make of revolver is much more difficult to disarm suddenly than those i have named above. with any hammer automatic pistol or revolver you can make it harmless by slipping your thumb under the hammer, or, in the case of a revolver, if you are strong in the grip, by holding the cylinder and preventing it revolving after the first shot is fired. i saw a very good suggestion in an article in an american paper--the writer's name i unfortunately forget--to the effect that it was an excellent thing, when expecting "trouble," to wear a big revolver ostentatiously and to have a smaller one in your hand, concealed under a cape, or otherwise; your adversary would think himself safe as long as he watched your big revolver and saw that you had not put your hand near it, whilst all the time you would be ready to "hold him up" or shoot with the other pistol, the existence of which he would not suspect. if a burglar is in your house, do not carry a candle, as that makes you an easy target in case he should try to shoot at you. the pistol which is sighted by projecting a light would simply give the enemy an easy aim. the iron rails of banisters, especially if they are wide, ornamental ones, are a good protection. a door is of no use (except for concealment _before_ the man has seen you), as a bullet with an ordinary charge will go through it. use a light charge revolver (gallery ammunition by preference) for house protection; with an automatic pistol you may shoot some of your family through a thin wall when "burglar-potting." out-of-doors, too, a lamp-post, or other narrow object, will spoil a man's aim by making him try to hit that part of you which shows on either side instead of his having your full width to aim at, even if it is too narrow or small fully to protect you. it is better not to try to give him a small mark to aim at by standing sideways, as then, if he hits you, he will rake all through your vitals; whereas, if you are facing him squarely, he may put several bullets into you without fatal effect. holding your bent arm across your heart, and at the same time protecting your temples with the side of your pistol--which duellists do directly they have fired,--may be of some use; but it is better to depend upon hitting your adversary before he hits you. if he shoots and misses you, drop at once, as if hit, and he will probably pause and give you a chance to shoot. if a man does not look desperate and capable of continuing shooting till he is killed, if you can break his shooting wrist it may be sufficient; and if he should try to shift his pistol from the disabled hand to the other, you can break that also. should you be mounted and your adversary afoot, jumping off and sheltering yourself behind your horse will protect you from a revolver-shot; but not an automatic pistol; also galloping hard at him and shouting may spoil his aim; but if he is cool he may take an easy shot at you when you are past and before you can turn. if a man is running away from, or coming at you, and has no firearm, you can make him helpless by shooting him in a leg; a long crossing shot in a bad light would make the leg shot rather doubtful, unless there be time to have several tries. if a man absolutely has to be killed, it is better to shoot where the white shirt shows in evening dress. this is a bigger mark than the head, and he may, moreover, duck his head as you pull. the stomach shot is a murderous one, and would not be justifiable except under very rare circumstances. a charging man at very close range would have the wind knocked out of him, and be stopped perhaps more effectually by this shot than any other. if your opponent is a bad shot, you can take a long shot at him from a distance, say 120 yards, at which, if he has a cheap revolver, he cannot hit you except by a fluke. in fact, a bad shot armed with a pistol is less dangerous than a strong, determined man with a knife. it must be remembered that a knife can be thrown some distance, so it does not do to let a man with one in his hand, or even suspected of having one, come too close. a cartridge loaded with salt is a good man-stopper for burglars and has the advantage of not endangering life, but of course it is of no use against a determined man unless he is shot in the face; and in that case salt might do even more damage to his eyes than a bullet, and a bullet would be a more merciful load. the writer of a small pamphlet entitled _self-defence_ says that to put the pistol beside the head of the bed, or under the pillow, is to court being disarmed during your sleep, and recommends having it between the mattresses, handy to your reach, or in a padded bag hanging at the side of your bed under the sheets, the object of the padding being to prevent the pistol making a noise against the bed when you are drawing it. this is all very well if you remember to take out the pistol each morning; if you forget, and the housemaid makes up the bed roughly, there may be trouble. it also advises rolling under a bed or sofa as a precaution when exchanging shots. make sure that nobody can tamper with your pistol or cartridges. i knew of a case in which a muzzle-loading revolver was kept loaded in an unlocked box at the side of the bed. when there was a burglary in the house, this revolver was found to have been _dipped in water_ and thus rendered useless! chapter xx shooting in the dark there are occasions on which it is necessary to shoot at night, as for a night-watchman; or in the case of a wild animal's jumping into camp and carrying off someone; or in night attacks. for this work, an exceptionally large _dead white_ front sight (either a fixed one or an adjustable one on a hinge) is needful. this sort of sight, though, can only be seen if there is moonlight, or at least some glimmer of light. in pitch-darkness, a large front sight with both itself and the rib of the barrel coated with luminous paint is useful, provided the pistol is, for several hours previous to being used, exposed to strong sunlight. if it is kept all day in a case or holster, the paint will not shine at night. also, in cleaning the pistol, the paint may be spoilt and may require renewing. i would not advise painting any pistol you care about. the most satisfactory way is to learn to shoot in the dark _by the sense of direction_, by pointing your pistol in the direction in which you conjecture the object to be, not attempting to see your sights or to "draw a bead." one can often see an animal on a very dark night by crouching down and getting it against the sky-line; and yet, on looking through the sights, you cannot discern anything. one form of practice is to have a target made of tissue paper, with a candle behind it to illuminate it. the sights are consequently seen in silhouette against it. this was the principle of the "owl" series of prizes shot for in the early days of wimbledon in the evenings. what i think better, so as to teach shooting by _sense of direction_, is to have one or more metal targets about a foot square hung by wires (these will give out a ringing sound when struck, and the rest of the butt should be of sand, or sods, or wood, so as to make a different sound). have a small sleigh-bell hung behind the middle of each target, operated by strings held by an assistant standing behind you. now, let him ring the bells at random, you firing by sense of direction towards where you hear each bell ring. this practice can also be done in a shooting-gallery at night with all the lights turned down, and it is perhaps safer there than out-of-doors. you can even have targets behind you, and swing round and "snap" at them; but this, and in fact all night shooting, is very dangerous, unless you can be absolutely certain that the bullets will do no damage, however wildly they may fly. a man with a good ear can do surprisingly accurate work in this style of shooting. such practice can be done in daylight by being blindfolded; and then your assistant can notice where your misses go, and help you to improve your shooting. the art of revolver shooting by walter winans chevalier of the imperial order of st. stanislas of russia vice-president of the national rifle association of great britain _with nearly 200 illustrations from original drawings by the author, and from photographs specially taken for the book. royal 8vo, handsomely printed, and bound in cloth extra, gilt top, uncut edges. price, $5.00 net._ mr. walter winans, the well-known champion revolver-shot, has been for many years working out the theory and practice of revolver-shooting, and this is the first occasion of his publishing the collected results of his close study of the weapon. although several chapters of the book give minute instructions as to how to shoot in order to win prizes at the bisley meeting, the author has not neglected the more general and practical side of the subject, and even such matters (hitherto regarded in the light of professional secrets) as trickand stage-shooting, shooting in the dark, etc., are treated in detail not previously attempted, while a chapter on how to use the revolver (as distinct from target shooting) in warfare, has a present interest that must appeal to many. _by walter winans_ hints on revolver shooting _with 20 illustrations specially prepared for the book. 12o. cloth. $1.00 net. by mail, $1.15_ "a thoroughly practical and helpful book, apparently written with the idea of imparting to those who aspire to excel with the revolver the knowledge that the author has gained with long experience. a perusal of its pages convinces one that he has succeeded in his endeavors and has produced a book of standard value."--_shooting and fishing._ practical rifle shooting _with frontispiece. 12o. cloth. 50 cents net. by mail, 60 cents_ "mr. winans is one of the world's most expert marksmen, and he tells in the most concise and lucid way how the veriest tyro may make himself proficient as a rifle shot."--_lloyd's weekly news._ "it is short and well to the point; for the soundness of the advice offered the author's name is ample warrant."--_oxford magazine._ shooting for ladies _with 15 illustrations. 12o. cloth. 50 cents. by mail, 60 cents_ mr. winans, who is the world's champion double-rifle shot, believes that with light modern rifles and revolvers ladies can make excellent scores in target shooting without fatigue or danger of injury. this volume is addressed to beginners as well as to expert shots. the art of revolver shooting together with all information concerning the automatic and the single-shot pistol and how to handle them to the best advantage new edition revised and enlarged _very fully illustrated from original photographs by rouch, fry, purdey, penfold and others, and headand tail-pieces from drawings by the author._ _royal 8o, handsomely printed, and bound in cloth extra, gilt top, uncut edges. $5.00 net. carriage 40 cents._ "it is impossible to speak too highly of this admirably written and beautifully illustrated work. the author explains everything that there is to tell about revolvers and revolver shooting, and the artistic as well as the instructional merits of the full-page and other illustrations are quite exceptional. the volume has only to be seen in order to be desired by all who are interested in the subject with which it deals." _united service magazine._ the sporting rifle the shooting of big and little game together with a description of the principal classes of sporting weapons _with about 125 illustrations from original drawings by the author, and from photographs specially taken for the book._ _royal 8o, handsomely printed, and bound in cloth extra, gilt top, uncut edges. $5.00 net. carriage, 40 cents._ mr. winans has earned for himself an international reputation on the art of rifleand revolver-shooting, and his earlier works on the subject have been accepted as standards. the present work is profusely illustrated, both by the author, t. blinks, and other well-known artists, and gives the fullest details with diagrams as to how to handle the rifle for all sorts of game shooting, and also for winning prizes in shooting competitions at moving targets. besides illustrating the various makes of rifles, there is a unique set of working drawings showing in minute detail how to construct "running deer" and disappearing targets. maps and plans giving directions how to post the guns for deer driving, and how to manoeuvre the beaters is also featured in this important work. the natural history is illustrated by a series of photographs taken from life by h. penfold. animal sculpture suggestions for greater realism in modeling by walter winans gold medallist for sculpture, fifth olympiad, stockholm, 1912. grand prix for sculpture, milan, 1912. grand prix for sculpture, barcelona, 1912. silver medal for sculpture, paris, 1900. _8o. 26 illustrations. $1.75 net_ although perhaps better known as a rifle and revolver shot and as the author of many informing books on different kinds of shooting, mr. winans is a sculptor of distinction, having been awarded gold and silver medals for his statues of horses. in the present volume mr. winans reproduces illustrations of many familiar masterpieces of animal sculpture, showing that many of them, although superficially effective, are marred by serious faults of conception and execution. g. p. putnam's sons new york london team. the amateur poacher by richard jefferies preface the following pages are arranged somewhat in the order of time, beginning with the first gun, and attempts at shooting. then come the fields, the first hills, and woods explored, often without a gun, or any thought of destruction: and next the poachers, and other odd characters observed at their work. perhaps the idea of shooting with a matchlock, or wheel-lock, might, if put in practice, at least afford some little novelty. r.j. contents i. the first gun ii. the old punt: a curious 'turnpike' iii. tree-shooting: a fishing expedition iv. egg-time: a 'gip'-trap v. woodland twilight: traitors on the gibbet vi. lurcher-land: 'the park' vii. oby, and his system: the moucher's calendar viii. churchyard pheasants: before the bench ix. luke, the rabbit-contractor: the brook path. x. farmer willum's place: snipe-shooting xi. ferreting: a rabbit-hunter xii. a winter night: old tricks: pheasant-stalking: matchlock versus breech-loader: conclusion the amateur poacher chapter i the first gun they burned the old gun that used to stand in the dark corner up in the garret, close to the stuffed fox that always grinned so fiercely. perhaps the reason why he seemed in such a ghastly rage was that he did not come by his death fairly. otherwise his pelt would not have been so perfect. and why else was he put away up there out of sight?--and so magnificent a brush as he had too. but there he stood, and mounted guard over the old flintlock that was so powerful a magnet to us in those days. though to go up there alone was no slight trial of moral courage after listening to the horrible tales of the carters in the stable, or the old women who used to sit under the hedge in the shade, on an armful of hay, munching their crusts at luncheon time. the great cavernous place was full of shadows in the brightest summer day; for the light came only through the chinks in the shutters. these were flush with the floor and bolted firmly. the silence was intense, it being so near the roof and so far away from the inhabited parts of the house. yet there were sometimes strange acoustical effects--as when there came a low tapping at the shutters, enough to make your heart stand still. there was then nothing for it but to dash through the doorway into the empty cheese-room adjoining, which was better lighted. no doubt it was nothing but the labourers knocking the stakes in for the railing round the rickyard, but why did it sound just exactly outside the shutters? when that ceased the staircase creaked, or the pear-tree boughs rustled against the window. the staircase always waited till you had forgotten all about it before the loose worm-eaten planks sprang back to their place. had it not been for the merry whistling of the starlings on the thatch above, it would not have been possible to face the gloom and the teeth of reynard, ever in the act to snap, and the mystic noises, and the sense of guilt--for the gun was forbidden. besides which there was the black mouth of the open trapdoor overhead yawning fearfully--a standing terror and temptation; for there was a legend of a pair of pistols thrown up there out of the way--a treasure-trove tempting enough to make us face anything. but orion must have the credit of the courage; i call him orion because he was a hunter and had a famous dog. the last i heard of him he had just ridden through a prairie fire, and says the people out there think nothing of it. we dragged an ancient linen-press under the trapdoor, and put some boxes on that, and finally a straight-backed oaken chair. one or two of those chairs were split up and helped to do the roasting on the kitchen hearth. so, climbing the pile, we emerged under the rafters, and could see daylight faintly in several places coming through the starlings' holes. one or two bats fluttered to and fro as we groped among the lumber, but no pistols could be discovered; nothing but a cannon-ball, rusty enough and about as big as an orange, which they say was found in the wood, where there was a brush in oliver's time. in the middle of our expedition there came the well-known whistle, echoing about the chimneys, with which it was the custom to recall us to dinner. how else could you make people hear who might be cutting a knobbed stick in the copse half a mile away or bathing in the lake? we had to jump down with a run; and then came the difficulty; for black dusty cobwebs, the growth of fifty years, clothed us from head to foot. there was no brushing or picking them off, with that loud whistle repeated every two minutes. the fact where we had been was patent to all; and so the chairs got burned--but one, which was rickety. after which a story crept out, of a disjointed skeleton lying in a corner under the thatch. though just a little suspicious that this might be a _ruse_ to frighten us from a second attempt, we yet could not deny the possibility of its being true. sometimes in the dusk, when i sat poring over 'koenigsmark, the robber,' by the little window in the cheese-room, a skull seemed to peer down the trapdoor. but then i had the flintlock by me for protection. there were giants in the days when that gun was made; for surely no modern mortal could have held that mass of metal steady to his shoulder. the linen-press and a chest on the top of it formed, however, a very good gun-carriage; and, thus mounted, aim could be taken out of the window at the old mare feeding in the meadow below by the brook, and a 'bead' could be drawn upon molly, the dairymaid, kissing the fogger behind the hedge, little dreaming that the deadly tube was levelled at them. at least this practice and drill had one useful effect--the eye got accustomed to the flash from the pan, instead of blinking the discharge, which ruins the shooting. almost everybody and everything on the place got shot dead in this way without knowing it. it was not so easy as might be supposed to find proper flints. the best time to look for them was after a heavy storm of rain had washed a shallow channel beside the road, when you might select some hardy splinters which had lain hidden under the dust. how we were found out is not quite clear: perhaps the powder left a smell of sulphur for any one who chanced to go up in the garret. but, however that may be, one day, as we came in unexpectedly from a voyage in the punt, something was discovered burning among the logs on the kitchen hearth; and, though a desperate rescue was attempted, nothing was left but the barrel of our precious gun and some crooked iron representing the remains of the lock. there are things that are never entirely forgotten, though the impression may become fainter as years go by. the sense of the cruel injustice of that act will never quite depart. but they could not burn the barrel, and we almost succeeded in fitting it to a stock of elder. elder has a thick pith running down the centre: by removing that the gouge and chisel had not much work to do to make a groove for the old bell-mouthed barrel to lie in. the matchlock, for as such it was intended, was nearly finished when our hopes were dashed to the ground by a piece of unnatural cunning. one morning the breechpiece that screwed in was missing. this was fatal. a barrel without a breechpiece is like a cup without a bottom. it was all over. there are days in spring when the white clouds go swiftly past, with occasional breaks of bright sunshine lighting up a spot in the landscape. that is like the memory of one's youth. there is a long dull blank, and then a brilliant streak of recollection. doubtless it was a year or two afterwards when, seeing that the natural instinct could not be suppressed but had better be recognised, they produced a real gun (single-barrel) for me from the clock-case. it stood on the landing just at the bottom of the dark flight that led to the garret. an oaken case six feet high or more, and a vast dial, with a mysterious picture of a full moon and a ship in full sail that somehow indicated the quarters of the year, if you had been imitating rip van winkle and after a sleep of six months wanted to know whether it was spring or autumn. but only to think that all the while we were puzzling over the moon and the ship and the queer signs on the dial a gun was hidden inside! the case was locked, it is true; but there are ways of opening locks, and we were always handy with tools. this gun was almost, but not quite so long as the other. that dated from the time between stuart and hanover; this might not have been more than seventy years old. and a beautiful piece of workmanship it was: my new double breechloader is a coarse common thing to compare with it. long and slender and light as a feather, it came to the shoulder with wonderful ease. then there was a groove on the barrel at the breech and for some inches up which caught the eye and guided the glance like a trough to the sight at the muzzle and thence to the bird. the stock was shod with brass, and the trigger-guard was of brass, with a kind of flange stretching half-way down to the butt and inserted in the wood. after a few minutes' polishing it shone like gold, and to see the sunlight flash on it was a joy. you might note the grain of the barrel, for it had not been browned; and it took a good deal of sand to get the rust off. by aid of a little oil and careful wiping after a shower it was easy to keep it bright. those browned barrels only encourage idleness. the lock was a trifle dull at first, simply from lack of use. a small screwdriver soon had it to pieces, and it speedily clicked again sweet as a flute. if the hammer came back rather far when at full-cock, that was because the lock had been converted from a flint, and you could not expect it to be absolutely perfect. besides which, as the fall was longer the blow was heavier, and the cap was sure to explode. by old farmhouses, mostly in exposed places (for which there is a reason), one or more huge walnut trees may be found. the provident folk of those days planted them with the purpose of having their own gunstocks cut out of the wood when the tree was thrown. they could then be sure it was really walnut, and a choice piece of timber thoroughly well seasoned. i like to think of those times, when men settled themselves down, and planted and planned and laid out their gardens and orchards and woods, as if they and their sons and sons' sons, to the twentieth generation, were sure to enjoy the fruit of their labour. the reason why the walnuts are put in exposed places, on the slope of a rise, with open aspect to the east and north, is because the walnut is a foolish tree that will not learn by experience. if it feels the warmth of a few genial days in early spring, it immediately protrudes its buds; and the next morning a bitter frost cuts down every hope of fruit for that year, leaving the leaf as black as may be. wherefore the east wind is desirable to keep it as backward as possible. there was a story that the stock of this gun had been cut out of a walnut tree that was thrown on the place by my great-grandfather, who saw it well seasoned, being a connoisseur of timber, which is, indeed, a sort of instinct in all his descendants. and a vast store of philosophy there is in timber if you study it aright. after cleaning the gun and trying it at a mark, the next thing was to get a good shot with it. now there was an elm that stood out from the hedge a little, almost at the top of the meadow, not above five-and-twenty yards from the other hedge that bounded the field. two mounds could therefore be commanded by any one in ambush behind the elm, and all the angular corner of the mead was within range. it was not far from the house; but the ground sank into a depression there, and the ridge of it behind shut out everything except just the roof of the tallest hayrick. as one sat on the sward behind the elm, with the back turned on the rick and nothing in front but the tall elms and the oaks in the other hedge, it was quite easy to fancy it the verge of the prairie with the backwoods close by. the rabbits had scratched the yellow sand right out into the grass--it is always very much brighter in colour where they have just been at work--and the fern, already almost yellow too, shaded the mouths of their buries. thick bramble bushes grew out from the mound and filled the space between it and the elm: there were a few late flowers on them still, but the rest were hardening into red sour berries. westwards, the afternoon sun, with all his autumn heat, shone full against the hedge and into the recess, and there was not the shadow of a leaf for shelter on that side. the gun was on the turf, and the little hoppers kept jumping out of the grass on to the stock: once their king, a grasshopper, alighted on it and rested, his green limbs tipped with red rising above his back. about the distant wood and the hills there was a soft faint haze, which is what nature finishes her pictures with. something in the atmosphere which made it almost visible: all the trees seemed to stand in a liquid light--the sunbeams were suspended in the air instead of passing through. the butterflies even were very idle in the slumberous warmth; and the great green dragon-fly rested on a leaf, his tail arched a little downwards, just as he puts it when he wishes to stop suddenly in his flight. the broad glittering trigger-guard got quite hot in the sun, and the stock was warm when i felt it every now and then. the grain of the walnut-wood showed plainly through the light polish: it was not varnished like the stock of the double-barrel they kept padlocked to the rack over the high mantelpiece indoors. still you could see the varnish. it was of a rich dark horse-chestnut colour, and yet so bright and clear that if held close you could see your face in it. behind it the grain of the wood was just perceptible; especially at the grip, where hard hands had worn it away somewhat. the secret of that varnish is lost--like that of the varnish on the priceless old violins. but you could feel the wood more in my gun: so that it was difficult to keep the hand off it, though the rabbits would not come out; and the shadowless recess grew like a furnace, for it focussed the rays of the sun. the heat on the sunny side of a thick hedge between three and four in the afternoon is almost tropical if you remain still, because the air is motionless: the only relief is to hold your hat loose; or tilt it against your head, the other edge of the brim on the ground. then the grass-blades rise up level with the forehead. there is a delicious smell in growing grass, and a sweetness comes up from the earth. still it got hotter and hotter; and it was not possible to move in the least degree, lest a brown creature sitting on the sand at the mouth of his hole, and hidden himself by the fern, should immediately note it. and orion was waiting in the rickyard for the sound of the report, and very likely the shepherd too. we knew that men in africa, watched by lions, had kept still in the sunshine till, reflected from the rock, it literally scorched them, not daring to move; and we knew all about the stoicism of the red indians. but ulysses was ever my pattern and model: that man of infinite patience and resource. so, though the sun might burn and the air become suffocating in that close corner, and the quivering line of heat across the meadow make the eyes dizzy to watch, yet not a limb must be moved. the black flies came in crowds; but they are not so tormenting if you plunge your face in the grass, though they titillate the back of the hand as they run over it. under the bramble bush was a bury that did not look much used; and once or twice a great blue fly came out of it, the buzz at first sounding hollow and afar off and becoming clearer as it approached the mouth of the hole. there was the carcass of a dead rabbit inside no doubt. a humble-bee wandering along--they are restless things--buzzed right under my hat, and became entangled in the grass by my ear. now we knew by experience in taking their honey that they could sting sharply if irritated, though good-tempered by nature. how he 'burred' and buzzed and droned!--till by-and-by, crawling up the back of my head, he found an open space and sailed away. then, looking out again, there was a pair of ears in the grass not ten yards distant: a rabbit had come out at last. but the first delight was quickly over: the ears were short and sharply pointed, and almost pinkly transparent. what would the shepherd say if i brought home one of his hated enemies no bigger than a rat? the young rabbit made waiting still more painful, being far enough from the hedge to get a clear view into the recess if anything attracted his notice. why the shepherd hated rabbits was because the sheep would not feed where they had worn their runs in the grass. not the least movement was possible now--not even that little shifting which makes a position just endurable: the heat seemed to increase; the thought of ulysses could hardly restrain the almost irresistible desire to stir. when, suddenly, there was a slight rustling among the boughs of an oak in the other hedge, as of wings against twigs: it was a woodpigeon, better game than a rabbit. he would, i knew, first look round before he settled himself to preen his feathers on the branch, and, if everything was still while that keen inspection lasted, would never notice me. this is their habit--and the closer you are underneath them the less chance of their perceiving you: for a pigeon perched rarely looks straight downwards. if flying, it is just the reverse; for then they seem to see under them quicker than in any other direction. slowly lifting the long barrel of the gun--it was fortunate the sunlight glancing on the bright barrel was not reflected towards the oak--i got it to bear upon the bird; but then came a doubt. it was all eight-and-twenty yards across the angle of the meadow to the oak--a tremendous long shot under the circumstances. for they would not trust us with the large copper powder-flask, but only with a little pistol-flask (it had belonged to the pair of pistols we tried to find), and we were ordered not to use more than a charge and a half at a time. that was quite enough to kill blackbirds. (the noise of the report was always a check in this way; such a trifle of powder only made a slight puff.) shot there was in plenty--a whole tobacco-pipe bowl full, carefully measured out of the old yellow canvas money-bag that did for a shot belt. a starling could be knocked off the chimney with this charge easily, and so could a blackbird roosting in a bush at night. but a woodpigeon nearly thirty yards distant was another matter; for the old folk (and the birdkeepers too) said that their quills were so hard the shot would glance aside unless it came with great force. very likely the pigeon would escape, and all the rabbits in the buries would be too frightened to come out at all. a beautiful bird he was on the bough, perched well in view and clearly defined against the sky behind; and my eye travelled along the groove on the breech and up the barrel, and so to the sight and across to him; and the finger, which always would keep time with the eye, pulled at the trigger. a mere puff of a report, and then a desperate fluttering in the tree and a cloud of white feathers floating above the hedge, and a heavy fall among the bushes. he was down, and orion's spaniel (that came racing like mad from the rickyard the instant he heard the discharge) had him in a moment. orion followed quickly. then the shepherd came up, rather stiff on his legs from rheumatism, and stepped the distance, declaring it was thirty yards good; after which we all walked home in triumph. molly the dairymaid came a little way from the rickyard, and said she would pluck the pigeon that very night after work. she was always ready to do anything for us boys; and we could never quite make out why they scolded her so for an idle hussy indoors. it seemed so unjust. looking back, i recollect she had very beautiful brown eyes. 'you mind you chaws the shot well, measter,' said the shepherd, 'afore you loads th' gun. the more you chaws it the better it sticks the-gither, an' the furder it kills um;' a theory of gunnery that which was devoutly believed in in his time and long anticipated the wire cartridges. and the old soldiers that used to come round to haymaking, glad of a job to supplement their pensions, were very positive that if you bit the bullet and indented it with your teeth, it was perfectly fatal, no matter to what part of the body its billet took it. in the midst of this talk as we moved on, i carrying the gun at the trail with the muzzle downwards, the old ramrod, long disused and shrunken, slipped half out; the end caught the ground, and it snapped short off in a second. a terrible disaster this, turning everything to bitterness: orion was especially wroth, for it was his right next to shoot. however, we went down to the smithy at the inn, to take counsel of the blacksmith, a man of knowledge and a trusty friend. 'aha!' said he, 'it's not the first time i've made a ramrod. there's a piece of lancewood in the store overhead which i keep on purpose; it's as tough as a bow--they make carriage-shafts of it; you shall have a better rod than was ever fitted to a joe manton.' so we took him down some pippins, and he set to work on it that evening. chapter ii the old punt: a curious 'turnpike' the sculls of our punt, being short and stout, answered very well as levers to heave the clumsy old craft off the sand into which it sank so deeply. that sheltered corner of the mere, with a shelving sandy shore, and a steep bank behind covered with trees, was one of the best places to fish for roach: you could see them playing under the punt in shoals any sunny day. there was a projecting bar almost enclosing the creek, which was quite still, even when the surf whitened the stony strand without, driven before a wet and stormy south-wester. it was the merest routine to carry the painter ashore and twist the rotten rope round an exposed root of the great willow tree; for there was not the slightest chance of that ancient craft breaking adrift. all our strength and the leverage of the sculls could scarcely move her, so much had she settled. but we had determined to sail that lovely day to visit the island of calypso, and had got all our arms and munitions of war aboard, besides being provisioned and carrying some fruit for fear of scurvy. there was of course the gun, placed so as not to get wet; for the boat leaked, and had to be frequently baled out with a tin mug--one that the haymakers used. indeed, if we had not caulked her with some dried moss and some stiff clay, it is doubtful if she would have floated far. the well was full of dead leaves that had been killed by the caterpillars and the blight, and had fallen from the trees before their time; and there were one or two bunches of grass growing at the stern part from between the decaying planks. besides the gun there was the indian bow, scooped out inside in a curious way, and covered with strange designs or coloured hieroglyphics: it had been brought home by one of our people years before. there was but one man in the place who could bend that bow effectually; so that though we valued it highly we could not use it. by it lay another of briar, which was pliable enough and had brought down more than one bird. orion hit a rabbit once; but though sore wounded it got to the bury, and, struggling in, the arrow caught the side of the hole and was drawn out. indeed, a nail filed sharp is not of much avail as an arrowhead; you must have it barbed, and that was a little beyond our skill. ikey the blacksmith had forged us a spearhead after a sketch from a picture of a greek warrior; and a rake-handle served as a shaft. it was really a dangerous weapon. he had also made us a small anchor according to plan; nor did he dip too deeply into our pocket-money. then the mast and square-sail, fitted out of a window-blind, took up a considerable space; for although it was perfectly calm, a breeze might arise. and what with these and the pole for punting occasionally, the deck of the vessel was in that approved state of confusion which always characterises a ship on the point of departure. nor must orion's fishing-rod and gear be forgotten, nor the cigar-box at the stern (a present from the landlady at the inn) which contained a chart of the mere and a compass. with a 'yeo--heave-ho!' we levered her an inch at a time, and then loosened her by working her from side to side, and so, panting and struggling, shoved the punt towards the deep. slowly a course was shaped out of the creek--past the bar and then along the edge of the thick weeds, stretching so far out into the water that the moorhen feeding near the land was beyond reach of shot. from the green matted mass through which a boat could scarcely have been forced came a slight uncertain sound, now here now yonder, a faint 'suck-sock;' and the dragon-flies were darting to and fro. the only ripple of the surface, till broken by the sculls, was where the swallows dipped as they glided, leaving a circle of tiny wavelets that barely rolled a yard. past the low but steep bluff of sand rising sheer out of the water, drilled with martins' holes and topped by a sapling oak in the midst of a great furze bush: yellow bloom of the furze, tall brake fern nestling under the young branches, woodbine climbing up and bearing sweet coronals of flower. past the barley that came down to the willows by the shore--ripe and white under the bright sunshine, but yonder beneath the shadow of the elms with a pale tint of amber. past broad rising meadows, where under the oaks on the upper ground the cattle were idly lying out of the sultry heat. then the barren islands, strewn with stone and mussel-shells glistening in the sunshine, over which in a gale the waves made a clean sweep, rendered the navigation intricate; and the vessel had to be worked in and out, now scraping against rocky walls of sandstone, now grounding and churning up the bottom, till presently she floated in the bay beneath the firs. there a dark shadow hung over the black water--still and silent, so still that even the aspens rested from their rustling. out again into the sunshine by the wide mouth of the green river, as the chart named the brook whose level stream scarce moved into the lake. a streak of blue shot up it between the banks, and a shrill pipe came back as the kingfisher hastened away. by the huge boulder of sarsen, whose shoulder projected but a few inches--in stormy times a dangerous rock to mariners--and then into the unknown narrow seas between the endless osier-beds and withy-covered isles. there the chart failed; and the known landmarks across the open waters--the firs and elms, the green knoll with the cattle--were shut out by thick branches on either hand. in and out and round the islets, sounding the depth before advancing, winding now this way, now that, till all idea of the course was lost, and it became a mere struggle to get forward. drooping boughs swept along the gunwales, thick-matted weeds cumbered the way; 'snags,' jagged stumps of trees, threatened to thrust their tops through the bottom; and, finally, panting and weary of poling through the maze, we emerged in a narrow creek all walled in and enclosed with vegetation. running her ashore on the soft oozy ground, we rested under a great hawthorn bush that grew at the very edge, and, looking upwards, could see in the canopy above the black interlaced twigs of a dove's nest. tall willow poles rose up all around, and above them was the deep blue of the sky. on the willow stems that were sometimes under water the bark had peeled in scales; beneath the surface bunches of red fibrous roots stretched out their slender filaments tipped with white, as if feeling like a living thing for prey. a dreamy, slumberous place, where the sedges slept, and the green flags bowed their pointed heads. under the bushes in the distant nook the moorhen, reassured by the silence, came out from the grey-green grass and the rushes. surely calypso's cave could not be far distant, where she with work and song the time divides, and through, the loom the golden shuttle guides. for the immortals are hiding somewhere still in the woods; even now i do not weary searching for them. but as we rested a shadow fell from a cloud that covered the sun, and immediately a faint sigh arose from among the sedges and the reeds, and two pale yellow leaves fell from the willows on the water. a gentle breeze followed the cloud, chasing its shadow. orion touched his rod meaningly. so i stepped ashore with the gun to see if a channel could be found into the open water, and pushed through the bush. briar and bramble choked the path, and hollow willow stoles; but, holding the gun upright, it was possible to force through, till, pushing between a belt of reeds and round an elder thicket, i came suddenly on a deep, clear pool--all but walking into it. up rose a large bird out of the water with a bustling of wings and splashing, compelled to 'rocket' by the thick bushes and willow poles. there was no time to aim; but the old gun touched the shoulder and went off without conscious volition on my part. the bird flew over the willows, but the next moment there was a heavy splash somewhere beyond out of sight. then came an echo of the report sent back from the woods adjoining, and another, and a third and fourth, as the sound rolled along the side of the hill, caught in the coombes and thrown to and fro like a ball in a tennis-court. wild with anxiety, we forced the punt at the bulrushes, in the corner where it looked most open, and with all our might heaved it over the weeds and the mud, and so round the islet into the next pool, and thence into the open water. it was a wild duck, and was speedily on board. stepping the mast and hoisting the sail, we drifted before the faint breath of air that now just curled the surface, steering straight across the open for the stony barren islands at the mouth of the bay. the chart drawn in pencil--what labour it cost us!--said that there, a few yards from the steep shore, was a shoal with deep water round it. for some reason there always seemed a slight movement or current--a set of the water there, as if it flowed into the little bay. in swimming we often came suddenly out of a cold into a stratum of warm water (at the surface); and perhaps the difference in the temperature may have caused the drift, for the bay was in shadow half the day. now, wherever there is motion there will fish assemble; so as the punt approached the shoal the sail was doused, and at twenty yards' distance i _put_ the anchor into the water--not dropping it, to avoid the splash--and let it slip gently to the bottom. then, paying out the cable, we drifted to the edge of the shoal without the least disturbance, and there brought up. orion had his bait ready--he threw his line right to windward, so that the float might drag the worm naturally with the wind and slight current towards the shoal. the tiny blue buoy dances up and down on the miniature waves; beyond it a dazzling path of gold stretches away to the distant osier-islands--a path down which we came without seeing it till we looked back. the wavelets strike with a faint 'sock-sock' against the bluff overhanging bow, and then roll on to the lee-shore close at hand. it rises steep; then a broad green ledge; and after that, still steeper, the face of a long-deserted sand-pit, where high up a rabbit sits at the mouth of his hole, within range, but certain to escape even if hit, and therefore safe. on the turf below is a round black spot, still showing, though a twelvemonth has gone by since we landed with half a dozen perch, lit a fire and cooked the fishes. for molly never could 'a-bear' perch, because of the hardness of the scales, saying she would as soon 'scrape a vlint;' and they laughed to scorn our idea of skinning them as you do moorhens, whose 'dowl' no fingers can pick. so we lit a fire and blew it up, lying on the soft short grass in a state of nature after a swim, there being none to see us but the glorious sun. the skinned perch were sweeter than any i have tasted since. 'look!' whispers orion, suddenly. the quill above the blue buoy nods as it lifts over the wavelets--nods again, sinks a little, jerks up, and then goes down out of sight. orion feels the weight. 'two pounds, if he's an ounce!' he shouts: soon after a splendid perch is in the boat, nearer three pounds perhaps than two. flop! whop! how he leaps up and down on the planks, soiled by the mud, dulling his broad back and barred sides on the grit and sand. roaming about like this with the gun, now on the water in the punt, and now on land, we gradually came to notice very closely the game we wished to shoot. we saw, for instance, that the rabbit when feeding or moving freely, unless quickened by alarm, has a peculiar way of dwelling upon his path. it almost resembles creeping; for both fore feet stop while the hinder come up--one hinder foot slightly behind the other, and rather wide apart. when a fall of snow presents a perfect impression of his passage, it appears as if the animal had walked slowly backwards. this deceives many who at such times go out to pick up anything that comes in their way; for they trace the trail in the wrong direction. the truth is, that when the rabbit pauses for the hinder feet to come up he again rests momentarily upon these before the two foremost are put forth, and so presses not only the paw proper but the whole first joint of the hind leg upon the snow. a glance at the hind feet of a rabbit will show what i mean: they will be found to display plain signs of friction against the ground. the habit has given the creature considerable power of standing up on the hinder feet; he can not only sit on his haunches, but raise himself almost upright, and remain in that position to listen for some little time. for the same reason he can bark the ash saplings higher up than would be imagined: where he cannot reach, the mice climb up and nibble straight lines across the young pole, as if done with a single stroke from a saw that scraped away the rind but did not reach the wood. in front of a large rabbit bury the grass will be found discoloured with sand at some distance from the mouth of the hole. this is explained by particles adherent to the rabbits' hind feet, and rubbing off against the grass blades. country people call this peculiar gait 'sloppetting;' and one result of it is that the rabbits wear away the grass where they are numerous almost as much as they eat it away. there was such a space worn by the attrition of feet sprinkled with sand before the extensive burrow at the top of the meadow where i shot the woodpigeon. these marks suggested to us that we should attempt some more wholesale system of capture than shooting. it was not for the mere desire of destruction, but for a special purpose, that we turned our attention to wiring. the punt, though much beloved, was, like all punts, a very bad sailer. a boat with a keel that could tack, and so work into the wind's eye, was our ambition. the blacksmith ikey readily purchased every rabbit we obtained at sixpence each. rabbits were not so dear then as now; but of course he made a large profit even then. the same rabbits at present would be worth fifteen or eighteen pence. every sixpence was carefully saved, but it was clear that a long time must elapse before the goal was attained. the blacksmith started the idea of putting up a 'turnpike'--_i.e._ a wire--but professed ignorance as to the method of setting it. that was a piece of his cunning--that he might escape responsibility. the shepherd, too, when obliquely questioned, shook his head, pursed his lips, threw his pitching-bar over his shoulder, and marched off with a mysterious hint that our friend ikey would some day put his 'vut in it.' it did not surprise us that the shepherd should turn his back on anything of the kind; for he was a leading man among the 'ranters,' and frequently exhorted them in his cottage. the carter's lad was about at the time, and for the moment we thought of applying to him. he was standing on the threshold of the stable, under the horseshoes and weasles' feet nailed up to keep the witches away, teasing a bat that he had found under the tiles. but suddenly the dusky thing bit him sharply, and he uttered an oath; while the creature, released, flew aimlessly into the elms. it was better to avoid him. indoors, they would have put a very heavy hand upon the notion had they known of it: so we had to rely solely upon the teaching of experiment. in the first attempt, a stick that had been put by for the thatcher, but which he had not yet split, was cut short and sharpened for the plug that prevents the animal carrying away the wire when snared. this is driven into the earth; at the projecting end a notch was cut to hold the string attached to the end of the wire away from the run. a smaller stick supported the wire above the ground; this latter only just sufficiently thrust into the sward to stand firmly upright. willow was used for this at first; but it is a feeble wood: it split too much, or bent and gave way instead of holding the wire in its place. the best for the purpose we found were the nut-tree rods that shoot up among the hazel thickets, no larger than the shaft of an arrow, and almost as straight. a slit about half an inch deep was made in the upper end, and in this slit the shank of the wire was sunk. once or twice the upright was peeled; but this was a mistake, for the white wand was then too conspicuous. the bark should be left on. three copper wires twisted tight formed the snare itself; we twisted them like the strands of a rope, thinking it would give more strength. the wire projected horizontally, the loop curling downwards. it was first set up at a spot where a very broad and much-worn run--more like a footpath than a rabbit track--forked into several lesser runs, and at about five yards from the hedge. but though adjusted, as we thought, with the utmost nicety, no rabbit would put his neck into it--not even in the darkness of the night. by day they all played round it in perfect safety. after waiting some time it was removed and reset just over a hole--the loop close to the opening. it looked scarcely possible for a rabbit to creep out without being caught, the loop being enlarged to correspond with the mouth of the hole. for a while it seemed as if the rabbits declined to use the hole at all; presently, however, the loop was pushed back, showing that one must have got his nose between it and the bank and so made a safe passage sideways. a run that crossed the field was then selected, and the wire erected at about the middle of it, equidistant from either hedge. near the entrance of the buries the rabbits moved slowly, sniffing their way along and pausing every yard or so. but they often increased their speed farther away, and sometimes raced from one mound to the other. when going at that rate it appeared natural to conclude that they would be less careful to pick and choose their road. the theory proved so far correct that next day the upright was down, but the wire had snapped and the rabbit was gone. the character of the fracture clearly indicated how it had happened: the rabbit, so soon as he found his head in the noose, had rolled and tumbled till the wire, already twisted tight, parted. too much twisting, therefore, weakened instead of strengthening. next a single wire, somewhat thicker, was used, and set up nearly in the same place; but it broke again. finally, two strands of medium size, placed side by side, but only twisted once--that is, just enough to keep them together--were employed. the lesser loop--the slip-knot, as it might be called--was at the same time eased in order to run quicker and take a closer grip. experiments with the hand proved that this style of wire would bear a great strain, and immediately answered to a sudden jerk. the running noose slipped the more easily because the wires were smooth; when twisted the strands checked the noose, the friction causing a slight sound. the wire itself seemed nearly perfect; but still no rabbit was caught. various runs were tried in succession; the size of the loop, too, was now enlarged and now decreased; for once it seemed as if a rabbit's ears had struck it aside, and on another as if, the loop being too large or too low down, one of the fore feet had entered and drawn it. had it been the hind leg the noose would have held, because of the crook of the leg; but the fore foot came through, leaving the noose drawn up to a size not much larger than a finger-ring. to decide the point accurately, a full-grown rabbit was shot, and orion held it in a position as near as possible to that taken in running, while i adjusted the wire to fit exactly. still no success. at last the secret was revealed by a hare. one day, walking up the lane with the gun, and peeping over into the ploughed field, i saw a hare about sixty yards away. the distance was too great to risk a shot, or rather it was preferable to wait for the chance of his coming nearer. stepping back gently behind the bushes, i watched him run to and fro, gradually approaching in a zig-zag line that must carry him right across in front. i was positive that he had not seen me, and felt sure of bagging him; when suddenly--without any apparent cause--up went his head, he glanced round, and was off like the wind. yet there had not been the faintest noise, and i could not understand it, till all at once it occurred to me that it must be the scent. the slight, scarcely perceptible, breeze blew in that direction: instantly he crossed the current from me he detected it and fled. afterwards i noticed that in the dusky twilight, if the wind is behind him, a hare will run straight at you as if about to deliberately charge your legs. this incident by the ploughed field explained the failure of the wire. every other care had been taken, but we had forgotten to allow for the extreme delicacy of a wild animal's sense of smell. in walking to the spot selected for the snare it is best to avoid even stepping on the run, and while setting it up to stand back as far as convenient and lean forward. the grass that grows near must not be touched by the hand, which seems to impart a very strong scent. the stick that has been carried in the hand must not be allowed to fall across the run: and be careful that your handkerchief does not drop out of your pocket on or near it. if a bunch of grass grows very tall and requires parting, part it with the end (not the handle) of your stick. the same holds good with gins, especially if placed for a rat. some persons strew a little freshly plucked grass over the pan and teeth of the trap, thinking to hide it; but it not only smells of the hand, but withers up and turns brown, and acts as a warning to that wary creature. it is a better plan if any dead leaves are lying near to turn them over and over with the end of a twig till they fall on the trap, that is if they are dry: if wet (unless actually raining at the time), should one chance to be left with the drier under surface uppermost, the rat may pause on the brink. now that the remotest chance of leaving a scent was avoided the wire became a deadly instrument. almost every morning two or three rabbits were taken: we set up a dozen snares when we had mastered the trick. they were found lying at full length in the crisp white grass, for we often rose to visit the wires while yet the stars were visible. thus extended a person might have passed within a few yards and never noticed them, unless he had an out-of-doors eye; for the whiter fur of the belly as they lay aside was barely distinguishable from the hoar frost. the blacksmith ikey sauntered down the lane every evening, and glanced casually behind the ash tree--the northern side of whose trunk was clothed with dark green velvet-like moss--to see if a bag was lying for him there among the nettles in the ditch. the rabbits were put in the bag, which was pushed through the hedge. chapter iii tree-shooting: a fishing expedition just on the verge and borderland of the territory that could be ranged in safety there grew a stunted oak in a mound beside the brook. perhaps the roots had been checked by the water; for the tree, instead of increasing in bulk, had expended its vigour in branches so crooked that they appeared entangled in each other. this oak was a favourite perching-place, because of its position: it could also be more easily climbed than straight-grown timber, having many boughs low down the trunk. with a gun it is difficult to ascend a smooth tree; these boughs therefore were a great advantage. one warm afternoon late in the summer i got up into this oak; and took a seat astride a large limb, with the main trunk behind like the back of a chair and about twenty feet above the mound. some lesser branches afforded a fork on which the gun could be securely lodged, and a limb of considerable size came across in front. leaning both arms on this, a view could be obtained below and on three sides easily and without effort. the mound immediately beneath was grown over with thick blackthorn, a species of cover that gives great confidence to game. a kick or blow upon the bushes with a stick will not move anything in an old blackthorn thicket. a man can scarcely push through it: nothing but a dog can manage to get about. on the meadow side there was no ditch, only a narrow fringe of tall pointed grass and rushes, with one or two small furze bushes projecting out upon the sward. behind such bushes, on the slope of the mound, is rather a favourite place for a rabbit to sit out, or a hare to have a form. the brook was shallow towards the hedge, and bordered with flags, among which rose up one tall bunch of beautiful reeds. some little way up the brook a pond opened from it. at the entrance the bar of mud had hardly an inch of water; within there was a clear small space, and the rest all weeds, with moorhens' tracks. the farther side of the pond was covered with bramble bushes. it is a good plan to send the dogs into bushes growing on the banks of ponds; for though rabbits dislike water itself they are fond of sitting out in such cover near it. a low railing enclosed the side towards me: the posts had slipped by the giving way of the soil, and hung over the still pool. one of the rails--of willow--was eaten out into hollow cavities by the wasps, which came to it generation after generation for the materials of their nests. the particles they detach are formed into a kind of paste or paper: in time they will quite honeycomb a pole. the third side of the pond shelved to the 'leaze,' that the cattle might drink. from it a narrow track went across the broad field up the rising ground to the distant gateway leading to the meadows, where they grazed on the aftermath. marching day by day, one after the other in single file, to the drinking-place, the hoofs of the herd had cut a clean path in the turf, two or three inches deep and trodden hard. the reddish soil thus exposed marked the winding line athwart the field, through the tussocky bunches. by the pond stood a low three-sided merestone or landmark, the initials on which were hidden under moss. up in the tree, near the gun, there was a dead branch that had decayed in the curious manner that seems peculiar to oak. where it joined the trunk the bark still remained, though covered with lichen, and for a foot or so out; then there was a long space where the bark and much of the wood had mouldered away; finally, near the end the bough retained its original size and the bark adhered. at the junction with the trunk and at the extremity its diameter was perhaps three inches; in the middle rather less than half as much. the grey central piece, larger and darker at either end, suggested the thought of the bare neck of a vulture. far away, just rising above the slope of the leaze, the distant tops of elms, crowded with rooks' nests (not then occupied), showed the site of the residence of an old gentleman of whom at that time we stood in much fear. the 'squire' of southlands alarmed even the hardened carters' lads as much by the prestige of a singular character as by the chastisement he personally gave those who ventured into his domain. not a bird's nest, not a nut, must be touched: still less anything that could be called game. the watch kept was so much the stricter because he took a personal part in it, and was often round the fields himself armed with a great oak staff. it seemed, indeed, as if the preservation of the game was of far greater importance to him than the shooting of it afterwards. all the fowls of the air flocked to southlands, as if it had been a refuge; yet it was not a large estate. into the forest we had been, but southlands was a mystery, a forbidden garden of delight, with the terror of an oaken staff (and unknown penalties) turning this way and that. therefore the stunted old oak on the verge--the moss-grown merestone by the pond marked the limit--was so favourite a perching-place. that beautiful afternoon i leaned both arms idly on the great bough that crossed in front of the seat and listened to the 'caw--caw!' of the rooks as they looked to see if the acorns were yet ripening. a dead branch that had dropped partly into the brook was swayed continually up and down by the current, the water as it chafed against it causing a delicious murmur. this lulled me to sleep. i woke with a start, and had it not been for the bough crossing in front must have fallen twenty feet. looking down into the meadow as soon as my eyes were thoroughly open, i instantly noticed a covey of young partridges a little way up beside the hedge among the molehills. the neighbourhood of those hillocks has an attraction for many birds, especially in winter. then fieldfares, redwings, starlings, and others prefer the meadows that are dotted with them. in a frost if you see a thrush on a molehill it is very likely to thaw shortly. moles seem to feel the least change in the temperature of the earth; if it slackens they begin to labour, and cast up, unwittingly, food for the thrushes. it would have been easy to kill three or four of the covey, which was a small one, at a single shot; but it had been a late summer, and they were not full-grown. besides which, they roosted, i knew, about the middle of the meadow, and to shoot them near the roost would be certain to break them up, and perhaps drive them into southlands. 'good poachers preserve their own game:' so the birds fed safely, though a pot shot would not have seemed, the crime then that it would now. while i watched them suddenly the old bird 'quat,' and ran swiftly into the hedge, followed by the rest. a kestrel was hovering in the next meadow: when the beat of his wings ceased he slid forward and downwards, then rose and came over me in a bold curve. well those little brown birds in the blackthorn knew that, fierce as he was, he dared not swoop even on a comparatively open bush, much less such thick covert, for fear of ruffling his proud feathers and beating them out. nor could he follow them through the intricate hidden passages. in the open water of the pond a large jack was basking in the sunshine, just beneath the surface; and though the shot would scatter somewhat before reaching him, he was within range. if a fish lies a few inches under water he is quite safe from shot unless the muzzle of the gun is so close that the pellets travel together like a bullet. at a distance the shot is supposed to glance as it strikes the water at an angle; for that reason the elevation of the tree was an advantage, since from it the charge would plunge into the pool. a jack may be killed in some depth of water when the gun is nearly perpendicularly above the mark; but in any case the aim must be taken two inches or more, according to circumstances, beneath the apparent position of the fish, to allow for refraction. sometimes the jack when hit comes to the surface belly upwards, but sometimes keeps down or sinks, and floats a considerable distance away from the spot; so that in the muddy water disturbed by the shot it is difficult to find him. if a snake be shot at while swimming he will sometimes sink like a stone, and can be seen lying motionless at the bottom. after we got hold of a small deer rifle we used to practise at the snakes in the mere--aiming at the head, which is about the size of a nut, and shows above the surface wobbling as they move. i recollect cutting a snake's head clean off with a ball from a pistol as he hastened away through the grass. in winter, when the jacks came up and lay immediately under the ice, they could be easily shot. the pellets cut a round hole through an inch and a half of ice. the jack now basking in the pond was the more tempting because we had often tried to wire him in vain. the difficulty was to get him if hit. while i was deliberating a crow came flying low down the leaze, and alighted by the pond. his object, no doubt, was a mussel. he could not have seen me, and yet no sooner did he touch the ground than he looked uneasily about, sprang up, and flew straight away, as if he had smelt danger. had he stayed he would have been shot, though it would have spoiled my ambush: the idea of the crows picking out the eyes of dying creatures was always peculiarly revolting to me. if the pond was a haunt of his, it was too near the young partridges, which were weakly that season. a kestrel is harmless compared to a crow. surely the translators have wrongly rendered don quixote's remark that the english did not kill crows, believing that king arthur, instead of dying, was by enchantment turned into one, and so fearing to injure the hero. must he not have meant a rook? [note: it has since been pointed out to me that the don may have meant a raven] soon afterwards something moved out of the mound into the meadow a long distance up: it was a hare. he came slowly along beside the hedge towards me--now stopping and looking into it as if seeking a convenient place for a form, having doubtless been disturbed from that he had first chosen. it was some minutes before he came within range: had i been on the ground most likely he would have scented me, the light air going that way; but being in, the tree the wind that passed went high over him. for this reason a tree ambush is deadly. it was necessary to get the line of sight clear of twigs, which check and divert shot, and to take a steady aim; for i had no second barrel, no dog, and had to descend the tree before running. some leaves were blackened by the flame: the hare simply fell back, stretched his hind legs, quivered, and lay still. part of the leaf of a plant was fixed in his teeth; he had just had a nibble. with this success i was satisfied that day; but the old oak was always a favourite resort, even when nothing particular was in hand. from thence, too, as a base of operations, we made expeditions varying in their object with the season of the year. some distance beyond the stunted oak the thick blackthorn hedge was succeeded by a continuous strip of withy-bed bordering the brook. it often occurred to us that by entering these withies it would be possible to reconnoitre one side of southlands; for the stream skirted the lower grounds: the tall willows would conceal any one passing through them. so one spring morning the attempt was made. it was necessary to go on hands and knees through the mowing grass for some yards while passing an open space where the blackthorn cover ended, and then to leap a broad ditch that divided the withy-beds from the meadow. the lissom willow wands parted easily and sprang back to their places behind, leaving scarce a trace. their slender tops rose overhead; beneath, long dead grasses, not yet quite supplanted by the spring growth, filled the space between. these rustled a little under foot, but so faint a sound could scarcely have been audible outside; and had any one noticed it it would have been attributed to a hare or a fox moving: both are fond of lying in withy-beds when the ground is dry. the way to walk noiselessly is to feel with the foot before letting your weight press on it; then the dead stick or fallen hemlock is discovered and avoided. a dead stick cracks; the dry hollow hemlock gives a splintering sound when crushed. these old hemlock stems were numerous in places, together with 'gicksies,' as the haymakers call a plant that resembles it, but has a ribbed or fluted instead of a smooth stalk. the lads use a long 'gicks' cut between the joints as a tube to blow haws or peggles at the girls. when thirsty, and no ale is handy, the men search for one to suck up water with from the brook. it is difficult to find one free from insects, which seem to be remarkably fond of anything hollow. the haymakers do not use the hemlock, thinking it would poison the water; they think, too, that drinking through a tube is safer when they are in a great heat from the sun than any other way. nor is it so easy to drink from a stream without this simple aid. if the bank be flat it is wet, and what looks like the grass of the meadow really grows out of the water; so that there it is not possible to be at full length. if the bank be dry the level of the water is several inches lower, and in endeavouring to drink the forehead is immersed; often the water is so much lower than its banks that it is quite impossible to drink from it lying. by the edge grasses, water-plantains, forget-me-nots, frequently fill the space within reach. if you brush these aside it disturbs the bottom, and the mud rises, or a patch of brown 'scum' comes up and floats away. a cup, though gently used, generally draws some insects in with the water, though the liquid itself be pure. lapping with the hollowed palm requires practice, and, unless the spot be free from weeds and of some little depth, soon disturbs the bottom. but the tube can be inserted in the smallest clear place, and interferes with nothing. each of us carried a long hazel rod, and the handle of a 'squailer' projected from orion's coat-pocket. for making a 'squailer' a teacup was the best mould: the cups then in use in the country were rather larger than those at present in fashion. a ground ash sapling with the bark on, about as thick as the little finger, pliant and tough, formed the shaft, which was about fifteen inches long. this was held upright in the middle of a teacup, while the mould was filled with molten lead. it soon cooled, and left a heavy conical knob on the end of the stick. if rightly thrown it was a deadly missile, and would fly almost as true as a rifle ball. a rabbit or leveret could thus be knocked over; and it was peculiarly adapted for fetching a squirrel out of a tree, because, being so heavy at one end, it rarely lodged on the boughs, as an ordinary stick would, but overbalanced and came down. from the outlook of the oak some aspen trees could be seen far up in the withy-beds; and it had been agreed that there the first essay of the stream should be made. on arriving at these trees we paused, and began to fix the wires on the hazel rods. the wire for fish must slip very easily, and the thinner it is, if strong enough, the better, because it takes a firmer grip. a single wire will do; but two thin ones are preferable. thin copper wire is as flexible as thread. brass wire is not so good; it is stiffer, and too conspicuous in the water. at the shank end a stout string is attached in the middle of its length. then the wire is placed against the rod, lying flat upon it for about six inches. the strings are now wound round tightly in opposite directions, binding it to the stick, so that at the top the ends cross and are in position to tie in the slight notch cut for the purpose. a loop that will allow four fingers to enter together is about large enough, though of course it must be varied according to the size of the jack in view. heavy jacks are not often wired, and scarcely ever in brooks. for jack the shape of the loop should be circular; for trout it should be oval, and considerably larger in proportion to the apparent bulk of the fish. jack are straight-grown and do not thicken much in the middle; with trout it is different. the noose should be about six inches from the top of the rod. orion said he would go twenty yards farther up; i went direct from the centre of the withy-bed to the stream. the bank rose a little above the level of the withy-bed; it was a broad mound full of ash stoles and willow--the sort that is grown for poles. at that spot the vines of wild hops had killed all the underwood, leaving open spaces between the stoles; the vines were matted so thickly that they hid the ground. this was too exposed a place, so i went back and farther up till i could just hear orion rustling through the hemlocks. here the dead grass and some elder bushes afforded shelter, and the water could be approached unseen. it was about six or eight inches deep; the opposite shore was bordered for several yards out with flags and rushes. the cattle nibbled their tender tops off, as far as they could reach; farther out they were pushing up straight and pointed. the rib and groove of the flag so closely resemble those of the ancient bayonet that it might be supposed the weapon was modelled from the plant. indoors among the lumber there was a rusty old bayonet that immediately called forth the comparison: the modern make seem more triangular. the rushes grew nearer the shore of the meadow--the old ones yellow, the young green: in places this fringe of rush and sedge and flag must have been five or six yards wide, and it extended as far as could be seen up the brook. no doubt the cattle trod in the edge of the firm ground by degrees every year to get at the water, and thus widened the marsh. it was easy to understand now why all the water-fowl, teal and duck, moorhen and snipe, seemed in winter to make in this direction. the ducks especially exercised all our ingenuity and quite exhausted our patience in the effort to get near them in winter. in the large water-meadows a small flock sometimes remained all day: it was possible to approach near enough by stalking behind the hedges to see the colour of the mallards; but they were always out of gunshot. this place must be full of teal then; as for moorhens, there were signs of them everywhere, and several feeding in the grass. the thought of the sport to be got here when the frosty days came was enough to make one wild. after a long look across, i began to examine the stream near at hand: the rushes and flags had forced the clear sweet current away from the meadow, so that it ran just under the bank. i was making out the brown sticks at the bottom, when there was a slight splash--caused by orion about ten yards farther up--and almost at the same instant something shot down the brook towards me. he had doubtless landed a jack, and its fellow rushed away. under a large dead bough that had fallen across its top in the stream i saw the long slender fish lying a few feet from the bank, motionless save for the gentle curving wave of the tail edges. so faint was that waving curl that it seemed caused rather by the flow of the current than the volition of the fish. the wings of the swallow work the whole of the longest summer day, but the fins of the fish in running water are never still: day and night they move continuously. by slow degrees i advanced the hazel rod, keeping it at first near to and parallel with the bank, because jack do not like anything that stretches across them; and i imagine other fish have the same dislike to right angles. the straight shadow even seems to arouse suspicion--no boughs are ever straight. perhaps, if it were possible to angle without a rod, there would be more success, particularly in small streams. but after getting the stick almost out far enough, it became evident that the dead branch would not let me slip the wire into the water in front of the jack in the usual way. so i had to draw it back again as gradually as it had been put forth. with fish everything must be done gradually and without a jerk. a sudden jerking movement immediately alarms them. if you walk gently by they remain still, but start or lift the arm quickly and they dart for deep water. the object of withdrawing the rod was to get at and enlarge the loop in order that it might be slipped over his tail, since the head was protected by the bough. it is a more delicate operation to pass the wire up from behind; it has to go farther before the spot that allows a firm grip is reached, and fish are well aware that natural objects such as twigs float down with the current. anything, therefore, approaching from behind or rubbing upwards is suspicious. as this fish had just been startled, it would not do to let the wire touch him at all. after enlarging the loop i put the rod slowly forth again, worked the wire up stream, slipped the noose over his tail, and gently got it up to the balance of the fish. waiting a moment to get the elbow over the end of the rod so as to have a good leverage, i gave a sudden jerk upwards, and felt the weight instantly. but the top of the rod struck the overhanging bough, and there was my fish, hung indeed, but still in the water near the surface. nor could i throw it on the bank, because of the elder bushes. so i shortened the rod, pulling it in towards me quickly and dragging the jack through the water. the pliant wire had cut into the scales and skin--he might have been safely left suspended over the stream all day; but in the eagerness of the moment i was not satisfied till i had him up on the mound. we did not see much of southlands, because the withy-beds were on the lowest ground; but there were six jacks strung on a twisted withy when we got back to the stunted oak and rested there tasting acid sorrel leaves. chapter iv egg-time. a 'gip'-trap there is no sweeter time in the woods than just before the nesting begins in earnest. is it the rising sap that causes a pleasant odour to emanate from every green thing? idling along the hedgerows towards the woodlands there may perchance be seen small tufts of white rabbit's fur in the grass, torn from herself by the doe to form a warm lining to the hole in which her litter will appear: a 'sign' this that often guides a robber to her nest. yonder on the rising ground, towering even in their fall over the low (lately cut) ash plantation, lie the giant limbs of the mighty oaks, thrown just as they felt the quickening heat. the bark has been stripped from the trunk and branches; the sun has turned the exposed surface to a deep buff colour, which contrasts with the fresh green of the underwood around and renders them visible afar. when the oak first puts forth its buds the woods take a ruddy tint. gradually the background of green comes to the front, and the oak-apples swell, streaked with rosy stains, whence their semblance to the edible fruit of the orchard. all unconscious of the white or red cross daubed on the rough bark, the tree prepares its glory of leaf, though doomed the while by that sad mark to the axe. cutting away the bushes with his billhook, the woodman next swings the cumbrous grub-axe, whose wide edge clears the earth from the larger roots. then he puts his pipe in his pocket, and settles to the serious work of the 'great axe,' as he calls it. i never could use this ungainly tool aright: a top-heavy, clumsy, awkward thing, it rules you instead of you ruling it. the handle, too, is flat--almost with an edge itself sometimes--and is quite beyond the grasp of any but hands of iron. now the american axe feels balanced like a sword; this is because of the peculiar curve of the handle. to strike you stand with the left foot slightly forward, and the left hand uppermost: the 's' curve (it is of course not nearly so crooked as the letter) of the american axe adjusts itself to the anatomy of the attitude, so to speak. the straight english handle does not; it is stiff, and strains the muscles; but the common 'great axe' has the advantage that it is also used for splitting logs and gnarled 'butts.' an american axe is too beautiful a tool for that rude work. the american was designed to strike at the trunk of the tree several feet from the ground, the english axe is always directed to the great roots at the base. a dexterous woodman can swing his tool alternately left hand or right hand uppermost. the difference looks trifling; but try it, and you will be astonished at the difficulty. the blows echo and the chips fly, till the base of the tree, that naturally is much larger, is reduced to the size of the trunk or less. now a pause, while one swarms up to 'line' it--_i.e._ to attach a rope as high as possible to guide the 'stick' in its fall. it is commonly said that in climbing it is best to look up--a maxim that has been used for moral illustrations; but it is a mistake. in ascending a tree you should never look higher than the brim of your hat, unless when quite still and resting on a branch; temporary blindness would be the penalty in this case. particles of decayed bark, the borings of insects in dead wood, dust, and fragments of twigs, rush down in little streams and fill the eyes. the quantity of woody powder that adheres to a tree is surprising; every motion dislodges it from a thousand minute crevices. as for firs, in climbing a fir one cannot look up at all--dead sticks, needles, and dust pour down, and the branches are so thick together that the head has to be forced through them. the line fixed, the saw is applied, and by slow degrees the butt cut nearly through. unless much overbalanced on one side by the limbs, an oak will stand on a still day when almost off. some now seize the rope, and alternately pull and slacken, which gives the tree a tottering movement. one more daring than the rest drives a wedge into the saw-cut as it opens when the tree sways. it sways--it staggers; a loud crack as the fibres part, then with a slow heave over it goes, and, descending, twists upon the base. the vast limbs plough into the sward; the twigs are crushed; the boughs, after striking the earth, rebound and swish upwards. see that you stand clear, for the least branch will thresh you down. the flat surface of the exposed butt is blue with stains from the steel of the saw. light taps with a small sharp axe, that cut the rind but no deeper, ring the trunk at intervals. then the barking irons are inserted; they are rods of iron forged at the top something like a narrow shallow spoon. the bark from the trunk comes off in huge semi-cylinders almost large enough for a canoe. but that from the branches is best. you may mark how at the base the bark is two inches thick, lessening to a few lines on the topmost boughs. if it sticks a little, hammer it with the iron: it peels with a peculiar sound, and the juicy sap glistens white between. it is this that, drying in the sun, gives the barked tree its colour: in time the wood bleaches paler, and after a winter becomes grey. inside, the bark is white streaked with brown; presently it will be all brown. while some strip it, others collect the pieces, and with them build toy-like sheds of bark, which is the manner of stacking it. from the peeled tree there rises a sweet odour of sap: the green mead, the green underwood and hawthorn around, are all lit up with the genial sunbeams. the beautiful wind-anemones are gone, too tender and lovely for so rude an earth; but the wild hyacinths droop their blue bells under the wood, and the cowslips rise in the grass. the nightingale sings without ceasing; the soft 'coo-coo' of the dove sounds hard by; the merry cuckoo calls as he flies from elm to elm; the wood-pigeons rise and smite their wings together over the firs. in the mere below the coots are at play; they chase each other along the surface of the water and indulge in wild evolutions. everything is happy. as the plough-boys stroll along they pluck the young succulent hawthorn leaves and nibble them. it is the sweetest time of all for wandering in the wood. the brambles have not yet grown so bushy as to check the passage; the thistles that in autumn will be as tall as the shoulder and thick as a walking-stick are as yet no bar; burrs do not attach themselves at every step, though the broad burdock leaves are spreading wide. in its full development the burdock is almost a shrub rather than a plant, with a woody stem an inch or more in diameter. up in the fir trees the nests of the pigeons are sometimes so big that it appears as if they must use the same year after year, adding fresh twigs, else they could hardly attain such bulk. those in the ash-poles are not nearly so large. in the open drives blue cartridge-cases lie among the grass, the brass part tarnished by the rain, thrown hurriedly aside from the smoking breech last autumn. but the guns are silent in the racks, though the keeper still carries his gun to shoot the vermin, which are extremely busy at this season. vermin, however, do not quite agree among themselves: weasels and stoats are deadly enemies of mice and rats. where rats are plentiful there they are sure to come; they will follow a rat into a dwelling-house. here the green drive shows traces of the poaching it received from the thick-planted hoofs of the hunt when the leaves were off and the blast of the horn sounded fitfully as the gale carried the sound away. the vixen is now at peace, though perhaps it would scarcely be safe to wander too near the close-shaven mead where the keeper is occupied more and more every day with his pheasant-hatching. and far down on the lonely outlying farms, where even in fox-hunting england the music of the hounds is hardly heard in three years (because no great coverts cause the run to take that way), foul murder is sometimes done on reynard or his family. a hedge-cutter marks the sleeping-place in the withies where the fox curls up by day; and with his rusty gun, that sometimes slaughters a roaming pheasant, sends the shot through the red side of the slumbering animal. then, thrust ignobly into a sack, he shoulders the fox and marches round from door to door, tumbling the limp body rudely down on the pitching stones to prove that the fowls will now be safe, and to be rewarded with beer and small coin. a dead fox is profit to him for a fortnight. these evil deeds of course are cloaked as far as possible. leaving now the wood for the lane that wanders through the meadows, a mower comes sidling up, and, looking mysteriously around with his hand behind under his coat, 'you med have un for sixpence,' he says, and produces a partridge into whose body the point of the scythe ran as she sat on her nest in the grass, and whose struggles were ended by a blow from the rubber or whetstone flung at her head. he has got the eggs somewhere hidden under a swathe. the men that are so expert at finding partridges' eggs to sell to the keepers know well beforehand whereabouts the birds are likely to lay. if a stranger who had made no previous observations went into the fields to find these eggs, with full permission to do so, he would probably wander in vain. the grass is long, and the nest has little to distinguish it from the ground; the old bird will sit so close that one may pass almost over her. without a right of search in open daylight the difficulty is of course much greater. a man cannot quarter the fields when the crop is high and leave no trail. farmers object to the trampling and damage of their property; and a keeper does not like to see a labourer loafing about, because he is not certain that the eggs when found will be conscientiously delivered to him. they may be taken elsewhere, or they may even be broken out of spite if the finder thinks he has a grudge to repay. now that every field is enclosed, and for the most part well cultivated and looked after, the business of the egg-stealer is considerably diminished. he cannot roam over the country at his fancy; his egg-finding is nearly restricted to the locality of which he possesses minute knowledge. thus workmen engaged in the towns, but sleeping several miles out in the villages, can keep a register of the slight indications they observe morning after morning as they cross the fields by the footpath to their labour. early in the spring they notice that the partridges have paired: as time advances they see the pair day after day in the same meadow, and mark the spot. those who work in the fields, again, have still better opportunities: the bird-keeping lads too have little else to do at that season than watch for nests. in the meadows the labourer as he walks to and fro with the 'bush' passes over every inch of the ground. the 'bush' is a mass of thorn bushes fixed in a frame and drawn by a horse; it acts like a light harrow, and leaves the meadow in strips like the pile of green velvet, stroked in narrow bands, one this way, one that, laying the grass blades in the directions it travels. solitary work of this kind--for it requires but one man--is very favourable to observation. when the proper time arrives the searcher knows within a little where the nest must be, and has but a small space to beat. the pheasant being so large a bird, its motions are easy to watch; and the nest is speedily found, because, being in the hedge or under bushes, there is a definite place in which to look, instead of the broad surface of the field. pheasants will get out of the preserves in the breeding season and wander into the mounds, so that the space the keeper has to range is then enlarged threefold. both pheasants and partridges are frequently killed on their nests; when the eggs are hard the birds remain to the last moment, and are often knocked over. besides poachers, the eggs have to run the chance of being destroyed by carrion crows, and occasionally by rooks. rooks, though generally cleanly feeders, will at times eat almost anything, from a mussel to a fledgeling bird. magpies and jays are accused of being equally dangerous enemies of eggs and young birds, and so too are snakes. weasels, stoats, and rats spare neither egg, parents, nor offspring. some of the dogs that run wild will devour eggs; and hawks pounce on the brood if they see an opportunity. owls are said to do the same. the fitchew, the badger, and the hedgehog have a similarly evil reputation; but the first is rare, the second almost exterminated in many districts; the third--the poor hedgehog--is common, and some keepers have a bitter dislike to them. swine are credited, with the same mischief as the worst of vermin at this particular season; but nowadays swine are not allowed to run wild in cultivated districts, except in the autumn when the acorns are falling. as the nests are on the ground they are peculiarly accessible, and the eggs, being large, are tempting. perhaps the mowing machine is as destructive as anything; and after all these there is the risk of a wet season and of disease. let the care exercised be never so great, a certain amount of mortality must occur. while the young partridges gradually become strong and swift, the nuts are increasing in size, and ripening upon the bough. the very hazel has a pleasant sound--not a nut-tree hedge existed in the neighbourhood that we did not know and visit. we noted the progress of the bushes from the earliest spring, and the catkins to the perfect nut. there are threads of brilliant scarlet upon the hazel in february, though the gloom of winter lingers and the 'shuck--a--sheck!' of the fieldfare fleeing before the snow sounds overhead. on the slender branches grow green ovals, from whose tips tiny scarlet plumes rise and curl over. it often happens that while the tall rods with speckled bark grow vigorously the stole is hollow and decaying when the hardy fern flourishes around it. before the summer ricks are all carted the nuts are full of sweet milky matter, and the shell begins to harden. a hazel bough with a good crook is then sought by the men that are thinking of the wheat harvest: they trim it for a 'vagging' stick, with which to pull the straw towards them. true reaping is now never seen: 'vagging' makes the short stubble that forces the partridges into the turnips. maple boughs, whose bark is so strongly ribbed, are also good for 'vagging' sticks. nut-tree is used for bonds to tie up faggots, and split for the shepherds' hurdles. in winter sometimes a store of nuts and acorns may be seen fallen in a stream down the side of a bank, scratched out from a mouse's hole, as they say, by reynard, who devours the little provident creature without regard for its wisdom. so that man and wild animals derive pleasure or use from the hazel in many ways. when the nuts are ripe the carters' lads do not care to ride sideways on the broad backs of the horses as they jog homewards along the lane, but are ever in the hedges. there were plenty in the double-mounds to which we had access; but the shepherd, who had learned his craft on the downs, said that the nuts grew there in such immense quantities as determined us to see them. sitting on the felled ash under the shade of the hawthorn hedge, where the butcher-birds every year used to stick the humble-bees on the thorns, he described the route--a mere waggon track--and the situation of the largest copses. the waggon track we found crossed the elevated plains close under and between the downs, following at the foot, as it seemed, for an endless distance the curve of a range. the slope bounded the track on one side: on the other it was enclosed by a low bank covered with dead thorn thickly entangled, which enclosed the cornfields. the space between the hedge and the hill was as far as we could throw one of the bleached flints lying on the sward. it was dotted with hawthorn trees and furze, and full of dry brown grass. a few scattered firs, the remnants of extinct plantations, grew on the slope, and green 'fairy rings' marked it here and there. these fairy rings have a somewhat different appearance from the dark green semicircles found in the meadows and called by the same name: the latter are often only segments of circles, are found near hedges, and almost always either under a tree or where a tree has been. there were more mushrooms on the side of the hill than we cared to carry. some eat mushrooms raw--fresh as taken from the ground, with a little salt: to me the taste is then too strong. of the many ways of cooking them the simplest is the best; that is, on a gridiron over wood embers on the hearth. every few minutes a hare started out of the dry grass: he always scampered up the down and stopped to look at us from the ridge. the hare runs faster up hill than down. by the cornfields there were wire nettings to stop them; but nothing is easier than for any passer-by who feels an interest in hares and rabbits, and does not like to see them jealously excluded, to open a gap. hares were very numerous--temptingly so. not far from where the track crossed a lonely road was a gipsy encampment; that swarthy people are ever about when anything is going on, and the reapers were busy in the corn. the dead dry thorns of the hedge answered very well to boil their pot with. their tents, formed by thrusting the ends of long bent rods like half-hoops into the turf, looked dark like the canvas of a barge. these 'gips'--country folk do not say gipsy--were unknown to us; but we were on terms with some members of a tribe who called at our house several times in the course of the year to buy willow. the men wore golden earrings, and bought 'black sally,' a withy that has a dark bark, for pegs, and 'bolts' of osier for basket-making. a bolt is a bundle of forty inches in circumference. though the women tell fortunes, and mix the 'dark man' and the 'light man,' the 'journey' and the 'letter' to perfection, till the ladies half believe, i doubt if they know much of true palmistry. the magic of the past always had a charm for me. i had learned to know the lines, from that which winds along at the base of the thumb-ball and if clear means health and long life, to that which crosses close to the fingers and indicates the course of love, and had traced them on many a delicate palm. so that the 'gips' could tell me nothing new. the women are the hardiest in the country; they simply ignore the weather. even the hedgers and ditchers and the sturdiest labourers choose the lee side of the hedge when they pause to eat their luncheons; but the 'gips' do not trouble to seek such shelter. passing over the hills one winter's day, when the downs looked all alike, being covered with snow, i came across a 'gip' family sitting on the ground in a lane, old and young exposed to the blast. in that there was nothing remarkable, but i recollect it because the young mother, handsome in the style of her race, had her neck and brown bust quite bare, and the white snowflakes drove thickly aslant upon her. their complexion looks more dusky in winter, so that the contrast of the colours made me wish for an artist to paint it. and he might have put the grey embers of a fire gone out, and the twisted stem of a hawthorn bush with red haws above. a mile beyond the gipsy tents we entered among the copses: scattered ash plantations, and hazel thickets with narrow green tracks between. further in, the nut-tree bushes were more numerous, and we became separated though within call. presently a low whistle like the peewit's (our signal) called me to orion. on the border of a thicket, near an open field of swedes, he had found a hare in a wire. it was a beauty--the soft fur smooth to stroke, not so much as a shot-hole in the black-marked ears. wired or netted hares and rabbits are much preferred by the dealers to those that have been shot--and so, too, netted partridges--because they look so clean and tempt the purchaser. the blacksmith ikey, who bought our rabbits, used to sew up the shot wounds when they were much knocked about, and trimmed up the shattered ones in the cleverest way. to pull up the plug and take wire and hare too was the first impulse; yet we hesitated. why did the man who set the snare let his game lie till that hour of the day? he should have visited it long before: it had a suspicious look altogether. it would also have been nearly impossible to carry the hare so many miles by daylight and past villages: even with the largest pockets it would have been doubtful, for the hare had stiffened as he lay stretched out. so, carefully replacing him just as we found him, we left the spot and re-entered the copse. the shepherd certainly was right; the quantity of nuts was immense: the best and largest bunches grew at the edge of the thickets, perhaps because they received more air and light than the bushes within that were surrounded by boughs. it thus happened that we were in the green pathway when some one suddenly spoke from behind, and, turning, there was a man in a velveteen jacket who had just stepped out of the bushes. the keeper was pleasant enough and readily allowed us to handle his gun--a very good weapon, though a little thin at the muzzle--for a man likes to see his gun admired. he said there were finer nuts in a valley he pointed out, and then carefully instructed us how to get back into the waggon track without returning by the same path. an old barn was the landmark; and, with a request from him not to break the bushes, he left us. down in the wooded vale we paused. the whole thing was now clear: the hare in the wire was a trap laid for the 'gips' whose camp was below. the keeper had been waiting about doubtless where he could command the various tracks up the hill, had seen us come that way, and did not wish us to return in the same direction; because if the 'gip' saw any one at all he would not approach his snare. whether the hare had actually been caught by the wire, or had been put in by the keeper, it was not easy to tell. we wandered on in the valley wood, going from bush to bush, little heeding whither we went. there are no woods so silent as the nut-tree; there is scarce a sound in them at that time except the occasional rustle of a rabbit, and the 'thump, thump' they sometimes make underground in their buries after a sudden fright. so that the keen plaintive whistle of a kingfisher was almost startling. but we soon found the stream in the hollow. broader than a brook and yet not quite a river, it flowed swift and clear, so that every flint at the bottom was visible. the nut-tree bushes came down to the edge: the ground was too firm for much rush or sedge; the streams that come out of the chalk are not so thickly fringed with vegetation as others. some little way along there was a rounded sarsen boulder not far from shore, whose brown top was so nearly on a level with the surface that at one moment the water just covered it, and the next left it exposed. by it we spied a trout; but the hill above gave 'velvet' the command of the hollow; and it was too risky even to think of. after that the nuts were tame; there was nothing left but to turn homewards. as for trout-fishing, there is nothing so easy. take the top joint off the rod, and put the wire on the second, which is stronger, fill the basket, and replace the fly. there were fellows who used to paddle in canoes up a certain river (not this little stream), pick out the largest trout, and shoot them with pistols, under pretence of practising at water-rats. chapter v woodland twilight: traitors on the gibbet in a hedge that joined a wood, and about a hundred yards from it, there was a pleasant hiding-place beside a pollard ash. the bank was hollow with rabbit-buries: the summer heat had hardened the clay of the mound and caused it to crack and crumble wherever their excavations left a precipitous edge. some way up the trunk of the tree an immense flat fungus projected, roughly resembling the protruding lip of a savage enlarged by the insertion of a piece of wood. if formed a black ledge standing out seven or eight inches, two or three inches thick, and extending for a foot or more round the bark. the pollard, indeed, was dead inside, and near the ground the black touch-wood showed. ash timber must become rarer year by year: for, being so useful, it is constantly cut down, while few new saplings are planted or encouraged to become trees. in front a tangled mass of bramble arched over the dry ditch; it was possible to see some distance down the bank, for nothing grew on the top itself, the bushes all rising from either side--a peculiarity of clay mounds. this narrow space was a favourite promenade of the rabbits; they usually came out there for a few minutes first, looking about before venturing forth into the meadows. except a little moss, scarcely any vegetation other than underwood clothed the bare hard soil of the mound; and for this reason every tiny aperture that suited their purpose was occupied by wasps. they much prefer a clear space about the entrance to their nests, affording an unencumbered passage: there were two nests within a few yards of the ash. though so generally dreaded, wasps are really inoffensive insects, never attacking unless previously buffeted. you may sit close to a wasps' nest for hours, and, if you keep still, receive no injury. humble-bees, too, congregate in special localities: along one hedge half a dozen nests may be found, while other fields are searched for them in vain. the best time to enter such a hiding-place is a little before the sun sinks: for as his beams turn red all the creatures that rest during the day begin to stir. then the hares start down from the uplands and appear on the short stubble, where the level rays throw exaggerated shadows behind them. when six or eight hares are thus seen near the centre of a single field, they and their shadows seem to take possession of and occupy it. pheasants, though they retire to roost on the trees, often before rising come forth into the meadows adjacent to the coverts. the sward in front of the pollard ash sloped upwards gradually to the foot of a low hill planted with firs, and just outside these about half a dozen pheasants regularly appeared in the early evening. as the sun sank below the hill, and the shadow of the great beeches some distance away began to extend into the mead, they went back one by one into the firs. there they were nearly safe, for no trees give so much difficulty to the poacher. it is not easy even to shoot anything inside a fir plantation at night: as for the noose, it is almost impossible to use it. the lowest pheasant is taken first, and then the next above, like fowls perched on the rungs of a ladder; and, indeed, it is not unlikely that those who excel in this kind of work base their operations upon previous experiences in the hen roost. the wood pigeons begin to come home, and the wood is filled with their hollow notes: now here, now yonder, for as one ceases another takes it up. they cannot settle for some time: each as he arrives perches awhile, and then rises and tries a fresh place, so that there is a constant clattering. the green woodpecker approaches at a rapid pace--now opening, now closing his wings, and seeming to throw himself forward rather than to fly. he rushes at the trees in the hedge as though he could pierce the thick branches like a bullet. other birds rise over or pass at the side: he goes through, arrow-like, avoiding the boughs. instead of at once entering the wood, he stays awhile on the sward of the mead in the open. as the pheasants generally feed in a straight line along the ground, so the lesser pied woodpecker travels across the fields from tree to tree, rarely staying on more than one branch in each, but, after examining it, leaves all that may be on other boughs and seeks another ahead. he rises round and round the dead branch in the elm, tapping it with blows that succeed each other with marvellous rapidity. he taps for the purpose of sounding the wood to see if it be hollow or bored by grubs, and to startle the insects and make them run out for his convenience. he will ascend dead branches barely half an inch thick that vibrate as he springs from them, and proceeds down the hedge towards the wood. the 'snop-top' sounds in every elm, and grows fainter as he recedes. the sound is often heard, but in the thick foliage of summer the bird escapes unseen, unless you are sitting almost under the tree when he arrives in it. then the rooks come drifting slowly to the beeches: they are uncertain in their hour at this season--some, indeed, scarce care to return at all; and even when quite dusk and the faint stars of summer rather show themselves than shine, twos and threes come occasionally through the gloom. a pair of doves pass swiftly, flying for the lower wood, where the ashpoles grow. the grasshoppers sing in the grass, and will continue till the dew descends. as the little bats flutter swiftly to and fro just without the hedge, the faint sound of their wings is audible as they turn: their membranes are not so silent as feathers, and they agitate them with extreme velocity. beetles go by with a loud hum, rising from those isolated bunches of grass that may be seen in every field; for the cows will not eat the rank green blades that grow over and hide dried dung. a large white spot, ill-defined and shapeless in the distance and the dimness, glides along the edge of the wood, then across in front before the fir plantation, next down the hedge to the left, and presently passes within two yards, going towards the wood again along this mound. it is a white owl: he flies about five feet from the ground and absolutely without a sound. so when you are walking at night it is quite startling to have one come overhead, approaching from behind and suddenly appearing. this owl is almost fearless; unless purposely alarmed he will scarcely notice you, and not at all if you are still. as he reaches the wood he leaves the hedge, having gone all round the field, and crosses to a small detached circular fir plantation in the centre. there he goes out of sight a minute or two; but presently appears skirting the low shed and rickyard yonder, and is finally lost behind the hedges. this round he will go every evening, and almost exactly at the same time--that is, in reference to the sun, which is the clock of nature. step never so quietly out from the mound, the small birds that unnoticed have come to roost in the bushes will hear it and fly off in alarm. the rabbits that are near the hedge rush in; those that are far from home crouch in the furrows and the bunches. crossing the open field, they suddenly start as it seems from under your feet--one white tail goes dapping up and down this way, another jerks over the 'lands' that way. the moonbeams now glisten on the double-barrel; and a bright sparkle glitters here and there as a dewdrop catches a ray. upon the grass a faint halo appears; it is a narrow band of light encircling the path, an oval ring--perhaps rather horseshoe shape than oval. it glides in front, keeping ever at the same distance as you walk, as if there the eye was focussed. this is only seen when the grass is wet with dew, and better in short grass than long. where it shines the grass looks a paler green. passing gently along a hedge thickly timbered with oak and elms, a hawk may perhaps start forth: hawks sometimes linger by the hedges till late, but it is not often that you can shoot one at roost except in spring. then they invariably return to roost in the nest tree, and are watched there, and so shot, a gunner approaching on each side of the hedge. in the lane dark objects--rabbits--hasten away, and presently the footpath crosses the still motionless brook near where it flows into the mere. the low brick parapet of the bridge is overgrown with mosses; great hedges grow each side, and the willows, long uncut, almost meet in the centre. in one hedge an opening leads to a drinking-place for cattle: peering noiselessly over the parapet between the boughs, the coots and moorhens may be seen there feeding by the shore. they have come up from the mere as the ducks and teal do in the winter. the broader waters can scarcely be netted without a boat, but the brook here is the very place for a moonlight haul. the net is stretched first across the widest spot nearest to the pool, that no fish may escape. they swim up here in the daytime in shoals, perch especially; but the night poachers are often disappointed, for the fish seem to retire to deeper waters as the darkness comes on. a black mass of mud-coated sticks, rotten twigs, and thorn bushes, entangled in the meshes, is often the only result of much toil. once now and then, as when a preserved pond is netted, a tremendous take occurs; but nets are rather gone by, being so unwieldy and requiring several men to manage effectually. if they are not hung out to dry properly after being used, they soon rot. now, a large net stretched along railings or a hedge is rather a conspicuous object, and brings suspicion on the owner. it is also so heavy after use that until wrung, which takes time, a strong man can barely carry it; and if a sudden alarm comes it must be abandoned. it is pleasant to rest awhile on the parapet in the shadow of the bushes. the low thud-thud of sculls in the rowlocks of a distant punt travels up the water. by-and-by a hare comes along, enters on the bridge, and almost reaches the gate in the middle before he spies anything suspicious. such a spot, and, indeed, any gateway, used to be a favourite place to set a net, and then drive the hares towards it with a cur dog that ran silent. bold must be the man that would set a net in a footpath now, with almost every field preserved by owner or tenant. with a bound the hare hies back and across the meadow: the gun comes to the shoulder as swiftly. on the grass lit by the moon the hare looked quite distinct, but the moment the gaze is concentrated up the barrel he becomes a dim object with no defined outline. in shooting on the ground by twilight or in the moonbeams, waste no time in endeavouring to aim, but think of the hare's ears--say a couple of feet in front of his tail--and the moment the gun feels steady pull the trigger. the flash and report come together; there is a dull indescribable sound ahead, as some of the shot strikes home in fur and some drills into the turf, and then a rustling in the grass. the moorhens dive, and the coots scuttle down the brook towards the mere at the flash. while yet the sulphurous smoke lingers, slow to disperse, over the cool dewy sward, there comes back an echo from the wood behind, then another from the mere, then another and another beyond. the distant sculls have ceased to work in the rowlocks--those in the punt are listening to the echoes; most likely they have been fishing for tench in the deep holes under the black shadow of the aspens. (tench feed in the dark: if you wish to take a big one wait till it is necessary to fix a piece of white paper on the float.) now put the empty cartridge in your pocket instead of throwing it aside; pull the hare's neck across your knee, and hurry off. but you may safely stay to harle him; for those very echoes that have been heard a mile round about are the best safeguard: not one man in a thousand could tell the true direction whence the sound of the explosion originated. the pleasure of wandering in a wood was so great that it could never be resisted, and did not solely arise from the instinct of shooting. many expeditions were made without a gun, or any implement of destruction, simply to enjoy the trees and thickets. there was one large wood very carefully preserved, and so situate in an open country as not to be easily entered. but a little observation showed that the keeper had a 'habit.' he used to come out across the wheatfields to a small wayside 'public,' and his route passed by a lonely barn and rickyard. one warm summer day i saw him come as usual to the 'public,' and while he was there quietly slipped as far as the barn and hid in it. in july such a rickyard is very hot; heat radiates from every straw. the ground itself is dry and hard, each crevice choked with particles of white chaff; so that even the couch can hardly grow except close under the low hedge where the pink flower of the pimpernel opens to the sky. white stone staddles--short conical pillars with broad capitals--stand awaiting the load of sheaves that will shortly press on them. every now and then a rustling in the heaps of straw indicates the presence of mice. from straw and stone and bare earth heat seems to rise up. the glare of the sunlight pours from above. the black pitched wooden walls of the barn and sheds prevent the circulation of air. there are no trees for shadow--nothing but a few elder bushes, which are crowded at intervals of a few minutes with sparrows rushing with a whirr of wings up from the standing corn. but the high pitched roof of the barn and of the lesser sheds has a beauty of its own--the minute vegetation that has covered the tiles having changed the original dull red to an orange hue. from ridge to eaves, from end to end, it is a wide expanse of colour, only varying so much in shade as to save it from monotony. it stands out glowing, distinct against the deep blue of the sky. the 'cheep' of fledgeling sparrows comes from the crevices above; but swallows do not frequent solitary buildings so much as those by dwelling-houses, being especially fond of cattle-sheds where cows are milked. the proximity of animals apparently attracts them: perhaps in the more exposed places there may be dangers from birds of prey. as for the sparrows, they are innumerable. some are marked with white patches--a few so much so as to make quite a show when they fly. one handsome cock bird has a white ring half round his neck, and his wings are a beautiful partridge-brown. he looks larger than the common sort; and there are several more here that likewise appear to exceed in size, and to have the same peculiar brown. after a while there came the sound of footsteps and a low but cheerful whistle. the keeper having slaked a thirst very natural on such a sultry day returned, and re-entered the wood. i had decided that it would be the best plan to follow in his rear, because then there would be little chance of crossing his course haphazard, and the dogs would not sniff any strange footsteps, since the footsteps would not be there till they had gone by. to hide from the eyes of a man is comparatively easy; but a dog will detect an unwonted presence in the thickest bush, and run in and set up a yelping, especially if it is a puppy. it was not more than forty yards from the barn to the wood: there was no mound or hedge, but a narrow, deep, and dry watercourse, a surface drain, ran across. stooping a little and taking off my hat, i walked in this, so that the wheat each side rose above me and gave a perfect shelter. this precaution was necessary, because on the right there rose a steep down, from whose summit the level wheat-fields could be easily surveyed. so near was it that i could distinguish the tracks of the hares worn in the short grass. but if you take off your hat no one can distinguish you in a wheat-field, more particularly if your hair is light: nor even in a hedge. where the drain or furrow entered the wood was a wire-netting firmly fixed, and over it tall pitched palings, sharp at the top. the wood was enclosed with a thick hawthorn hedge that looked impassable; but the keeper's footsteps, treading down the hedge-parsley and brushing aside the 'gicks,' guided me behind a bush where was a very convenient gap. these signs and the smooth-worn bark of an ash against which it was needful to push proved that this quiet path was used somewhat frequently. inside the wood the grass and the bluebell leaves--the bloom past and ripening to seed--so hung over the trail that it was difficult to follow. it wound about the ash stoles in the most circuitous manner--now to avoid the thistles, now a bramble thicket, or a hollow filled with nettles. then the ash poles were clothed with the glory of the woodbine--one mass of white and yellow wax-like flowers to a height of eight or nine feet, and forming a curtain of bloom from branch to branch. after awhile i became aware that the trail was approaching the hill. at the foot it branched; and the question arose whether to follow the fork that zig-zagged up among the thickets or that which seemed to plunge into the recesses beneath. i had never been in this wood before--the time was selected because it was probable that the keeper would be extremely occupied with his pheasant chicks. though the earth was so hard in the exposed rick-yard, here the clayey ground was still moist under the shadow of the leaves. examining the path more closely, i easily distinguished the impression of the keeper's boot: the iron toe-plate has left an almost perfect impression, and there were the deep grooves formed by the claws of his dog as it had scrambled up the declivity and the pad slipped on the clay. as he had taken the upward path, no doubt it led direct to the pheasants, which was sure to be on the hill itself, or a dry and healthy slope. i therefore took the other trail, since i must otherwise have overtaken him; for he would stay long among his chicks: just as an old-fashioned farmer lingers at a gate, gazing on his sheep. advancing along the lower path, after some fifteen minutes it turned sharply to the right, and i stood under the precipitous cliff-like edge of the hill in a narrow coombe. the earth at the top hung over the verge, and beech-trees stood as it seemed in the act to topple, their exposed roots twisting to and fro before they re-entered the face of the precipice. large masses of chalky rubble had actually fallen, and others were all but detached. the coombe, of course, could be overlooked from thence; but a moment's reflection convinced me there was no risk, for who would dare to go near enough to the edge to look down? the coombe was full of fir-trees; and by them stood a long narrow shed--the roof ruinous, but the plank walls intact. it had originally been erected in a field, since planted for covers. this long shed, a greenish grey from age and mouldering wood, became a place of much interest. along the back there were three rows of weasels and stoats nailed through the head or neck to the planks. there had been a hundred in each row--about three hundred altogether. the lapse of time had entirely dissipated the substance of many on the upper row; nothing remained but the grim and rusty nail. further along there hung small strips without shape. beyond these the nails supported something that had a rough outline still of the animal. in the second row the dried and shrivelled creatures were closely wrapped in nature's mummy-cloth of green; in the third, some of those last exposed still retained a dull brown colour. none were recent. above, under the eaves, the spiders' webs had thickly gathered; beneath, the nettles flourished. but the end of the shed was the place where the more distinguished offenders were gibbeted. a footpath, well worn and evidently much used, went by this end, and, as i afterwards ascertained, communicated with the mansion above and the keeper's cottage some distance below. every passenger between must pass the gallows where the show of more noble traitors gave proof of the keeper's loyal activity. four shorter rows rose in tiers. to the nails at the top strong beaks and black feathers adhered, much bedraggled and ruffled by weather. these crows had long been dead; the keeper when he shot a crow did not trouble to have it carried home, unless a nail was conspicuously vacant. the ignoble bird was left where he fell. on the next row the black and white of magpies and the blue of jays alternated. many of the magpies had been despoiled of their tails, and some of their wings, the feathers being saleable. the jays were more numerous, and untouched; they were slain in such numbers that the market for their plumage was glutted. though the bodies were shrunken, the feathers were in fair condition. magpies' nests are so large that in winter, when the leaves are off the trees, they cannot but be seen, and, the spot being marked, in the summer old and young are easily destroyed. hawks filled the third row. the kestrels were the most numerous, but there were many sparrow-hawks. these made a great show, and were stuck so closely that a feather could hardly be thrust between them. in the midst, quite smothered under their larger wings, were the remains of a smaller bird--probably a merlin. but the last and lowest row, that was also nearest, or on a level with the face of a person looking at the gallows, was the most striking. this grand tier was crowded with owls--not arranged in any order, but haphazard, causing a fine mixture of colour. clearly this gallery was constantly renewed. the white owl gave the prevalent tint, side by side with the brown wood owls, and scattered among the rest, a few long horned owls--a mingling of white, yellowish brown, and tawny feathers. though numerous here, yet trap and gun have so reduced the wood owls that you may listen half the night by a cover and never hear the 'who-hoo' that seems to demand your name. the barn owls are more liable to be shot, because they are more conspicuous; but, on the other hand, as they often breed and reside away from covers, they seem to escape. for months past one of these has sailed by my window every evening uttering a hissing 'skir-r-r.' here, some were nailed with their backs to the wall, that they might not hide their guilty faces. the delicate texture of the owl's feathers is very remarkable: these birds remind me of a huge moth. the owls were more showy than the hawks, though it is commonly said that without sunlight there is no colour--as in the case of plants grown in darkness. yet the hawks are day birds, while the owls fly by night. there came the sound of footsteps; and i retreated, casting one glance backward at the black and white, the blue and brown colours that streaked the wall, while the dull green weasels were in perpetual shadow. by night the bats would flit round and about that gloomy place. it would not do to return by the same path, lest another keeper might be coming up it; so i stepped into the wood itself. to those who walk only in the roads, hawks and owls seem almost rare. but a wood is a place to which they all flock; and any wanderer from the north or west naturally tends thither. this wood is of large extent; but even to the smaller plantations of the downs it is wonderful what a number come in the course of a year. besides the shed just visited, there would be certain to be another more or less ornamented near the keeper's cottage, and probably others scattered about, where the commoner vermin could be nailed without the trouble of carrying them far away. only the owls and hawks, magpies, and such more striking evidences of slaughter were collected here, and almost daily renewed. to get into the wood was much easier than to get out, on account of the thick hedge, palings, and high sharp-sparred gates; but i found a dry ditch where it was possible to creep under the bushes into a meadow where was a footpath. chapter vi lurcher-land: 'the park' the time of the apple-bloom is the most delicious season in sarsen village. it is scarcely possible to obtain a view of the place, although it is built on the last slope of the downs, because just where the ground drops and the eye expects an open space, plantations of fir and the tops of tall poplars and elms intercept the glance. in ascending from the level meadows of the vale thick double mounds, heavily timbered with elm, hide the houses until you are actually in their midst. those only know a country who are acquainted with its footpaths. by the roads, indeed, the outside may be seen; but the footpaths go through the heart of the land. there are routes by which mile after mile may be travelled without leaving the sward. so you may pass from village to village; now crossing green meads, now cornfields, over brooks, past woods, through farmyard and rick 'barken.' but such tracks are not mapped, and a stranger misses them altogether unless under the guidance of an old inhabitant. at sarsen the dusty road enters the more modern part of the village at once, where the broad signs hang from the taverns at the cross-ways and where the loafers steadily gaze at the new comer. the lower path, after stile and hedge and elm, and grass that glows with golden buttercups, quietly leaves the side of the double mounds and goes straight through the orchards. there are fewer flowers under the trees, and the grass grows so long and rank that it has already fallen aslant of its own weight. it is choked, too, by masses of clog-weed, that springs up profusely over the site of old foundations; so that here ancient masonry may be hidden under the earth. indeed, these orchards are a survival from the days when the monks laboured in vineyard and garden, and mayhap even of earlier times. when once a locality has got into the habit of growing a certain crop it continues to produce it for century after century; and thus there are villages famous for apple or pear or cherry, while the district at large is not at all given to such culture. the trunks of the trees succeed each other in endless ranks, like columns that support the most beautiful roof of pink and white. here the bloom is rosy, there white prevails: the young green is hidden under the petals that are far more numerous than leaves, or even than leaves will be. though the path really is in shadow as the branches shut out the sun, yet it seems brighter here than in the open, as if the place were illuminated by a million tiny lamps shedding the softest lustre. the light is reflected and apparently increased by the countless flowers overhead. the forest of bloom extends acre after acre, and only ceases where hedges divide, to commence again beyond the boundary. a wicket gate, all green with a film of vegetation over the decaying wood, opens under the very eaves of a cottage, and the path goes by the door--across a narrow meadow where deep and broad trenches, green now, show where ancient stews or fishponds existed, and then through a farmyard into a lane. tall poplars rise on either hand, but there seem to be no houses; they stand, in fact, a field's breadth back from the lane, and are approached by footpaths that every few yards necessitate a stile in the hedge. when a low thatched farmhouse does abut upon the way, the blank white wall of the rear part faces the road, and the front door opens on precisely the other side. hard by is a row of beehives. though the modern hives are at once more economical and humane, they have not the old associations that cling about the straw domes topped with broken earthenware to shoot off the heavy downfall of a thunderstorm. everywhere the apple-bloom; the hum of bees; children sitting on the green beside the road, their laps full of flowers; the song of finches; and the low murmur of water that glides over flint and stone so shadowed by plants and grasses that the sunbeams cannot reach and glisten on it. thus the straggling flower-strewn village stretches along beneath the hill and rises up the slope, and the swallows wheel and twitter over the gables where are their hereditary nesting-places. the lane ends on a broad dusty road, and, opposite, a quiet thatched house of the larger sort stands, endways to the street, with an open pitching before the windows. there, too, the swallows' nests are crowded under the eaves, flowers are trained against the wall, and in the garden stand the same beautiful apple-trees. but within, the lower part of the windows--that have recess seats--are guarded by horizontal rods of iron, polished by the backs of many men. it is an inn, and the rods are to save the panes from the impact of an excited toper's arm. the talk to-day, as the brown brandy, which the paler cognac has not yet superseded, is consumed, and the fumes of coarse tobacco and the smell of spilt beer and the faint sickly odour of evaporating spirits overpower the flowers, is of horses. the stable lads from the training stables far up on the downs drop in or call at the door without dismounting. once or twice in the day a tout calls and takes his 'grub,' and scribbles a report in the little back parlour. sporting papers, beer-stained and thumb-marked, lie on the tables; framed portraits of racers hang on the walls. burly men, who certainly cannot ride a race, but who have horse in every feature, puff cigars and chat in jerky monosyllables that to an outsider are perfectly incomprehensible. but the glib way in which heavy sums of money are spoken of conveys the impression that they dabble in enormous wealth. there are dogs under the tables and chairs; dogs in the window-seat; dogs panting on the stone flags of the passage, after a sharp trot behind a trap, choosing the coolest spot to loll their red tongues out; dogs outside in the road; dogs standing on hind legs, and painfully lapping the water in the horse-trough; and there is a yapping of puppies in the distance. the cushions of the sofa are strewn with dogs' hairs, and once now and then a dog leisurely hops up the staircase. customers are served by the landlady, a decent body enough in her way: her son, the man of the house, is up in the 'orchut' at the rear, feeding his dogs. where the 'orchut' ends in a paddock stands a small shed: in places the thatch on the roof has fallen through in the course of years and revealed the bare rafters. the bottom part of the door has decayed, and the long nose of a greyhound is thrust out sniffing through a hole. dickon, the said son, is delighted to undo the padlock for a visitor who is 'square.' in an instant the long hounds leap up, half a dozen at a time, and i stagger backwards, forced by the sheer vigour of their caresses against the doorpost. dickon cannot quell the uproarious pack: he kicks the door open, and away they scamper round and round the paddock at headlong speed. what a joy it is to them to stretch their limbs! i forget the squalor of the kennel in watching their happy gambols. i cannot drink more than one tumbler of brown brandy and water; but dickon overlooks that weakness, feeling that i admire his greyhounds. it is arranged that i am to see them work in the autumn. the months pass, and in his trap with the famous trotter in the shafts we roll up the village street. apple-bloom and golden fruit too are gone, and the houses show more now among the bare trees; but as the rim of the ruddy november sun comes forth from the edge of a cloud there appears a buff tint everywhere in the background. when elm and ash are bare the oaks retain their leaves, and these are illumined by the autumn beams. over-topped by tall elms and hidden by the orchards, the oaks were hardly seen in summer; now they are found to be numerous and give the prevailing hue to the place. dickon taps the dashboard as the mare at last tops the hill, and away she speeds along the level plateau for the downs. two greyhounds are with us; two more have gone on under charge of a boy. skirting the hills a mile or two, we presently leave the road and drive over the turf: there is no track, but dickon knows his way. the rendezvous is a small fir plantation, the young trees in which are but shoulder-high. below is a plain entirely surrounded by the hills, and partly green with root crops: more than one flock of sheep is down there, and two teams ploughing the stubble. neither the ploughmen nor the shepherds take the least heed of us, except to watch for the sport. the spare couple are fastened in the trap; the boy jumps up and takes the reins. dickon puts the slip on the couple that are to run first, and we begin to range. just at the foot of the hill the grass is tall and grey; there, too, are the dead dry stalks of many plants that cultivation has driven from the ploughed fields and that find a refuge at the edge. a hare starts from the very verge and makes up the downs. dickon slips the hounds, and a faint halloo comes from the shepherds and the ploughmen. it is a beautiful sight to see the hounds bound over the sward; the sinewy back bends like a bow, but a bow that, instead of an arrow, shoots itself; the deep chests drink the air. is there any moment so joyful in life as the second when the chase begins? as we gaze, before we even step forward, the hare is over the ridge and out of sight. then we race and tear up the slope; then the boy in the trap flaps the reins and away goes the mare out of sight too. dickon is long and rawboned, a powerful fellow, strong of limb, and twice my build; but he sips too often at the brown brandy, and after the first burst i can head him. but he knows the hills and the route the hare will take, so that i have but to keep pace. in five minutes as we cross a ridge we see the game again; the hare is circling back--she passes under us not fifty yards away, as we stand panting on the hill. the youngest hound gains, and runs right over her; she doubles, the older hound picks up the running. by a furze-bush she doubles again; but the young one turns her--the next moment she is in the jaws of the old dog. again and again the hounds are slipped, now one couple, now the other: we pant, and can scarcely speak with running, but the wild excitement of the hour and the sweet pure air of the downs supply fresh strength. the little lad brings the mare anywhere: through the furze, among the flint-pits, jolting over the ruts, she rattles along with sure alacrity. there are five hares in the sack under the straw when at last we get up and slowly drive down to the highway, reaching it some two miles from where we left it. dickon sends the dogs home by the boy on foot; we drive round and return to the village by a different route, entering it from the opposite direction. the reason of these things is that sarsen has no great landlord. there are fifty small proprietors, and not a single resident magistrate. besides the small farmers, there are scores of cottage owners, every one of whom is perfectly independent. nobody cares for anybody. it is a republic, without even the semblance of a government. it is liberty, equality, and swearing. as it is just within the limit of a borough, almost all the cottagers have votes, and are not to be trifled with. the proximity of horse-racing establishments adds to the general atmosphere of dissipation. betting, card-playing, ferret-breeding and dog-fancying, poaching and politics, are the occupations of the populace. a little illicit badger-baiting is varied by a little vicar-baiting; the mass of the inhabitants are the reddest of reds. que voulez-vous? the edges of some large estates come up near, but the owners would hardly like to institute a persecution of these turbulent folk. if they did, where would be their influence at the next election? if a landlord makes himself unpopular, his own personal value depreciates. he is a nonentity in the committee-room, and his help rather deprecated by the party than desired. the sarsen fellows are not such fools as to break pheasant preserves in the vale; as they are resident, that would not answer. they keep outside the _sanctum sanctorum_ of the pheasant coverts. but with ferret, dog, and gun, and now and then a partridge net along the edge of the standing barley, they excel. so, too, with the wire; and the broad open downs are their happy hunting grounds, especially in misty weather. this is the village of the apple-bloom, the loveliest spot imaginable. after all, they are not such desperately bad fellows if you deduct their sins against the game laws. they are a jovial lot, and free with their money; they stand by one another--a great virtue in these cold-blooded days. if one gets in trouble with the law the rest subscribe the fine. they are full of knowledge of a certain sort, and you may learn anything, from the best way to hang a dog upwards. when we reach the inn, and dickon calls for the brown brandy, there in the bar sits a gamekeeper, whose rubicund countenance beams with good humour. he is never called upon to pay his score. good fellow! in addition he is popular, and every one asks him to drink: besides which, a tip for a race now and then makes this world wear a smiling aspect to him. dickon's 'unconscious education'--absorbed rather than learnt in boyhood--had not been acquired under conditions likely to lead him to admire scenery. but, rough as he was, he was a good-natured fellow, and it was through him that i became acquainted with a very beautiful place. the footpath to the park went for about half a mile under the shadow of elm trees, and in spring time there was a continual noise of young rooks in the nests above. occasionally dead twigs, either dislodged from the nests or broken off by the motions of the old birds, came rustling down. one or two nests that had been blown out strewed the sward with half a bushel of dead sticks. after the rookery the path passed a lonely dairy, where the polished brazen vessels in the skilling glittered like gold in the sunshine. farther on came wide open meadows with numerous oak-trees scattered in the midst--the outposts of the great wood at hand. the elms were flourishing and vigorous; but these detached oaks were decaying, and some dead, their hoar antiquity contrasting with the green grass and flowers of the mead. the mansion was hidden by elm and chestnut, pines and sombre cedars. from the edge of the lawn the steep slope of the down rose, planted with all manner of shrubs, the walks through which were inches deep in dead leaves, needles, and fir-cones. long neglect had permitted these to accumulate, and the yew hedges had almost grown together and covered the walk they bordered. the woods and preserves extended along the downs, between the hills and the meadows beneath. there was one path through these woods that led into a narrow steep-sided coombe, one side of which was planted with firs. on the other was a little grass, but so thin as scarcely to cover the chalk. this side jutted out from the general line of the hills, and formed a bold bluff, whose white precipitous cliff was a landmark for many miles. in climbing the coombe, it was sometimes necessary to grasp the bunches of grass; for it would have been impossible to recover from a slip till, bruised and shaken, you rolled to the bottom, and perhaps into the little streamlet flowing through the hollow. the summit was of small extent, but the view beautiful. a low fence of withy had long since decayed, nothing but a few rotten stakes remaining at the very verge of the precipice. steep as it was, there were some ledges that the rabbits frequented, making their homes in mid-air. further along, the slope, a little less perpendicular, was covered with nut-tree bushes, where you could scramble down by holding to the boughs. there was a tradition of a fox-hunter, in the excitement of the chase, forcing his horse to descend through these bushes and actually reaching the level meadows below in safety. impossible as it seemed, yet when the hounds were in full cry beneath it was easy to understand that in the eagerness of the moment a horseman at the top might feel tempted to join the stirring scene at any risk: for the fox frequently ran just below, making along the line of coverts; and from that narrow perch on the cliff the whole field came into sight at once. there was reynard slipping ahead, and two or more fields behind the foremost of the pack, while the rest, rushing after, made the hills resound with their chiding. the leaders taking the hedges, the main squadron splashing through a marshy place, the outsiders straining to come up, and the last man behind, who rode harder than any--all could be seen at the same time. it was a lovely spot, too, for dreaming on a summer's day, reclining on the turf, with the harebells swinging in the faint breeze. the extreme solitude was its charm: no lanes or tracks other than those purely pastoral came near. there were woods on either hand; in the fir plantations the jays chattered unceasingly. the broad landscape stretched out to the illimitable distance, till the power of the eye failed and could trace it no farther. but if the gaze was lifted it looked into blue space--the azure heaven not only overhead, but, as it seemed, all around. dickon was always to and fro the mansion here, and took me with him. his object was ostensibly business: now it was a horse to buy, now a fat bullock or sheep; now it was an acre or two of wood that was to be cut. the people of the mansion were so much from home that their existence was almost forgotten, and they were spoken of vaguely as 'on the continent.' there was, in fact, a lack of ready-money, perhaps from the accumulation of settlements, that reduced the nominal income of the head to a tithe of what it should have been. yet they were too proud to have in the modern builder, the modern upholsterer, and, most dreadful of all, the modern 'gardener,' to put in french sashes, gilding and mirrors, and to root up the fine old yew hedges and level the grand old trees. such is the usual preparation before an advertisement appears that a mansion of 'historic association,' and 'replete with every modern convenience,' is to let, with some thousand of acres of shooting, &c. they still kept up an establishment of servants--after a fashion--who did much as they pleased. dickon was a great favourite. as for myself, a mere dreamy lad, i could go into the woods and wander as i liked, which was sufficient. but i recollect the immense kitchen very well, and the polished relics of the ancient turnspit machinery. there was a door from it opening on a square stone-flagged court with a vertical sun-dial on the wall; and beyond that ranges of disused coach-houses--all cloudy, as it were, with cobwebs hanging on old-fashioned post-chaises. dickon was in love with one of the maids, a remarkably handsome girl. she showed me the famous mantelpiece, a vast carved work, under which you could stand upright. the legend was that once a year on a certain night a sable horse and cloaked horseman rode across that great apartment, flames snorting from the horse's nostrils, and into the fireplace, disappearing with a clap of thunder. she brought me, too, an owl from the coach-houses, holding the bird by the legs firmly, her hand defended by her apron from the claws. the butler was a little merry fellow, extremely fond of a gun, and expert in using it. he seemed to have nothing to do but tell tales and sing, except at the rare intervals when some of the family returned unexpectedly. the keeper was always up there in the kitchen; he was as pleasant and jovial as a man could well be, though full of oaths on occasion. he was a man of one tale--of a somewhat enigmatical character. he would ask a stranger if they had ever heard of such-and-such a village where water set fire to a barn, ducks were drowned, and pigs cut their own throats, all in a single day. it seemed that some lime had been stored in the barn, when the brook rose and flooded the place; this slaked the lime and fired the straw, and so the barn. something of the same kind happens occasionally on the river barges. the ducks were in a coop fastened down, so that they could not swim on the surface of the flood, which passed over and drowned them. the pigs were floated out of the sty, and in swimming their sharp-edged hoofs struck their fat jowls just behind the ear at every stroke till they cut into the artery, and so bled to death. where he got this history from i do not know. one bright october morning (towards the end of the month) dickon drove me over to the old place with his fast trotter--our double-barrels hidden under some sacks in the trap. the keeper was already waiting in the kitchen, sipping a glass of hot purl; the butler was filling every pocket with cartridges. after some comparison of their betting-books, for dickon, on account of his acquaintance with the training establishments, was up to most moves, we started. the keeper had to send a certain number of pheasants and other game to the absent family and their friends every now and then, and this duty was his pretext. there was plenty of shooting to be got elsewhere, but the spice of naughtiness about this was alluring. to reach that part of the wood where it was proposed to shoot the shortest way led across some arable fields. fieldfares and redwings rose out of the hedges and flew away in their peculiarly scattered manner--their flocks, though proceeding in the same direction, seeming all loose and disordered. where the ploughs had been at work already the deep furrows were full of elm leaves, wafted as they fell from the trees in such quantities as to make the groove left by the share level with the ridges. a flock of lapwings were on the clods in an adjacent field, near enough to be seen, but far beyond gunshot. there might perhaps have been fifty birds, all facing one way and all perfectly motionless. they were, in fact, watching us intently, although not apparently looking towards us: they act so much in concert as to seem drilled. so soon as the possibility of danger had gone by each would begin to feed, moving ahead. the path then passed through the little meadows that joined the wood: and the sunlight glistened on the dew, or rather on the hoar frost that had melted and clung in heavy drops to the grass. here one flashed emerald; there ruby; another a pure brilliance like a diamond. under foot by the stiles the fallen acorns crunched as they split into halves beneath the sudden pressure. the leaves still left on the sycamores were marked with large black spots: the horse-chestnuts were quite bare; and already the tips of the branches carried the varnish-coloured sheaths of the buds that were to appear the following spring. these stuck to the finger if touched, as if they really had been varnished. through the long months of winter they would remain, till under april showers and sunshine the sheath fell back and the green leaflets pushed up, the two forming together a rude cross for a short time. the day was perfectly still, and the colours of the leaves still left glowed in the sunbeams. beneath, the dank bronzed fern that must soon shrivel was wet, and hung with spiders' webs that like a slender netting upheld the dew. the keeper swore a good deal about a certain gentleman farmer whose lands adjoined the estate, but who held under a different proprietor. between these two there was a constant bickering--the tenant angry about the damage done to his crops by the hares and rabbits, and the keeper bitterly resenting the tenant's watch on his movements, and warnings to his employer that all was not quite as it should be. the tenant had the right to shoot, and he was always about in the turnips--a terrible thorn in the side of dickon's friend. the tenant roundly declared the keeper a rascal, and told his master so in written communications. the keeper declared the tenant set gins by the wood, in which the pheasants stepped and had their legs smashed. then the tenant charged the keeper with trespassing; the other retorted that he decoyed the pheasants by leaving peas till they dropped out of the pods. in short, their hatred was always showing itself in some act of guerrilla warfare. as we approached the part of the woods fixed on, two of the keeper's assistants, carrying thick sticks, stepped from behind a hedge, and reported that they had kept a good watch, and the old fox (the tenant) had not been seen that morning. so these fellows went round to beat, and the guns were got ready. sometimes you could hear the pheasants running before they reached the low-cropped hawthorn hedge at the side of the plantation; sometimes they came so quietly as to appear suddenly out from the ditch, having crept through. others came with a tremendous rush through the painted leaves, rising just before the hedge; and now and then one flew screaming high over the tops of the firs and ash-poles, his glossy neck glowing in the sunlight and his long tail floating behind. these last pleased me most, for when the shot struck the great bird going at that rate even death could not at once arrest his progress. the impetus carried him yards, gradually slanting downwards till he rolled in the green rush bunches. then a hare slipped out and ran the gauntlet, and filled the hollow with his cries when the shot broke his hindquarters, till the dog had him. jays came in couples, and green woodpeckers singly: the magpies cunningly flew aside instead of straight ahead; they never could do anything straightforward. a stoat peeped out, but went back directly when a rabbit whose retreat had been cut off bolted over his most insidious enemy. every now and then dickon's shot when he fired high cut the twigs out of the ash by me. then came the distant noise of the beaters' sticks, and the pheasants, at last thoroughly disturbed, flew out in twos and threes at a time. now the firing grew fierce, and the roll of the volleys ceaseless. it was impossible to jam the cartridges fast enough in the breech. a subtle flavour of sulphur filled the mouth, and the lips became dry. sunshine and gleaming leaves and sky and grass seemed to all disappear in the fever of the moment. the gun burned the hands, all blackened by the powder; the metal got hotter and hotter; the sward was poached and trampled and dotted with cases; shot hissed through the air and pattered in showers on the opposite plantation; the eyes, bleared and bloodshot with the smoke, could scarce see to point the tube. pheasants fell, and no one heeded; pheasants escaped, and none noticed it; pheasants were but just winged and ran wounded into the distant hedges; pheasants were blown out of all living shape and could hardly be gathered up. not a word spoken: a breathless haste to load and blaze; a storm of shot and smoke and slaughter. chapter vii oby and his system: the moucher's calendar one dark night, as i was walking on a lonely road, i kicked against something, and but just saved myself from a fall. it was an intoxicated man lying at full length. as a rule, it is best to let such people alone; but it occurred to me that the mail-cart was due; with two horses harnessed tandem-fashion, and travelling at full speed, the mail would probably go over him. so i seized the fellow by the collar and dragged him out of the way. then he sat up, and asked in a very threatening tone who i was. i mentioned my name: he grunted, and fell back on the turf, where i left him. the incident passed out of my mind, when one afternoon a labourer called, asking for me in a mysterious manner, and refusing to communicate his business to any one else. when admitted, he produced a couple of cock pheasants from under his coat, the tail feathers much crumpled, but otherwise in fine condition. these he placed on the table, remarking, 'i ain't forgot as you drawed i out of the raud thuck night.' i made him understand that such presents were too embarrassing; but he seemed anxious to do 'summat,' so i asked him to find me a few ferns and rare plants. this he did from time to time; and thus a species of acquaintanceship grew up, and i learned all about him. he was always called 'oby' (_i.e._ obadiah), and was the most determined poacher of a neighbouring district--a notorious fighting man--hardened against shame, an ishmaelite openly contemning authority and yet not insensible to kindness. i give his history in his own language--softening only the pronunciation, that would otherwise be unintelligible. 'i lives with my granny in thorney-lane: it be outside the village. my mother be married agen, you see, to the smith: her have got a cottage as belongs to her. my brother have got a van and travels the country; and sometimes i and my wife goes with him. i larned to set up a wire when i went to plough when i were a boy, but never took to it regular till i went a-navigating [navvying] and seed what a spree it were. 'there ain't no such chaps for poaching as they navigators in all england: i means where there be a railway a-making. i've knowed forty of 'em go out together on a sunday, and every man had a dog, and some two; and good dogs too--lots of 'em as you wouldn't buy for ten quid. they used to spread out like, and sweep the fields as clean as the crownd of your hat. keepers weren't no good at all, and besides they never knowed which place us was going to make for. one of the chaps gave i a puppy, and he growed into the finest greyhound as you'd find in a day's walk. the first time i was took up before the bench i had to go to gaol, because the contractor had broke and the works was stopped, so that my mates hadn't no money to pay the fine. 'the dog was took away home to granny by my butty [comrade], but one of the gentlemen as seed it in the court sent his groom over and got it off the old woman for five pound. she thought if i hadn't the hound i should give it up, and she come and paid me out of gaol. it was a wonder as i didn't break her neck; only her was a good woman, you see, to i. but i wouldn't have parted with that hound for a quart-full of sovereigns. many's a time i've seed his name--they changed his name, of course--in the papers for winning coursing matches. but we let that gent as bought him have it warm; we harried his pheasants and killed the most of 'em. 'after that i came home, and took to it regular. it ain't no use unless you do it regular. if a man goes out into the fields now and then chance-like he don't get much, and is most sure to be caught--very likely in the place of somebody else the keepers were waiting for and as didn't come. i goes to work every day the same as the rest, only i always take piece-work, which i can come to when i fancy, and stay as late in the evening as suits me with a good excuse. as i knows navigating, i do a main bit of draining and water-furrowing, and i gets good wages all the year round, and never wants for a job. you see, i knows more than the fellows as have never been at nothing but plough. 'the reason i gets on so well poaching is because i'm always at work out in the fields, except when i goes with the van. i watches everything as goes on, and marks the hare's tracks and the rabbit buries, and the double mounds and little copses as the pheasants wanders off to in the autumn. i keeps a 'nation good look-out after the keeper and his men, and sees their dodges--which way they walks, and how they comes back sudden and unexpected on purpose. there's mostly one about with his eyes on me--when they sees me working on a farm they puts a man special to look after me. i never does nothing close round where i'm at work, so he waits about a main bit for nothing. 'you see by going out piece-work i visits every farm in the parish. the other men they works for one farmer for two or three or maybe twenty years; but i goes very nigh all round the place--a fortnight here and a week there, and then a month somewhere else. so i knows every hare in the parish, and all his runs and all the double mounds and copses, and the little covers in the corners of the fields. when i be at work on one place i sets my wires about half a mile away on a farm as i ain't been working on for a month, and where the keeper don't keep no special look-out now i be gone. as i goes all round, i knows the ways of all the farmers, and them as bides out late at night at their friends', and they as goes to bed early; and so i knows what paths to follow and what fields i can walk about in and never meet nobody. 'the dodge is always to be in the fields and to know everybody's ways. then you may do just as you be a-mind. all of 'em knows i be a-poaching; but that don't make no difference for work; i can use my tools, and do it as well as any man in the country, and they be glad to get me on for 'em. they farmers as have got their shooting be sharper than the keepers, and you can't do much there; but they as haven't got the shooting don't take no notice. they sees my wires in the grass, and just looks the other way. if they sees i with a gun i puts un in ditch till they be gone by, and they don't look among the nettles. 'some of them as got land by the wood would like i to be there all day and night. you see, their clover and corn feeds the hares and pheasants; and then some day when they goes into the market and passes the poultry-shop there be four or five score pheasants a-hanging up with their long tails a-sweeping in the faces of them as fed 'em. the same with the hares and the rabbits; and so they'd just as soon as i had 'em--and a dalled deal sooner--out of spite. lord bless you! if i was to walk through their courtyards at night with a sack over my shoulders full of you knows what, and met one of 'em, he'd tell his dog to stop that yowling, and go in doors rather than see me. as for the rabbits, they hates they worse than poison. they knocks a hare over now and then themselves on the quiet--bless you! i could tell tales on a main few, but i bean't such a fellow as that. 'but, you see i don't run no risk except from the keeper hisself, the men as helps un, and two or three lickspittles as be always messing round after a ferreting job or some wood-cutting, and the christmas charities. it be enough to make a man sick to see they. this yer parish be a very big un, and a be preserved very high, and i can do three times as much in he as in the next un, as ain't much preserved. so i sticks to this un. 'of course they tried to drive i out of un, and wanted the cottage; but granny had all the receipts for the quit-rent, and my lard and all the lawyers couldn't shove us out, and there we means to bide. you have seed that row of oaks as grows in the hedge behind our house. one of 'em leaned over the roof, and one of the limbs was like to fall; but they wouldn't cut him, just to spite us, and the rain dripping spoilt the thatch. so i just had another chimney built at that end for an oven, and kept up the smoke till all the tree that side died. i've had more than one pheasant through them oaks, as draws 'em: i had one in a gin as i put in the ditch by my garden. 'they started a tale as 'twas i as stole the lambs a year or two ago, and they had me up for it; but they couldn't prove nothing agen me. then they had me for unhinging the gates and drowning 'em in the water, but when they was going to try the case they two young farmers as you know of come and said as they did it when they was tight, and so i got off. they said as 'twas i that put the poison for the hounds when three on 'em took it and died while the hunt was on. it were the dalledest lie! i wouldn't hurt a dog not for nothing. the keeper hisself put that poison, i knows, 'cause he couldn't bear the pack coming to upset the pheasants. yes, they been down upon i a main bit, but i means to bide. all the farmers knows as i never touched no lamb, nor even pulled a turmot, and they never couldn't get no witnesses. 'after a bit i catched the keeper hisself and the policeman at it; and there be another as knows it, and who do you think that be? it be the man in town as got the licence to sell game as haves most of my hares; the keeper selled he a lot as the money never got to my lard's pocket and the steward never knowed of. look at that now! so now he shuts his eye and axes me to drink, and give me the ferreting job in longlands mound; but, lord bless 'ee, i bean't so soft as he thinks for. 'they used to try and get me to fight the keeper when they did catch me with a wire, but i knowed as hitting is transporting, and just put my hands in my pockets and let 'em do as they liked. _they_ knows i bean't afraid of 'em in the road; i've threshed more than one of 'em, but i ain't going to jump into _that_ trap. i've been before the bench, at one place and t'other, heaps of times, and paid the fine for trespass. last time the chairman said to i, "so you be here again, oby; we hear a good deal about you." i says, "yes, my lard, i be here agen, but people never don't hear nothing about _you_." that shut the old duffer up. nobody never heard nothing of he, except at rent-audit. 'however, they all knows me now--my lard and the steward, and the keeper and the bailies, and the farmers; and they don't take half the notice of i as they used to. the keeper he don't dare, nor the policeman as i telled you, and the rest be got used to me and my ways. and i does very well one week with t'other. one week i don't take nothing, and the next i haves a good haul, chiefly hares and rabbits; 'cause of course i never goes into the wood, nor the plantations. it wants eight or ten with crape masks on for that job. 'i sets up about four wires, sometimes only two; if you haves so many it is a job to look after 'em. i stops the hare's other runs, so that she is sure to come along mine where i've got the turnpike up: the trick is to rub your hand along the runs as you want to stop, or spit on 'em, or summat like that; for a hare won't pass nothing of that sort. so pussy goes back and comes by the run as i've chose: if she comes quick she don't holler; if she comes slow she squeals a bit sometimes before the wire hangs her. very often i bean't fur off and stops the squealing. that's why i can't use a gin--it makes 'em holler so. i ferrets a goodish few rabbits on bright nights in winter. 'as for the pheasants, i gets them mostly about acorn-time; they comes out of the plantations then. i keeps clear of the plantations, because, besides the men a-watching, they have got dogs chained up, and alarm-guns as goes off if you steps on the spring; and some have got a string stretched along as you be pretty sure to kick against, and then, bang! and all the dogs sets up a yowling. of course it's only powder, but it brings the keepers along. but when the acorns and the berries be ripe, the pheasants comes out along the hedges after 'em, and gets up at the haws and such like. they wanders for miles, and as they don't care to go all the way back to roost they bides in the little copses as i told you of. they come to the same copses every year, which is curious, as most of them as will come this year will be shot before next. 'if i can't get 'em the fust night, i just throws a handful or two of peas about the place, and they'll be sure to stay, and likely enough bring two or three more. i mostly shoots 'em with just a little puff of powder as you wouldn't hear across one field, especially if it's a windy night. i had a air-gun, as was took from me, but he weren't much go: i likes a gun as throws the shot wide, but i never shoots any but roosters, unless i catch 'em standing still. 'all as i can tell you is as the dodge is this: you watch everybody, and be always in the fields, and always work one parish till you knows every hare in un, and always work by yourself and don't have no mates.' there were several other curious characters whom we frequently saw at work. the mouchers were about all the year round, and seemed to live in, or by the hedges, as much as the mice. these men probably see more than the most careful observer, without giving it a thought. in january the ice that freezes in the ditches appears of a dark colour, because it lies without intervening water on the dead brown leaves. their tint shows through the translucent crystal, but near the edge of the ice three white lines or bands run round. if by any chance the ice gets broken or upturned, these white bands are seen to be caused by flanges projecting from the under surface, almost like stands. they are sometimes connected in such a way that the parallel flanges appear like the letter 'h' with the two down-strokes much prolonged. in the morning the chalky rubble brought from the pits upon the downs and used for mending gateways leading into the fields glistens brightly. upon the surface of each piece of rubble there adheres a thin coating of ice: if this be lightly struck it falls off, and with it a flake of the chalk. as it melts, too, the chalk splits and crumbles; and thus in an ordinary gateway the same process may be seen that disintegrates the most majestic cliff. the stubbles--those that still remain--are full of linnets, upon which the mouching fowler preys in the late autumn. and when at the end of january the occasional sunbeams give some faint hope of spring, he wanders through the lanes carrying a decoy bird in a darkened cage, and a few boughs of privet studded with black berries and bound round with rushes for the convenience of handling. the female yellow-hammers, whose hues are not so brilliant as those of the male birds, seem as winter approaches to flock together, and roam the hedges and stubble fields in bevies. where loads of corn have passed through gates the bushes often catch some straws, and the tops of the gateposts, being decayed and ragged, hold others. these are neglected while the seeds among the stubble, the charlock, and the autumn dandelion are plentiful and while the ears left by the gleaners may still be found. but in the shadowless winter days, hard and cold, each scattered straw is sought for. a few days before the new year [1879] opened i saw a yellow-hammer attacking, in a very ingenious manner, a straw that hung pendent, the ear downwards, from the post of a windy gateway. she fluttered up from the ground, clung to the ear, and outspread her wings, keeping them rigid. the draught acted on the wings, just as the breeze does on a paper kite, and there the bird remained supported without an effort while the ear was picked. now and then the balance was lost, but she was soon up again, and again used the wind to maintain her position. the brilliant cockbirds return in the early spring, or at least appear to do so, for the habits of birds are sometimes quite local. it is probable that in severe and continued frost many hedgehogs die. on january 19 [1879], in the midst of the sharp weather, a hedgehog came to the door opening on the garden at night, and was taken in. though carefully tended, the poor creature died next day: it was so weak it could scarcely roll itself into a ball. as the vital heat declined the fleas deserted their host and issued from among the spines. in february, unless it be a mild season, the mounds are still bare; and then under the bushes the ground may be sometimes seen strewn with bulbous roots, apparently of the blue-bell, lying thickly together and entirely exposed. the moucher now carries a bill-hook, and as he shambles along the road keeps a sharp look-out for briars. when he sees one the roots of which are not difficult to get at, and whose tall upright stem is green--if dark it is too old--he hacks it off with as much of the root as possible. the lesser branches are cut, and the stem generally trimmed; it is then sold to the gardeners as the stock on which to graft standard roses. in a few hours as he travels he will get together quite a bundle of such briars. he also collects moss, which is sold for the purpose of placing in flowerpots to hide the earth. the moss preferred is that growing on and round stoles. the melting of the snow and the rains in february cause the ditches to overflow and form shallow pools in the level meadows. into these sometimes the rooks wade as far as the length of their legs allows them, till the discoloured yellow water almost touches the lower part of the breast. the moucher searches for small shell snails, of which quantities are sold as food for cage birds, and cuts small 'turfs' a few inches square from the green by the roadside. these are in great request for larks, especially at this time of the year, when they begin to sing with all their might. large flocks of woodpigeons are now in every field where the tender swede and turnip tops are sprouting green and succulent. these 'tops' are the moucher's first great crop of the year. the time that they appear varies with the weather: in a mild winter some may be found early in january; if the frost has been severe there may be none till march. these the moucher gathers by stealth; he speedily fills a sack, and goes off with it to the nearest town. turnip tops are much more in demand now than formerly, and the stealing of them a more serious matter. this trade lasts some time, till the tops become too large and garden greens take their place. in going to and fro the fields the moucher searches the banks and digs out primrose 'mars,' and ferns with the root attached, which he hawks from door to door in the town. he also gathers quantities of spring flowers, as violets. this spring [1879], owing to the severity of the season, there were practically none to gather, and when the weather moderated the garden flowers preceded those of the hedge. till the 10th of march not a spot of colour was to be seen. about that time bright yellow flowers appeared suddenly on the clayey banks and waste places, and among the hard clay lumps of fields ploughed but not sown. the brilliant yellow formed a striking contrast to the dull brown of the clods, there being no green leaf to moderate the extremes of tint. these were the blossoms of the coltsfoot, that sends up a stalk surrounded with faintly rosy scales. several such stalks often spring from a single clod: lift the heavy clod, and you have half a dozen flowers, a whole bunch, without a single leaf. usually the young grasses and the seed-leaves of plants have risen up and supply a general green; but this year the coltsfoot bloomed unsupported, studding the dark ground with gold. now the frogs are busy, and the land lizards come forth. even these the moucher sometimes captures; for there is nothing so strange but that some one selects it for a pet. the mad march hares scamper about in broad daylight over the corn, whose pale green blades rise in straight lines a few inches above the soil. they are chasing their skittish loves, instead of soberly dreaming the day away in a bunch of grass. the ploughman walks in the furrow his share has made, and presently stops to measure the 'lands' with the spud. his horses halt dead in the tenth of a second at the sound of his voice, glad to rest for a minute from their toil. work there is in plenty now, for stone-picking, hoeing, and other matters must be attended to; but the moucher lounges in the road decoying chaffinches, or perhaps earns a shilling by driving some dealer's cattle home from fair and market. by april his second great crop is ready--the watercress; the precise time of course varies very much, and at first the quantities are small. the hedges are now fast putting on the robe of green that gradually hides the wreck of last year's growth. the withered head of the teazle, black from the rain, falls and disappears. great burdock stems lie prostrate. thick and hard as they are while the sap is still in them, in winter the wet ground rots the lower part till the blast overthrows the stalk. the hollow 'gicks' too, that lately stood almost to the shoulder, is down, or slanting, temporarily supported by some branch. just between the root and the stalk it has decayed till nothing but a narrow strip connects the dry upper part with the earth. the moucher sells the nests and eggs of small birds to townsfolk who cannot themselves wander among the fields, but who love to see something that reminds them of the green meadows. as the season advances and the summer comes he gathers vast quantities of dandelion leaves, parsley, sowthistle, clover, and so forth, as food for the tame rabbits kept in towns. if his haunt be not far from a river, he spends hours collecting bait--worm and grub and fly--for the boatmen, who sell them again to the anglers. again there is work in the meadows--the haymaking is about, and the farmers are anxious for men. but the moucher passes by and looks for quaking grass, bunches of which have a ready sale. fledgeling goldfinches and linnets, young rabbits, young squirrels, even the nest of the harvest-trow mouse, and occasionally a snake, bring him in a little money. he picks the forget-me-nots from the streams and the 'blue-bottle' from the corn: bunches of the latter are sometimes sold in london at a price that seems extravagant to those who have seen whole fields tinted with its beautiful azure. by-and-by the golden wheat calls for an army of workers; but the moucher passes on and gathers groundsel. then come the mushrooms: he knows the best places, and soon fills a basket full of 'buttons' picking them very early in the morning. these are then put in 'punnets' by the greengrocers and retailed at a high price. later the blackberries ripen and form his third great crop; the quantity he brings in to the town is astonishing, and still there is always a customer. the blackberry harvest lasts for several weeks, as the berries do not all ripen at once, but successively, and is supplemented by elderberries and sloes. the moucher sometimes sleeps on the heaps of disused tan in a tanyard; tanyards are generally on the banks of small rivers. the tan is said to possess the property of preserving those who sleep on it from chills and cold, though they may lie quite exposed to the weather. there is generally at least one such a man as this about the outskirts of market towns, and he is an 'original' best defined by negatives. he is not a tramp, for he never enters the casual wards and never begs--that is, of strangers; though there are certain farmhouses where he calls once now and then and gets a slice of bread and cheese and a pint of ale. he brings to the farmhouse a duck's egg that has been dropped in the brook by some negligent bird, or carries intelligence of the nest made by some roaming goose in a distant withy-bed. or once, perhaps, he found a sheep on its back in a narrow furrow, unable to get up and likely to die if not assisted, and by helping the animal to gain its legs earned a title to the owner's gratitude. he is not a thief; apples and plums and so on are quite safe, though the turnip-tops are not: there is a subtle casuistry involved here--the distinction between the quasi-wild and the garden product. he is not a poacher in the sense of entering coverts, or even snaring a rabbit. if the pheasants are so numerous and so tame that passing carters have to whip them out of the way of the horses, it is hardly wonderful if one should disappear now and then. nor is he like the running jack that used to accompany the more famous packs of fox-hounds, opening gates, holding horses, and a hundred other little services, and who kept up with the hunt by sheer fleetness of foot. yet he is fleet of foot in his way, though never seen to run; he _pads_ along on naked feet like an animal, never straightening the leg, but always keeping the knee a little bent. with a basket of watercress slung at his back by a piece of tar-cord, he travels rapidly in this way; his feet go 'pad, pad' on the thick white dust, and he easily overtakes a good walker and keeps up the pace for miles without exertion. the watercress is a great staple, because it lasts for so many months. seeing the nimble way in which he gathers it, thrusting aside the brook-lime, breaking off the coarser sprays, snipping away pieces of root, sorting and washing, and thinking of the amount of work to be got through before a shilling is earned, one would imagine that the slow, idling life of the labourer, with his regular wages, would be far more enticing. near the stream the ground is perhaps peaty: little black pools appear between tufts of grass, some of them streaked with a reddish or yellowish slime that glistens on the surface of the dark water; and as you step there is a hissing sound as the spongy earth yields, and a tiny spout is forced forth several yards distant. some of the drier part of the soil the moucher takes to sell for use in gardens and flower-pots as peat. the years roll on, and he grows old. but no feebleness of body or mind can induce him to enter the workhouse; he cannot quit his old haunts. let it rain or sleet, or let the furious gale drive broken boughs across the road, he still sleeps in some shed or under a straw-rick. in sheer pity he is committed every now and then to prison for vagabondage--not for punishment, but in order to save him from himself. it is in vain: the moment he is out he returns to his habits. all he wants is a little beer--he is not a drunkard--and a little tobacco, and the hedges. some chilly evening, as the shadows thicken, he shambles out of the town, and seeks the limekiln in the ploughed field, where, the substratum being limestone, the farmer burns it. near the top of the kiln the ground is warm; there he reclines and sleeps. the night goes on. out from the broken blocks of stone now and again there rises a lambent flame, to shine like a meteor for a moment and then disappear. the rain falls. the moucher moves uneasily in his sleep; instinctively he rolls or crawls towards the warmth, and presently lies extended on the top of the kiln. the wings of the water-fowl hurtle in the air as they go over; by-and-by the heron utters his loud call. very early in the morning the quarryman comes to tend his fire, and starts to see on the now redhot and glowing stones, sunk below the rim, the presentment of a skeleton formed of the purest white ashes--a ghastly spectacle in the grey of the dawn, as the mist rises and the peewit plaintively whistles over the marshy meadow. chapter viii churchyard pheasants: before the bench the tower of the church at essant hill was so low that it scarcely seemed to rise above the maples in the hedges. it could not be seen until the last stile in the footpath across the meadows was passed. church and tower then came into view together on the opposite side of a large open field. a few aged hawthorn trees dotted the sward, and beyond the church the outskirts of a wood were visible, but no dwellings could be seen. upon a second and more careful glance, however, the chimney of a cottage appeared above a hedge, so covered with ivy as hardly to be separated from the green of the boughs. there were houses of course somewhere in essant, but they were so scattered that a stranger might doubt the existence of the village. a few farmsteads long distances apart, and some cottages standing in green lanes and at the corners of the fields, were nearly all; there was nothing resembling a 'street'--not so much as a row. the church was in effect the village, and the church was simply the mausoleum of the dessant family, the owners of the place. essant hill as a name had been rather a problem to the archã¦ologists, there being no hill: the ground was quite level. the explanation at last admitted was that essant hill was a corruption of d'essantville. it seemed probable that the population had greatly diminished; because, although the church was of great antiquity, there was space still for interments in the yard. a yew tree of immense size stood in one corner, and was by tradition associated with the fortunes of the family. though the old trunk was much decayed, yet there were still green and flourishing shoots; so that the superstitious elders said the luck of the house was returning. within, the walls of the church were covered with marble slabs, and the space was reduced by the tombs of the dessants, one with a recumbent figure; there were two brasses level with the pavement, and in the chancel hung the faded hatchments of the dead. for the pedigree went back to the battle of hastings, and there was scarce room for more heraldry. from week's end to week's end the silent nave and aisles remained empty; the chirp of the sparrows was the only sound to be heard there. there being no house attached to the living, the holder could not reside; so the old church slumbered in the midst of the meadows, the hedges, and woods, day after day, year after year. you could sit on the low churchyard wall in early summer under the shade of the elms in the hedge, whose bushes and briars came right over, and listen to the whistling of the blackbirds or the varied note of the thrush; you might see the whitethroat rise and sing just over the hedge, or look upwards and watch the swallows and swifts wheeling, wheeling, wheeling in the sky. no one would pass to disturb your meditations, whether simply dreaming of nothing in the genial summer warmth, or thinking over the course of history since the prows of the norman ships grounded on the beach. if we suppose the time, instead of june, to be august or september, there would not even be the singing of the birds. but as you sat on the wall, by-and-by the pheasants, tame as chickens, would come up the hedge and over into the churchyard. leaving the church to stroll by the footpath across the meadow towards the wood, at the first gateway half-a-dozen more pheasants scatter aside, just far enough to let you pass. in the short dusty lane more pheasants; and again at the edge of the cornfield. none of these show any signs of alarm, and only move just far enough to avoid being trodden on. approaching the wood there are yet more pheasants, especially near the fir plantations that come up to the keeper's cottage and form one side of the enclosure of his garden. the pheasants come up to the door to pick up what they can--not long since they were fed there--and then wander away between the slender fir trunks, and beyond them out into the fields. the path leads presently into a beautiful park, the only defect of which is that it is without undulation. it is quite level; but still the clumps of noble timber are pleasant to gaze upon. in one spot there still stands the grey wall and buttress of some ancient building, doubtless the relic of an ecclesiastical foundation. the present mansion is not far distant; it is of large size, but lacks elegance. inside, nothing that modern skill can supply to render a residence comfortable, convenient, and (as art is understood in furniture) artistic has been neglected. behind the fir plantations there is an extensive range of stabling, recently erected, with all the latest improvements. a telegraph wire connects the house with the stable, so that carriage or horse may be instantly summoned. another wire has been carried to the nearest junction with the general telegraphic system; so that the resident in this retired spot may communicate his wishes without a moment's delay to any part of the world. in the gardens and pleasure-grounds near the house all manner of ornamental shrubs are planted. there are conservatories, vineries, pineries; all the refinements of horticulture. the pheasants stray about the gravel walks and across the close-mown lawn where no daisy dares to lift its head. yet, with all this precision of luxury, one thing is lacking--_the_ one thing, the keystone of english country life--_i.e._ a master whose heart is in the land. the estate is in process of 'nursing' for a minor. the revenues had become practically sequestrated to a considerable extent in consequence of careless living when the minor nominally succeeded. it happened that the steward appointed was not only a lawyer of keen intelligence, but a conscientious man. he did his duty thoroughly. every penny was got out of the estate that could be got, and every penny was saved. first, the rents were raised to the modern standard, many of them not having been increased for years. then the tenants were in effect ordered to farm to the highest pitch, and to improve the soil itself by liberal investment. buildings, drains, and so forth were provided for them; they only had to pay a small percentage upon the money expended in construction. in this there was nothing that could be complained of; but the hard, mechanical, unbending spirit in which it was done--the absence of all kind of sympathy--caused a certain amount of discontent. the steward next proceeded to turn the mansion, the park, home farm, and preserves into revenue. everything was prepared to attract the wealthy man who wanted the temporary use of a good country house, first-class shooting and hunting. he succeeded in doing what few gentlemen have accomplished: he made the pheasants pay. one reason, of course, was that gentlemen have expenses outside and beyond breeding and keeping: the shooting party itself is expensive; whereas here the shooting party paid hard cash for their amusement. the steward had no knowledge of pheasants; but he had a wide experience of one side of human nature, and he understood accounts. the keepers were checked by figures at every turn, finding it impossible to elude the businesslike arrangements that were made. in revenue the result was highly successful. the mansion with the first-class shooting, hunting, and lovely woodlands--every modern convenience and comfort in the midst of the most rural scenery--let at a high price to good tenants. there was an income from what had previously been profitless. under this shrewd management the estate was fast recovering. at the same time the whole parish groaned in spirit. the farmers grumbled at the moral pressure which forced them to progress in spite of themselves. they grumbled at the strange people who took up their residence in their midst and suddenly claimed all the loyalty which was the due of the old family. these people hunted over their fields, jumped over the hedges, glanced at them superciliously, and seemed astonished if every hat was not raised when they came in sight. the farmers felt that they were regarded as ignorant barbarians, and resented the town-bred insolence of people who aped the country gentleman. they grumbled about the over-preservation of game, and they grumbled about the rabbits. the hunt had its grumble too because some of the finest coverts were closed to the hounds, and because they wanted to know what became of the foxes that formerly lived in those coverts. here was a beautiful place--a place that one might dream life away in--filled with all manner of discontent. everything was done with the best intention. but the keystone was wanting--the landlord, the master, who had grown up in the traditions of the spot, and between whom and the people there would have been, even despite of grievances, a certain amount of sympathy. so true is it that in england, under the existing system of land tenure, an estate cannot be worked like the machinery of a factory. at first, when the pheasant-preserving began to reach such a height, there was a great deal of poaching by the resident labourers. the temptation was thrust so closely before their faces they could not resist it. when pheasants came wandering into the cottage gardens, and could even be enticed into the sheds and so secured by simply shutting the door, men who would not have gone out of their way to poach were led to commit themselves. there followed a succession of prosecutions and fines, till the place began to get a reputation for that sort of thing. it was at last intimated to the steward by certain gentlemen that this course of prosecution was extremely injudicious. for it is a fact--a fact carefully ignored sometimes--that resident gentlemen object to prosecutions, and, so far from being anxious to fine or imprison poachers, would very much rather not. the steward took the hint, and instead increased his watchers. but by this time the novelty of pheasants roaming about like fowls had begun to wear off, and their services were hardly needed. men went by pheasants with as much indifference as they would pass a tame duck by the roadside. such poachers as visited the woods came from a distance. two determined raids were carried out by strangers, who escaped. every now and then wires were found that had been abandoned, but the poaching ceased to be more than is usual on most properties. so far as the inhabitants of the parish were concerned it almost ceased altogether; but every now and then the strollers, gipsies, and similar characters carried off a pheasant or a hare, or half a dozen rabbits. these offenders when detected were usually charged before the bench at a market town not many miles distant. let us follow one there. the little town of l----, which has not even a branch railway, mainly consists of a long street. in one part this street widens out, so that the houses are some forty yards or more apart, and it then again contracts. this irregularly shaped opening is the market-place, and here in the centre stands a rude-looking building. it is supported upon thick short pillars, and was perhaps preceded by a wooden structure. under these pillars there is usually a shabby chaise or two run in for cover, and the spot is the general rendezvous of all the dogs in the town. this morning there are a few loafers hanging round the place; and the tame town pigeons have fluttered down, and walk with nodding heads almost up to them. these pigeons always come to the edge of a group of people, mindful of the stray grain and peas that fall from the hands of farmers and dealers examining samples on market days. presently, two constables come across carrying a heavy, clumsy box between them. they unlock a door, and take the box upstairs into the hall over the pillars. after them saunters a seedy man, evidently a clerk, with a rusty black bag; and after him again--for the magistrates' clerk's clerk must have _his_ clerk--a boy with some leather-bound books. some of the loafers touch their hats as a gentleman--a magistrate--rides up the street. but although the church clock is striking the hour fixed for the sessions to begin he does not come over to the hall upon dismounting in the inn-yard, but quietly strolls away to transact some business with the wine-merchant or the saddler. there really is not the least hurry. the clerk stands in the inn porch calmly enjoying the september sunshine, and chatting with the landlord. two or three more magistrates drive up; presently the chairman strolls over on foot from his house, which is almost in the town, to the inn, and joins in the pleasant gossip going on there, of course in a private apartment. up in the justice-room the seedy clerk's clerk is leaning out of the window and conversing with a man below who has come along with a barrow-load of vegetables from his allotment. some boys are spinning tops under the pillars. on the stone steps that lead up to the hall a young mother sits nursing her infant; she is waiting to 'swear' the child. in the room itself several gipsy-looking men and women lounge in a corner. at one end is a broad table and some comfortable chairs behind it. in front of each chair, on the table, two sheets of clean foolscap have been placed on a sheet of blotting-paper. these and a variety of printed forms were taken from the clumsy box that is now open. at last there is a slight stir as a group is seen to emerge from the inn, and the magistrates take their seats. an elderly man who sits by the chair cocks his felt hat on the back of his head: the clerical magistrate very tenderly places his beaver in safety on the broad mantelpiece, that no irreverent sleeve may ruffle its gloss: several others who rarely do more than nod assent range themselves on the flanks; one younger man who looks as if he understood horses pulls out his toothpick. the chairman, stout and gouty, seizes a quill and sternly looks over the list of cases. half a dozen summonses for non-payment of rates come first; then a dispute between a farmer and his man. after this the young mother 'swears' her child; and, indeed, there is some very hard swearing here on both sides. a wrangle between two women--neighbours--who accuse each other of assault, and scream and chatter their loudest, comes next. before they decide it, the bench retire, and are absent a long time. by degrees a buzz arises, till the justice-room is as noisy as a market. suddenly the door of the private room opens, and the clerk comes out; instantly the buzz subsides, and in the silence those who are nearest catch something about the odds and the st. leger, and an anything but magisterial roar of laughter. the chairman appears, rigidly compressing his features, and begins to deliver his sentence before he can sit down, but the solemn effect is much marred by the passing of a steam ploughing engine. the audience, too, tend away towards the windows to see whose engine it is. 'silence!' cries the clerk, who has himself been looking out of window; the shuffling of feet ceases, and it is found that after this long consultation the bench have dismissed both charges. the next case on the list is poaching; and at the call of his name one of the gipsy-looking men advances, and is ordered to stand before that part of the table which by consent represents the bar. 'oby bottleton,' says the clerk, half reading, half extemporizing, and shuffling his papers to conceal certain slips of technicality; 'you are charged with trespassing in pursuit of game at essant hill--that you did use a wire on the estate--on land in the occupation of johnson.'--'it's a lie!' cries a good-looking, dark-complexioned woman, who has come up behind the defendant (the whilome navvy), and carries a child so wrapped in a shawl as to be invisible. 'silence! or you'll have to go outside the court. mr. dalton dessant will leave the bench during the hearing of this case.' mr. dalton dessant, one of the silent magistrates already alluded to, bows to the chairman, and wriggles his chair back about two feet from the table. there he gazes at the ceiling. he is one of the trustees of the essant hill property; and the bench are very careful to consult public opinion in l---borough. the first witness is an assistant keeper: the head keeper stands behind him--a fine man, still upright and hearty-looking, but evidently at the beginning of the vale of years; he holds his hat in his hand; the sunlight falls through the casement on his worn velveteen jacket. the assistant, with the aid of a few questions from the clerk, gives his evidence very clear and fairly. 'i saw the defendant's van go down the lane,' he says: 'it bean't my van,' interrupts the defendant; 'it's my brother's.' 'you'll have an opportunity of speaking presently,' says the clerk. 'go on' (to the witness). 'after the van went down the lane, it stopped by the highway-road, and the horse was taken out. the women left the van with baskets, and went towards the village.' 'yes, yes; come to the point. did you hide yourself by order of the head keeper?' 'i did--in the nutwood hedge by three corner piece; after a bit i saw the defendant.' 'had you any reason for watching there?' 'there was a wire and a rabbit in it.' 'well, what happened?' 'i waited a long time, and presently the defendant got over the gate. he was very particular not to step on the soft mud by the gate--he kind of leaped over it, not to leave the mark of his boots. he had a lurcher with him, and i was afraid the dog would scent me in the hedge.' 'you rascal!' (from the defendant's wife). 'but he didn't, and, after looking carefully round, the defendant picked up the rabbit, and put it and the wire in his pocket.' 'what did you do then?' 'i got out of the hedge and came towards him. directly he saw me he ran across the field; i whistled as loud as i could, and he' (jerking a thumb back towards the head keeper) 'came out of the firs into the lane and stopped him. we found the wire and the rabbit in his pocket, and two more wires. i produce the wires.' this was the sum of the evidence; the head keeper simply confirmed the latter part of it. oby replied that it was all false from beginning to end. he had not got corduroy trousers on that day, as stated. he was not there at all: he was in the village, and he could call witnesses to prove it. the clerk reminded the audience that there was such a thing as imprisonment for perjury. then the defendant turned savagely on the first witness, and admitted the truth of his statement by asking what he said when collared in the lane. 'you said you had had a good lot lately, and didn't care if you was nailed this time.' 'oh, what awful lies!' cried the wife. 'it's a wonder you don't fall dead!' 'you were not there,' the clerk remarked quietly. 'now, oby, what is your defence? have you got any witnesses?' 'no; i ain't got no witnesses. all as i did, i know i walked up the hedge to look for mushrooms. i saw one of them things'--meaning the wires on the table--'and i just stooped down to see what it was, 'cos i didn't know. i never seed one afore; and i was just going to pick it up and look at it' (the magistrates glance at each other, and cannot suppress a smile at this profound innocence), 'when this fellow jumped out and frightened me. i never seed no rabbit.' 'why, you put the rabbit in your pocket,' interrupts the first witness. 'never mind,' said the clerk to the witness; 'let him go on.' 'that's all as i got to say,' continues the defendant. 'i never seed no such things afore; and if he hadn't come i should have put it down again.' 'but you were trespassing,' said the clerk. 'i didn't know it. there wasn't no notice-board.' 'now, oby,' cried the head keeper, 'you know you've been along that lane this ten years.' 'that will do' (from the chairman); 'is there any more evidence?' as none was forthcoming, the bench turned a little aside and spoke in low tones. the defendant's wife immediately set up a sobbing, varied occasionally by a shriek; the infant woke up and cried, and two or three women of the same party behind began to talk in excited tones about 'shame.' the sentence was 2_l_. and costs--an announcement that caused a perfect storm of howling and crying. the defendant put his hands in his pockets with the complacent expression of a martyr. 'i must go to gaol a' spose; none of ourn ever went thur afore: a' spose _i_ must go.' 'come,' said the clerk, 'why, you or your brother bought a piece of land and a cottage not long ago,'--then to the bench, 'they're not real gipsies: he is a grandson of old bottleton who had the tollgate; you recollect, sir.' but the defendant declares he has no money; his friends shake their heads gloomily; and amid the shrieking of his wife and the crying of the child he is removed in the custody of two constables, to be presently conveyed to gaol. with ferocious glances at the bench, as if they would like to tear the chairman's eyes out, the women leave the court. 'next case,' calls the clerk. the court sits about two hours longer, having taken some five hours to get through six cases. just as the chairman rises the poacher's wife returns to the table, without her child, angrily pulls out a dirty canvas bag, and throws down three or four sovereigns before the seedy clerk's clerk. the canvas bag is evidently half-full of money--the gleam of silver and gold is visible within it. the bench stay to note this proceeding with an amused expression on their features. the woman looks at them as bold as brass, and stalks off with her man. half an hour afterwards, two of the magistrates riding away from the town pass a small tavern on the outskirts. a travelling van is outside, and from the chimney on its roof thin smoke arises. there is a little group at the doorway, and among them stands the late prisoner. oby holds a foaming tankard in one hand, and touches his battered hat, as the magistrates go by, with a gesture of sly humility. chapter ix luke, the rabbit contractor: the brook-path the waggon-track leading to the upper woods almost always presented something of interest, and often of beauty. the solitude of the place seemed to have attracted flowers and ferns as well as wild animals and birds. for though flowers have no power of motion, yet seeds have a negative choice and lie dormant where they do not find a kindly welcome. but those carried hither by the birds or winds took root and flourished, secure from the rude ploughshare or the sharp scythe. the slow rumble of waggon-wheels seldom disturbed the dreamy silence, or interrupted the song of the birds; so seldom that large docks and thistles grew calmly beside the ruts untouched by hoofs. from the thick hedges on either side trailing brambles and briars stretched far out, and here and there was a fallen branch, broken off by the winds, whose leaves had turned brown and withered while all else was green. round sarsen stones had been laid down in the marshy places to form a firm road, but the turf had long since covered most of them. where the smooth brown surfaces did project mosses had lined the base, and rushes leaned over and hid the rest. in the ditches, under the shade of the brambles, the hart's-tongue fern extended its long blade of dark glossy green. by the decaying stoles the hardy fern flourished, under the trees on the mounds the lady fern could be found, and farther up nearer the wood the tall brake almost supplanted the bushes. oak and ash boughs reached across: in the ash the wood-pigeons lingered. every now and then the bright colours of the green woodpeckers flashed to and fro their nest in a tree hard by. they would not have chosen it had not the place been nearly as quiet as the wood itself. blackthorn bushes jealously encroached on the narrow stile that entered the lane from a meadow--a mere rail thrust across a gap. the gates, set in deep recesses--short lanes themselves cut through the mounds--were rotten and decayed, so as to scarcely hold together, and not to be moved without care. hawthorn branches on each side pushed forward and lessened the opening; on the ground, where the gateposts had rotted nearly off, fungi came up in thick bunches. the little meadows to which they led were rich in oaks, growing on the 'shore' of the ditches, tree after tree. the grass in them was not plentiful, but the flowers were many; in the spring the orchis sent up its beautiful purple, and in the heat of summer the bird's-foot lotus flourished in the sunny places. farther up, nearer the wood, the lane became hollow--worn down between high banks, at first clothed with fern, and then, as the hill got steeper, with fir trees. where firs are tall and thick together the sunbeams that fall aslant between them seem to be made more visible than under other trees, by the motes or wood dust in the air. still farther the banks became even steeper, till nothing but scanty ash stoles could grow upon them, the fir plantations skirting along the summit. then suddenly, at a turn, the ground sank into a deep hollow, where in spring the eye rested with relief and pleasure on the tops of young firs, acre after acre, just freshly tinted with the most delicate green. from thence the track went into the wood. by day all through the summer months there was always something to be seen in the lane--a squirrel, a stoat; always a song-bird to listen to, a flower or fern to gather. by night the goatsucker visited it, and the bat, and the white owl gliding down the slope. in winter when the clouds hung low the darkness in the hollow between the high banks, where the light was shut out by the fir trees, was like that of a cavern. it was then that night after night a strange procession wended down it. first came an old man, walking stiffly--not so much from age as rheumatism--and helping his unsteady steps on the slippery sarsen stones with a stout ground-ash staff. behind him followed a younger man, and in the rear a boy. sometimes there was an extra assistant, making four; sometimes there was only the old man and one companion. each had a long and strong ash stick across his shoulder, on which a load of rabbits was slung, an equal number in front and behind, to balance. the old fellow, who was dressed shabbily even for a labourer, was the contractor for the rabbits shot or ferreted in these woods. he took the whole number at a certain fixed price all round, and made what he could out of them. every evening in the season he went to the woods to fetch those that had been captured during the day, conveying them to his cottage on the outskirts of the village. from thence they went by carrier's cart to the railway. old luke's books, such as they were, were quite beyond the understanding of any one but himself and his wife; nor could even they themselves tell you exactly how many dozen he purchased in the year. but in his cups the wicked old hypocrite had often been known to boast that he paid the lord of the manor as much money as the rent of a small farm. one of luke's eyes was closed with a kind of watery rheum, and was never opened except when he thought a rabbit was about to jump into a net. the other was but half open, and so overhung with a thick grey eyebrow as to be barely visible. his cheeks were the hue of clay, his chin scrubby, and a lanky black forelock depended over one temple. a battered felt hat, a ragged discoloured slop, and corduroys stained with the clay of the banks completed his squalid costume. a more miserable object or one apparently more deserving of pity it would be hard to imagine. to see him crawl with slow and feeble steps across the fields in winter, gradually working his way in the teeth of a driving rain, was enough to arouse compassion in the hardest heart: there was something so utterly woebegone in his whole aspect--so weather-beaten, as if he had been rained upon ever since childhood. he seemed humbled to the ground--crushed and spiritless. now and then luke was employed by some of the farmers to do their ferreting for them and to catch the rabbits in the banks by the roadside. more than once benevolent people driving by in their cosy cushioned carriages, and seeing this lonely wretch in the bitter wind watching a rabbit's hole as if he were a dog well beaten and thrashed, had been known to stop and call the poor old fellow to the carriage door. then luke would lay his hand on his knee, shake his head, and sorrowfully state his pains and miseries: 'aw, i be ter-rable bad, i be,' he would say; 'i be most terrable bad: i can't but just drag my leg out of this yer ditch. it be a dull job, bless 'ee, this yer.' the tone, the look of the man, the dreary winter landscape all so thoroughly agreed together that a few small silver coins would drop into his hand, and luke, with a deep groaning sigh of thankfulness, would bow and scrape and go back to his 'dull job.' luke, indeed, somehow or other was always in favour with the 'quality.' he was as firmly fixed in his business as if he had been the most clever courtier. it was not of the least use for any one else to offer to take the rabbits, even if they would give more money. no, luke was the trusty man; luke, and nobody else, was worthy. so he grovelled on from year to year, blinking about the place. when some tenant found a gin in the turnip field, or a wire by the clover, and quietly waited till luke came fumbling by and picked up the hare or rabbit, it did not make the slightest difference though he went straight to the keeper and made a formal statement. luke had an answer always ready: he had not set the wire, but had stumbled on it unawares, and was going to take it to the keeper; or he had noticed a colony of rats about, and had put the gin for them. now, the same excuse might have been made by any other poacher; the difference lay in this--that luke was believed. at all events, such little trifles were forgotten, and luke went on as before. he did a good deal of the ferreting in the hedges outside the woods himself: if he took home three dozen from the mound and only paid for two dozen, that scarcely concerned the world at large. if in coming down the dark and slippery lane at night somebody with a heavy sack stepped out from the shadow at the stile, and if the contents of the sack were rapidly transferred to the shoulder-sticks, or the bag itself bodily taken along--why, there was nobody there to see. as for the young man and the boy who helped, those discreet persons had always a rabbit for their own pot, or even for a friend; and indeed it was often remarked that old luke could always get plenty of men to work for him. no one ever hinted at searching the dirty shed at the side of his cottage that was always locked by day, or looking inside the disused oven that it covered. but if fur or feathers had been found there, was not he the contractor? and clearly if a pheasant _was_ there he could not be held responsible for the unauthorised acts of his assistants. the truth was that luke was the most thorough-paced poacher in the place--or, rather, he was a wholesale receiver. his success lay in making it pleasant for everybody all round. it was pleasant for the keeper, who could always dispose of a few hares or pheasants if he wanted a little money. the keeper, in ways known to himself, made it pleasant for the bailiff. it was equally pleasant for the under-keepers, who had what they wanted (in reason), and enjoyed a little by-play on their own account. it was pleasant for his men; and it was pleasant--specially pleasant--at a little wayside inn kept by luke's nephew, and, as was believed, with luke's money. everybody concerned in the business could always procure refreshment there, including the policeman. there was only one class of persons whom luke could not conciliate; and they were the tenants. these very inconsiderate folk argued that it was the keepers' and luke's interest to maintain a very large stock of rabbits, which meant great inroads on their crops. there seemed to be even something like truth in their complaints; and once or twice the more independent carried their grievances to headquarters so effectually as to elicit an order for the destruction of the rabbits forthwith on their farms. but of what avail was such an order when the execution of it was entrusted to luke himself? in time the tenants got to put up with luke; and the wiser of them turned round and tried to make it still more pleasant for _him_: they spoke a good word for him; they gave him a quart of ale, and put little things in his way, such as a chance to buy and sell faggots at a small profit. not to be ungrateful, luke kept their rabbits within reasonable bounds; and he had this great recommendation--that whether they bullied him or whether they gave him ale and bread-and-cheese, luke was always humble and always touched his hat. his wife kept a small shop for the sale of the coarser groceries and a little bacon. he had also rather extensive gardens, from which he sold quantities of vegetables. it was more than suspected that the carrier's cart was really luke's--that is, he found the money for horsing it, and could take possession if he liked. the carrier's cart took his rabbits, and the game he purchased of poachers, to the railway, and the vegetables from the gardens to the customers in town. at least one cottage besides his own belonged to him; and some would have it that this was one of the reasons of his success with the 'quality.' the people at the great house, anxious to increase their influence, wished to buy every cottage and spare piece of land. this was well known, and many small owners prided themselves upon spiting the big people at the great house by refusing to sell, or selling to another person. the great house was believed to have secured the first 'refuse' of luke's property, if ever he thought of selling. luke, in fact, among the lower classes was looked upon as a capitalist--a miser with an unknown hoard. the old man used to sit of a winter's evening, after he had brought down the rabbits, by the hearth, making rabbit-nets of twine. almost everybody who came along the road, home from the market town, stopped, lifted the latch without knocking, and looked in to tell the news or hear it. but luke's favourite manoeuvre was to take out his snuff-box, tap it, and offer it to the person addressing him. this he would do to a farmer, even though it were the largest tenant of all. for this snuff-box was a present from the lady at the great house, who took an interest in poor old luke's infirmities, and gave him the snuff-box, a really good piece of workmanship, well filled with the finest snuff, to console his wretchedness. of this box luke was as proud as if it had been the insignia of the legion of honour, and never lost an opportunity of showing it to every one of standing. when the village heard of this kindly present it ran over in its mind all that it knew about the stile, and the sacks, and the disused oven. then the village very quietly shrugged its shoulders, and though it knew not the word irony, well understood what that term conveys. at the foot of the hill on which the upper woods were situate there extended a level tract of meadows with some cornfields. through these there flowed a large slow brook, often flooded in winter by the water rushing down from the higher lands. it was pleasant in the early year to walk now and then along the footpath that followed the brook, noting the gradual changes in the hedges. when the first swallow of the spring wheels over the watery places the dry sedges of last year still stand as they grew. they are supported by the bushes beside the meadow ditch where it widens to join the brook, and the water it brings down from the furrows scarcely moves through the belt of willow lining the larger stream. as the soft west wind runs along the hedge it draws a sigh from the dead dry stalks and leaves that will no more feel the rising sap. by the wet furrows the ground has still a brownish tint, for there the floods lingered and discoloured the grass. near the ditch pointed flags are springing up, and the thick stems of the marsh marigold. from bunches of dark green leaves slender stalks arise and bear the golden petals of the marsh buttercups, the lesser celandine. if the wind blows cold and rainy they will close, and open again to the sunshine. at the outside of the withies, where the earth is drier, stand tall horse-chestnut trees, aspen, and beech. the leaflets of the horse-chestnut are already opening; but on the ground, half-hidden under beech leaves not yet decayed, and sycamore leaves reduced to imperfect grey skeletons, there lies a chestnut shell. it is sodden, and has lost its original green--the prickles, too, have decayed and disappeared; yet at a touch it falls apart, and discloses two chestnuts, still of a rich, deep polished brown. on the very bank of the brook there grows a beech whose bare boughs droop over, almost dipping in the water, where it comes with a swift rush from the narrow arches of a small bridge whose bricks are green with moss. the current is still slightly turbid, for the floods have not long subsided, and the soaked meadows and ploughed fields send their rills to swell the brook and stain it with sand and earth. on the surface float down twigs and small branches forced from the trees by the gales: sometimes an entangled mass of aquatic weeds--long, slender green filaments twisted and matted together--comes more slowly because heavy and deep in the water. a little bird comes flitting silently from the willows and perches on the drooping beech branch. it is a delicate little creature, the breast of a faint and dull yellowy green, the wings the lightest brown, and there is a pencilled streak over the eye. the beak is so slender it scarce seems capable of the work it should do, the legs and feet so tiny that they are barely visible. hardly has he perched than the keen eyes detect a small black speck that has just issued from the arch, floating fast on the surface of the stream and borne round and round in a tiny whirlpool. he darts from the branch, hovers just above the water, and in a second has seized the black speck and returned to the branch. a moment or two passes, and again he darts and takes something--this time invisible--from the water. a third time he hovers, and on this occasion just brushes the surface. then, suddenly finding that these movements are watched, he flits--all too soon--up high into the beech and away into the narrow copse. the general tint and shape of the bird are those of the willow wren, but it is difficult to identify the species in so brief a glance and without hearing its note. the path now trends somewhat away from the stream and skirts a ploughed field, where the hedges are cropped close and the elms stripped of the lesser boughs about the trunks, that the sparrows may not find shelter. but all the same there are birds here too--one in the thick low hedge, two or three farther on, another in the ditch perching on the dead white stems of last year's plants that can hardly support an ounce weight, and all calling to each other. it is six marsh tits, as busy as they can well be. one rises from the ditch to the trunk of an elm where the thick bark is green with lichen: he goes up the tree like a woodpecker, and peers into every crevice. his little beak strikes, peck, peck, at a place where something is hidden: then he proceeds farther up the trunk: next he descends a few steps in a sidelong way, and finally hops down some three inches head foremost, and alights again on the all but perpendicular bark. but his tail does not touch the tree, and in another minute down he flies again to the ditch. a shrill and yet low note that sounds something like 'skeek-skeek' comes from a birch, and another 'skeek-skeek' answers from an elm. it is like the friction of iron against iron without oil on the bearings. this is the tree-climber calling to his mate. he creeps over the boles of the birch, and where the larger limbs join the trunk, trailing his tail along the bark, and clinging so closely that but for the sharp note he would be passed. even when that has called attention, the colour of his back so little differs from the colour of bark that if he is some height up the tree it is not easy to detect him. the days go on and the hedges become green--the sun shines, and the blackbirds whistle in the trees. they leave the hedge, and mount into the elm or ash to deliver their song; then, after a pause, dive down again to the bushes. up from the pale green corn that is yet but a few inches high rises a little brown bird, mounting till he has attained to the elevation of the adjacent oak. then, beginning his song, he extends his wings, lifts his tail, and gradually descends slanting forward--slowly, like a parachute--sing, sing, singing all the while till the little legs, that can be seen against the sky somewhat depending, touch the earth and the wheat hides him. still from the clod comes the finishing bar of his music. in a short time up he rises again, and this time from the summit of his flight sinks in a similar manner singing to a branch of the oak. there he sings again; and, again rising, comes back almost to the same bough singing as he descends. but he is not alone: from an elm hard by come the same notes, and from yet another tree they are also repeated. they cannot rest--now one flits from the topmost bough of an elm to another topmost bough; now a second comes up from feeding, and cries from the branches. they are tree-pipits; and though the call is monotonous, yet it is so cheerful and pleasing that one cannot choose but stay and listen. suddenly, two that have been vigorously calling start forward together and meet in mid-air. they buffet each other with their wings; their little beaks fiercely strike; their necks are extended; they manoeuvre round each other, trying for an advantage. they descend, heedless in the rage of their tiny hearts, within a few yards of the watcher, and then in alarm separate. but one flies to the oak branch and defiantly calls immediately. over the meadows comes the distant note of the cuckoo. when he first calls his voice is short and somewhat rough, but in a few days it gains power. then the second syllable has a mellow ring: and as he cries from the tree, the note, swiftly repeated and echoed by the wood, dwells on the ear something like the 'hum' or vibration of a beautiful bell. as the hedges become green the ivy leaves turn brown at the edge and fall; the wild ivy is often curiously variegated. at the foot of the tree up which it climbs the leaves are five-angled, higher up they lose the angles and become rounded, though growing on the same plant. sometimes they have a grey tint, especially those that trail along the bank; sometimes the leaves are a reddish brown with pale green ribs. by the brook now the meadow has become of a rich bright green, the stream has sunk and is clear, and the sunlight dances on the ripples. the grasses at the edge--the turf--curl over and begin to grow down the steep side that a little while since was washed by the current. where there is a ledge of mud and sand the yellow wagtail runs; he stands on a stone and jerks his tail. the ploughed field that comes down almost to the brook--a mere strip of meadow between--is green too with rising wheat, high enough now to hide the partridges. before it got so tall it was pleasant to watch the pair that frequent it; they were so confident that they did not even trouble to cower. at any other time of year they would have run, or flown; but then, though scarcely forty yards away and perfectly visible, they simply ceased feeding but showed no further alarm. upon the plough birds in general should look as their best friend, for it provides them with the staff of life as much as it does man. the earth turned up under the share yields them grubs and insects and worms: the seed is sown and the clods harrowed, and they take a second toll; the weeds are hoed or pulled up, and at their roots there are more insects; from the stalk and ears and the bloom of the rising corn they seize caterpillars; when it is ripe they enjoy the grain; when it is cut and carried there are ears in the stubble, and they can then feast on the seeds of the innumerable plants that flowered among it; finally comes the plough again. it is as if the men and horses worked for the birds. the horse-chestnut trees in the narrow copse bloom; the bees are humming everywhere and summer is at hand. presently the brown cockchafers will come almost like an army of locusts, as suddenly appearing without a sign. they seem to be particularly numerous where there is much maple in the hedges. resting now on the sward by the stream--contracted in seeming by the weeds and flags and fresh sedges--there comes the distant murmur of voices and the musical laugh of girls. the ear tries to distinguish the words and gather the meaning; but the syllables are intertangled--it is like listening to a low sweet song in a language all unknown. this is the water falling gently over the mossy hatch and splashing faintly on the stones beneath; the blue dragon-flies dart over the smooth surface or alight on a broad leaf--these blue dragon-flies when thus resting curl the tail upwards. farther up above the mere there is a spot where the pool itself ends, or rather imperceptibly disappears among a vast mass of aquatic weeds. to these on the soft oozy mud succeed acres of sedge and rush and great turfs of greyish grass. low willows are scattered about, and alder at the edge and where the ground is firmer. this is the home of the dragon-flies, of the coots, whose white bald foreheads distinguish them at a distance, and of the moorhens. a narrow lane crosses it on a low bank or causeway but just raised above the level of the floods. it is bordered on either side by thick hawthorn hedges, and these again are further rendered more impassable by the rankest growth of hemlocks, 'gicks,' nettles, hedge-parsley, and similar coarse plants. in these the nettle-creeper (white-throat) hides her nest, and they have so encroached that the footpath is almost threatened. this lane leads from the upper woods across the marshy level to the cornfields, being a branch from that down which luke the contractor carried his rabbits. now a hare coming from the uplands beyond the woods, or from the woods, and desirous of visiting the cornfields of the level grounds below, found it difficult to pass the water. for besides the marsh itself, the mere, and the brook, another slow, stagnant stream, quite choked with sedges and flags, uncut for years, ran into it, or rather joined it, and before doing so meandered along the very foot of the hill-side over which the woods grew. to a hare or a rabbit, therefore, there was but one path or exit without taking to the water in this direction for nearly a mile, and that was across this narrow raised causeway. the pheasants frequently used it, as if preferring to walk than to fly. partridges came too, to seat themselves in the dry dust--a thing they do daily in warm weather. hares were constantly passing from the cornfields to the wood, and the wood to the cornfields; and they had another reason for using this track, because so many herbs and plants, whose leaves they like better than grass, flourished at the sides of the hedges. no scythe cuts them down, as it does by the hedges in the meadows; nor was a man sent round with a reaping hook to chop them off, as is often done round the arable fields. there was, therefore, always a feast here, to which, also, the rabbits came. the poachers were perfectly well aware of all this, and as a consequence this narrow lane became a most favourite haunt of theirs. a wire set in the runs that led to the causeway, or in the causeway itself, was almost certain to be thrown. at one time it was occasionally netted; and now and then a bolder fellow hid himself in the bushes with a gun, and took his choice of pheasant, partridge, hare, or rabbit. these practices were possible, because although so secluded, there was a public right-of-way along the lane. but of recent years, as game became more valued and the keepers were increased, a check was put upon it, though even now wires are frequently found which poachers have been obliged to abandon. they are loth to give up a place that has a kind of poaching reputation. as if in revenge for the interference, they have so ransacked the marsh every spring for the eggs of the waterfowl that the wild duck will not lay there, but seek spots safer from such enemies. the marsh is left to the coots and moorhens that from thence stock the brooks. chapter x farmer willum's place: snipe shooting one october morning towards the end of the month, orion and i started to beat over redcote farm upon the standing invitation of the occupier. there was a certainty of sport of some kind, because the place had remained almost unchanged for the last century. it is 'improvement' that drives away game and necessitates the pheasant preserve. the low whitewashed walls of the house were of a dull yellowish hue from the beating of the weather. they supported a vast breadth of thatched roof drilled by sparrows and starlings. under the eaves the swallows' nests adhered, and projecting shelves were fixed to prevent any inconvenience from them. some of the narrow windows were still darkened with the black boarding put up in the days of the window tax. in the courtyard a number of stout forked stakes were used for putting the dairy buckets on, after being cleaned, to dry. no attempt was made to separate the business from the inner life of the house. here in front these oaken buckets, scoured till nearly white, their iron handles polished like silver, were close under the eyes of any one looking out. by the front door a besom leaned against the wall that every comer might clean the mud from his boots; and you stepped at once from the threshold into the sitting-room. a lane led past the garden, if that could be called a lane which widened into a field and after rain was flooded so deeply as to be impassable to foot passengers. the morning we had chosen was fine; and after shaking hands with old farmer 'willum,' whose shooting days were over, we entered the lane, and by it the fields. the meadows were small, enclosed with double-mounds, and thickly timbered, so that as the ground was level you could not see beyond the field in which you stood, and upon looking over the gate might surprise a flock of pigeons, a covey of partridges, or a rabbit out feeding. though the tinted leaves were fast falling, the hedges were still full of plants and vegetation that prevented seeing through them. the 'kuck-kuck' of the redwings came from the bushes--the first note of approaching winter--and the tips of the rushes were dead. red haws on the hawthorn and hips on the briar sprinkled the hedge with bright spots of colour. the two spaniels went with such an eager rush into a thick double-mound, dashing heedlessly through the nettles and under the brambles, that we hastened to get one on each side of the hedge. a rustling--a short bark; another, then a movement among the rushes in the ditch, evidently not made by the dogs; then a silence. but the dogs come back, and as they give tongue the rabbit rushes past a bare spot on the slope of the bank. i fire--a snap shot--and cut out some fur, but do no further harm; the pellets bury themselves in the earth. but, startled and perhaps just stung by a stray shot, the rabbit bolts fairly at last twenty yards in front of orion, the spaniel tearing at his heels. up goes the double-barrel with a bright gleam as the sunlight glances on it. a second of suspense: then from the black muzzle darts a cylinder of tawny flame and an opening cone of white smoke: a sharp report rings on the ear. the rabbit rolls over and over, and is dead before the dog can seize him. after harling the rabbit, orion hangs him high on a projecting branch, so that the man who is following us at a distance may easily find the game. he is a labourer, and we object to have him with us, as we know he would be certain to get in the way. we then tried a corner where two of these large mounds, meeting, formed a small copse in which grew a quantity of withy and the thick grasses that always border the stoles. a hare bolted almost directly the dogs went in: hares trust in their speed, rabbits in doubling for cover. i fired right and left, and missed: fairly missed with both barrels. orion jumped upon the mound from the other side, and from that elevation sent a third cartridge after her. it was a long, a very long shot, but the hare perceptibly winced. still, she drew easily away from the dogs, going straight for a distant gateway. but before it was reached the pace slackened; she made ineffectual attempts to double as the slow spaniels overtook her, but her strength was ebbing, and they quickly ran in. reloading, and in none of the best of tempers, i followed the mound. the miss was of course the gun's fault--it was foul; or the cartridges, or the bad quality of the powder. we passed the well-remembered hollow ash pollard, whence, years before, we had taken the young owls, and in which we had hidden the old single-barrel gun one sultry afternoon when it suddenly came on to thunder. the flashes were so vivid and the discharges seemingly so near that we became afraid to hold the gun, knowing that metal attracted electricity. so it was put in the hollow tree out of the wet, and with it the powder-flask, while we crouched under an adjacent hawthorn till the storm ceased. then by the much-patched and heavy gate where i shot my first snipe, that rose out of the little stream and went straight up over the top bar. the emotion, for it was more than excitement, of that moment will never pass from memory. it was the bird of all others that i longed to kill, and certainly to a lad the most difficult. day after day i went down into the water-meadows; first thinking over the problem of the snipe's peculiar twisting flight. at one time i determined that i would control the almost irresistible desire to fire till the bird had completed his burst of zig-zag and settled to something like a straight line. at another i as firmly resolved to shoot the moment the snipe rose before he could begin to twist. but some unforeseen circumstance always interfered with the execution of these resolutions. now the snipe got up unexpectedly right under foot; now one rose thirty yards ahead; now he towered straight up, forced to do so by the tall willows; and occasionally four or five rising together and calling 'sceap, sceap' in as many different directions, made me hesitate at which to aim. the continual dwelling upon the problem rendered me nervous, so that i scarcely knew when i pulled the trigger. but one day, in passing this gateway, which was a long distance from the particular water-meadows where i had practised, and not thinking of snipes, suddenly one got up, and with a loud 'sceap' darted over the gate. the long slender gun--the old single-barrel--came to the shoulder instinctively, without premeditation, and the snipe fell. coming now to the brook, which was broad and bordered by a hedge on the opposite side, i held orion's gun while he leaped over. the bank was steep and awkward, but he had planned his leap so as to alight just where he could at once grasp an ash branch and so save himself from falling back into the water. he could not, however, stay suspended there, but had to scramble over the hedge, and then called for his gun. i leaned mine against a hollow withy pollard, and called 'ready.' taking his gun a few inches above the trigger guard (and with the guard towards his side), holding it lightly just where it seemed to balance in a perpendicular position, i gave it a slow heave rather than a throw, and it rose into the air. this peculiar _feeling_ hoist, as it were, caused it to retain the perpendicular position as it passed over brook and hedge in a low curve. as it descended it did indeed slope a little, and orion caught it with one hand easily. the hedge being low he could see it coming; but guns are sometimes heaved in this way over hedges that have not been cropped for years. then the gun suddenly appears in the air, perhaps fifteen feet high, while the catch depends not only upon the dexterity of the hand but the ear--to judge correctly where the person who throws it is standing, as he is invisible. the spaniels plunged in the brook among the flags, but though they made a great splashing nothing came of it till we approached a marshy place where was a pond. a moorhen then rose and scuttled down the brook, her legs dragging along the surface some distance before she could get up, and the sunshine sparkling on the water that dropped from her. i fired and knocked her over: at the sound of the discharge a bird rose from the low mound by the pond some forty yards ahead. my second barrel was empty in an instant. both orion's followed; but the distance, the intervening pollard willows, or our excitement spoilt the aim. the woodcock flew off untouched, and made straight away from the territories we could beat into those that were jealously guarded by a certain keeper with whom farmer 'willum' had waged war for years. 'come on!' shouted orion as soon as he had marked the cock down in a mound two fields away. throwing him my gun, i leaped the brook; and we at first raced, but on second thoughts walked slowly, for the mound. running disturbs accuracy of fire, and a woodcock was much too rare a visitor for the slightest chance to be lost. as we approached we considered that very probably the cock would either lie close till we had walked past, and get up behind, or he would rise out of gunshot. what we were afraid of was his making for the preserves, which were not far off. so we tossed for the best position, and i lost. i had therefore to get over on the side of the hedge towards the preserves and to walk down somewhat faster than orion, who was to keep (on his side) about thirty yards behind. the object was to flush the cock on his side, so that if missed the bird might return towards our territories. in a double-mound like this it is impossible to tell what a woodcock will do, but this was the best thing we could think of. about half-way down the hedge i heard orion fire both barrels in quick succession--the mound was so thick i could not see through. the next instant the cock came over the top of the hedge just above my head. startled at seeing me so close, he flew straight down along the summit of the bushes--a splendid chance to look at from a distance; but in throwing up the gun a projecting briar caught the barrels, and before i could recover it the bird came down at the side of the hedge. it was another magnificent chance; but again three pollard willows interfered, and as i fired the bark flew off one of them in small strips. quickened by the whistling pellets, the cock suddenly lifted himself again to the top of the hedge to go over, and for a moment came full in view, and quite fifty yards away. i fired a snap shot as a forlorn hope, and lost sight of him; but the next instant i heard orion call, 'he's down!' one single chance pellet had dropped the cock--he fell on the other side just under the hedge. we hastened back to the brook, thinking that the shooting would attract the keepers, and did not stay to look at the bird till safe over the water. the long beak, the plumage that seems painted almost in the exact tints of the dead brown leaves he loves so well, the eyes large by comparison and so curiously placed towards the poll of the head as if to see behind him--there was not a point that did not receive its share of admiration. we shot about half a dozen rabbits, two more hares, and a woodpigeon afterwards; but all these were nothing compared with the woodcock. how farmer 'willum' chuckled over it--especially to think that we had cut out the game from the very batteries of the enemy! it was the one speck of bitterness in the old man's character--his hatred of this keeper. disabled himself by age and rheumatism from walking far, he heard daily reports from his men of this fellow coming over the boundary to shoot, or drive pheasant or partridge away. it was a sight to see farmer 'willum' stretch his bulky length in his old armchair, right before the middle of the great fire of logs on the hearth, twiddling his huge thumbs, and every now and then indulging in a hearty laugh, followed by a sip at the 'straight-cup.' there was a stag's horn over the staircase: 'willum' loved to tell how it came there. one severe winter long since, the deer in the forest many miles away broke cover, forced by hunger, and came into the rickyards and even the gardens. most of them were got back, but one or two wandered beyond trace. those who had guns were naturally on the look-out; indeed, a regular hunt was got up--'willum,' then young and active, in it of course. this chase was not successful; but early one morning, going to look for wild geese in the water-meadow with his long-barrelled gun, he saw something in a lonely rickyard. creeping cautiously up, he rested the heavy gun on an ash stole, and the big duck-shot tore its way into the stag's shoulder. those days were gone, but still his interest in shooting was unabated. nothing had been altered on the place since he was a boy: the rent even was the same. but all that is now changed--swept away before modern improvements; and the rare old man is gone too, and i think his only enemy also. there was nothing i used to look forward to, as the summer waned, with so much delight as the snipe shooting. regularly as the swallow to the eaves in spring, the snipe comes back with the early frosts of autumn to the same well-known spots--to the bend of the brook or the boggy corner in the ploughed field--but in most uncertain numbers. sometimes flocks of ten or twenty, sometimes only twos and threes are seen, but always haunting particular places. they have a special affection for peaty ground, black and spongy, where every footstep seems to squeeze water out of the soil with a slight hissing sound, and the boot cuts through the soft turf. there, where a slow stream winds in and out, unmarked by willow or bush, but fringed with green aquatic grasses growing on a margin of ooze, the snipe finds tempting food; or in the meadows where a little spring breaks forth in the ditch and does not freeze--for water which has just bubbled out of the earth possesses this peculiarity, and is therefore favourable to low forms of insect or slug life in winter--the snipe may be found when the ponds are bound with ice. some of the old country folk used to make as much mystery about this bird as the cuckoo. because it was seldom seen till the first fogs the belief was that it had lost its way in the mist at sea, and come inland by mistake. just as in the early part of the year green buds and opening flowers welcome swallow and cuckoo, so the colours of the dying leaf prepare the way for the second feathered immigration in autumn. once now and then the tints of autumn are so beautiful that the artist can hardly convey what he sees to canvas. the maples are aglow with orange, the oaks one mass of buff, the limes light gold, the elms a soft yellow. in the hawthorn thickets bronze spots abound; here and there a bramble leaf has turned a brilliant crimson (though many bramble leaves will remain a dull green all the winter through); the edible chestnut sheds leaves of a dark fawn hue, but all, scattered by the winds, presently resolve into a black pulp upon the earth. noting these signs the sportsman gets out his dust-shot for the snipe, and the farmer, as he sees the fieldfare flying over after a voyage from norway, congratulates himself that last month was reasonably dry, and enabled him to sow his winter seed. 'sceap--sceap!' and very often the snipe successfully carries out the intention expressed in his odd-sounding cry, and does escape in reality. although i could not at first put my theory into practice, yet i found by experience that it was correct. he is the exception to the golden rule that the safest way lies in the middle, and that therefore you should fire not too soon nor too late, but half-way between. but the snipe must either be knocked over the instant he rises from the ground, and before he has time to commence his puzzling zig-zag flight, or else you must wait till he has finished his corkscrew burst. then there is a moment just before he passes out of range when he glides in a straight line and may be hit. this singular zig-zag flight so deceives the eye as almost to produce the idea of a spiral movement. no barrel can ever be jerked from side to side swiftly enough, no hair-trigger is fine enough, to catch him then, except by the chance of a vast scattering over-charge, which has nothing to do with sport. if he rises at some little distance, then fire instantly, because by the time the zig-zag is done the range will be too great; if he starts up under your feet, out of a bunch of rushes, as is often the case, then give him law till his eccentric twist is finished. when the smoke has cleared away in the crisp air, there he lies, the yet warm breast on the frozen ground, to be lifted up not without a passing pity and admiration. the brown feathers are exquisitely shaded, and so exactly resemble the hue of the rough dead aquatic grass out of which he sprang that if you cast the bird among it you will have some trouble to find it again. to discover a living snipe on the ground is indeed a test of good eyesight; for as he slips in and out among the brown withered flags and the grey grass it requires not only a quick eye but the inbred sportsman's instinct of perception (if such a phrase is permissible) to mark him out. if your shot has missed and merely splashed up the water or rattled against bare branches, then step swiftly behind a tree-trunk, and stay in ambuscade, keeping a sharp watch on him as he circles round high up in the air. very often in a few minutes he will come back in a wide sweep, and drop scarcely a gun-shot distant in the same watercourse, when a second shot may be obtained. the little jack snipe, when flushed, will never fly far, if shot at several times in succession, still settling fifty or sixty yards farther on, and is easily bagged. coming silently as possible round a corner, treading gently on the grass still white with hoar-frost in the shadow of the bushes, you may chance to spring a stray woodcock, which bird, if you lose a moment, will put the hedge between him and you. artists used to seek for certain feathers which he carries, one in each wing, thinking to make of them a more delicate brush than the finest camel's hair. in the evening i used to hide in the osier-beds on the edge of a great water-meadow; for now that the marshes are drained, and the black earth of the fens yields a harvest of yellow corn, the broad level meads which are irrigated to fertilise them are among the chief inland resorts of wild fowl. when the bright moon is rising, you walk in among the tapering osier-wands, the rustling sedges, and dead dry hemlock stems, and wait behind an aspen tree. in the thick blackthorn bush a round dark ball indicates the blackbird, who has puffed out his feathers to shield him from the frost, and who will sit so close and quiet that you may see the moonlight glitter on his eye. presently comes a whistling noise of wings, and a loud 'quack, quack!' as a string of ducks, their long necks stretched out, pass over not twenty yards high, slowly slanting downwards to the water. this is the favourable moment for the gun, because their big bodies are well defined against the sky, and aim can be taken; but to shoot anything on the ground at night, even a rabbit, whose white tail as he hops away is fairly visible, is most difficult. the baffling shadows and the moonbeams on the barrel, and the faint reflection from the dew or hoar-frost on the grass, prevent more than a general direction being given to the gun, even with the tiny piece of white paper which some affix to the muzzle-sight as a guide. from a punt with a swivel gun it is different, because the game is swimming and visible as black dots on the surface, and half a pound of shot is sure to hit something. but in the water-meadows the ducks get among the grass, and the larger water-carriers where they can swim usually have small raised banks, so that at a distance only the heads of the birds appear above them. so that the best time to shoot a duck is just as he slopes down to settle--first, because he is distinctly visible against the sky; next, because he is within easy range; and lastly, his flight is steady. if you attempt to have ducks driven towards you, though they may go right overhead, yet it will often be too high--for they rise at a sharp angle when frightened; and men who are excellent judges of distance when it is a hare running across the fallow, find themselves all at fault trying to shoot at any elevation. perhaps this arises from the peculiarity of the human eye which draughtsmen are fond of illustrating by asking a tyro to correctly bisect a vertical line: a thing that looks easy, and is really only to be done by long practice. to make certain of selecting the right spot in the osiers over which the ducks will pass, for one or two evenings previously a look-out should be kept and their usual course observed; for all birds and animals, even the wildest wild fowl, are creatures of habit and custom, and having once followed a particular path will continue to use it until seriously disturbed. evening after evening the ducks will rise above the horizon at the same place and almost at the same time, and fly straight to their favourite feeding place. if hit, the mallard falls with a thud on the earth, for he is a heavy bird; and few are more worthy of powder and shot either for his savoury flavour, far surpassing the tame duck, or the beauty of his burnished neck. with the ducks come teal and widgeon and moorhen, till the swampy meadow resounds with their strange cries. when ponds and lakes are frozen hard is the best time for sport in these irrigated fields. all day long the ducks will stand or waddle to and fro on the ice in the centre of the lake or mere, far out of reach and ready to rise at the slightest alarm. but at night they seek the meadow where the water, running swiftly in the carriers, never entirely freezes, and where, if the shallow spots become ice, the rising current flows over it and floods another place. there is, moreover, never any difficulty in getting the game when hit, because the water, except in the main carriers, which you can leap across, hardly rises to the ankle, and ordinary water-tight boots will enable you to wade wherever necessary. this is a great advantage with wild fowl, which are sometimes shot and lost in deep ooze and strong currents and eddies, and on thin ice where men cannot go and even good dogs are puzzled. chapter xi ferreting: a rabbit-hunter the ferreting season commences when the frosts have caused the leaves to drop, and the rabbits grow fat from feeding on bark. early one december morning, orion and i started, with our man little john, to ferret a double-mound for our old friend farmer 'willum' at redcote. little john was a labourer--one of those frequently working at odd times for luke, the rabbit-contractor. we had nicknamed him little john because of his great size and unwieldy proportions. he was the most useful man we knew for such work; his heart was so thoroughly in it. he was waiting for us before we had finished breakfast, with his tools and implements, having carefully prepared these while yet it was dark at home in his cottage. the nets require looking to before starting, as they are apt to get into a tangle, and there is nothing so annoying as to have to unravel strings with chilled fingers in a ditch. some have to be mended, having been torn; some are cast aside altogether because weak and rotten. the twine having been frequently saturated with water has decayed. all the nets are of a light yellow colour from the clay and sand that has worked into the string. these nets almost filled a sack, into which he also cast a pair of 'owl-catchers,' gloves of stout white leather, thick enough to turn a thorn while handling bushes, or to withstand the claws of an owl furiously resisting capture. his ferrets cost him much thought, which to take and which to leave behind. he had also to be particular how he fed them--they must be eager for prey, and yet they must not be starved, else they would gorge on the blood of the first rabbit, and become useless for hunting. two had to be muzzled--an operation of some difficulty that generally results in a scratched hand. a small piece of small but strong twine is passed through the jaws behind the tusk-like teeth, and tightly tied round, so tightly as almost to cut into the skin. this is the old way of muzzling a ferret, handed down from generations: little john scorns the muzzles that can be bought at shops, and still more despises the tiny bells to hang round the neck. the first he says often come off, and the second embarrass the ferret and sometimes catch in projecting rootlets and hold it fast. he has, too, a line--many yards of stout twine wound about a short stick--to line a ferret if necessary. the ferrets are placed in a smaller bag, tightly tied at the top--for they will work through and get out if any aperture be left. inside the bag is a little hay for them to lay on. he prefers the fitchew ferret as he calls it; that is the sort that are coloured like a polecat. he says they are fiercer, larger of make and more powerful. but he has also a couple of white ones with pink eyes. besides the sack of nets, the bag of ferrets, and a small bundle in a knotted handkerchief--his 'nuncheon'--which in themselves make a tolerable load, he has brought a billhook, and a 'navigator,' or draining-tool. this is a narrow spade of specially stout make; the blade is hollow and resembles an exaggerated gouge, and the advantage is that in digging out a rabbit the tool is very apt to catch under a root, when an ordinary spade may bend and become useless. the 'navigator' will stand anything, and being narrow is also more handy. all these implements little john has prepared by the dim light of a horn lantern in the shed at the back of his cottage. a mug of ale while we get our guns greatly cheers him, and unlooses his tongue. all the way to redcote he impresses on us the absolute necessity of silence while ferreting, and congratulates us on having a nearly still day. he is a little doubtful about orion's spaniel and whether it will keep quiet or not. when we reach the double-mound, his talk entirely ceases: he is as silent and as rugged as a pollard oak. by the top of the mound the sack of nets is thrown down on the sward and opened. as there are more holes on the other side of the hedge orion goes over with little john, and i proceed to set up the nets on mine. i found some difficulty in getting at the bank, the bushes being so thick, and had to use the billhook and chop a way in: i heard little john growling about this in a whisper to orion. very often before going with the ferrets, people send a man or two a few hours previously to chop and clear the bushes. the effect is that the rabbits will not bolt freely. they hear the men chopping, and the vibration of the earth as they clumsily climb over the banks, and will not come out till absolutely forced. if it is done at all, it should be done a week beforehand. that was why little john grumbled at my chopping though he knew it was necessary. to set up a rabbit net you must arrange it so that it covers the whole of the mouth of the hole, for if there is any opening between it and the bank the rabbit will slip through. he will not face the net unless obliged to. along the upper part, if the bank is steep, so that the net will not lie on it of itself, two or three little twigs should be thrust through the meshes into the earth to suspend it. these twigs should be no larger than are used by birds in constructing their nests; just strong enough to hold the net in place and no more. on the other hand, care must be taken that no stout projecting root catches a corner of the net, else it will not draw up properly and the rabbit will escape. little john, not satisfied with my assurance that i had netted all the holes my side, now came over--crawling on hands and knees that he might not jar the bank--to examine for himself. his practised eye detected two holes that i had missed: one on the top of the mound much overhung by dead grass, and one under a stole. these he attended to. he then crawled up on the mound two or three yards below the end of the bury, and with his own hands stretched a larger net right across the top of the bank, so that if a rabbit did escape he would run into this. to be still more sure he stretched another similar net across the whole width of the mound at the other end of the bury. he then undid the mouth of the ferret-bag, holding it between his knees--the ferrets immediately attempted to struggle out: he selected two and then tied it up again. with both these in his own hands, for he would trust nothing to another, he slipped quietly back to orion's side, and so soon as he saw i was standing well back placed them in different holes. almost the next instant one came out my side disarranging a net. i got into the ditch, hastily reset the net, and put the ferret to an adjacent hole, lifting up the corner of the net there for it to creep in. unlike the weasel, a ferret once outside a hole seems at a loss, and wanders slowly about, till chance brings him to a second. the weasel used to hunting is no sooner out of one hole than he darts away to the next. but this power the ferret has partially lost from confinement. for a moment the ferret hesitated inside the hole, as if undecided which of two passages to take: then he started, and i lost sight of his tail. hardly had i got back to my stand than i heard little john leap into the ditch his side: the next minute i saw the body of the rabbit which he had killed thrown out into the field. i stood behind a somewhat advanced bush that came out into the meadow like a buttress, and kept an eye on the holes along the bank. it is essential to stand well back from the holes, and, if possible, out of sight. in a few moments something moved, and i saw the head of a rabbit at the mouth of a hole just behind the net. he looked through the meshes as through a lattice, and i could see his nostrils work, as he considered within himself how to pass this thing. it was but for a moment; the ferret came behind, and wild with hereditary fear, the rabbit leaped into the net. the force of the spring not only drew the net together, but dragged out the peg, and rabbit and net inextricably entangled rolled down the bank to the bottom of the ditch. i jumped into the ditch and seized the net; when there came a hoarse whisper: 'look sharp you, measter: put up another net fust--_he_ can't get out; hould un under your arm, _or in your teeth_.' i looked up, and saw little john's face peering over the mound. he had thrust himself up under the bushes; his hat was off; his weather-beaten face bleeding from a briar, but he could not feel the scratch so anxious was he that nothing should escape. i pulled another net from my pocket, and spread it roughly over the hole; then more slowly took the rabbit from the other net. you should never hold a rabbit up till you have got fast hold of his hind legs; he will so twist and work himself as to get free from any other grasp. but when held by the hind legs and lifted from the ground he can do nothing. i now returned to my buttress of bushes and waited. the rabbits did not bolt my side again for a while. every now and then i saw, or heard, orion or little john leap into their ditch, and well knew what it meant before the dead rabbit was cast out to fall with a helpless thud upon the sward. once i saw a rabbit's head at the mouth of a hole, and momentarily expected him to dart forth driven by the same panic fear. but either the ferret passed, or there was another side-tunnel--the rabbit went back. some few minutes afterwards little john exclaimed: 'look out, you; ferret's out!' one of the ferrets had come out of a hole and was aimlessly--as it appeared--roaming along the bank. as he came nearest my side, i got quietly into the ditch and seized him, and put him into a hole. to my surprise he refused to go in--i pushed him: he returned and continued to try to come out till i gave him a sharp fillip with the finger, when he shook the dust and particles of dry earth from his fur with a shiver, as if in protest, and slowly disappeared inside the hole. as i was creeping out of the deep ditch on hands and knees, i heard orion call angrily to the spaniel to come to heel. hitherto the spaniel had sat on his haunches behind orion fairly quiet and still, though not without an occasional restless movement. but now he broke suddenly from all control, and disregarding orion's anger--though with hanging tail--rushed into the hedge, and along the top of the mound where there was a thick mass of dead grass. little john hurled a clod of clay at him, but before i was quite out of the ditch the spaniel gave tongue, and at the same moment i saw a rabbit come from the ditch and run like mad across the field. the dog gave chase--i rushed for my gun, which was some yards off, placed against a hollow withy tree. the haste disconcerted the aim--the rabbit too was almost fifty yards away when i fired. but the shot broke one hind leg--it trailed behind--and the spaniel had him instantly. 'look at yer nets,' said little john in a tone of suppressed indignation, for he disliked the noise of a gun, as all other noises. i did look, and found that one net had been partly pushed aside; yet to so small an extent that i should hardly have believed it possible for the rabbit to have crept through. he must have slipped out without the slightest sound and quietly got on the top of the mound without being seen. but there, alas! he found a wide net stretched right across the bank so that to slip down the mound on the top was impossible. this would certainly have been his course had not the net been there. it was now doubtless that the spaniel caught wind of him, and the scent was so strong that it overcame his obedience. the moment the dog got on the bank, the rabbit slipped down into the rushes in the ditch--i did not see him because my back was turned in the act to scramble out. then, directly the spaniel gave tongue the rabbit darted for the open, hoping to reach the buries in the hedge on the opposite side of the meadow. this incident explained why the ferret seemed so loth to go back into the hole. he had crept out some few moments behind the rabbit and in his aimless uncertain manner was trying to follow the scent along the bank. he did not like being compelled to give up this scent and to search again for another. 'us must be main careful how us fixes our nets, you,' said little john, going as far as he could in reproof of my negligence. the noise of the gun, the barking, and talking was of course heard by the rabbits still in the bury, and as if to show that little john was right, for a while they ceased to bolt. standing behind the bushes--against which i now placed the gun to be nearer at hand--i watched the nets till my eye was caught by the motions of the ferret-bag. it lay on the grass and had hitherto been inert. but now the bag reared itself up, and then rolled over, to again rise and again tumble. the ferrets left in it in reserve were eager to get out--sharp set on account of a scanty breakfast--and their motions caused the bag to roll along a short distance. i could see orion on the other side of the mound tolerably well because he was standing up and the leaves had fallen from the upper part of the bushes. little john was crouched in the ditch: the dead grasses, 'gicks,' withered vines of bryony, the thistles, and dark shrivelled fern concealed him. there was a round black sloe on the blackthorn beside me, the beautiful gloss, or bloom, on it made it look like a tiny plum. it tasted not only sour, but seemed to positively fill the mouth with a rough acid. overhead light grey clouds, closely packed but not rainy, drifted very slowly before a n.e. upper current. occasionally a brief puff of wind came through the bushes rustling the dead leaves that still remained on the oaks. despite the cold, something of little john's intense concentration communicated itself to us: we waited and watched with eager patience. after a while he got out of the ditch where he had been listening with his ear close against the bank, and asked me to pass him the ferret-bag. he took out another ferret and lined it--that is, attached one end of a long string to its neck, and then sent it in. he watched which way the ferret turned, and then again placed his head upon the hard clay to listen. orion had to come and hold the line, while he went two or three yards farther down, got into the ditch and once more listened carefully. 'he be about the middle of the mound you,' he said to me; he be between you and i. lor! look out.' there was a low rumbling sound--i expected to see a rabbit bolt into one of my nets, i heard little john moving some leaves, and then he shouted, 'give i a net, you--quick. lor! here be another hole: he's coming!' i looked over the mound and saw little john, his teeth set and staring at a hole which had no net, his great hands open ready to pounce instantly like some wild animal on its prey. in an instant the rabbit bolted--he clutched it and clasped it tight to his chest. there was a moment of struggling, the next the rabbit was held up for a moment and then cast across his knee. it was always a sight to see little john's keen delight in 'wristing' their necks. he affected utter unconsciousness of what he was doing, looked you in the face, and spoke about some indifferent subject. but all the while he was feeling the rabbit's muscles stretch before the terrible grasp of his hands, and an expression of complacent satisfaction flitted over his features as the neck gave with a sudden looseness, and in a moment what had been a living straining creature became limp. the ferret came out after the rabbit; he immediately caught it and thrust it into his pocket. there were still two ferrets in--one that was suspected to be gorging on a rabbit in a _cul de sac_, and the other lined, and which had gone to join that sanguinary feast. the use of the line was to trace where the loose ferret lay. 'chuck i the show'l, measter,' said little john. i gave the 'navigator' tool a heave over the hedge; it fell and stuck upright in the sward. orion handed it to him. he first filled up the hole from which a rabbit had just bolted with a couple of 'spits,' _i.e._ spadefuls, and then began to dig on the top of the mound. this digging was very tedious. the roots of the thorn bushes and trees constantly impeded it, and had to be cut. then upon at last getting down to the hole, it was found that the right place had not been hit by several feet. here was the line and the lined ferret--he had got hitched in a projecting root, and was furiously struggling to go forward to the feast of blood. another spell of digging--this time still slower because little john was afraid lest the edge of his tool should suddenly slip through and cut his ferret on the head, and perhaps kill it. at last the place was reached and the ferret drawn forth still clinging to its victim. the rabbit was almost beyond recognition as a rabbit. the poor creature had been stopped by a _cul de sac_, and the ferret came upon him from behind. as the hole was small the rabbit's body completely filled it, and the ferret could not scramble past to get at the spot behind the ear where it usually seizes. the ferret had therefore deliberately gnawn away the hindquarters and so bored a passage. the ferret being so gorged was useless for further hunting and was replaced in the bag. but little john gave him a drink of water first from the bottom of the ditch. orion and i, wearied with the digging, now insisted on removing to the next bury, for we felt sure that the remaining rabbits in this one would not bolt. little john had no choice but to comply, but he did so with much reluctance and many rueful glances back at the holes from which he took the nets. he was sure, he said, that there were at least half-a-dozen still in the bury: he only wished he might have all that he could get out of it. but we imperiously ordered a removal. we went some thirty yards down the mound, passing many smaller buries, and chose a spot perfectly drilled with holes. while little john was in the ditch putting up nets, we slily undid the ferret-bag and turned three ferrets at once loose into the holes. 'lor! measter, measter, what be you at?' cried little john, quite beside himself. 'you'll spoil all on it. lor!' a sharp report as orion fired at a rabbit that bolted almost under little john's fingers drowned his remonstrances, and he had to scramble out of the way quick. bang! bang! right and left: the firing became rapid. there being no nets to alarm the rabbits and three ferrets hunting them, they tumbled out in all directions as fast as we could load. now the cartridges struck branches and shattered them. now the shot flattened itself against sarsen stones imbedded in the mound. the rabbits had scarce a yard to bolt from one hole to another, so that it was sharp work. little john now gave up all hope, and only pleaded piteously for his ferrets. 'mind as you doan't hit 'em, measter; doant'ee shoot into a hole, you.' for half an hour we had some really good shooting: then it began to slacken, and we told him to catch his ferrets and go on to the next bury. i am not sure that he would not have rebelled outright but just then a boy came up carrying a basket of provisions, and a large earthenware jar with a bung cork, full of humming ale. farmer willum had sent this, and the strong liquor quite restored little john's good humour. it really was ale--such as is not to be got for money. the boy said that he had seen farmer willum's hereditary enemy, the keeper, watching us from his side of the boundary, doubtless attracted by the sound of the firing. he said also that there was a pheasant in a little copse beside the brook. we sent him out again to reconnoitre: he returned and repeated that the keeper had gone, and that he thought he saw him enter the distant fir plantations. so we left the boy to help little john at the next bury--a commission that made him grin with delight, and suited the other very well, since the noisy guns were going away, and he could use his nets. we took the lined ferret with us, and started after the pheasant. just as we approached the copse, the spaniel gave tongue on the other side of the hedge. orion had tied him up to a bush, wishing to leave him with little john. but the spaniel tore and twisted till he got loose and had followed us--keeping out of sight--till now crossing the scent of a rabbit he set up his bark. we called him to heel, and i am afraid he got a kick. but the pheasant was alarmed, and rose before we could properly enfilade the little copse, where we should most certainly have had him. he flew high and straight for the fir plantations, where it was useless to follow. however, we leaped the brook and entered the keeper's territory under shelter of a thick double-mound. we slipped the lined ferret into a small bury, and succeeded in knocking over a couple of rabbits. the object of using the lined ferret was because we could easily recover it. this was pure mischief, for there were scores of rabbits on our own side. but then there was just a little spice of risk in this, and we knew willum would gloat over it. after firing these two shots we got back again as speedily as possible, and once more assisted little john. we could not, however, quite resist the pleasure of shooting a rabbit occasionally and so tormenting him. we left one hole each side without a net, and insisted on the removal of the net that stretched across the top of the bank. this gave us a shot now and then, and the removal of the cross net allowed the rabbit some little law. notwithstanding these drawbacks--to him--little john succeeded in making a good bag. he stayed till it was quite dark to dig out a ferret that had killed a rabbit in the hole. he took his money for his day's work with indifference: but when we presented him with two couple of clean rabbits his gratitude was too much for him to express. the gnawn and 'blown' rabbits [by shot] were his perquisite, the clean rabbits an unexpected gift. it was not their monetary value; it was the fact that they were rabbits. the man's instinct for hunting was so strong that it seemed to overcome everything else. he would walk miles--after a long day's farm work--just to help old luke, the rabbit contractor, bring home the rabbits in the evening from the upper woods. he worked regularly for one farmer, and did his work well: he was a sober man too as men go, that is he did not get drunk more than once a month. a strong man must drink now and then: but he was not a sot, and took nine-tenths of his money faithfully home to his wife and children. in the winter when farm work is not so pressing he was allowed a week off now and then, which he spent in ferreting for the farmers, and sometimes for luke, and of course he was only too glad to get such an engagement as we gave him. sometimes he made a good thing of his ferreting: sometimes when the weather was bad it was a failure. but although a few shillings were of consequence to him, it really did not seem to be the money-value but the sport that he loved. to him that sport was all-absorbing. his ferrets were well looked after, and he sometimes sold one for a good price to keepers. as a rule a man who keeps ferrets is suspected: but little john was too well understood, and he had no difficulty in begging a little milk for them. his tenacity in pursuit of a rabbit was always a source of wonder to me. in rain, in wind, in frost; his feet up to the ankle in the ice-cold slush at the bottom of a ditch: no matter what the weather or how rough, he patiently stood to his nets. i have known him stand the whole day long in a snowstorm--the snow on the ground and in the holes, the flakes drifting against his face--and never once show impatience. all he disliked was wind--not on account of discomfort, but because the creaking of the branches and the howling of the blast made such a noise that it was impossible to tell where the rabbit would bolt. he congratulated himself that evening because he had recovered all his ferrets. sometimes one will lie in and defy all efforts to bring it out. one plan is to place a dead fresh rabbit at the mouth of the hole which may tempt the ferret to come and seize it. in large woods there are generally one or more ferrets wandering loose in the season, that have escaped from the keepers or poachers. if the keeper sees one he tries to catch it; failing that, he puts a charge of shot into it. some keepers think nothing of shooting their own ferrets if they will not come when called by the chirrup with the lips, or displease them in other ways. they do not care, because they can have as many as they like. little john made pets of his: they obeyed him very well as a rule. poaching men are sometimes charged with stealing ferrets, _i.e._ with picking up and carrying off those that keepers have lost. a ferret is, however, a difficult thing to identify and swear to. those who go poaching with ferrets choose a moonlight night: if it is dark it is difficult to find the holes. small buries are best because so much more easily managed, and the ferret is usually lined. if a large bury is attempted, they take the first half-dozen that bolt and then move on to another. the first rabbits come out rapidly; the rest linger as if warned by the fate of their companions. instead of wasting time over them it is best to move to another place. unless a keeper should chance to pass up the hedgerow there is comparatively little risk, for the men are in the ditch and invisible ten yards away under the bushes and make no noise. it is more difficult to get home with the game: but it is managed. very small buries with not more than four or five holes may be ferreted even on the darkest nights by carefully observing beforehand where the holes are situate. chapter xii a winter night: old tricks: pheasant-stalking: matchlock _versus_ breech-loader: conclusion when the moon is full and nearly at the zenith it seems to move so slowly that the shadows scarcely change their position. in winter, when the branches are bare, a light that is nearly vertical over a tree can cast but little shadow, and that falls immediately around the trunk. so that the smallness of the shadow itself and the slowness of its motion together tend to conceal it. the snow on the ground increases the sense of light, and in approaching the wood the scene is even more distinct than during the gloomy day. the tips of the short stubble that has not yet been ploughed in places just protrude above the surface, and the snow, frozen hard, crunches with a low sound under foot. but for that all is perfectly still. the level upland cornfields stretch away white and vacant to the hills--white, too, and clear against the sky. the plain is silent, and nothing that can be seen moves upon its surface. on the verge of the wood which occupies the sloping ground there stands a great oak tree, and down one side of its trunk is a narrow white streak of snow. leaning against the oak and looking upwards, every branch and twig is visible, lit up by the moon. overhead the stars are dimmed, but they shine more brightly yonder above the hills. such leaves as have not yet fallen hang motionless: those that are lying on the ground are covered by the snow, and thus held fast from rustling even were the wind to blow. but there is not the least breath--a great frost is always quiet, profoundly quiet--and the silence is undisturbed even by the fall of a leaf. the frost that kills them holds the leaves till it melts, and then they drop. the tall ash poles behind in the wood stand stark and straight, pointing upwards, and it is possible to see for some distance between them. no lesser bats flit to and fro outside the fence under the branches; no larger ones pass above the tops _of_ the trees. there seems, indeed, a total absence of life. the pheasants are at roost in the warmer covers; and the woodpigeons are also perched--some in the detached oaks of the hedgerows, particularly those that are thickly grown with ivy about the upper branches. up in the great beeches the rooks are still and silent; sometimes the boughs are encrusted with rime about their very claws. leaving the oak now and skirting the wood, after a while the meadows on the lower ground are reached; and here perhaps the slight scampering sound of a rabbit may be heard. but as they can see and hear you so far in the bright light and silence, they will most likely be gone before you can get near. they are restless--very restless; first because of the snow, and next because of the moonlight. the hares, unable to find anything on the hills or the level white plain above, have come down here and search along the sheltered hedgerows for leaf and blade. to-night the rabbits will run almost like the hares, to and fro, hither and thither. in the thickest hawthorns the blackbirds and lesser feathered creatures are roosting, preferring the hedgerow to the more open wood. some of the lesser birds have crept into the ivy around the elms, and which crowns the tops of the withy pollards. wrens and sparrows have gone to the hayricks, roosting in little holes in the sides under the slightly projecting thatch. they have taken refuge too in the nest-holes made in the thatched eaves of the sheds: tits are there also; and sometimes two or three of the latter are captured at once in such holes. a dark line across the lower meadows marks the course of the brook; it is dark because the snow falling on the water melted. even now there is a narrow stream unfrozen; though the banks against which it chafes are hard, and will not take the impression of the moorhen's foot. the water-rats that in summertime played and fed along the margin among the flags are rarely seen in winter. in walking in daylight by the brook now their plunge into the water will not be heard, nor can they be seen travelling at the bottom. they lay up a store of food in a hole away from the stream, generally choosing the banks or higher ground in the withy-beds--places that are not often flooded. their ordinary holes, which are half, and sometimes quite, under water, will not do for winter; they would be frozen in them, and perhaps their store of food would be spoiled; besides which the floods cause the stream to rise above its banks, and they could not exist under water for weeks together. still further down, where the wood ends in scattered bushes and withy-beds, the level shore of the shallow mere succeeds. the once soft, oozy ground is now firm; the rushes are frozen stiff, and the ice for some distance out is darkened by the aquatic weeds frozen in it. from here the wood, rising up the slope, comes into view at once--the dark trees, the ash poles, the distant beeches, the white crest of the hill--all still and calm under the moonlight. the level white plain of ice behind stretches away, its real extent concealed by the islands of withy and the dark pines along the distant shore; while elsewhere the ice is not distinguishable from the almost equally level fields that join it. looking now more closely on the snow, the tracks of hares and rabbits that have crossed and recrossed the ice are visible. in passing close to the withy-beds to return to the wood some branches have to be pushed aside and cause a slight noise. immediately a crowd of birds rise out of the withies, where they have been roosting, and scatter into the night. they are redwings and thrushes; every withy-bed is full of them. after wheeling about in the air they will presently return--first one, then three or four, and finally the flock, to their roosting-place. it is easy now to walk through the wood without making a noise: there is room to pass between the stoles of ash; and the dead sticks that would have cracked under foot are covered with snow. but be careful how you step; for in some places the snow has fallen upon a mass of leaves filling a swampy hollow. above there is a thin crust of snow, but under the leaves the oozy ground is still soft. upon the dark pines the snow has lodged, making the boughs bend downwards. where the slope becomes a hill the ash stoles and nut-tree bushes are far apart and thinner, so that there are wide white spaces around them. regaining now the top of the hill where the plain comes to the verge of the wood, there is a clear view down across the ash poles to the withies, the white mere, and the meadows below. everywhere silence, stillness, sleep. in the high trees slumbering creatures; in the hedgerows, in the bushes, and the withies birds with feathers puffed out, slumbering; in the banks, under the very ground, dormant animals. a quiet cold that at first does not seem cold because it is so quiet, but which gradually seizes on and stills the sap of plants and the blood of living things. a ruthless frost, still, subtle, and irresistible, that will slay the bird on its perch and weaken the swift hare. the most cruel of all things this snow and frost, because of the torture of hunger which the birds must feel even in their sleep. but how beautiful the round full moon, the brilliant light, the white landscape, the graceful lines of the pine brought out by the snow, the hills yonder, and the stars rising above them! it was on just such a night as this that some years since a most successful raid was made upon this wood by a band of poachers coming from a distance. the pheasants had been kept later than usual to be shot by a christmas party, and perhaps this had caused a relaxation of vigilance. the band came in a cart of some kind; the marks of the wheels were found on the snow where it had been driven off the highway and across a field to some ricks. there, no doubt, the horse and cart were kept out of sight behind the ricks, while the men, who were believed to have worn smock-frocks, entered the wood. the bright moonlight made it easy to find the pheasants, and they were potted in plenty. finding that there was no opposition, the gang crossed from the wood to some outlying plantations and continued their work there. the keeper never heard a sound. he was an old man--a man who had been on the estate all his life--and had come in late in the evening after a long round. he sat by the fire of split logs and enjoyed the warmth after the bitter cold and frost; and, as he himself confessed, took an extra glass in consideration of the severity of the weather. his wife was old and deaf. neither of them heard the guns nor the dogs. those in the kennels close to the cottage, and very likely one or more indoors, must have barked at the noise of the shooting. but if any dim sense of the uproar did reach the keeper's ear he put it down to the moon, at which dogs will bay. as for his assistants, they had quietly gone home, so soon as they felt sure that the keeper was housed for the night. long immunity from attack had bred over-confidence; the staff also was too small for the extent of the place, and this had doubtless become known. no one sleeps so soundly as an agricultural labourer; and as the nearest hamlet was at some distance it is not surprising that they did not wake. in the early morning a fogger going to fodder his cattle came across a pheasant lying dead on the path, the snow stained with its blood. he picked it up, and put it under his smock-frock, and carried it to the pen, where he hid it under some litter, intending to take it home. but afterwards, as he crossed the fields towards the farm, he passed near the wood and observed the tracks of many feet and a gap in the fence. he looked through the gap and saw that the track went into the preserves. on second thoughts he went back for the pheasant and took it to his master. the farmer, who was sitting down to table, quietly ate his breakfast, and then strolled over to the keeper's cottage with the bird. this was the first intimation: the keeper could hardly believe it, till he himself went down and followed the trail of foot-marks. there was not the least difficulty in tracing the course of the poachers through the wood; the feathers were lying about; the scorched paper (for they used muzzle-loaders), broken boughs, and shot-marks were all too plain. but by this time the gang were well away, and none were captured or identified. the extreme severity of the frost naturally caused people to stay indoors, so that no one noticed the cart going through the village; nor could the track of its wheels be discerned from others on the snow of the highway beaten down firm. even had the poachers been disturbed, it is doubtful if so small a staff of keepers could have done anything to stop them. as it was, they not only made a good haul--the largest made for years in that locality--but quite spoiled the shooting. there are no white figures passing through the peaceful wood to-night and firing up into the trees. it is perfectly still. the broad moon moves slow, and the bright rays light up tree and bush, so that it is easy to see through, except where the brambles retain their leaves and are fringed with the dead ferns. the poaching of the present day is carried on with a few appliances only. an old-fashioned poacher could employ a variety of 'engines,' but the modern has scarcely any choice. there was, for instance, a very effective mode of setting a wire with a springe or bow. a stout stick was thrust into the ground, and then bent over into an arch. when the wire was thrown it instantly released the springe, which sprang up and drew it fast round the neck of the hare or rabbit, whose fore feet were lifted from the earth. sometimes a growing sapling was bent down for the bow if it chanced to stand conveniently near a run. the hare no sooner put her head into the noose than she was suspended and strangled. i tried the springe several times for rabbits, and found it answer; but the poacher cannot use it because it is so conspicuous. the stick itself, rising above the grass, is visible at some distance, and when thrown it holds the hare or rabbit up for any one to see that passes by. with a wire set in the present manner the captured animal lies extended, and often rolls into a furrow and is further hidden. the springe was probably last employed by the mole-catchers. their wooden traps were in the shape of a small tunnel, with a wire in the middle which, when the mole passed through, set free a bent stick. this stick pulled the wire and hung the mole. such mole-catchers' bows or springes used to be seen in every meadow, but are now superseded by the iron trap. springes with horsehair nooses on the ground were also set for woodcocks and for wild ducks. it is said that a springe of somewhat similar construction was used for pheasants. horsehair nooses are still applied for capturing woodpeckers and the owls that spend the day in hollow trees, being set round the hole by which they leave the tree. a more delicate horsehair noose is sometimes set for finches and small birds. i tried it for bullfinches, but did not succeed from lack of the dexterity required. the modes of using bird-lime were numerous, and many of them are in use for taking song-birds. but the enclosure of open lands, the strict definition of footpaths, closer cultivation, and the increased value of game have so checked the poacher's operations with nets that in many districts the net may be said to be extinct. it is no longer necessary to bush the stubbles immediately after reaping. brambles are said to have been the best for hindering the net, which frequently swept away an entire covey, old birds and young together. stubbles are now so short that no birds will lie in them, and the net would not be successful there if it were tried. the net used to be so favourite an 'engine' because partridges and pheasants will run rather than fly. in the case of partridges the poacher had first to ascertain the haunt of the covey, which he could do by looking for where they roost at night: the spot is often worn almost bare of grass and easily found. or he could listen in the evening for the calling of the birds as they run together. the net being set, he walked very slowly down the wind towards the covey. it could not be done too quietly or gently, because if one got up all the rest would immediately take wing; for partridges act in concert. if he took his time and let them run in front of him he secured the whole number. that was the principle; but the nets were of many kinds: the partridges were sometimes driven in by a dog. the partridges that appear in the market on the morning of the 1st of september are said to be netted, though probably by those who have a right to do so. these birds by nature lend themselves to such tricks, being so timid. it is said that if continually driven to and fro they will at last cower, and can be taken by hand or knocked over with a stick. the sight of a paper kite in the air makes them motionless till forced to rise; and there was an old dodge of ringing a bell at night, which so alarmed the covey that they remained still till the net was ready, when a sudden flash of light drove them into it. imagine a poacher ringing a bell nowadays! then, partridges were peculiarly liable to be taken; now, perhaps, they escape better than any other kind of game. except with a gun the poacher can hardly touch them, and after the coveys have been broken up it is not worth his while to risk a shot very often. if only their eggs could be protected there should be little difficulty with partridges. pheasants are more individual in their ways, and act less together; but they have the same habit of running instead of flying, and if a poacher did but dare he could take them with nets as easily as possible. they form runs through the woods--just as fowls will wander day after day down a hedge, till they have made quite a path. so that, having found the run and knowing the position of the birds, the rest is simplicity itself. the net being stretched, the pheasants were driven in. a cur dog was sometimes sent round to disturb the birds. being a cur, he did not bark, for which reason a strain of cur is preferred to this day by the mouchers who keep dogs. now that the woods are regularly watched such a plan has become impracticable. it might indeed be done once, but surely not twice where competent keepers were about. nets were also used for hares and rabbits, which were driven in by a dog; but, the scent of these animals being so good, it was necessary to work in such a manner that the wind might not blow from the net, meeting them as they approached it. pheasants, as every one knows, roost on trees, but often do not ascend very high; and, indeed, before the leaves are off they are said to be sometimes taken by hand--sliding it along the bough till the legs are grasped, just as you might fowls perched at night on a rail across the beams of a shed. the spot where they roost is easily found out, because of the peculiar noise they make upon flying up; and with a little precaution the trees may be approached without startling them. years ago the poacher carried a sulphur match and lit it under the tree, when the fumes, ascending, stupefied the birds, which fell to the ground. the process strongly resembled the way in which old-fashioned folk stifled their bees by placing the hive at night, when the insects were still, over a piece of brown paper dipped in molten brimstone and ignited. the apparently dead bees were afterwards shaken out and buried; but upon moving the earth with a spade some of them would crawl out, even after two or three days. sulphur fumes were likewise used for compelling rabbits to bolt from their buries without a ferret. i tried an experiment in a bury once with a mixture the chief component of which was gunpowder, so managed as to burn slowly and give a great smoke. the rabbits did, indeed, just hop out and hop in again; but it is a most clumsy expedient, because the fire must be lit on the windward side, and the rabbits will only come out to leeward. the smoke hangs, and does not penetrate into half the tunnels; or else it blows through quickly, when you must stop half the holes with a spade. it is a wretched substitute for a ferret. when cock-fighting was common the bellicose inclinations of the cock-pheasants were sometimes excited to their destruction. a gamecock was first armed with the sharp spur made from the best razors, and then put down near where a pheasant-cock had been observed to crow. the pheasant cock is so thoroughly game that he will not allow any rival crowing in his locality, and the two quickly met in battle. like a keen poniard the game-cock's spur either slew the pheasant outright or got fixed in the pheasant's feathers, when he was captured. a pheasant, too, as he ran deeper into the wood upon an alarm, occasionally found his neck in a noose suspended across his path. for rabbiting, the lurcher was and is the dog of all others. he is as cunning and wily in approaching his game as if he had a cross of feline nature in his character. other dogs trust to speed; but the lurcher steals on his prey without a sound. he enters into the purpose of his master, and if any one appears in sight remains quietly in the hedge with the rabbit or leveret in his mouth till a sign bids him approach. if half the stories told of the docility and intelligence of the lurcher are true, the poacher needs no other help than one of these dogs for ground game. but the dogs called lurchers nowadays are mostly of degenerate and impure breed; still, even these are capable of a good deal. there is a way of fishing with rod and line, but without a bait. the rod should be in one piece, or else a stout one--the line also very strong and short, the hook of large size. when the fish is discovered the hook is quietly dropped into the water and allowed to float, in seeming, along, till close under it. the rod is then jerked up, and the barb enters the body of the fish and drags it out. this plan requires, of course, that the fish should be visible, and if stationary is more easily practised; but it is also effective even against small fish that swim together in large shoals, for if the hook misses one it strikes another. the most fatal time for fish is when they spawn: roach, jack, and trout alike are then within reach, and if the poacher dares to visit the water he is certain of a haul. even in the present day and in the south a fawn is now and then stolen from parks and forests where deer are kept. being small, it is not much more difficult to hide than a couple of hares; and once in the carrier's cart and at a little distance no one asks any questions. such game always finds a ready sale; and when a savoury dish is on the table those who are about to eat it do not inquire whence it came any more than the old folk did centuries ago. a nod and a wink are the best sauce. as the keepers are allowed to sell a certain number of fawns (or say they are), it is not possible for any one at a distance to know whether the game was poached or not. an ordinary single-barrel muzzle-loader of the commonest kind with a charge of common shot will kill a fawn. i once started to stalk a pheasant that was feeding in the corner of a meadow. beyond the meadow there was a cornfield which extended across to a preserved wood. but the open stubble afforded no cover--any one walking in it could be seen--so that the pheasant had to be got at from one side only. it was necessary also that he should be shot dead without fluttering of wings, the wood being so near. the afternoon sun, shining in a cloudless sky--it was a still october day--beat hot against the western side of the hedge as i noiselessly walked beside it. in the aftermath, green but flowerless, a small flock of sheep were feeding--one with a long briar clinging to his wool. they moved slowly before me; a thing i wanted; for behind sheep almost any game can be approached. i have also frequently shot rabbits that were out feeding, by the aid of a herd of cows. it does not seem to be so much the actual cover as the scent of the animals; for a man of course can be seen over sheep, and under the legs of cattle. but the breath and odour of sheep or cows prevent the game from scenting him, and, what is equally effective, the cattle, to which they are accustomed, throw them off their guard. the cart-horses in the fields do not answer so well: if you try to use one for stalking, unless he knows you he will sheer off and set up a clumsy gallop, being afraid of capture and a return to work. but cows will feed steadily in front, and a flock of sheep, very slowly driven, move on with a gentle 'tinkle, tinkle.' wild creatures show no fear of what they are accustomed to, and the use of which they understand. if a solitary hurdle be set up in a meadow as a hiding-place from behind which to shoot the rabbits of a burrow, not one will come out within gun-shot that evening. they know-that it is something strange, the use of which they do not understand and therefore avoid. when i first began to shoot, the difficulty was to judge the distances, and to know how far a rabbit was from a favourite hiding-place. i once carefully dropped small green boughs, just broken off, at twenty, thirty, and forty yards, measuring by paces. this was in the morning. in the evening not a rabbit would come out anywhere near these boughs; they were shy of them even when the leaves had withered and turned brown; so that i took them away. yet of the green boughs blown off by a gale, or the dead grey branches that fall of their own weight, they take no notice. first, then, they must have heard me in their burrows pacing by; secondly, they scented the boughs as having been handled, and connected the two circumstances together; and, thirdly, though aware that the boughs themselves were harmless, they felt that harm was intended. the pheasant had been walking about in the corner where the hedges met, but now he went in; still, as he entered the hedge in a quiet way, he did not appear to be alarmed. the sheep, tired of being constantly driven from their food, now sheered out from the hedge, and allowed me to go by. as i passed i gathered a few haws and ate them. the reason why birds do not care much for berries before they are forced to take to them by frost is because of the stone within, so that the food afforded by the berries is really small. yew-berries are an exception; they have a stone, but the covering to it is sweet, succulent, and thick, and dearly loved by thrushes. in the ditch the tall grasses, having escaped the scythe, bowed low with the weight of their own awn-like seeds. the corner was not far off now; and i waited awhile behind a large hawthorn bush growing on the 'shore' of the ditch, thinking that i might see the pheasant on the mound, or that at least he would recover confidence if he had previously heard anything. inside the bush was a nest already partly filled with fallen leaves, like a little basket. a rabbit had been feeding on the other side, but now, suspicious, came over the bank, and, seeing me, suddenly stopped and lifted himself up. in that moment i could have shot him, being so near, without putting the gun to the shoulder, by the sense of direction in the hands; the next he dived into a burrow. looking round the bush, i now saw the pheasant in the hedge, that crossed at right angles in front; this was fortunate, because through that hedge there was another meadow. it was full of nut-tree bushes, very tall and thick at the top, but lower down thin, as is usually the case when poles grow high. to fill the space a fence had been made of stakes and bushes woven between them, and on this the pheasant stood. it was too far for a safe shot; in a minute he went down into the meadow on the other side. i then crept on hands and knees towards the nut-bushes: as i got nearer there was a slight rustle and a low hiss in the grass, and i had to pause while a snake went by hastening for the ditch. a few moments afterwards, being close to the hedge, i rose partly up, and looked carefully over the fence between the hazel wands. there was the pheasant not fifteen yards away, his back somewhat towards me, and quietly questing about. in lifting the gun i had to push aside a bough--the empty hoods, from which a bunch of brown nuts had fallen, rested against the barrel as i looked along it. i aimed at the head--knowing that it would mean instant death, and would also avoid shattering the bird at so short a range; besides which there would be fewer scattered feathers to collect and thrust out of sight into a rabbit bury. a reason why people frequently miss pheasants in cover-shooting, despite of their size, is because they look at the body, the wings, and the tail. but if they looked only at the head, and thought of that, very few would escape. my finger felt the trigger, and the least increase of pressure would have been fatal; but in the act i hesitated, dropped the barrel, and watched the beautiful bird. that watching so often stayed the shot that at last it grew to be a habit: the mere simple pleasure of seeing birds and animals, when they were quite unconscious that they were observed, being too great to be spoilt by the discharge. after carefully getting a wire over a jack; after waiting in a tree till a hare came along; after sitting in a mound till the partridges began to run together to roost; in the end the wire or gun remained unused. the same feeling has equally checked my hand in legitimate shooting: time after time i have flushed partridges without firing, and have let the hare bound over the furrow free. i have entered many woods just for the pleasure of creeping through the brake and the thickets. destruction in itself was not the motive; it was an overpowering instinct for woods and fields. yet woods and fields lose half their interest without a gun--i like the power to shoot, even though i may not use it. the very perfection of our modern guns is to me one of their drawbacks: the use of them is so easy and so certain of effect that it takes away the romance of sport. there could be no greater pleasure to me than to wander with a matchlock through one of the great forests or wild tracts that still remain in england. a hare a day, a brace of partridges, or a wild duck would be ample in the way of actual shooting. the weapon itself, whether matchlock, wheel-lock, or even a cross-bow, would be a delight. some of the antique wheel-lock guns are really beautiful specimens of design. the old powder-horns are often gems of workmanship--hunting scenes cut out in ivory, and the minutest detail of hoof or antler rendered with life-like accuracy. how pleasant these carvings feel to the fingers! it is delightful to handle such weapons and such implements. the matchlocks, too, are inlaid or the stocks carved. there is slaughter in every line of our modern guns--mechanical slaughter. but were i offered participation in the bloodiest battue ever arranged, or the freedom of an english forest or mountain tract, to go forth at any time untrammelled by attendant, but only to shoot with matchlock, wheel-lock, or cross-bow, my choice would be unhesitating. there would be pleasure in winding up the lock with the spanner; pleasure in adjusting the priming; or with the matchlock in lighting the match. to wander out into the brake, to creep from tree to tree so noiselessly that the woodpecker should not cease to tap--in that there is joy. the consciousness that everything depends upon your own personal skill, and that you have no second resource if that fails you, gives the real zest to sport. if the wheel did not knock a spark out quickly; if the priming had not been kept dry or the match not properly blown, or the cross-bow set exactly accurate, then the care of approach would be lost. you must hold the gun steady, too, while the slow priming ignites the charge. an imperfect weapon--yes; but the imperfect weapon would accord with the great oaks, the beech trees full of knot-holes, the mysterious thickets, the tall fern, the silence and the solitude. the chase would become a real chase: not, as now, a foregone conclusion. and there would be time for pondering and dreaming. let us be always out of doors among trees and grass, and rain and wind and sun. there the breeze comes and strikes the cheek and sets it aglow: the gale increases and the trees creak and roar, but it is only a ruder music. a calm follows, the sun shines in the sky, and it is the time to sit under an oak, leaning against the bark, while the birds sing and the air is soft and sweet. by night the stars shine, and there is no fathoming the dark spaces between those brilliant points, nor the thoughts that come as it were between the fixed stars and landmarks of the mind. or it is the morning on the hills, when hope is as wide as the world; or it is the evening on the shore. a red sun sinks, and the foam-tipped waves are crested with crimson; the booming surge breaks, and the spray flies afar, sprinkling the face watching under the pale cliffs. let us get out of these indoor narrow modern days, whose twelve hours somehow have become shortened, into the sunlight and the pure wind. a something that the ancients called divine can be found and felt there still. the end file made using scans of public domain works at the university of georgia.) [illustration: c. a. bogardus champion quickshot of the world.] one thousand secrets of wise and rich men revealed c. a. bogardus champion quick shot of the world 1907 de luxe · edition · limited springfield, mo. copyrighted 1898 by c. a. bogardus revised and enlarged 1907 fourteenth edition transcriber's note: this ebook does not contain any text that matches "the art department between pages 132-133," as listed in the contents. contents. chapter. page. i. quick shooting records of c. a. bogardus 7 ii. medical department 10 accidents and emergencies--what to do 19 the mind cure 24 poisons and their antidotes 25 iii. ink department 27 iv. cosmetic department 32 v. live stock department 35 how to tell the age of horses, cattle, etc. 39 vi. hog department 43 vii. poultry department 51 viii. chemical department 54 ix. miscellaneous department 61 what to invent, and how to protect your invention 78 candy--directions for making all kinds of 85 x. coin department--illustrated list and tables of values of rare coins 95 loisette's system of memory 107 useful tables of mnemonics 111 facts worth knowing 121 art department between pages 132-133 gems of thought from poor richard's almanac, etc. 135 robert burns 147 xi. oratorical department 149 patrick henry's speech 149 abraham lincoln's speech 152 wm. j. bryan's speeches 153 speeches of c. a. bogardus 164 address delivered at farmington, iowa 165 speech at decatur, indiana 169 speech at jacksonville, ill. 174 what next 189 announcement. springfield, mo., august 28th, 1907. to the public: in as much as the former editions of this book have been so well liked, excepting the type being so small, it has been mentioned by many that a correction in that particular would be well. i have revised and enlarged the book and it now appears from larger type. c. a. b. preface. agesilaus, king of sparta, being asked what things he thought most proper for _boys to learn_, replied: "those things which they should _practice_ when they become _men_." his reply was in perfect harmony with the good judgment of mankind, and cannot fail to be appreciated by all who have good common sense. if agesilaus lived at the present time, the question would most probably have included both boys and girls, and undoubtedly his reply would be so worded as to apply to men and women. mankind, especially of the united states, has two great duties. first, that of self-support and education. second, that of governmental support and national enlightenment. while i have thus divided man's responsibility in two parts, it might not be improper to obliviate the dividing line and say that man's duties are all under one comprehensive head, viz.: "mankind's duty is to man." however, in the preparation of this volume the dividing line is recognized and two general departments are presented; that of domestic or household economy, and national or political economy. the former department is a compilation of useful household formulas so arranged and worded as to form a neat and concise household receipt book. frequent reference to its pages will impart such information as will enable the reader to save money and at the same time enjoy life. department number two treats on social questions that are now knocking at humanity's intellectual threshold for admission and solution. records show that less than one-thirtieth part of the time of man in general is consumed in productive pursuits, yet some people toil diligently three-fifths of their time and receive only a scanty living. to assist in making clear the road to private and national prosperity is therefore the motive which actuates me in the publication of this book. c. a. b. chapter i. quick shooting records. from the time i was twelve years old i was considered a very fine shot with a rifle, although i did but very little shooting, and, in fact, did not know that i was any more than a common marksman; yet in any contests while a boy i always won. one day in june, 1884, while passing a shooting gallery, my friends called me in for a match to pay for shots: i beat them all shooting, my score was 11 consecutive bull's eyes, while none of my friends had made half that score. the boys said i did well, to which i jestingly remarked that "that was common shooting for me; just throw up an apple and i will hit it." the apple was thrown up, and i hit it, which was as much of a surprise to me as it was to any of the rest. i then borrowed a 22-calibre stevens rifle and practiced shooting at objects thrown in the air, first shooting at tomato cans, afterwards at smaller objects, and finally at marbles and various other small objects. by practicing half an hour a day, within a month i could hit 70 per cent of the glass balls which were thrown in the air. on july 4, 1884, i shot a match with james robinson, at pratt, kansas; conditions, 10 glass balls each at 21 foot rise, he using a shot gun, i a rifle; i lost with a score of 4 to 6. this is the only match i ever lost with a rifle against a shot gun. the trouble with me was, this being my first match, i was thinking more about the stake money than the shooting. besides the stake money which i lost, i had to treat all the boys who attended the match; they all laughed and had a good time at my expense. the next day after my shoot with robinson, i sent to p. power & son, of cincinnati, for a 32-calibre winchester repeating rifle. i continued practicing with the winchester for about six weeks, when i challenged g. w. washburn of kingman, kansas, to a match. (mr. w. was at that time champion of kingman county.) he to use a shot gun at glass balls from a moles rotary trap, 21 yards rise, i to use a 32-calibre winchester, balls from a straight trap, 10-1/2 yards rise, 50 balls each. in the toss up i won and preferred to shoot second. the score was a tie on 47 balls; we shot the tie off at 10 balls each; again we tied on ten balls straight. the match was continued at 10 balls more each. by this time things had become a little exciting. over $1500 was bet; many were betting $4 to $1 against me, thinking that i would lose my nerve and go to missing. mr. w. walked to the score for the third time and broke 9 balls out of 10 shot at; it then came my turn to shoot, and i hit nine balls in succession when i was interrupted by a big fellow who offered to bet $25 i would miss the 10th ball; this bet was accepted, and it turned out that the fellow had just spoken in time to lose his $25, for the 10th ball had not got eight feet from the trap when i broke it. i won this match with a score of 67 against 66 out of 70 balls shot at. i then went to shooting at glass balls with rifle against a shot gun, and in the past 20 years i have competed against 206 good trap shots and have not lost a match. i will mention only a few of them. in the summer of '85, in medicine lodge, kansas, an expert shooter came over from cold water, kansas, to shoot with me. we had a match at target, distance 90 feet, with 22-calibre stephens rifle; he used globe and peep sight, i used open sights. the score stood in my favor 114 to 107 out of a possible 120, at a quarter-inch bull's eye. the next day we shot a match at 100 glass balls, he using a shot gun, i a rifle. the score stood 99 to 94 in my favor. i will mention a match which i had in omaha, nebraska, in august, 1886. there was nothing very striking about this match because of fine shooting; i only mention it to show how unfair people sometimes are toward strangers. i have forgotten the man's name, but he was a barber working on tenth street; he held a championship medal that he had won in dakota with a winchester rifle at glass balls. he challenged me to shoot three matches: first, 100 glass balls hanging still from the limb of a tree, fifty yards distance. second match at 100 balls, 10 yards rise, thrown by hand. third match, each to shoot 100 glass balls laid on the ground in a circle 200 feet in circumference, balls two feet apart, shooter to stand in the center of the circle, the one who broke the balls in the shortest time to win, but neither of us was allowed more than 133 shots in which to break the 100 balls. i had heard a good deal said of this man, over nebraska everywhere he was spoken of as a fine shot, and in the first match i was really afraid of being beaten, for i never had practiced a great amount at stationary targets, but on the whole i was not afraid, for the party who won two out of the series of matches was to be declared the winner. in the first match i broke 100 balls in 206 shots, while my opponent broke 82 in the same number of shots; this made me easy winner of the first match. in the second match all kinds of tricks were resorted to, to beat me. my opponent's friends tried to rattle me by offering to bet that i would miss certain balls, but when they failed in this, the party throwing the balls would first throw a ball four feet high, then one 20 feet high, while my opponent's were thrown uniformly. notwithstanding the fact that i was treated very unfair, the score stood a tie on 83 balls out of 100. in the third match at 100 balls in shortest time, i won easily, breaking the 100 balls in two minutes and three seconds, shooting 127 shots, while my opponent broke 61 balls in 133 shots, time four minutes, forty-two seconds. in fort smith, arkansas, march 21, 1889, i shot on time at 100 glass balls against five men with shot guns, i using a 32-calibre winchester rifle. i broke 100 balls in ninety-five seconds, while the five men broke 100 balls in three minutes and two seconds. ravena, ohio, july 4, 1890, i broke 250 glass balls in four minutes and sixteen seconds. at newark, n.y., july 4, 1891, i broke 81 glass balls in seventy-four seconds, 31 of which i broke in sixteen seconds, which is far the best record ever made with a rifle. in all of the matches i had assistants to load. i have hit 39 44-calibre cartridge shells out of 110 thrown up, 67 22-calibre cartridge shells out of 110 thrown up. the most difficult feat i ever performed was hitting 7 balls thrown up at one time. this i did at shelby, michigan, october 24, 1889, using a 44-calibre winchester rifle loaded with shot cartridges. on july 4, 1893, i hit 1000 wooden balls with 22-calibre marlin rifle in 17-1/4 minutes, which is 9.25 minutes quicker than the feat has ever been accomplished by any other person. i have thrown an object into the air and hit it 12 times before it struck the ground, i using an automatic shot gun. in concluding this article, i will suggest to those learning to shoot, that as a workman is known by the kind of tools he uses, it is equally true of the marksman. in order to do good shooting a good gun must be used. as a repeating rifle i have never seen the equal of the marlin, model '92. when the gun is kept in good repair, used with well loaded cartridges, it is absolutely sure to repeat, a thing that i cannot say of any other repeating rifle. although others are good, i consider the marlin the _best_. c. a. bogardus, _champion quick shot of the world._ chapter ii. medical department.[1] bogardus' liniment.--take two ozs. oil cajeput, one oz. oil sassafras, one oz. oil cloves, one oz. oil organum, 1/2-oz. oil mustard, one oz. tinc. capsicum, two ozs. gum camphor, one-half gallon of alcohol. use as other liniments for any ache or pain. for sore throat or hoarseness, saturate a towel with the liniment, place it over the mouth, let it remain so for 4 or 5 hours, and you will be cured. for croup, bathe throat and chest with the liniment. give one-fourth teaspoonful of liniment in one teaspoonful of warm water every 5 to 10 minutes till relieved. also, let the child breathe the fumes of the liniment. i especially recommend this liniment for general family use. [1] note--it is not pretended that in every instance the formulas are absolutely those used to make the medicines as indicated herein; but in every instance the medicines are equally good, when made according to instructions. healing salve.--one lb. lard, 1/2 lb. resin, 1/2 lb. sweet elder bark. simmer over a slow fire 4 hours, or until it forms a hard, brown salve. this is for the cure of cuts, bruises, boils, old sores and all like ailments. spread on a cotton cloth and apply to the parts affected. specific inflammatory rheumatism.--one oz. salt petre, pulverized; one pint sweet oil. bathe the parts affected three times a day with this mixture and a speedy cure will be the result. another salve.--one oz. sheep's tallow, beeswax one oz., one-half oz. sweet oil, one-half oz. red lead, two ozs. gum camphor. fry all these together in a stone dish. continue to simmer for 4 hours. spread on green basswood leaves or paper and apply to the sore. magnetic ointment.--one lb. elder bark, one lb. spikenard root, one lb. yellow dock root. boil in two gallons of water down to one, then press the strength out of the bark and roots and boil the liquid down to one-half gallon. add 8 lbs. of best resin, one lb. beeswax, and tallow enough to soften. apply to the sores, etc., by spreading on linen cloth. ointment stramonium.--one lb. stramonium leaves, three lbs. lard, one-half lb. yellow wax. boil the stramonium leaves in the lard until they become pliable, then strain through linen. lastly add the wax previously melted and stir until they are cold. this a useful anodyne application in irritable ulcers, painful hemorrhoids, and in cutaneous eruptions. cathartic pills.--one-half oz. extract colacinth, in powder, three drms. jolop in powder, three drms. calomel, two scru. gamboge in powder. mix these together and with water form into mass and roll into 180 pills. dose, one pill as a mild laxative, two in vigorous operations. use in all bilious diseases when purges are necessary. for heartburn--lozenges.--one oz. gum arabic, one oz. pulverized licorice root, one-fourth oz. magnesia. add water to make into lozenges. let dissolve in mouth and swallow. another cough cure--(good).--take the white of an egg and pulverized sugar; beat to a froth. take a tablespoonful every hour for 3 or 4 hours. tetter ointment.--one oz. spirits turpentine, one ounce red precipitate in powder, one oz. burgundy pitch in powder, one lb. hog's lard. melt all these ingredients over a slow fire until the ointment is formed. stir until cold. spread on a linen rag and apply to the parts affected. a sure cure for piles.--confection of senna, two ozs., cream of tartar one oz., sulphur one oz., syrup of ginger, enough to make a stiff paste; mix. a piece as large as a nut is to be taken as often as necessary to keep the bowels open. one of the best remedies known. diphtheria.--take a clean clay tobacco pipe, put a live coal in it, then put common tar on the fire and smoke it, inhaling and breathing back through the nostrils. fever and ague.--quinine one scru., elixir vitriol one drm. dissolve the quinine in the elixir and tinc. of black cohash fourteen drops. dose: 20 drops in a little water once an hour. corns.--a sure cure and painless eradication.--extract of cannabis indicus ten grs., salicylic acid 6 grs., collodion one oz. mix and apply with a camel's hair pencil so as to form a thick covering over the corn for 3 or 4 nights. take a hot foot bath and the corn can easily be removed with the aid of a knife. magic oil.--one gallon sweet oil, two ozs. oil hemlock, two ozs. oil organum, two ozs. chloroform, four ozs. spirits ammonia. mix. let it stand 24 hours and it is ready for use. dose, internally, one teaspoonful for adults. bathe the affected parts well. this is a great remedy for aches and pains, rheumatism, neuralgia, and all nervous and inflammatory diseases. cure for sore throat in all its different forms.--two ozs. cayenne pepper, one oz. common salt, one-half pint of vinegar. warm over a slow fire and gargle the throat and mouth every hour. garlic and onion poultice applied to the outside. castor oil, one spoonful to keep the bowels open. drops of life.--one oz. gum opium, one drm. gum kino, forty grs. gum camphor, one-half ounce nutmeg powdered, one pint french brandy. let stand from one to ten days. dose, from 30 to 40 drops for an adult; children, half doses. this is one of the most valuable preparations in the materia medica, and will in some dangerous hours, when all hope is fled, and the system is racked with pain, be the soothing balm which cures the most dangerous disease to which the human body is liable--flux, dysentery and all summer complaints. catarrh, positive cure.--carbolic acid, ten to twenty drops; vaseline, one to two ozs. mix and use with an atomizer 3 or 4 times per day. cough drops.--tinc. aconite 5 drops, tinc. asclepias one drm., glycerine two ozs., syrup of wild cherry. mix and take a teaspoonful every 40 minutes until relieved. eye water.--table salt and white vitriol, each one teaspoonful. heat them on earthen dish until dry. now add them to soft water one-half pint. white sugar one teaspoonful, blue vitriol a piece as large as a common pea. should this be too strong add a little more water. apply to the eye 3 or 4 times a day. to remove tape worm.--let the patient miss two meals. give two teaspoonfuls powdered kamala. should the bowels not move within two and-a half hours, give another teaspoonful of the kamala. you may follow this in two hours by from half to one oz. castor oil. this is a positive cure for tape worm. it will not make the patient sick. in buying the drug be sure and get kamala, not camellea. kamala is in appearance like quite red brick dust, and is nearly tasteless, whereas camellea is of a yellowish color. a sure cure for small pox.--a gentleman contributes to the _chicago news_ the following as a sure and never failing cure for small pox: one ounce cream of tartar dissolved in pint of boiling water, to be drank when cold at intervals. it can be taken at any time, and as a preventive as well as a curative. it is known to have cured in thousands of cases without a failure. to strengthen and invigorate the system.--two drms. essential salt of the round leaf cornel, one scru. extract rhubarb, one scru. ginger powder. make into pills, and take for a dose 2 or 3 twice a day. gonorrhea.--balsam of copabia one oz., oil of cubebs two drms., laudanum one dram, mucilage of gum arabic two ozs., sweet spirits nitre half oz., compound spirits lavender three drms., camphor water four ozs., white sugar two drms., oil of partridge berry five drops. mix. dose, a tablespoonful 3 or 4 times a day. sure corn cure.--one-half ounce tincture of iodine, one-half ounce chloride or antimony, 12 grains iodide of iron. mix. pare the corn with a sharp knife; apply the lotion with a pencil brush. put up in one ounce bottles. sell for 25 to 40 cents. this sells to everybody. (see price of labels.) n.b.--the law imposing stamp duty on medicines, compounds, perfumes, cosmetics, etc., has been repealed. russia salve.--take equal parts of yellow wax and sweet oil, melt slowly, carefully stirring; when cooling stir in a small quantity of glycerine. good for all kinds of wounds, etc. paradise liniment.--take a gill of alcohol, one-fourth ounce tincture capsicum, one-half ounce paradise seed, cracked, and put all together. for rheumatism, sprains, lameness, etc. court plaster.--this plaster is a kind of varnished silk, and its manufacture is very easy. bruise a sufficient quantity of isinglass, and let it soak in a little warm water for twenty-four hours. expose it to heat over the fire until the greater part of the water is dissipated and supply its place by proof spirits of wine, which will combine with the isinglass. strain the whole through a piece of open linen, taking care that the consistency of the mixture shall be such that when cool it may form a trembling jelly. extend a piece of black or flesh-colored silk on a wooden frame, and fix it in that position by means of tacks or twine. then apply the isinglass, after it has been rendered liquid by a gentle heat, to the silk with a brush of fine hair (badger's is the best). as soon as this coating is dried, which will not be long, apply a second, and afterward, if the article is to be very superior, a third. when the whole is dry, cover it with two or three coatings of the balsam of peru. this is the genuine court plaster. it is pliable and never breaks, which is far from being the case with spurious articles sold under the same name. a certain cure for drunkenness.--sulphate of iron five grains, magnesia ten grains, peppermint water eleven drachms, spirits of nutmeg, one drachm, twice a day. this preparation acts as a tonic and stimulant, and so partially supplies the place of the accustomed liquor, and prevents that absolute physical and mental prostration that follows a sudden breaking off from the use of stimulating drinks. french lustral.--take castor oil three ozs., alcohol one and one-half ozs., ammonia one-sixteenth of an oz., well shaken and mixed together; perfume to suit--bergamont or any other perfume. splendid hair dressing. three ounce bottles, twenty-five cents. lung medicine.--take black cohosh one-half oz., lobelia one-fourth oz., canker root three-fourths oz., blackberry root three-fourths of an oz., sarsaparilla one oz., pleurisy root one-half oz., steeped in three pints of water. dose, one tablespoonful three times a day, before eating. sure cure for spitting blood. toothache drops.--four ounces pulverized alum, fourteen ozs. sweet spirits of nitre. put up in one oz. bottles. retails readily at 25 cents per bottle. this is the most effective remedy for toothache that was ever discovered, and is a fortune to any one who will push its sale. it sells at every house. magnetic toothache drops.--take equal parts of camphor, sulphuric ether, ammonia, laudanum, tincture of cayenne, and one-eighth part of oil of cloves. mix well together. saturate with the liquid a small piece of cotton, and apply to the cavity of the diseased tooth, and the pain will cease immediately. put up in long drachm bottles. retail at 25 cents. this is a very salable preparation, and affords a large profit to the manufacturer. green mountain salve.--take one pound beeswax, one pound of soft butter, and one and one-half pounds soft turpentine, twelve ounces balsam fir. melt and strain. use to heal fresh wounds, burns, scalds and all bad sores. warts and corns--to cure in ten minutes.--take a small piece of potash and let it stand in the open air until it slacks, then thicken it to a paste with pulverized gum arabic, which prevents it from spreading where it is not wanted. liniment--good samaritan.--take 98 per cent alcohol two quarts, and add to it the following articles: oils of sassafras, hemlock, spirits of turpentine, tincture cayenne, catechu, guaic (guac), and laudanum, of each one ounce, tincture of myrrh four ounces, oil of organum two ounces, oil of wintergreen one-half ounce. gum camphor two ounces, and chloroform one and one-half ounce. this is one of the best applications for internal pains known. it is superior to any other enumerated in this work. plain court plaster, that will not stick and remains flexible: soak isinglass in a little warm water for twenty-four hours, then evaporate nearly all the water by gentle heat. dissolve the residue with a little proof spirits of wine, and strain the whole through a piece of open linen. the strained mass should be a stiff jelly when cool. stitch a piece of silk or sarcenet on a wooden frame with tacks or thread. melt the jelly and apply it to the silk thinly and evenly with a badger hair brush. a second coating must be applied after the first has dried. when the both are dry apply over the whole surface two or three coatings of balsam of peru. this plaster remains quite pliable, and never breaks. a cure for cancer (as used by a new york physician with great success).--take red oak bark, and boil it to the thickness of molasses, then mix with sheep's tallow of equal proportion. spread it on leaves of linnwood green, and keep the plaster over the ulcer. change once in eight hours. davis' pain killer--one quart proof alcohol, one drm., chloroform, one oz. oil sassafras, one oz. gum camphor, one drm. spirits of ammonia, two drms. oil of cayenne. mix well and let stand 24 hours before using. august flower.--powdered rhubarb one oz., golden seal one-fourth oz., aloes one drachm, peppermint leaves two drms., carbonate of potash two drms., capsicum five grs., sugar five ozs., alcohol three ozs., water ten ozs., essence of peppermint twenty drops. powder the drugs and let stand covered with alcohol and water, equal parts for seven days. filter and add through the filter enough diluted alcohol to make one pint. blood purifier--b.b.b.--fluid extract burdock one oz., fluid extract sarsaparilla one oz., fluid extract yellow dock one oz., fluid extract senna one oz., syrup eight ozs., alcohol two ozs. mix. boschee's german syrup.--wine of tar two ozs., fluid extract squills one oz., tinct. opium two drms., fluid extract sanguinarie two drms., syrup of sugar eight ozs. mix. centaur liniment.--oil speke one oz., oil wormwood one oz., oil sassafras one oz., oil organum one oz., oil cinnamon one oz., oil cloves one drm., oil cedar one drm., sulphur. ether one oz., aqua ammonia one oz., tinc. opium one oz., alcohol one gal. mix. this is an excellent liniment and good whenever a liniment is needed. castoria.--pumpkin seed one oz., cenria leaves one oz., rochelle salts one oz., anise seed one-half oz., bi. carb. soda one oz., worm seed one-half oz. mix and thoroughly rub together in an earthen vessel, then put into a bottle and pour over it four ozs. water and one oz. alcohol, and let stand four days, then strain off and add syrup made of white sugar, quantity to make one pint, then add one-half oz. alcohol drops and five drops wintergreen. mix thoroughly and add to the contents of the bottle and take as directed. harter's iron tonic.--calisaya bark two ozs., citrate of iron two ozs., gentian two ozs., cardamon seed two ozs., syrup two ozs., alcohol two ozs., water eight ozs. mix. hall's balsam for the lungs.--fluid extract ipecac one-half oz., fluid extract squills one oz., chloroform one-fourth oz., wine of tar one oz., tinct. opium, one-fifth oz., fluid extract of mullen one oz., syrup enough to make one pint. godfrey's cordial.--tinct. opium six ozs., molasses four pints, alcohol eight ozs., water six pints, carbonate potash four drms., oil sassafras cut with alcohol one drm. dissolve the potash in water, add the molasses; heat over a gentle fire till it simmers, remove the scum, add the other ingredients, the oil dissolved in the alcohol. hall's honey of hoarhound and tar.--wine of tar one oz., fluid extract of hoarhound one oz., tinct. opium one drm., syrup orange peel one-half oz., honey three ozs., syrup enough to make one pint. hood's sarsaparilla.--fluid extract sarsaparilla one oz., fluid extract yellow dock one oz., fluid extract poke root, one-half oz., iodide of potash one-half oz., syrup orange peel one oz., alcohol four ozs., syrup enough to make one pint. hamlin's wizard oil.--oil sassafras two ozs., oil cedar one oz., gum camphor one oz., sulph. ether two ozs., chloroform two ozs., tinct. capsicum one oz., aqua ammonia two ozs., oil turpentine one oz., tinct. quassia three ozs., alcohol half a gallon. mix and you have a fine liniment. hop bitters.--hops four ozs., orange peel two ozs., cardamon two drms., cinnamon one drm., cloves one-half drm., alcohol eight ozs., sherry wine two pints, simple syrup one pint. water sufficient. grind the drugs, macerate in the alcohol and wine for one week, percolate and add enough syrup and water to make one gallon. hostetter's bitters.--gentian root (ground) one-half oz., cinnamon bark one-half oz., cinchona bark (ground) one-half oz., anise seed one-half oz., coriander seed (ground) one-half oz., cardamon seed one-eighth oz., gum kino one-fourth oz., alcohol one pint. water four quarts, sugar one lb. mix and let stand for one week, pour off the fluid, boil the drug for a few minutes in one quart of water, strain off and add the first fluid, and then the sugar and water. injection brou.--water four ozs., nitrate silver twenty grs., tinct. opium one-half oz., sulph. bismuth and hydratis two oz. mix. jayne's expectorant.--syrup squills two ozs., tinct. tolu one oz., spirits camphor one drm., tinct. digitalis one drm., tinct. lobelia one drm., wine of ipecac two drms., tinc. opium two drms., antimonia two grains. mix. jayne's tonic vermifuge.--l. santonnie twenty grs., fluid extract pink root three drms., fluid extract senna two drms., simple elixir two ozs., syrup two ozs. mix. take tablespoonful night and morning. mustang liniment.--linseed oil fourteen ozs., aqua ammonia two ozs., tinct. capsicum one-fourth oz., oil organum one-fourth oz., turpentine one oz., oil mustard, one-fourth oz. mix. s.s.s. fluid.--extract phytolacca one oz., fluid extract sarsaparilla one oz., iodide potash one oz., extract fluid xanthoxylon one-half oz., culiver's root fluid extract one oz., acetate potash one oz., cinnamon tinct. one-fourth oz., tinct. cardamon seed one oz., alcohol four ozs., sugar one-half pound, water thirty-six ozs. mix. smith's tonic.--fowler's solution of arsenic two drms., culiver's root one oz., syrup orange peel four ozs., simple syrup twelve ozs. mix. then add chinchonia forty grains dissolved in aromatic sulph. acid. shake to mix well. sozodont fragrant.--tinct. soap bark two ozs., tinct. myrrh one drm., glycerine one-half oz., water one and one-half ozs., essence cloves ten drops, essence wintergreen ten drops, tinct. cochineal enough to color. mix. accompanying the above is a powder composed of prepared chalk, orris root, carbonate magnesia, of each equal parts. mix. shaker's cutive syrup.--fluid extract blue flag twenty drops, fluid extract culiver's root twenty drops, fluid extract poke root twenty drops, fluid extract butternut twenty drops, fluid extract dandelion twenty drops, fluid extract prince pine ten drops, fluid extract mandrake five drops, fluid extract gentian five drops, fluid extract calcium five drops, fluid extract black cohoes thirty drops, tinct. aloe thirty drops, tinct. capsicum ten drops, tinct. sassafras thirty drops, borax one drm., salt three-fourths drm., syrup three ozs., water eight ozs. ayer's cherry pectoral.--take four grains of acetate of morphia, two fluid drachms of tincture of bloodroot, three fluid drachms each of antimonial wine and wine of ipecacuanha, and three fluid ounces syrup of wild cherry. mix. brown's bronchial troches.--take one pound pulverized extract of licorice, one and one-half pounds pulverized sugar, four ounces pulverized cubebs, four ounces pulverized gum arabic, and one ounce of pulverized extract of conium. mix. succus alterns (mcdade's).--fluid extract starlinga one oz., fluid extract sarsaparilla one oz., fluid extract phytolacca decandra one-half oz., fluid extract lappa minor one oz., fluid extract xanthoxylon one-half oz., syrup fourteen ozs., mix. teaspoonful three times a day. seven seals of golden wonder.--oil cajeput two drms., sassafras one-half oz., oil organum one drm., oil hemlock one drm., oil cedar one drm., tincture capsicum one-fourth oz., alcohol enough to make one pint. wakefield's wine bitters.--cinchona bark four ozs., gentian bark two ozs., juniper berries one oz., orange peel one oz., lemon peel fresh sliced one-fourth oz., california port wine four pints, alcohol one pint, water three pints. digest or let stand ten days, then filter and add wine enough to preserve measure. st. jacob's oil.--camphor gum one oz., chloral hydrate one oz., chloroform one oz., sulphate ether one oz., tinct. opium (non-aqueous) one-half oz., oil organum one-half oz., oil sassafras one-half oz., alcohol one-half gallon. dissolve gum camphor with alcohol and then add the oil, then the other ingredients. r.r.r.--alcohol two pints, oil sassafras two ozs., oil organum twi ozs., camphor spirits one-half oz., tinct. opium one oz., chloroform one oz. mix. piso's consumption cure.--tartar emetic four grains, tinc. tolu one-half oz., sulphate morphia four grains, fluid extract lobelia two drms., chloroform one drm., fluid extract cannabis indica two drms., essence spearmint ten drops, hot water eight ozs., sugar four ozs., dissolve the morphia and tartar emetic in hot water and add the rest. warner's tippecanoe bitters.--cardamon seed two ozs., nutmeg one drm., grains of paradise one drm., cloves one oz., cinnamon two ozs., ginger one oz., orange peel one oz., lemon peel one oz., alcohol one gallon, water one gallon, sugar three pounds. mix and let stand for six or seven days and filter. then add enough water to make four gallons. warner's safe cure.--take of smart weed four pounds, boil for one hour with one gallon soft water, adding warm water to supply waste by evaporation; then strain off and add acetate potash four ozs., sugar four pounds. boil again till sugar is dissolved, then add alcohol eight ozs., and flavor with oil of wintergreen cut with alcohol. wakefield's blackberry balsam.--blackberries crushed two pounds, boiling water four ozs., sugar four ozs., jamaica ginger four grs., alcohol two ozs. mix and add syrup enough to make sixteen ozs. accidents and emergencies. what to do. if an artery is cut, red blood spurts. compress it above the wound. if a vein is cut, dark blood flows. compress it below and above. if choked, go upon all fours and cough. for slight burns, dip the part in cold water; if the skin is destroyed, cover with varnish or linseed oil. for apoplexy, raise the head and body; for fainting, lay the person flat. send for a physician when a serious accident of any kind occurs, but treat as directed until he arrives. scalds and burns.--the following facts cannot be too firmly impressed on the mind of the reader, that in either of these accidents the _first_, _best_ and _often the only remedies required_, are sheets of wadding, fine wool, or carded cotton, and in the default of these, violet powder, flour, magnesia or chalk. the object for which these several articles are employed is the same in each instance; namely, to exclude the air from injured part; for if the air can be effectually shut out from the raw surface, and care is taken not to expose the tender part till the new cuticle is formed, the cure may be safely left to nature. the moment a person is called to a case of scald or burn, he should cover the part with a sheet, or a portion of a sheet, of wadding, taking care not to break any blister that may have formed, or stay to remove any burnt clothes that may adhere to the surface, but as quickly as possible envelope every part of the injury from all access of the air, laying one or two more pieces of wadding on the first, so as to effectually guard the burn or scald from the irritation of the atmosphere; and if the article used is wool or cotton, the same precaution, of adding more material where the surface is thinly covered, must be adopted; a light bandage finally securing all in their places. any of the popular remedies recommended below may be employed when neither wool, cotton nor wadding are to be procured, it being always remembered that that article which will best exclude the air from a burn or scald is the best, quickest, and least painful mode of treatment. and in this respect nothing has surpassed cotton loose or attached to paper as in wadding. _if the skin is much injured_ in burns, spread some linen pretty thickly with chalk ointment, and lay over the part, and give the patient some brandy and water if much exhausted; then send for a medical man. if not much injured, and very painful, use the same ointment, or apply carded cotton dipped in lime water and linseed oil. if you please, you may lay cloths dipped in ether over the parts, or cold lotions. treat scalds in same manner, or cover with scraped raw potato; but the chalk ointment is the best. in the absence of all these, cover the injured part with treacle, and dust over it plenty of flour. body in flames.--lay the person down on the floor of the room, and throw the table cloth, rug or other large cover over him, and roll him on the floor. dirt in the eye.--place your forefinger upon the cheek-bone, having the patient before you; then slightly bend the finger, this will draw down the lower lid of the eye, and you will probably be able to remove the dirt; but if this will not enable you to get at it, repeat this operation while you have a netting needle or bodkin placed over the eyelid; this will turn it inside out, and enable you to remove the sand or eyelash, etc., with the corner of a fine silk handkerchief. as soon as the substance is removed, bathe the eye with cold water, and exclude the light for a day. if the inflammation is severe, let the patient use a refrigerant lotion. lime in the eye.--syringe it well with warm vinegar and water in the proportion of one ounce of vinegar to eight ounces of water; exclude light. iron or steel spiculae in the eye.--these occur while turning iron or steel in a lathe, and are best remedied by doubling back the upper or lower eyelid, according to the situation of the substance, and with the flat edge of a silver probe, taking up the metallic particle, using a lotion made by dissolving six grains of sugar of lead and the same of white vitriol, in six ounces of water, and bathing the eye three times a day till the inflammation subsides. another plan is--drop a solution of sulphate of copper (from one to three grains of the salt to one ounce of water) into the eye, or keep the eye open in a wineglassful of the solution. bathe with cold lotion, and exclude light to keep down inflammation. dislocated thumb.--this is frequently produced by a fall. make a clove hitch, by passing two loops of cord over the thumb, placing a piece or rag under the cord to prevent it cutting the thumb; then pull in the same line as the thumb. afterwards apply a cold lotion. cuts and wounds.--clean cut wounds, whether deep or superficial, and likely to heal by the first intention, should always be washed or cleaned, and at once evenly and smoothly closed by bringing both edges close together, and securing them in that position by adhesive plaster. cut thin strips of sticking plaster, and bring the parts together; or if large and deep, cut two broad pieces, so as to look like the teeth of a comb, and place one on each side of the wound, which must be cleaned previously. these pieces must be arranged so that they will interlace one another; then, by laying hold of the pieces on the right side with one hand, and those on the other side with the other hand, and pulling them from one another, the edges of the wound are brought together without any difficulty. _ordinary cuts_ are dressed by thin strips, applied by pressing down the plaster on one side of the wound, and keeping it there and pulling in the opposite direction; then suddenly depressing the hand when the edges of the wound are brought together. contusions are best healed by laying a piece of folded lint, well wetted with extract of lead, or boracic acid, on the part, and, if there is much pain, placing a hot bran poultice over the dressing, repeating both, if necessary, every two hours. when the injuries are very severe, lay a cloth over the part, and suspend a basin over it filled with cold lotion. put a piece of cotton into the basin, so that it shall allow the lotion to drop on the cloth, and thus keep it always wet. hemorrhage, when caused by an artery being divided or torn, may be known by the blood issuing out of the wound in leaps or jerks, and being of a bright scarlet color. if a vein is injured, the blood is darker and flows continuously. to arrest the latter, apply pressure by means of a compress and bandage. to arrest arterial bleeding, get a piece of wood (part of a broom handle will do), and tie a piece of tape to one end of it; then tie a piece of tape loosely over the arm, and pass the other end of the wood under it; twist the stick round and round until the tape compresses the arm sufficiently to arrest the bleeding, and then confine the other end by tying the string around the arm. a compress made by enfolding a penny piece in several folds of lint or linen should, however, be first placed under the tape and over the artery. if the bleeding is very obstinate, and it occurs in the _arm_, place a cork underneath the string, on the inside of the fleshy part, where the artery may be felt beating by anyone, if in the _leg_, place a cork in the direction of a line drawn from the inner part of the knee towards the outer part of the groin. it is an excellent thing to accustom yourself to find out the position of these arteries, or, indeed, any that are superficial, and to explain to every person in your house where they are, and how to stop bleeding. if a stick cannot be got, take a handkerchief, make a cord bandage of it, and tie a knot in the middle; the knot acts as a compress, and should be placed over the artery, while the two ends are to be tied around the thumb. observe _always to place the ligature between the wound and the heart_. putting your finger into a bleeding wound, and making pressure until a surgeon arrives, will generally stop violent bleeding. bleeding from the nose, from whatever cause, may generally be stopped by putting a plug of lint into the nostrils; if this does not do, apply a cold lotion to the forehead; raise the head, and place over it both arms, so that it will rest on the hands; dip the lint plug, _slightly moistened_, into some powdered gum arabic, and plug the nostrils again; or dip the plug into equal parts of powdered gum arabic and alum, and plug the nose. or the plug may be dipped in friar's balsam, or tincture of kino. heat should be applied to the feet; and, in obstinate cases, the sudden shock of a cold key, or cold water poured down the spine, will instantly stop the bleeding. if the bowels are confined take a purgative. injections of alum solution from a small syringe into the nose will often stop hemorrhage. violent shocks will sometimes stun a person, and he will remain unconscious. untie strings, collars, etc.; loosen anything that is tight, and interferes with the breathing; raise the head; see if there is bleeding from any part; apply smelling salts to the nose, and hot bottles to the feet. in concussion, the surface of the body is cold and pale, and the pulse weak and small, the breathing slow and _gentle_, and the pupil of the eye generally contracted or small. you can get an answer by speaking loud, so as to rouse the patient. give a little brandy and water, keep the place quiet, apply warmth, and do not raise the head too high. if you tickle the feet, the patient feels it. in compression of the brain from any cause, such as apoplexy, or a piece of fractured bone pressing on it, there is loss of sensation. if you tickle the feet of the injured person he does not feel it. you cannot arouse him so as to get an answer. the pulse is slow and labored; the breathing deep, labored, and _snorting_; the pupil enlarged. raise the head, loosen strings or tight things, and send for a surgeon. if one cannot be got at once, apply mustard poultices to the feet and thighs, leeches to the temples, and hot water to the feet. choking.--when a person has a fish bone in the throat, insert the forefinger, press upon the root of the tongue, so as to induce vomiting; if this does not do, let him swallow a large piece of potato or soft bread; and if these fail, give a mustard emetic. fainting, hysterics, etc.--loosen the garments, bathe the temples with water or eau-de-cologne; open the window, admit plenty of fresh air, dash cold water on the face, apply hot bricks to the feet, and avoid bustle and excessive sympathy. drowning.--attend to the following _essential rules_: 1. lose no time. 2. handle the body gently. 3. carry the body face downwards, with the head gently raised, and never hold it up by the feet. 4. send for medical assistance immediately, and in the meantime act as follows: 5. strip the body; rub it dry, then wrap it in hot blankets, and place it in a warm bed in a warm room. 6. cleanse away the froth and mucous from the nose and mouth. 7. apply warm bricks, bottles, bags of sand, etc., to the arm pits, between the thighs, and to the soles of the feet. 8. rub the surface of the body with the hands inclosed in warm, dry worsted socks. 9. if possible, put the body into a warm bath. 10. to restore breathing, put the pipe of a common bellows into one nostril, carefully closing the other, and the mouth; at the same time drawing downwards, and pushing gently backwards, the upper part of the windpipe, to allow a more free admission of air; blow the bellows gently, in order to inflate the lungs, till the breast is raised a little; then set the mouth and nostrils free, and press gently on the chest; repeat this until signs of life appear. the body should be covered from the moment it is placed on the table, except the face, and all the rubbing carried on under the sheet or blanket. when they can be obtained, a number of tiles or bricks should be made tolerably hot in the fire, laid in a row on the table, covered with a blanket, and the body placed in such a manner on them that their heat may enter the spine. when the patient revives, apply smelling-salts to the nose, give warm wine or brandy and water. _cautions._--1. never rub the body with salt or spirits. 2. never roll the body on casks. 3. continue the remedies for twelve hours without ceasing. hanging.--loosen the cord, or whatever it may be by which the person has been suspended. open the temporal artery or jugular vein, or bleed from the arm; employ electricity, if at hand, and proceed as for drowning, taking the additional precaution to apply eight or ten leeches to the temples. apparent death from drunkenness--raise the head, loosen the clothes, maintain warmth of surface, and give a mustard emetic as soon as the person can swallow. apoplexy and fits generally.--raise the head; loosen all tight clothes, strings, etc.; apply cold lotions to the head, which should be shaved; apply leeches to the temples, bleed, and send for a surgeon. suffocation from noxious gases, etc.--remove to the fresh air; dash cold vinegar and water in the face, neck, and breast; keep up the warmth of the body; if necessary, apply mustard poultices to the soles of the feet and to the spine, and try artificial respirations as in drowning, with electricity. lightning and sunstroke.--treat the same as apoplexy. mind cure. the mind cure, otherwise known in its various subdivisions as metaphysics, christian science, mental science, etc., is a species of delusion quite popular at the present time. every era of the world has cherished similar delusions, for the mass of the human race, even in what are considered the educated classes, are so unfamiliar with the processes of exact reasoning that they fall a ready prey to quacks of all kinds. the fundamental idea of the mind cure system is that there is no such thing as sickness. disease, says one of their apostles, is an error of the mind, the result of fear. fear is only faith inverted and perverted. god, who is all good himself, and who made everything good, cannot have been the author of any disease. as disease, therefore, is not a creation, it has no existence, and when the healer has succeeded in impressing this fact upon the mind of the patient, the cure is effected. it is curious to note into what utter absurdities the need for consistency carries these apostles. poisons, they say, would be quite harmless if the fear of them was removed, but we have yet to find the "mental science" teacher who will undertake to prove this by herself taking liberal doses of aconite and strychnine. the illnesses of children are explained by the hypothesis of hereditary fear. the majority of the teachers of this new faith are women, many of whom, no doubt, are sincere in their belief; but it may be safely stated that the men engaged as the so-called physicians of the new practice are, with few exceptions, unprincipled quacks, who have gone into the business for the money they can make by duping the ignorant. as far as there is any truth underlying the vagaries of mind cures, and their boasts of remarkable cases of healing, it may be admitted that the mind has much influence over the body. this fact has been recognized by intelligent physicians for centuries. and that the peculiar modern type of nervous diseases, which are so largely caused by excessive stimulus of the nerves and the imagination, should be amendable to cure through the imagination, is not strange. it will be noted that this mental cure has effected its miracles mainly among women, where it has the emotional temperament to work on, and almost wholly in the ranks of the wealthy and well-to-do, where there is little or no impoverishment of the system by insufficient food and excessive toil to hinder its effects. we have not heard, nor are we likely to hear, of an epidemic disease checked by the mind cure, or of the healing of acute affections or organic troubles through its agency. nor do we hear of its seeking to carry its message of healing into the houses of the suffering poor in large cities, where hunger, exposure and foul airs open wide the door to fevers and all deadly diseases, nor yet into the hospitals for contagious or incurable affections. in the presence of such realities it would prove, as its votaries probably understand, a too-painful mockery. intelligently analyzed, therefore, this new revelation amounts to nothing more than a quite striking proof of the remarkable influence of the mind over the nervous system. beyond this, the craze, in attempting to disprove the existence of disease, and to show that poisons do not kill, is simply running against the plain and inevitable facts of life, and can safely be left to perish through its own rashness. while it must be admitted that many upright and worthy people are followers of this faith, it can be asserted that to say "disease is only a mental derangement" is carrying the idea of the power of mind over matter entirely too far. poisons and their antidotes. always send immediately for a medical man. save all fluids vomited, and articles of food, cups, glasses, etc., used by the patient before taken ill, and lock them up. as a rule give emetics after poisons that cause sleepiness and raving; chalk, milk, eggs, butter and warm water, or oil, after poisons that cause vomiting and pain in the stomach and bowels, with purging; and when there is no inflammation about the throat, tickle it with a feather to excite vomiting. vomiting may be caused by giving warm water, with a teaspoonful of mustard to the tumblerful, well stirred up. sulphate of zinc (white vitriol) may be used in place of the mustard, or powdered alum. powder of ipecacuanha, a teaspoonful rubbed up with molasses, may be employed for children. _tartar emetic should never be given_, as it is excessively depressing, and uncontrolable in its effects. the stomach pump can only be used by skillful hands, and even then with caution. _opium and other narcotics._--after vomiting has occurred, cold water should be _dashed_ over the face and head. the patient must be kept awake, walked about between two strong persons, made to grasp the handles of a galvanic battery, dosed with strong coffee, and vigorously slapped. _belladonna_ is an antidote for opium and for morphia, etc., its active principles; and, on the other hand, the latter counteract the effects of belladonna. but a knowledge of medicine is necessary for dealing with these articles. _strychnia._--after emetics have been freely and successfully given, the patient should be allowed to breathe the vapor of sulphuric ether, poured on a handkerchief and held to the face, in such quantities as to keep down the tendency to convulsions. bromide of potassium, twenty grains at a dose, dissolved in syrup, may be given every hour. _alcoholic poisoning_ should be combated by emetics, of which the sulphate of zinc given as above directed, is the best. after that, strong coffee internally, and stimulation by heat externally, should be used. _acids_ are sometimes swallowed by mistake. alkalies, lime water, magnesia, or common chalk mixed with water, may be freely given, and afterward mucilaginous drinks, such as thick gum water or flaxseed tea. _alkalies_ are less frequently taken in injurious strength or quantity, but sometimes children swallow lye by mistake. common vinegar may be given freely, and then castor or sweet oil in full doses--a tablespoonful at a time, repeated every half hour or two. _nitrate of silver_ when swallowed is neutralized by common table salt freely given in solution in water. the salts of _mercury_ or _arsenic_ (often kept as bedbug poison), which are powerful irritants, are apt to be very quickly fatal. milk or the whites of eggs may be freely given, and afterward a very thin paste of flour is neutralized. _phosphorus_ paste, kept for roach poison or in parlor matches, is sometimes eaten by children, and has been wilfully taken for the purpose of suicide. it is a powerful irritant. the first thing to be done is to give freely of magnesia and water; then to give mucilaginous drinks, as flaxseed tea, gum water or sassafras pith and water; and lastly to administer finely-powdered bone-charcoal, either in pill or in mixture with water. in no case of poisoning should there be any avoidable delay in obtaining the advice of a physician, and, meanwhile, the friends or by-standers should endeavor to find out exactly what has been taken, so that the treatment adopted may be as prompt and effective as possible. chapter iii. ink department. red ink.--two ounces cochineal, bruised; pour over it one quart boiling water, let it stand eight hours. boil two ounces brazil wood in one pint of water, let it stand eight hours and then add the two together. dissolve one-half ounce gum arabic in one-half pint hot water; add all together and let stand four days. strain and bottle for use. blue ink.--six parts persian blue, one quart oxalic acid; triturate with little water to smoothe paste, add gum arabic and the necessary quantity of water. indelible ink to mark linen.--one and a half ounces nitrate of silver dissolved in six ounces liquor ammonia fortis, one ounce archill, for coloring; one-half ounce gum arabic. mix. for yellow.--write with muriate of antimony; when dry wash with tincture of galls. black.--write with a solution of green vitriol and wash with tincture of galls. blue.--nitrate of cobate, wash with oxalic acid. yellow.--subacetate of lead, wash with hydrochloric acid. green.--arsenate of potash, wash with nitrate of copper. purple.--solution of gold and muriate of tin. black.--perchloride of mercury, the wash is hydrochloric of tin. black ink.--extract of logwood one ounce, bicromate of potash one-quarter ounce. pulverize and mix in a quart of soft hot water. this makes a beautiful jet black ink, which will not spoil by freezing. copying ink.--one-half gallon of soft water, one ounce gum arabic, one ounce brown sugar, one ounce clean copperas, three ounces powdered nut gall. mix and shake occasionally from 7 to 10 days and strain. the best copying ink made. black ink.--shellac four ounces, borax two ounces, water one quart; boil till dissolved and add two ounces gum arabic, dissolved in a little hot water; boil and add enough of a well triturated mixture of equal parts of indigo and lampblack to produce a copper color. after standing several hours draw off and bottle. green ink.--dissolve 180 grains bichromate of potash in one fluid ounce of water; add while warm one-half ounce spirits of wine, then decompose the mixture with concentrated sulphuric acid until it assumes a brown color; evaporate this liquid until its quantity is reduced one-half, dilute it with two ounces distilled water, filter it, add one-half ounce alcohol, followed by a few drops of strong sulphuric acid; it is now allowed to rest, and after a time it assumes a beautiful green color. add a small quantity gum arabic and it is ready for use. beautiful blue writing fluid.--dissolve basic or soluble prussian blue in pure water. this is the most permanent and beautiful blue ink known. violet copying ink.--for blue violet dissolve in 300 parts of boiling water, methyl violet, 5 b, hofman's violet, 3 b, or gentiana violet, b. for reddish violet dissolve in a similar quantity of water methyl violet br. a small quantity of sugar added to these inks improves their copying qualities. if the writing when dry retains a bronzy appearance, more water must be added. new invisible ink.--c. wideman communicates a new method of making an invisible ink to _die natur_. to make the writing or drawing appear which has been made upon paper it is sufficient to dip it in water. on drying the traces disappear again, and reappear again at each succeeding immersion. the ink is made by intimately mixing linseed oil one part. water of ammonia twenty parts, water 100 parts. the mixture must be agitated each time before the pen is dipped into it, as a little of the oil may separate and float on top, which would, of course, leave an oily stain upon the paper. bucher's carmine ink.--pure carmine, twelve grains, water of ammonia three ounces, dissolve, then add powdered gum eighteen grains. one-half drachm of powdered drop lake may be substituted for the carmine, where expense is an object. brilliant red ink.--brazil wood two ounces, muriate of tin one-half drachm, gum arabic one drachm. boil down in 32 ounces water to one-half, and strain. white ink.--mix pure freshly precipitated barium sulphate, or "flake white," with water containing enough gum arabic to prevent the immediate settling of the substance. starch or magnesium carbonate may be used in a similar way. they must be reduced to palpable powders. indelible ink for marking linen.--add caustic alkali to a saturated solution of corpous chloride until no further precipitate forms; allow the precipitate to settle, draw off the supernatant liquid with a siphon and dissolve the hydrated copper oxide in the smallest quantity of ammonia. it may be mixed with about 6 per cent of gum dextrine for use. to write secret letters.--put five cents' worth citrate of potassa in an ounce vial of clear cold water. this forms an invisible fluid. let it dissolve and you can use on paper of any color. use quill pen in writing. when you wish the writing to become visible hold it to red hot stove. black copying ink or writing fluid.--take two gallons of rain water, and put into it gum arabic one-fourth pound, brown sugar one pound, clean copperas one-fourth pound, powdered nutgall three-fourths pound; mix, and shake occasionally for ten days, and strain; if needed sooner let it stand in an iron kettle until the strength is obtained. this ink will stand the action of the atmosphere for centuries if required. to make rubber stamp ink.--dissolve aniline in hot glycerine, and strain while hot or warm. commercial writing ink.--galls one ounce, gum one-half ounce, cloves one-half ounce, sulphate of iron, one-half ounce, water eight ounces. digest by frequent shaking till it has sufficient color. this is a good durable ink and will bear diluting. travelers' ink.--white blotting paper is saturated with aniline black, and several sheets are pasted together, so as to form a thick pad. when required for use a small piece is torn off and covered with a little water. the black liquid which dissolves out is a good writing ink. a square inch of paper will produce enough ink to last for a considerable writing, and a few pads would be all that an exploring party need carry with them. as water is always available the ink is readily made. this is a perfectly original and new recipe. any enterprising man can make a large income out of its manufacture. indelible marking ink without a preparation.--dissolve separately one ounce of nitrate of silver and one and one-half ounces of sub-carbonate of soda (best washing soda) in rain water. mix the solutions and collect and wash the precipitate in a filter; while still moist rub it up in a marble or hardwood mortar with three drachms of tartaric acid, add two ounces of rain water, mix six drachms white sugar and ten drachms powdered gum arabic, one-half ounce archill and water to make up six ounces in measure. it should be put up in short drachm bottles and sold at twenty-five cents. this is the best ink for marking clothes that has ever been discovered. there is a fortune in this recipe, as a good marking ink is very salable. invisible ink.--sulphuric acid one quart, water twenty parts; mix together and write with a quill pen, which writing can be read only after heating it. horticultural ink.--copper one part, dissolve in nitric acid ten parts and add water ten parts; used to write on zinc or tin labels. gold ink.--honey and gold leaf equal parts, turpentine until the gold is reduced to the finest possible state of division, agitate with thirty parts hot water and allow it to settle. decant the water and repeat the washing several times; finally dry the gold and mix it with a little gum water for use. silver ink.--for silver ink the process is the same as gold, substituting silver leaf for the gold leaf. indelible ink for glass or metal.--borax one ounce, shellac two ounces, water eighteen fluid ounces; boil in a covered vessel, add of thick mucilage one ounce; triturate it with levigated indigo and lamp black q.s. to give it a good color. after two hours' repose decant from the dregs and bottle for use. it may be bronzed after being applied. resists moisture, chlorine and gases. brown ink.--a strong decoction of catechu. the shade may be varied by the cautious addition of a little weak solution of bicromate of potash. luminous ink.--shines in the dark. phosphorous one-half drachm, oil cinnamon one-half ounce; mix in a vial, cork tightly, heat it slowly until mixed. a letter written in this ink can only be read in a dark room, when the writing will have the appearance of a fire. ticketing ink for grocers, etc.--dissolve one ounce of gum arabic in six ounces of water and strain; this is the mucilage; for a _black color_ use drop black, powdered and ground with the mucilage to extreme fineness; for _blue_, ultra-marine is used in the same manner; for _green_, emerald green; for _white_, flake white; _red_, vermillion, lake or carmine; for _yellow_, chrome yellow. when ground too thick they are thinned with a little water. apply to the cards with a small brush. the cards may be sized with a thin glue, afterward varnished, if it is desired to preserve them. common ink.--to one gallon boiling soft water add three-fourths ounce extract of logwood; boil two minutes; remove from the fire and stir in forty-eight grains bichromate of potash and eight grains prussiate of potash. for ten gallons use six and one-half ounces logwood extract, one ounce bichromate of potash, and eighty grains prussiate potash; strain. six cents should buy the former and twenty-five cents the latter. red ink.--in an ounce phial put one teaspoonful aqua ammonia, gum arabic size of two or three peas, and six grains no. 40 carmine. fill up with soft water and it is soon ready for use. ink for marking packages.--take lamp black and mix thoroughly with sufficient turpentine to make it thin enough to flow from the brush. powdered ultra-marine instead of lamp black, makes a fine blue marking mixture for the same purpose. chapter iv. cosmetic department. liquid for curling the hair.--two ounces scrapings of lead, half ounce litharge, one-quarter ounce gum camphor. boil all in one pint of soft water for half an hour. let it cool; pour off liquid and add to it one drachm rosemary flowers. boil all again and strain, when it is ready for use. apply about once a week. hair oil.--one gallon cologne spirits, 90 per cent proof, one pint castor oil, one ounce oil cinnamon. mix well and it is ready for use. powder for the complexion.--half ounce tincture of elder blossoms, half ounce beef marrow, half pint orange flower water, one cassia buds, two ounces bitter almonds, four drachms spirits oriental roses. mix, and apply it in the evening and wash it off in the morning. paste to produce whiskers.--one ounce of oil of paricada, two ounces southern wood bark, one ounce dog's lard. fry over a slow fire until it forms a paste. apply to the face once a day until the whiskers begin to grow. to clean the teeth.--castile soap and cigar ashes applied with a soft rag is one of the best tooth preparations known. to make the hair soft and glossy.--one pint alcohol, four ounces castor oil. mix, and flavor with bergamot. apply frequently with the hands. to remove freckles.--use oxolate of copper ointment. hair tonic.--sugar of lead five grains, sulphate quinine two grains, muriat of ammonia one drachm, glycerine six ounces, distilled water six ounces. mix and apply two or three times per day. hair dyes. no. 1.--distilled water six ounces, alcohol one ounce, pyrogalic acid one drachm. the acid must be dissolved in the alcohol before the water is added. no. 2.--aqua ammonia one ounce, water one ounce, nitrate of silver two drachms. dissolve the silver in water and add the ammonia. cork tight and keep in a cool place. no. 3.--water four ounces, sulphate of potash half ounce. mix. to dye the hair or whiskers, have them free from dirt or soap suds. they should be a little damp. add carefully no. 1, using care not to allow the dye to touch the skin. when somewhat dry apply no. 2; in about three minutes apply no. 3. use care not to allow any of these preparations to touch the skin. to beautify the teeth and make the breath smell sweet and pleasant.--one ounce chlorate of lime in a pint of soft water, and let it stand 24 hours. then pour off the clear water and add forty drops of essence of rose. to make the cheeks and lips rosy.--use a little red carmine. perfumery.--oils of rosemary and lemon each a half ounce, bergamot and lavender half drachm, cinnamon four drops, cloves and rose each two drops, alcohol one quart. mix and let stand one week. hair restorative.--sugar of lead, borax and lac sulphur each one ounce, aqua ammonia half ounce, alcohol one gill. mix and let stand 20 hours, then add bay rum one gill, fine table salt one tablespoonful, soft water three pints, essence of bergamot half ounce. new york barber's star hair oil.--castor oil six and one-half pints, alcohol one and one-half pints, oil of citronella one-half ounce, lavender one-fourth ounce. mix well, put in four ounce bottles, retail for 25 cents. celebrated moth and freckle lotion.--for the skin and complexion; a great secret. distill two handfuls jessamine flowers in a quart of rose water and a quart of orange water. strain through porous paper and add a scruple of musk and a scruple of ambergris. bottle and label. splendid wash for the skin. imperial onguent for forcing whiskers and mustache to grow.--made as follows: two drachms of benzoin comp., two drachms tincture of cantharides, six ounces of castor oil, nine and one-fourth ounces alcohol, one drachm oil of bergamot. mix well, bottle and label. apply the onguent night and morning. circulation should be stimulated with a rough towel. curloline, for making the hair curl.--one pound olive oil, one drachm oil of origanum, one and one-half drachms oil of rosemary. mix well, bottle and label. apply two or three times weekly. will curl the straightest hair if not cut too short. hair restorative and invigorator.--for a trifling cost. sugar of lead, borax and lac sulphur of each one ounce, aqua ammonia one-half ounce, alcohol one gill. mix and let stand for fourteen hours; then add bay rum one gill, fine table salt one tablespoonful, soft water three pints, essence of bergamot one ounce. this preparation not only gives a beautiful gloss, but will cause hair to grow upon bald heads arising from all common causes, and turning gray hair to a dark color. _manner of application._--when the hair is thin or bald, make two applications daily, until this amount is used up. work it into the roots of the hair with a soft brush or the ends of the fingers, rubbing well each time. for gray hair one application daily is sufficient. jockey club.--spirits of wine five gallons, orange flower water one gallon, balsam of peru four ounces, essence of bergamot eight ounces. essence of musk eight ounces, essence of cloves four ounces, essence of neroli two ounces. mix. ladies' own.--spirits of wine one gallon, otto of roses twenty drops, essence of thyme one-half ounce, essence of neroli one-fourth ounce, essence of vanilla one-half ounce, essence of bergamot one-fourth ounce, orange flower water six ounces. upper ten.--spirits of wine four quarts, essence of cedrat two drachms, essence of violets one-fourth ounce, essence of neroli one-half ounce, otto of roses twenty drops, orange flower essence one ounce, oil of rosemary thirty drops, oils of bergamot and neroli each one-half ounce. chapter v. live stock department. each and every recipe in this department has been tested by the most eminent veterinary surgeons in the united states, and pronounced by them as the best. wounds and cuts.--take four ounces lard, beeswax four ounces, resin three ounces, vaseline four to six ounces. melt these together and add carbolic acid half ounce. this is excellent. colic.--gum camphor one ounce, cayenne one ounce, gum myrrh one ounce, powdered gum quaial one ounce, sassafras bark one ounce, spirits of turpentine one ounce, oil of origanum one-quarter ounce, oil hemlock half ounce, pulverized opium half ounce, good alcohol two quarts. mix and let stand ten to twelve days and filter. dose from one to four teaspoonfuls in a pint of milk. keep this on hand. it is the best colic cure known. liniment to kill pain.--one gallon alcohol, one ounce tincture cayenne, two ounces tincture gum camphor, two ounces tincture ammonia, one-half ounce chloroform. mix well and let stand twelve hours. best condition powders.--fenugreek, cream of tartar, gentian, sulphur, saltpetre, resin, black antimony and ginger each two ounces, cayenne pepper one ounce. pulverize and mix thoroughly. dose, two tablespoonfuls once a day in feed. brittle and contracted hoofs.--take castor oil, barbadoes, tar and soft soap. equal parts of each. melt all together and stir while cooling, and apply a little to the hoof three or four times a week. contracted hoof and sore feet.--take equal parts of soft fat, yellow wax, linseed oil, venice turpentine and norway tar; first melt the wax, then add the others, mixing thoroughly. apply to the edge of the hair once a day. cracked heels.--tar eight ounces, beeswax one ounce, resin one ounce, alum one ounce, tallow one ounce, sulphate of iron one ounce, carbolic acid one drachm. mix and boil over a slow fire. skim off the filth and add two ounces of the scrapings of sweet elder. eye water.--white vitriol and pure saltpetre of each one scruple, pure soft water eight ounces. mix. this should be applied to the inflamed lids three or four times a day, and if the inflammation does not lessen in one or two days it may be injected directly into the eye. the writer has used this for his own eyes, reduced one-half with water, and dropped directly into the eye, which would cause the eye to smart considerably for about five minutes, when he should bathe the eye with cold water for a few minutes, and by repeating this three or four times a day, it has given the best of satisfaction. it does nicely, many times, to just close the eye and bathe the outside freely. cure for sweeney.--alcohol and spirits of turpentine each eight ounces, camphor gum, pulverized cantharides and capsicum each one ounce, oil of spike three ounces. mix. bathe with hot iron. farcy.--nitrate of potash four ounces, black antimony two ounces, sulphite of soda one ounce, elecampane two ounces. mix. dose, one tablespoonful once or twice a day. farcy and glanders.--iodide of potassium one and one-quarter drachms, copperas one-half, ginger one drachm, gentian two drachms, powdered gum arabic and syrup to form a ball; or, take one-half ounce sulphite soda, five grains powdered cantharides. mix, and give at night in cut feed for several weeks; give at the same time every morning and noon three drachms powdered gentian, two drachms powdered blue vitriol, give the medicines for a long time; feed well. this is the best treatment that can be given for this disease. wolf's liniment.--one quart alcohol, two ounces tincture arnica, one ounce oil hemlock, one ounce oil of spike. mix well and let stand twenty-four hours. this will cure any burn, scald, bruise, sprain or any like ailment; also aches and pains of all kinds. apply by wetting a flannel cloth and wrapping it around the diseased parts. cuts, wounds and sores.--take of lard four ounces, beeswax four ounces, resin two ounces, carbolic acid one-quarter ounce. mix the first three and melt, add carbolic acid, stirring until cool. this is excellent for man as well as beast. for poll evil.--rock salt one ounce, blue vitriol one ounce, copperas one-half ounce. pulverize and mix well. fill a goose quill with the powder and push to the bottom of the pipe. have a stick at the top of the quill and push the powder out of the quill, leaving it at the bottom of the pipe. repeat in four days, and in two or three days you can remove the pipe without any trouble. cure for scratches.--sweet oil three ounces, borax one ounce, sugar of lead one ounce. mix and apply twice daily after washing thoroughly with castile soap, giving time for legs to dry. great arabian heave remedy.--give your horse a teaspoonful of lobelia once a day for a week and then once a week, and you will hardly know he ever had the heaves. try it. bots.--take new milk two quarts, syrup one quart, mix and give the whole, and in fifteen or twenty minutes after give two quarts of warm, strong sage tea; half an hour after the tea give one quart of raw linseed oil, or if the oil cannot be had give lard instead. diuretics.--take balsam copaiba two ounces, sweet spirits of nitre three ounces, spirits of turpentine two ounces, oil of juniper two ounces, tincture of camphor two ounces. mix; shake the bottle before pouring the medicine. dose for adult horse, two tablespoonfuls in a pint of milk, repeated every four to six hours, if necessary. this is a reliable preparation for kidney difficulties. founder.--vinegar three pints, capsicum one-half drachm, tincture of aconite root fifteen drops. mix and boil down to one quart; when cool give it as a drench. blanket the horse well; after the horse has perspired for an hour or more, give one quart of raw linseed oil. this treatment will be found good for horses foundered by eating too much grain. mange.--oil tar one ounce, lac sulphur one and one-half ounces, whale oil two ounces. mix. rub a little on the skin wherever the disease appears, and continue daily for a week, then wash off with castile soap and warm water. poll evil and fistula.--tincture of opium one drachm, potash two drachms, water one ounce; mix, and when dissolved inject into the pipes with a small syringe, having cleansed the sore with soap-suds; repeat every two days until pipes are completely destroyed. condition powder.--take antimony crude one ounce, lobelia gr. one ounce, ginger two ounces, sulphur flour three ounces, berberry gr. one ounce, cream tartar four ounces, saltpetre flour four ounces; well mixed. dose, one tablespoonful each day in wet feed. best in the market; will sell well. for bone spavin.--hog's lard half pint, best oil origanum one and a half ounces, oil cajeput two ounces, pulverized cantharides half ounce. mix, and apply each morning for four mornings, heating it in with hot iron each time, then discontinue its use for three days, after which use as before for five mornings. wait about eight or ten days and if not gone repeat as before. arabian horse tamer's secret.--take oil of cummin, oil of rhodium and horse castor. keep separate in air-tight bottles. rub a little of the oil of cummin on your hand and approach the horse on the windward side, so that he can smell the cummin. the horse will then let you come up to him without trouble. rub your hand gently on the horse's nose, getting a little oil on it. he will then follow you. give him a little of the castor on a piece of loaf sugar or apple; get a few drops of the rhodium on his tongue, and he is your servant. he will follow you like a pet dog. cure for spavin and ringbone.--cantharides one ounce, mercurial ointment half ounce, corrosive sublimate a half drachm, turpentine one and a half ounces, tincture iodine one ounce, gum euphorbium four ounces. mix well with one pound of lard. for spavin or ringbone, cut the hair away and grease the part well with the ointment, rubbing it in well. in two days grease the parts with lard; wash it off in two days more, and again apply the ointment. so continue until a cure is effected, which will be in a short time. for bog spavin, wind gall, curb or splint, apply the ointment every six days. jockey tricks.--how to make a horse appear as though he was badly foundered.--take a fine wire and fasten it tightly around the fetlock, between the foot and the heel, and smooth the hair over it. in twenty minutes the horse will show lameness. do not leave it on over nine hours. to make a horse lame.--take a single hair from its tail, put it through the eye of a needle, then lift the front leg and press the skin between the outer and middle tendon or cord, and shove the needle through, cut off the hair each side and let down the foot. the horse will go lame in twenty minutes. how to make a horse stand by his food and not take it.--grease the front teeth and the roof of the mouth with common beef tallow, and he will not eat until you wash it out. this, in conjunction with the above, will consummate a complete founder. how to cure a horse from the crib or sucking wind.--saw between the upper teeth to the gums. how to put a young countenance on a horse.--make a small incision in the sunken place over the eye, insert the point of a goose quill and blow it up; close the external wound with a thread, and it is done. to cover up the heaves.--drench the horse with one-fourth pound of common bird-shot, and he will not heave until they pass through him. to make a horse appear as if he had the glanders.--melt four ounces fresh butter and pour into his ear. to distinguish between glanders and distemper.--the discharge from the nose in glanders will sink in water; in distemper it floats. how to make a true pulling horse balk.--take tincture of cantharides one ounce, and corrosive sublimate one drachm; mix and bathe his shoulder at night. how to serve a horse that is lame.--make a small incision about half way from the knee to the joint on the outside of the leg, and at the back part of the shin bone you will find a small, white tendon or cord; cut it off and close the external wound with a stitch, and he will walk off on the hardest pavement and not limp a particle. how to tell the age of a horse.--the safest way of determining the age of a horse is by the appearance of the teeth, which undergo certain changes in the course of years. eight to fourteen days after birth, the first middle nippers of the set of milk teeth are cut; four to six weeks afterwards the pair next to them, and finally, after six or eight months, the last. all these milk teeth have a well defined body and neck, and a slender fang, and on their front surface grooves or furrows, which disappear from the middle nippers at the end of one year, from the next pair in two years, and from the incisive teeth (cutters) in three years. at the age of two the nippers become loose and fall out, in their places appear two permanent teeth, with deep, black cavities, and full, sharp edges. at the age of three, the next pair fall out. at four years old, the corner teeth fall out. at five years old, the horse has his permanent set of teeth. the teeth grow in length as the horse advances in years, but at the same time his teeth are worn away by use about one-twelfth of an inch every year, so that the black cavities of the center nippers below disappear in the sixth year, those of the next pair in the seventh year, and those of the corner teeth in the eighth year. also the outer corner of upper and lower jaw just meet at eight years of age. at nine years old, cups leave the two center nippers above, and each of the two upper corner teeth has a little sharp protrusion at the extreme outer corner. at the age of ten the cups disappear from the adjoining teeth. at the age of eleven, the cups disappear from the corner teeth above, and are only indicated by brownish spots. the oval form becomes broader, and changes, from the twelfth to the sixteenth year, more and more into a triangular form, and the teeth lose, finally, with the twentieth year, all regularity. there is nothing remaining in the teeth that can afterwards clearly show the age of the horse, or justify the most experienced examiner in giving a positive opinion. the tushes, or canine teeth, conical in shape, with a sharp point, and curved, are cut between the third and fourth year, their points become more and more rounded until the ninth year, and after that, more and more dull in the course of years, and lose, finally, all regular shape. mares seldom have tusks; if any, they are very faintly indicated. frequent reference to the chart for telling the horse's age will thoroughly acquaint one with this valuable bit of knowledge. age of sheep and goats.--at one year old they have eight front teeth of uniform size. at two years the two middle ones are supplanted by two large ones. at three a small tooth appears on each side. at four there are six large teeth. at five all the front teeth are large, and at six all begin to get worn. age of cattle.--a cow's horn is supposed to furnish a correct indication of the age of the animal, but this is not always true. for ordinary purposes, however, the following will be found approximately correct: at two years of age a circle of thicker matter begins to form on the animal's horns, which becomes clearly defined at three years of age, when another circle begins to form, and an additional circle every year thereafter. the cow's age then can be determined by adding two to the number of circles. the rings on a bull's horns do not show themselves until he is five years old--so in the case of a bull five must be added to the number of rings. unless the rings are clear and distinct these rules will not apply. besides, dishonest dealers sometimes file off some of the rings of old cattle. chapter vi. hog department. the disposition and character of the hog. in all histories of animals, the hog stands a natural phenomenon, and alone in relation to his appetite and physical constitution. the hog is the only kind of animal known to man that can feed on any kind of food. the stomach of the hog is adapted both to flesh and grass, which is not the case with any other animal in all the history of animals. another peculiarity of his nature is his great ferociousness; perhaps the hog is more valiant than any animal known. the ferocious and warlike disposition (perhaps) is one among the reasons of this animal's great health. there are very few diseases among animals that the hog is subject to; in fact, it (the cholera) is the only disease to be greatly feared among that order of animals; and as this great and valuable remedy is found and demonstrated beyond the shadow of a doubt, the farmer may go on raising and feeding his hogs with the full assurance that his labors will not be lost. he can improve his hogs with confidence and assurance that health and prosperity will be the rich reward of his labors. there is more money made in the culture and growing of hogs than any animal in the known world; notwithstanding the great loss by cholera, there is no one but what will say amen to this fact. even boone county loses $100,000.00 worth of hogs with the cholera, annually. there are 114 counties in the state of missouri. now make the calculation of the great saving of money by this invaluable discovery for the prevention and cure of the above disease. we see that if all farmers and traders in hogs had this book, and carried out its instructions, it would save $11,400,000.00 for the state of missouri, which amount would soon enable missouri or any other state that observes this book's instructions to be the richest state in the union. there is no farmer but that will become wealthy if he uses economy, industry and has the stephen's remedy for hog cholera. symptoms of the disease, hog cholera. 1st. gentleness and sluggishness. 2d. you will see the hog moving around with his nose close to the ground, with a kind of a forced cough, hair looking dead and kind of a reddish color; then they quit eating and soon die. these symptoms are generally of a slow progress, but certain death if stephen's cholera remedy is not used. these symptoms are set forth both in dry and purging hog cholera. on the first appearance, this disease is more fatal, from the fact that nature teaches the brute, by unlearned laws, natural medical aid; but this disease is so powerful and destructive there is something more necessary than the animal can generally get at. we now propose to give the cause and the whole cause of the fearful disease caused hog cholera: the system of both man and brute is made up and composed of a living animalcule so small that it cannot be discovered with the eye, it being so delicate; but, by the use of the microscope, it can be readily seen and realized. in good health, with this animal, this animalcule is the life and spirit of the hog, causing the functions throughout the whole system to perform nature's intended designs--regular digestion, and a perfect circulation throughout the whole animal nature; but when this valuable animal is ranging in certain localities where he has no resort to certain material, the system becomes of an impure character, and this delicate animalcule commanding a rapid growth, feeds upon the nutriment of the body of the hogs and consequently destroys life without a counteracting remedy of speedy effect. the liver is the seat of worms or animalcule; it is also the king or main spring of digestion of both man and beast; when the hog begins to droop, the worm is rapidly growing; and, without something to destroy this worm, the hog will die. in certain localities the hog never has this disease. now, this is full and ample evidence that it is the locality in relation to feed that keeps this fearful disease from the hog. in my travels i have observed, the localities and health of this valuable animal depends on what range or food he gets. the author, having traveled through different countries and localities, observing at the same time the health of this animal, gave rise to this great discovery as a perfect remedy for health. this remedy will both prevent and cure this disease, when the disease has not too strong a hold, and the liver and blood fevered too much by the worm. the liver, being the seat of digestion, must not be disturbed; if its digestion is disturbed, secretions are located--the system depending on the liver as the clock or watch depends on its mainspring for time; therefore, knowing the disease and remedy, end experiencing the facts, the author is fully satisfied that his remedy, both as a preventative and cure, is all that it claims to be, and is undoubtedly the most valuable discovery for the health of the swine that has ever been known or found out. the reasons and cause of hog cholera having been explained, the author now proposes to give the prevention and cure of hog cholera. we are aware of the fact that the talent, ingenuity and skill of man has been employed in searching out some remedy as a preventative and cure for this lamentable disease; and there have been some preventions used that have been valuable in that direction. for instance, the simple article called ashes is a healthy article for stock, which many people use, but it never cured one case of cholera. i have no doubt but it has been beneficial for the general health of hogs. of all remedies, simple ones when they will cure are the best; and this remedy is as simple and as easily used as it is possible in the use of any remedy. the effective remedy is simply old lime and sand, with arsenic. now, i am aware that the nature of man is to look for some great and unknown article as a remedy for such a great curse as hog cholera; but, considering the cause of the disease being the animalcule, reader, you see that it requires something to prevent the excess, or destroy the increase of this minute animal. now, we see readily that the old lime, sand and arsenic does the work without a doubt, and the hog is healthy and clear of disease. now, reader, you have the remedy; the next thing is how to use it. in the first place drive your wagon to some sandbar and haul a wagon load of sand; throw it out where you feed your hogs; to one wagon load of sand, put one bushel of old slacked lime; throw your feed on that for your hogs, and about every three months replenish with the same. if your hogs have the cholera, separate the sick from the well ones, and have a trough, and put some of the sand and lime in it, with about one-half of a thimbleful of arsenic to the hog; then pour some rich slop on this preparation so that the hogs will eat it; milk would be preferable if you have it. this preparation once every other day will soon have your hogs healthy and sound; it destroys the worms, then the hog is all right. to your healthy hogs give one-half thimbleful of arsenic in slop to every hog, once per month. this is all the arsenic you must use; you must not mix the arsenic with the lime and sand, or the hog may not get it. after using this remedy, your hogs that are not yet complaining with cholera will never take it; you may rely on it. i have tried this valuable remedy until i am perfectly satisfied; where the cholera was killing out the gang every day, it put a stop to it at once; and not only for myself, but many others under my notice. i have never seen cholera bother hogs, where this stephen's remedy was used as above stated. you will ask, what is to be done where pigs have it? in answer to that, reader, just get a trough and put in the remedy, and pour the slop to their mother, and the milk will be just as effective to the pigs as the remedy is with the sow. this stephen's remedy for hog cholera, if studied and observed, will be worth from $100.00 to $1,000.00 to every farmer or hog trader, where cholera has ever been; and there is no trouble or expense to have the benefit of it. this very little book is worth its weight in gold. the countries where they have no hog cholera are rocky and hilly, sandy and limy, where the hog can get this remedy, and providence has so taught the animal that nature dictates to him the remedy. see the dog, when he is sick, he knows how to take an emetic, vomit, and get well; so it is with the hog, if he can find this remedy he hardly ever takes cholera. in addition to those cures as a prevention of the disease, use asafetida, as follows: cut in small pieces about one ounce; melt it in water or grease, pour it in rich slop. feed it to about ten hogs, once per week in hog cholera season, more or less according to number of hogs. if you will keep up these remedies your swine will keep healthy. keep the sick ones and well ones separate. if you have clover keep the sick ones on it, it is healthy for hogs. on treatment. a little further advice concerning the treatment of hogs when penned for fattening; hogs should be penned on rolling ground if possible; they fatten better and consume less corn; they should be salted twice a week. the way to salt is as follows: if there is no decaying stump in the pen, haul a rotten log and pour salt on it, and the hogs will use all the salt and waste none; and the demands of nature will have them use just enough and no more; this preparation will save 2-1/2 bushels of corn to every hog, which is $1.00--quite an item where you have a large pen of hogs. salt your stock hogs in the same way. when you have used stephen's remedies one year, you would not be without this knowledge for any small amount, for your hogs will be healthy and prosperous. if the reader has only one hog per year, it will pay him to buy this book in relation to the breed of hogs. i don't know that i could enlighten you on this subject, for the world's attention is directed to that information, and perhaps, reader, you are as well posted on that subject as your humble writer. for the western country, as a hardy and profitable stock of thrifty hogs, the berkshire mixed or crossed with the poland china, would be my choice, but every man has his own notions concerning the breed of his stock. the main point is to keep them healthy. please fathom these instructions, which will cost you no more hard labor. now, reader, the author has endeavored, in his plain and simple manner, and in as few words as possible, to explain the cause of hog cholera, its effects, symptoms, and its cure and prevention, which have been demonstrated by the author, and not only by him but by divers others under his instruction. before the author wrote this book, he sold these receipts at from $10.00 to $50.00; but seeing the great loss of labor and perplexity in relation to hog cholera, and the pressing necessity throughout our land, alone induced the author of this work to write a book and set such a low price on it as to enable every poor widow, that has even a pet pig, to be in possession of one as a security for its health. advice to the young man. when the young man leaves his father's home to plan out his course as a farmer it is very necessary for him to observe two grand points: 1st. to so live, act and speak, as the apostle paul says, "void of offense both to god and man;" and in these words there is a world of thought. this constitutes our noblest characters in this life and the life to come. 2nd. in relation to finance, or making and saving of money. purchase a good farm, just as much land as you can cultivate well, and no more; don't have one surplus acre; don't do like some people, raise every kind of stock and never have anything for market; but when you raise hogs, raise nothing else for market but hogs; and raise all you can fatten--that is, all you can raise corn to make fat; and by this rule to have one or two car loads for sale every fall; you will become wealthy if you live to be old. in relation to managing your fields, be sure not to exhaust your soil; if you are in timber land, sow wheat every other year on your corn-fields; this will keep your land constantly improving from ordinary land to rich land. if you live in prairie country where your wheat will not pay, never sow oats unless you let your hogs take them before cutting. always have one clover field for your hogs to run on in the hard months of summer and fall. now, reader, in conclusion, i will give you certificates of the most prominent men in our vicinity, who tried and experienced the stephen's hog cholera remedy, and became convinced of its great value and benefit to man; and that all men may have confidence and rely on this remedy as a fact, these men have gone before the justice of the peace and sworn to the facts as they exist. you will see their certificates on the following pages. now, reader, hoping we may both be greatly benefited by this little work, i bid you god speed. good-bye. hog cholera. this is to certify that i bought one of dr. j. h. stephen's hog cholera books in 1880, when my hogs were dying with that disease. i went home and followed the directions of the book. i cured my hogs and prevented the rest from having the disease. i here state i have followed dr. stephen's book's directions for fifteen years, feeding and raising hogs, with cholera around me, and have kept my hogs healthy ever since. you need not be afraid of hog cholera if you have one of the books. the remedy will not cost more than one dollar a year for one hundred hogs. no one that has hogs can afford to do without it. i was living in monroe county when i bought the book. i am now living in brunswick, chariton county, mo., with hog cholera all around me. i am not afraid of it. if you doubt this, write to me. reuben young. witness, b. g. young. october 15, 1895. a valuable discovery for everybody. in 1870 my hogs, and many of those of my neighbors, died with hog cholera; it also broke out again in '71. dr. stephens, of centralia, discovered a never failing cure for hog cholera. i used his remedy, it being no expense or trouble, and i never lost a hog, while every one of my neighbors lost a large portion of their hogs by disease. my hogs running with them, i am satisfied that i would have lost them, had it not been for this great remedy of stephens, that i used. i am satisfied that this remedy will either cure or prevent hog cholera in any case. i am an old farmer, and would not be without this sure remedy for any reasonable sum of money. i conscientiously and unhesitatingly advise every farmer to not fail to get at least a farm right, and save your hogs from that dreadful destructive disease; for the remedy will cure and prevent hog cholera in any case. i have experienced this fact, and the benefit of it is the reason i set so high a value on it. i am a sojourner near cairo, randolph county, mo. was born in kentucky and emigrated to missouri in an early day. thomas patrick. june 24, 1872. valuable notice. i hereby state a valuable fact. my hogs were dying with cholera in the fall of 1871; i offered the lot for a certain sum of money. they were dying every day with hog cholera, in boone county. i finally offered them for a mere nominal sum, not being one-fifth part of the value of the hogs, had not the cholera been among them, and they dying every day. dr. j. h. stephens of centralia, mo., said he could cure them, and mr. r. e. edwards, of centralia, mo., having faith in dr. stephens, bought the hogs. to my own knowledge, the hogs were cured and fatted up, and made well; and i say for the benefit of the public, that i believe that dr. stephens can either cure or prevent hog cholera on any man's farm. i advise all farmers to get his great and valuable remedy; it may save you thousands of dollars. given under my hand this june 22nd, 1872. this is for no benefit of mine, but alone for the benefit of the public. this is a fact. e. t. bennett, trustee of the m.e. church, centralia. subscribed and sworn to before me on this 22nd day of june, 1872. j. m. west, j.p. to all my friends, and then to strangers. centralia, boone co., july 3, 1872. dr. stephens, of this place, i believe, has discovered at last the great remedy both to cure and to prevent hog cholera. this disease has made its ravages among hogs in every state like cholera among men, but i hope and believe from experience, that dr. stephens has, after all the remedies have been tried, discovered the great and only reliable remedy, i am satisfied from theory and experience that his remedy will both cure and prevent hog cholera. i bought a lot of hogs, every one of which had the cholera, on the faith that dr. stephens would cure them. i bought the hogs of e. t. bennett, living in our town. they were dying every day, and i bought them at a mere nominal sum, it not being, perhaps, one-fifth or sixth part of the value of said hogs. i called on dr. stephens, and he instructed me what to do. the remedy cost me but a trifle and i cured every one, and my hogs fattened and did well--other hogs dying all over town--mine cured sound and remained healthy. i am not afraid of hog cholera any more; at least i am satisfied i can cure it with dr. stephens' great remedy. this remedy i never before heard of for hog cholera; but i have experienced the fact. the great value is, it costs you, to prevent 1,000 hogs from having it one year with three hours' labor, but $1.00. my advice is, don't fail to obtain this valuable remedy at any cost. this is a fact that i believe is worth more, and a greater saver of money to the united states than any discovery that has been made in the 19th century. r. f. edwards, sup't. of the m.e. sunday school, centralia, mo. subscribed and sworn to before me, this 3rd day of july, 1872. james m. west, j.p. chapter vii. poultry department. the treatment of fowls. in the rearing of poultry for profit it may safely be stated that dry, well-aired, warm poultry houses are necessary. to keep fowls in poorly ventilated, damp, cold quarters is a waste of time and money, as nearly all diseases of fowls are traceable to improperly kept poultry houses. it may also be stated that 99 per cent of the sickness in fowls has its origin in filth, hence cleanliness is essential in raising good poultry. the hen house should be cleaned as often as the barn. diseases of fowls and how to treat them. apoplexy.--this disease is usually caused by over feeding in confined quarters. the bird may be noticed moping for some days, but usually the trouble is not noticed until the bird falls and dies with hardly a struggle. remedy.--open the largest of the veins under the wing, press on the vein between the opening and the body until the blood flows freely. vertigo.--like apoplexy, is caused by over feeding and lack of exercise. the fowl runs in a circle with but partial control of the limbs. remedy.--hold the head of the bird under a stream of cold water. give ten grains of jalap and reduce the amount of feed. crop-bound.--is caused by irregular feeding. a hungry bird fills his crop to such a degree that the contents, when moistened, becomes a dense compact mass. remedy.--puncture the upper part of the crop, loosen the mass by degrees, with a blunt instrument. if the incision is large, sew up the slit and feed the bird soft food for ten days. diarrhoea.--remedy.--five grains powdered chalk, 5 grains turkey rhubarb, 5 grains cayenne pepper. roup.--this is a very contagious disease. the well fowls should immediately be separated from the sick ones, and the old quarters thoroughly disinfected. use the following remedy. one-half ounce balsam copaiba, one-quarter ounce liquorice powder, one-half drachm piperine. this is enough for thirty doses. enclose each dose in a small capsule; give two or three doses per day. if this does not furnish relief in two days, kill the fowl and burn or bury it. the symptoms of this disease are first, a thick opaque and peculiarly offensive smelling discharge from the nostrils. froth appears at the inner corner of the eyes, the lids swell and often the eyes are entirely closed; the sides of the face become much swollen, and the bird rapidly declines and dies. gapes.--is caused by parasitic worms in the wind pipe, or from a small tick-like parasite lodged on the head of the chicken when between two and four months old. examine the head of the bird, with a pocket lens, and if the parasite is found, destroy them with the following: one ounce mercurial ointment, one-half ounce petroleum (crude), one-half ounce flower of sulphur. mix by heating, and apply when just warm. when gapes is caused by worms in the wind pipe, use spirits of turpentine, it is applied by dipping the end of a feather in the turpentine, then inserting it in the bird's mouth at the root of the tongue; generally one operation is all that is required. to prevent and cure chicken cholera, renovate the coops thoroughly then saturate the apartments with kerosene oil. then grease the chicken under the wings and wherever the feathers are off, use the formula mentioned for gapes when caused by parasite (on the head), repeat the greasing process in two weeks, then once a month until the time of heavy frost in the fall. the following is an elegant internal treatment. dissolve four ounces of hyposulphate of soda in one gallon of water and add corn meal to make a heavy dough, and give an ordinary feed of this twice a day for six days, and then once a week through the summer months. in severe cases give one teaspoonful of the water (without meal) three or four times a day until out of danger. this is the best known remedy for chicken cholera. poultry lousiness.--appears only in poorly kept fowls. sprinkle the fowls and nests with scotch snuff or flower of sulphur. in addition thoroughly cleanse the hen house and coop with a solution of four pounds of potash to a gallon of water or with strong soap suds. chapter viii. chemical department. how to imitate gold.--take the following metals and melt them in a covered crucible; sixteen ounces virgin platina, twenty-four ounces pure copper. silver.--forty ounces nickel, twenty ounces copper, thirty ounces block tin. artificial gold.--sixteen parts of virgin platina and seven parts copper and one of zinc. put these in a crucible with powdered charcoal, and melt them together till the whole forms a mass, and are thoroughly incorporated together. this also makes a gold of extraordinary beauty and value. it is not possible by any tests that chemists know of to distinguish it from pure virgin gold. all i ask of men is to use it for good and lawful purposes, for the knowledge that i here give you will bring you a rich and permanent reward without using it for unlawful purposes. manheim, or jeweler's gold.--three parts of copper, one part of zinc, and one part of block tin. if these are pure and melted in a covered crucible containing charcoal, the resemblance will be so good the best judges cannot tell it from pure gold without analyzing it. best pinchback gold.--five ounces of pure copper and one ounce of zinc. this makes gold so good in appearance that a great deal of deception by its use in the way of watches and jewelry has been successfully practiced for several hundred years back. silver fluid.--for silvering brass and copper articles of every description.--take an ounce of precipitated silver to half an ounce of cyanate of potash and quarter of an ounce of hyper sulphate of soda. put all into a quart of water, add a little whitening and shake before using. apply with a soft rag. this knowledge alone is worth one hundred dollars. original and genuine silver plating.--galvanism simplified.--dissolve one ounce of nitrate of silver in crystal in twelve ounces of soft water. then dissolve in the water two ounces of cyanate of potash. shake the whole together and let it stand until it becomes clear. have ready some half-ounce vials, and fill them half full with paris white or fine whiting, then fill up the bottles with the liquid, and it is ready for use. the whiting does not increase the coating power; it only helps to clean the articles and to save the silver fluid by half filling the bottles. the above quantity of materials will only cost about $1.50, so that the fluid will only cost about three cents a bottle. powder for cleaning and polishing tin, britannia and brassware.--take one-half pound ground pumice stone and one-quarter pound red chalk, mix them evenly together. this is for tin brass. for silver and fine ware, take one-half pound red chalk, and one-quarter pound pumice stone, mix evenly; use these articles dry with a piece of wash leather. it is one of the best cleaning powders ever invented, and very valuable. silver polish for tin, brass and metallic articles.--quicksilver, tinfoil or rottenstone, equal parts, all pulverized together. roll up in balls, show as you go, and sell for 10 cents a ball. another.--fine.--four pounds whiting, one-quarter ounce oxalic acid, one-half ounce cream tartar. stir all together, then add slowly three ounces mercury stirring briskly all the time so it will mix. this is good, 25 cents a ball. kangaroo cement.--rubber one ounce, pack tightly as possible in a bottle and cover it with bi-sulphate of carbon. when the rubber is dissolved you will have the best cement in the world. there is a fortune in this to an energetic man, as it sells at 25 cents a drachm; and costs but little to make it. this is the cement used by shoemakers to put invisible patches on shoes. how to eat fire.--anoint your tongue with liquid storax, and you may put hot iron or fire coals into your mouth, and without burning you. this is a very dangerous trick to be done, and those who practice it ought to use all means they can to prevent danger. we never saw one of those fire-eaters that had a good complexion. imitation silver.--eleven ounces refined nickel, two ounces metallic bismuth. melt the composition three times, and pour them out in ley. the third time, when melting, add two ounces of pure silver. imitation gold.--four ounces of platina, three ounces of silver, one ounce of copper. oroide gold.--the best article is made by compounding four parts pure copper, one and three-fourths part pure zinc, one-fourth part magnesia, one-tenth part sal-ammoniac, one-twelfth part quick lime, and one part cream tartar. melt the copper first, then add as rapidly as possible the other articles in the order named. how to increase the weight of gold.--take your bar of gold and rub it long and carefully with thin silver, until the gold absorbs the quantity of silver that you require. then prepare a strong solution of brimstone and quicklime. now put the gold into a vessel with a wide mouth. now let them boil until the gold attains the right color, and you have it, but do not use this knowledge for an ill purpose. mason's frozen perfume.--this perfume is in a solid, transparent form, and by rubbing on the handkerchief it imparts an exquisite perfume; by carrying it in the pocket it perfumes the entire wearing apparel; by keeping it in a drawer or box all articles therein obtain the benefits of this perfume. solidified perfumes are superior to all liquid, as they cannot spill or waste in any manner, but will last for years. perhaps no article of luxury had such a sale as this, and as the sales have steadily increased since its introduction, no other proof of its excellence is needed. freezing mixture.--take four parts nitric acid, six parts nitrate ammonia, and nine parts phosphate of soda. having first prepared a vessel of galvanized iron four inches wide, twenty-four inches long, and twelve inches deep, have it a little wider at the top than at the bottom. now make another vessel eight inches wide, twenty-eight inches long and fourteen inches high. put the small vessel inside the larger one, fill the small one nearly full of as cool water as you can procure, put the freezing mixture in the large vessel around the smaller one, set this in as cool a place as possible. if you will have a faucet at the lower edge of the larger vessel and first fill the large vessel with the following it will greatly assist in freezing. equal parts of sal-ammonia and nitre dissolved in its own weight of water. in ten to fifteen minutes pour this off and put in the freezing mixture. note.--i have used the above description of a vessel to give you an idea of how to operate. any sized vessel made in the same proportion will work as well. improved troy starch enamel.--melt five pounds of refined paraffine wax in a tin boiler or pan over a slow fire; use care in melting. when melted remove the vessel from the fire and add 200 drops of oil of citronelli. take some new round tin pie pans, and oil them with sweet oil as you would for pie baking, but do not use lard. put these pans on a level table, and pour in enough of the hot wax to make a depth in each pan equal to about the thickness of one-eighth of an inch. while hot, glance over the pans to see that they are level. as this is very essential, please remember it. if the pans are not level, the cakes will be all thicknesses, which should not be so. then let them cool, but not too fast. watch them closely, and have a tin stamp ready to stamp the cakes out about the size of an ordinary candy lozenge. this stamp should be about eight inches long, larger at the top than at the bottom, so that the cakes can pass up through the stamp as you are cutting them out of the pans. lay the cakes in another pan to cool. before they become very hard, separate them from each other; if not, it will be difficult to do so when they become very hard. do not neglect this. have boxes made at any paper box maker's in any large city. they cost about from one to two cents each; sliding boxes are the best. have your labels printed, and commence business at once. put 24 to 30 cakes in each box, and retail for 25 cents. wholesale for $1.50 per dozen. _directions for use._--to a pint of boiling starch stir in one cake or tablet. this gives an excellent lustre to linen or muslin, and imparts a splendid perfume to the clothes, and makes the iron pass very smoothly over the surface. it requires but half the ordinary labor to do an ironing. it is admired by every lady. it prevents the iron from adhering to the surface, and the clothes remain clean and neat much longer than by any other method. brilliant self-shining stove polish.--this is one of the greatest inventions of the age. it has been the result of a large amount of study on the part of the inventor to perfect a polish that would work easily and satisfactorily in a perfect dry state, thereby obviating the disagreeable task of mixing and preparing. a good stove polish is an absolute necessity in every family. it is only a question, then, of offering the best to make a sale. to prove that this polish is the best is an easy task. all you have to do is to have a box open and a piece of rag to begin operations. you now approach the stove and apply the polish. the result will be so startlingly beautiful that no further words will be necessary. if the stove is not convenient, anything will do to experiment with. you can produce on a piece of wood, a scrap of paper or a potato, a lustre equal to a burnished mirror. now make the following points just as strong as you can: that this polish requires no water or mixing like the various cake or powder polishes. 2. that it is self-shining and no labor is required. 3. that no dust or smell of any kind rises from its use. and, lastly, that it has no equal in the world. recipe.--take plumbago (black lead) finely pulverized, and put in two ounce wood boxes, nicely labeled, and sell for ten or fifteen cents a box. wholesale to stores and agents at $6.00 a hundred. costs less than three cents a box to manufacture. _directions for use._--use a damp woolen rag, dip in the box, and apply to the stove. then polish with a dry cloth, and a most beautiful polish will appear. to frost window panes.--take epsom salts and dissolve in beer. apply with a brush and you have the finest window frosting known. the housekeeper's friend, or electric powder.--this is one of the most salable articles of the day and staple as flour--something that every housekeeper will buy. it is used for gold and silver plated ware, german silver, brass, copper, glass, tin, steel, or any material where a brilliant lustre is required. is put up in two ounce wood boxes, costs three cents to manufacture, sells at retail for 25 cents, to agents and stores for $12.00 per 100 boxes. recipe.--to four pounds best quality whiting, add one-half pound cream tartar and three ounces calcined magnesia; mix thoroughly together, box and label. _directions._--use the polish dry with a piece of chamois skin or canton flannel, previously moistened with water or alcohol, and finish with the polish dry. a few moments' rubbing will develop a surprising lustre, different from the polish produced by any other substance. recipe.--follow the same directions as in "starch enamel," and perfume as follows: take two ounces oil lemon grass and one-half ounce oil of cloves, and one-fourth ounce oil of lavender flowers; mix them well together. for this amount of perfume you require about four quarts of the liquid paraffine. pour the oils into the melted paraffine while warm, stirring it well while pouring. stamp into square cakes and put into neatly printed envelopes. sell for ten cents a cake, cost two cents. agents can sell 100 cakes a day. the lightning ink eraser.--the great lightning ink eraser may be used instead of a knife or scraper for erasing in order to rectify a mistake or clean off a blot, without injury to the paper, leaving the paper as clean and good to write upon as it was before the blot or mistake was made, and without injury to the printer's ink upon any printed form or ruling upon any first-class paper. take of chloride of lime one pound, thoroughly pulverized, and four quarts of soft water. the above must be thoroughly shaken when first put together. it is required to stand twenty-four hours to dissolve the chloride of lime. then strain through a cotton cloth, after which add a teaspoonful of acetic acid (no. 8 commercial) to every ounce of chloride of lime water. the eraser is used by reversing the penholder in the hand, dipping the end in the fluid, and applying it, without rubbing, to the blot to be erased. when the ink has disappeared, absorb the fluid into a blotter, and the paper is immediately ready to write upon. put up in common ink bottles and retail for 25 cents each. the magic annihilator.--to make one gross eight-ounce bottles--aqua ammonia one gallon, soft water eight gallons, best white soap four pounds, saltpetre eight ounces. shave the soap fine, add the water, boil until the soap is dissolved, let it get cold, then add the saltpetre, stirring until dissolved. now strain, let the suds settle, skim off the dry suds, add the ammonia, bottle and cork at once. cost about $7.25 per gross; sells for $72.00. it will do everything claimed for it and more, too. it is no mixture of soap suds as some may suppose, but a pure scientific, chemical preparation. if you wish to make a small quantity for trial, take aqua ammonia two ounces, soft water one quart, saltpetre one teaspoonful. shave the soap fine, mix all, shake well, and let settle a day or two to dissolve the soap. _what it will do._--it will remove all kinds of grease and oil spots from every variety of wearing apparel, such as coats, pants, vests, dress goods, carpets, etc., without injury to the finest silks or laces. it will shampoo like a charm, raising the lather in proportion to the amount of dandruff and grease in the hair. a cloth wet with it will remove all grease from door-knobs, window sills, etc., handled by kitchen domestics in their daily routine of kitchen work. it will remove paint from a board, i care not how hard or dry it is, if oil is used in the paint, yet it will not injure the finest textures. its chemical action is such that it turns any oil or grease into soap, which is easily washed out with clear cold water. for cleaning silver, brass and copper ware it can't be beat. it is certain death to bed bugs, for they will never stop after they have encountered the magic annihilator. _directions for use._--for grease spots, pour upon the article to be cleaned a sufficient quantity of the magic annihilator rubbing well with a clean sponge, and applying to both sides of the article you are cleaning. upon carpets and coarse goods, where the grease is hard and dry, use a stiff brush and wash out with clear cold water. apply again if necessary. one application is all that is needed for any fresh grease spots, but for old or dried a second may be required. for shampooing take a small quantity of the magic annihilator with an equal quantity of water, apply to the hair with a stiff brush, brushing into the pores of the scalp, and wash out with clear water. you will be surprised at the silk gloss of your hair. for cleaning silver ware, etc., buy five cents' worth of whitening, mix a small quantity with the magic annihilator, and apply with a rag, rubbing briskly. for killing bed bugs, apply to the places they frequent, and they will leave in short order. you will find it useful in many other ways. (see price list of labels.) chapter ix. miscellaneous department. fire-proof paint.--take a sufficient quantity of water for use; add as much potash as can be dissolved therein. when the water will dissolve no more potash, stir into the solution first, a quantity of flour paste of consistency of painter's size; second a sufficiency of pure clay to render it of the consistency of cream. apply with a painter's brush. n.b.--the above will admit of any coloring you please. water-proof and fire-proof cement for roofs of houses.--slack stone lime in a large tub or barrel with boiling water, covering the tub or barrel to keep in the steam. when thus slacked pass six quarts through a fine sieve. it will then be in a state of fine flour. to this add one quart rock salt and one gallon of water. boil the mixture and skim it clean. to every five gallons of this skimmed mixture add one pound of alum and one-half pound copperas; by slow degrees add three-fourths pound potash and four quarts fine sand or wood ashes sifted. both of the above will admit of any coloring you please. it looks better than paint and is as durable as slate. paint for rough woodwork.--six pounds melted pitch, one pound linseed oil, and one pound yellow ochre. superior paint for brick houses--to lime whitewash add, for a fastener, sulphate of zinc, and shade with any color you choose, as yellow ochre, venetian red, etc. it outlasts oil paint. art of etching on copper.--having obtained a piece of fine copper, which will be well polished, make a mixture of beeswax and a small quantity of resin; melt these together, and when thoroughly incorporated by stirring, take a camel's hair brush and cover the plate, which must previously be warmed by the fire, with an even coating of the mixture. when the mixture becomes hardened upon the plate, sketch the desired object upon the surface, then take an etching point, a large needle fixed in a handle will do, and cut through the wax to the surface of the copper, taking care to make the lines as distinct as possible. this being done, raise a border of wax all around the plate, then pour strong nitric acid on the plate to the depth of an inch. the acid will eat away the copper in those places which have been bared by the etching point. from time to time pour off the acid and wash the plate to see how the work is going on. stop up with wax those places that appear to be etched deep enough, pour acid upon the others, and let it remain until the process is completed. this done, melt off the wax clean the plate, and the etching is ready for the press. this is an employment from which a good remuneration may be derived. mahogany furniture varnish.--take of proof alcohol one quart, cut therein all the gum shellac it will take, add two ounces of venice turpentine, and coloring to suit. this makes a beautiful polish and will wear for years. water-proof for leather.--take linseed oil one pint, yellow wax and white turpentine each two ounces, burgundy pitch two ounces, melt and color with lamp black. to take stains out of mahogany.--mix spirits of salts six parts, salt of lemons one part, then drop a little on the stains, and rub them till they disappear. cements.--cements of various kinds should be kept for occasional use. flour paste answers very well for slight purposes; if required stronger than usual, boil a little glue or put some powdered resin in it. white of egg, or a solution of glue and a strong gum water are good cements. a paste made of linseed meal dries very hard and adheres firmly. a soft cement is made of yellow wax, melted with its weight of turpentine, and a little venetian red to give it color. this when cool is as hard as soap, and is very useful to stop up cracks, and is better to cover the corks of bottles than sealing wax or hard cement. the best cement for broken china or glass is that sold under the name of diamond cement; it is colorless and resists moisture. this is made by soaking isinglass in water until it is soft, and then dissolving it in proof spirits; add to this a little gum ammoniac or galbonam or mastic, both dissolved in as little alcohol as possible. when the cement is to be used, it must be gently liquified by placing the vial containing it in boiling water. the vial must be well closed with a good cork, not glass stopper, as they become forced. it is applied to the broken edges by a camel's hair pencil. when objects are not to be exposed to the moisture, the white of an egg alone is mixed with finely powdered quicklime, will answer very well; shellac dissolved in water is better. a very strong cement for all earthenware is made by boiling slices of skim-milk cheese and water into a paste, then grinding the quicklime in a marble mortar, or on a slab with a mallet. to mend iron.--mix finely some sifted lime with the white of an egg till a thin sort of paste is formed, then add some iron filings. apply this to the fracture and the vessel will be found nearly as sound as ever. patent glue.--one pound fine isinglass and one pint rain water, boil and prepare an ordinary glue, then add slowly, stirring continually, two ounces nitric acid, bottle and it is fit for use. it will permanently adhere to wood, leather, paper and everything else. it sells for twenty-five cents an ounce; by keeping it secret spaulding has made a fortune out of it; read his advertisement. truly it is a young fortune to a good peddler. patent blacking.--one gallon alcohol, one ounce sulphuric acid, one and one-half pounds gum shellac; let stand 48 hours, then add one-fourth pound of ivory black. let stand 24 hours, then carefully pour off the top. this is ready for use and is water-proof. this recipe cost $50; is for the polish of all leather. it sells in four ounce bottles at $1 per bottle. stencil cutting.--take a thin copper or brass plate, lay flat on the side, then take a sharp edged steel, write thereon the same as common writing, but press sufficiently hard to cut through the plate. to mark, lay the plate thus cut upon the cloth, and apply ink by means of a brush to the back of the plate, and it will wet the cloth where the cut is made by the writing. a little practice will enable a person to cut beautifully. there is money to be made at this. some make $10 a day. glue for cementing paper and leather.--take isinglass and parchment each one ounce, sugar candy and gum tragacanth each two drachms, add to them one ounce water, and boil the whole together till the mixture appears (when cold) of the consistency of glue; then pour it into any form you please. if this glue be wet with the tongue, and rubbed on the edge of paper, silk or leather that are to be cemented, they will, on being laid together, pressed tightly and suffered to dry, be as firmly united as other parts of the substance. it is fine to seal letters. new england soap.--take three pounds of hard, white soap, shave it up fine, dissolve it in ten quarts boiling water; add one ounce salts of tartar, three ounces borax; then take the same from the fire and set it away to cool; as soon as it becomes cool enough to bear your hand in, add one ounce liquid ammonia; stir each article as you put it in. to harden wood.--one often desires to impart the hardness of oak to shutters, doors, etc., made of soft wood. this is easily done by giving them a first coating of common gray paint, and then sifting some very fine sand over it. when dry a coat of paint is laid on, after which the surface becomes so hard that it will resist the action of sun and rain, for many years without undergoing the slightest alteration. washing fluid.--two pounds crude potash, one ounce sal ammoniac, one-half ounce saltpetre, two gallons rain water, one pint for eight gallons of water, and one pound soap. put the clothes to soak over night and rinse in the morning. this has been sold for $5 for some time. liquid cement.--cut gum shellac in 70 per cent alcohol, put it in vials, and it is ready for use. apply it to the edge of the broken dish with a feather, and hold it in a spirit lamp as long as the cement will simmer, then join together evenly, and when cold the dish will break in another place first, and is as strong as new. to clean wine decanters.--use a little pearl ash or soda, and some cinders and water. rinse them out with water. to clean china.--use a little of fuller's earth and soda or pearl ash with water. burning fluid.--four quarts alcohol, one pint spirits of turpentine; mix well. it is the best in use. fly poison.--sugar half ounce, half ounce thoroughly ground black pepper. make it to thin paste and place it on paper where the flies do congregate. furniture polish.--best vinegar one pint, turpentine half pint. mix and apply with a brush. patent soap.--half pint turpentine, three pints sal soda, three pounds grease, two pounds resin soap, forty gallons water. boil one hour and it is fit for use. this is a great soap. keep it to yourself. rat, mouse and roach exterminator.--one pint alcohol, one-fourth ounce cayenne pepper, one ounce powdered anise seed, one-fourth ounce saltpetre, one-fourth ounce white lead, four ounces essence of hops. steam this slowly for an hour, then add thirty drops quassia. let stand 48 hours, and add one gallon of water; bottle for use. to use, saturate bread, meat, etc., and lay it in their frequented places. in two nights not one will be seen. it sells for $1.00 per 4-ounce bottle; or drive them away yourself for $5 a farm or $2 a house. to clean britiannia ware.--britiannia ware should be washed with a woolen cloth and sweet oil, then washed in water and suds, and rubbed with soft leather and whiting. thus treated it will retain its beauty to the last. the art of painting glass.--the only difference between ordinary painting and painting on glass is, that in the latter all transparent colors are used instead of opaque ones and the color is ground up with turpentine and varnish instead of oil. in painting upon glass it is necessary to place the picture between the artist and the light to enable him to see the effect, the light having the property of casting a yellowish tinge upon all colors so exposed. to persons having a knowledge of coloring, this art is easily learned, and affords a handsome remuneration. oil paste for blacking boots and shoes.--two ounces oil of vitriol, four ounces tanner's oil, mix and let stand forty-eight hours, then add five ounces molasses and one pound ivory black; stir well and then put up for sale. this has been the fortune of mason, of philadelphia. crystal cement.--dissolve one pound of white glue in one and one-half pints of hot water, then cut one ounce gum shellac in one and one-half pints alcohol, and mix with the glue, then stir in two ounces of dry white lead, and add one ounce of turpentine. this makes the best cement of anything that has been discovered. it will stand heat, and articles will break in another place sooner than where put together. this is a fortune to an enterprising man. for cleaning marble.--muriatic acid two lbs., acetic acid one-half lb., verdigris one-quarter ounce. mix and apply with a brush. wash the stone after with sponge and water. after the stone is clean rub it smooth with pumice stone, keeping it wet with water. after some little practice you can clean an old, dirty tombstone so that a marble cutter cannot detect it from being new work. a new art, or the lightning interest rules.--reduce the whole time to months and set it down in figures; divide the number of days by three, and set the quotient down to the right of the months, and multiply that by the quotient of the money divided by two; the answer will be the interest at six per cent. to change to any other rate, multiply the interest by it and divide by six. $160--one year, seven months, twenty-one days, at six per cent. $160--2--$80 x 197--$15.76 at 6. parties in new york are teaching this rule at $5 a scholar. bottle wax.--_black._--black resin six and one-half pounds, beeswax one-half pound, finely powdered ivory black one and one-half pounds. melt together. _red._--as the last, but substitute venetian red or red lead for the ivory black. liquid mucilage.--fine clean glue one pound, gum arabic ten ounces, water one quart. melt by heat in glue kettle or water bath; when entirely melted, add slowly ten ounces strong nitric acid, set off to cool. then bottle, adding a couple of cloves to each bottle. bluing for clothes.--take one ounce of soft prussian blue, powder it and put in a bottle with a quart of clear rainwater, and add one-fourth ounce of oxalic acid. a teaspoonful is sufficient for a large washing. swain's vermifuge.--wormseed two ounces, valerian, rhubarb, pink-root, white agaric, of each one and one-fourth ounces. boil in sufficient water to yield three quarts of decoction and add to it 30 drops of oil of tansy and 45 drops of oil of cloves; dissolve in a quart of rectified spirits. dose one tablespoonful at night. to make pads.--a piece of fine woolen cloth saturated with ink, makes an excellent pad, but it is customary to place sheet cotton underneath and muslin over the cloth, bringing the muslin down around the edges and fasten by tacking on a binding of tin or morocco leather strips. to make wax flowers.--the following articles will be required to commence wax work: two pounds white wax, one-fourth pound hair wire, one bottle carmine, one ultramarine blue, one bottle chrome yellow, two bottles chrome green, no. 1, two bottles chrome green no. 2, one bottle each of rose pink, royal purple, scarlet powder and balsam fir, two dozen sheets white wax. this will do to begin with. now have a clean tin dish, and pour therein a quart or two of water; then put in about one pound of the white wax, and let it boil. when cool enough, so the bubbles will not form on top, it is ready to sheet, which is done as follows: take half a window pane, 7x9, and after having washed it clean dip into a dish containing weak soap-suds; then dip into the wax, and draw out steadily, and plunge it into the suds, when the sheet will readily come off. lay it on a cloth or clean paper to dry. proceed in like manner until you have enough of the white; then add enough of the green powder to make a bright color, and heat and stir thoroughly until the color is evenly distributed, then proceed as for sheeting white wax. the other colors are rubbed into the leaves after they are cut out, rubbing light or heavy according to shade. for patterns you can use any natural leaf, forming the creases in wax with thumb nail or needle. to put the flowers together, or the leaves on the stem, hold in the hand until warm enough to stick. if the sheeted wax is to be used in summer, put in a little balsam of fir to make it hard. if for winter, none will be required. you can make many flowers without a teacher, but one to assist in the commencement would be a great help, though the most particular thing about it is to get the wax sheeted. the materials i have suggested can be procured at any drug store, and will cost from $3.00 to $4.50. portable lemonade.--tartaric acid one ounce, white sugar two pounds, essense of lemon one-fourth ounce; powder and keep dry for use. one dessert spoonful will make a glass of lemonade. to neutralize whisky to make various liquors.--to forty gallons of whisky add one and one-half pounds unslacked lime, three-fourths of a pound of alum, and one-half pint spirits of nitre. stand twenty-four hours and draw it off. madeira wine.--to four gallons prepared cider, add one-fourth pound tartaric acid, four gallons of spirits, three pounds loaf sugar. let stand ten days, draw it off carefully. fine it down, and again rack it in another cask. sherry wine.--to forty gallons prepared cider add two gallons spirits, three pounds of raisins, six gallons good sherry and one-half ounce oil of bitter almonds, dissolved in alcohol. let it stand ten days, draw it off carefully. fine it down, and again rack it in another cask. artificial honey.--take eight pounds of white sugar, add two quarts of water, boil four minutes, then add one pound of bee's honey. strain while hot. flavor with a drop of oil of peppermint and a drop of the oil of rose. port wine.--to forty gallons prepared cider add six gallons good port wine, ten quarts wild grapes, clusters, one-half pound bruised rhatany root, three ounces tincture of kino, three pounds loaf sugar, two gallons spirits. let this stand ten days. color, if too light with tincture of rhatany, then rack it off and fine it. this should be repeated until the color is perfect and the liquid clear. cleaning compound.--mix one ounce of borax and one ounce gum camphor with one quart of boiling water. when cool add one pint of alcohol, bottle and cork tightly. when wanted for use, shake well and sponge the garments to be cleaned. this is an excellent mixture for cleaning soiled black cashmere and woolen dresses, coat collars and black felt hats. shaving soap.--good white soap in fine shavings, three pounds; balm soap, one pound; soft water, three-fourths of a pound; soda, one ounce. melt carefully over a slow fire in an earthen vessel; then add oil of lavender sixty drops, oil of lemon forty drops; mix well and make into forms. leather cement.--take gutta percha cut in chloroform to right consistency for use. equal to cook's best for putting patches on leather, cloth shoes or boots. well worth $100. to fasten paper to tin.--take good clear pale yellow glue, break it into rather small pieces, and let it soak a few hours in cold water. pour off the supernatant water, place the glue thus softened in a wide-mouthed bottle; add sufficient glacial acid to cover the glue, and facilitate the solution by standing the bottle in warm water. this acetic will stick almost anything. hunters' and trapper's secret.--take equal parts of oil of rhodium, anise oil, sweet oil and honey, and mix well. put a few drops on any kind of bait. for musk-rats use sweet apples or vegetables for bait. for mink use a chicken's head or a piece of fresh meat. fire kindlers--to make very nice fire kindlers take resin, any quantity, and melt it, putting in for each pound being used two or three ounces or tallow, and when all is hot stir in pine sawdust to make very thick, and while very hot spread it out about one inch thick, upon boards which have fine sawdust sprinkled upon them to prevent it from sticking. when cold break up into lumps about an inch square. but if for sale take a thin board and press upon it while yet warm, to lay it off into inch squares. this makes it break regularly, if you press the crease sufficiently deep. grease the marked board to prevent it sticking. red sealing wax.--purchase four pounds shellac, one and one-half pounds veneer turpentine, three pounds finest cinnabar, and four ounces venetian; mix the whole well together and melt over a very slow fire. pour it on a thick, smooth glass, or any other flat smooth surface, and make it into three, six or ten sticks. furniture polish.--equal parts sweet oil and vinegar and a pint of gum arabic finely powdered. shake the bottle and apply with a rag. it will make furniture look as good as new. black sealing wax.--purchase the best black resin three pounds, beeswax one-half pound, and finely powdered ivory black one pound. melt the whole together over a slow fire, and make it into sticks. cement for leather.--virgin india rubber dissolved in bisulphide of carbon. add bisulphide until of proper consistency to apply. after applying hold a moderately warm iron over the patch. aromatic schiedam schnapps, to imitate.--to twenty-five gallons good common gin, five over proof, add fifteen pints strained honey, two gallons clear water, five pints white sugar syrup, five pints spirits of nutmeg, mixed with nitric ether, five pints orange flower water, seven quarts pure water, one ounce acetic ether, eight drops oil of wintergreen dissolved with the acetic ether. mix all the ingredients well; if necessary, fine with alum and salt of tartar. champagne cider.--good cider, pale, one hogshead, spirits three gallons, honey or sugar twenty pounds. mix and let them stand for two weeks; then fine with skimmed milk one-half gallon. this will be very pale, and a similar article, when bottled in champagne bottles and silvered and labeled, has often been sold to the ignorant for champagne. cider without apples.--to one gallon of cold water add dark brown sugar one pound, tartaric acid one-half ounce, yeast three tablespoonfuls. shake well together. st. croix rum.--to forty gallons p. or n. spirits add two gallons st. croix rum, two ounces acetic acid, one and one-half ounces butyric acid, three pounds loaf sugar. irish or scotch whisky.--to forty gallons proof spirits add sixty drops creosote dissolved in one quart of alcohol, two ounces acetic acid, one pound loaf sugar. stand forty-eight hours. french brandy.--pure spirits one gallon, best french brandy for any kind you wish to imitate, one quart, loaf sugar two ounces, sweet spirits nitre one-half ounce, a few drops of tincture of catechu or oak bark, to roughen the taste, if desired, and color to suit. english gin.--plain malt spirits one hundred gallons, spirits of turpentine one pint, bay salt seven pounds. mix and distill. the difference in the flavor of gin is produced by varying the proportion of turpentine, and by occasionally adding a small quantity of juniper berries. french furniture polish.--alcohol 98 per cent one pint, gum copal and shellac of each one ounce, dragon's blood. mix and dissolve by setting in a warm place. to take fac-similes of signatures.--write your name on a piece of paper, and while the ink is wet sprinkle over it some finely powdered gum arabic, then make a rim around it and pour on it some fusible alloy in a liquid state. impressions may be taken from the plates formed in this way by means of printing ink and a copperplate press. chemical compound.--aqua ammonia two ounces, soft water one quart, saltpetre one teaspoonful, shaving soap in shavings one ounce. mix all together. dissolve the soap well, and any grease or dirt that cannot be removed with this preparation nothing else need be tried for it. distilling whisky from molasses.--take five gallons of molasses, mix thoroughly with twenty-five gallons soft water in a barrel. stir in one-half gallon brewer's yeast; let it set from five to seven days in a warm place, say 70 degrees. during this time fermentation will proceed, which is known by a bubbling sensation. when this subsides it is ready for distilling. to distill use a common washing boiler, with the top well closed and a hole in the same, or thimble soldered on for the steam to pass through a pipe. connect a tin pipe, say two inches in diameter and ten feet long with a short elbow end to the boiler; let the other end incline downward. fill the boiler one-half full of the fermented wort, boil slowly and regularly until there is no taste of spirits left. the atmosphere condenses the steam. in this case if it should not entirely condense it lengthen or enlarge the pipe. the liquid thus obtained is low wines, and to use the same process of running proof spirits can be obtained. to continue this daily any given amount of molasses, etc., can be mixed, say one barrel each day. five quarts can be obtained from four quarts of common molasses. intoxicating liquors of any and all kinds are the father of crime, the mother of abomination, the devil's best friend, and god's worst enemy. ink powder.--powdered nut galls four ounces, copperas three ounces, logwood one ounce, gum arabic one-half ounce. sufficient for one quart of water. florida water.--dissolve in one-half gallon of 90 per cent alcohol, one ounce each of oil of lavender, oil of bergamot and oil of lemon and oil of cloves and cinnamon, one drachm each; add one gallon of water and filter. molasses candy.--boil molasses over a moderately hot fire, stirring constantly. when you think it is done drop a little on a plate, and if sufficiently boiled it will be hard. add a small quantity of vinegar to render it brittle and any flavoring ingredient you prefer. pour in buttered tin pans. if nuts are to be added strew them in the pans before pouring out the candy. to make eggs of pharaoh's serpents.--take mercury and dissolve it in moderately diluted nitric acid by means of heat, take care, however, that there be always an excess of metallic mercury remaining. decant the solution and pour it in a solution of sulphocyanide of ammonia or potassium, which may be bought at a good drug store or of a dealer in chemicals. equal weights of both will answer. a precipitate will fall to the bottom of the beaker or jar, which is to be collected on a filter, and washed two or three times with water, when it is put in a warm place to dry. take for every pound of this material one ounce of gum tragacanth, which has been soaked in hot water. when the gum is completely softened, it is to be transferred to a mortar, and then pulverized and dried precipitate gradually mixed with it, by means of a little water, so as to present a somewhat dried pill mass, from which, by hand, pellets of the desired size are formed, put on a piece of glass, and dried again. they are then ready for use. boot and shoe blacking.--ivory black one pound, molasses two ounces, olive oil four ounces, oil of vitriol four ounces, alcohol eight ounces, rye flour one pound. mix them together in a kettle. angler's secret no. 1.--mix the juice of lovage or smellage, or spoiled cheese, with any kind of bait. no. 2.--mullen seed pulverized and mixed with dough, and sprinkled on the surface of still water, intoxicates fish and makes them turn up on the top of the water. bristol's tooth powder.--prepared chalk one pound, castile soap one-half pound, powdered yellow bark two ounces, powdered gum myrrh two ounces, powdered loaf sugar two ounces, powdered orris two ounces; mix intimately, after having first pulverized the castile soap. royal washing powder.--mix any quantity of soda ash with an equal portion of carbonate of soda--ordinary soda--crushed into coarse grains. have a thin solution of glue, or decoction of linseed oil ready, into which pour the soda until quite thick. spread it out on boards in a warm apartment to dry. as soon as dry, shake up well, so that it will pack easily into nice square packages. label neatly. pound packages cost seven cents; retails for thirty-five cents. egyptian cement.--for mending china, glass or woodenware: take one pound of the best white glue, one-half pound dry white lead, one quart soft water, one-half pint alcohol. put the three first articles in a dish, and that dish in a pot of boiling water. let it boil until dissolved, then add the alcohol, and boil again until mixed. a little camphor should be added, to preserve it and disguise its composition. put in small bottles; 25 cents each. "handy" water pens.--take best quality violet analine, reduce to a thick paste with water; then add mucilage and mix thoroughly. apply the paste thus made to the pen, and let it dry twelve hours any steel pen may be prepared in this way. we always keep in stock the best violet analine, also a large stock of pens. _directions for using._--start action by dipping into water up to filling. if pen should be greasy, wet point with the tongue. to make the ink flow thick, dip to the filling; if wanted thin or pale, dip only to the eye of the pen after starting. after using throw the water off, but don't wipe it, for it will dry in a minute. artificial oysters.--grate green corn in a dish; to one pint of this add one egg well beaten, small teacup of flour, half a cup of butter, salt and pepper; mix well together and fry them brown. paste that will not sour.--dissolve one-half of an ounce of alum in a pint of boiling water, add an equal weight of flour, made smooth in a little cold water, and a few drops of oil of cloves, and let the whole come to a boil. put it into glass or ointment jars. it will keep for months. essences are made with one ounce of any given oil added to one pint of alcohol. peppermint is colored with tincture turmeric, cinnamon with tincture red saunders, wintergreen with tincture kino. tinctures are made with one ounce of gum, root, or bark, etc., dried, to each pint of proof spirits and let it stand one week and filter. oleomargarine manufacture.--the process by which suet is converted into the substance called oleamargarine is as follows: the crude suet after first being washed in cold water is "rendered," melted, and then drawn off into movable tanks. the hard substance is subjected to a hydraulic pressure of 350 tons, and the oil extracted. the butter is made from the oil thus obtained, while the hard substance remaining is disposed of as stearine. the oil, being carried off into churns, is mixed with milk and from three to five per cent of dairy butter. it is then drawn off in a consistent form, and cooled with broken ice. the latter is soon removed, and the butter worked up with a small portion of salt. when this is done the article is ready for packing and consumption. silver plating fluid.--take one ounce precipitate silver to one-half ounce cyanite of potash and one-fourth ounce of hyposulphate of soda. put all in a quart of water, add a little whiting, and shake before using. apply with a soft rag. put up in ounce bottles, and retail for 25 cents. the secret is worth $100 to an agent to sell to families. mucilage for labels.--dextrine two ounces, glycerine one drachm, alcohol one ounce, water six ounces. fig candy.--take one pound of sugar and one pint of water, set over a slow fire. when done add a few drops of vinegar and a lump of butter, and pour into a pan in which figs are laid. raisin candy.--can be made in the same manner, substituting stoned raisins for the figs. common molasses candy is very nice with any kind of nuts added. peppermint, rose, or hoarhound candy.--these may be made as lemon candy. flavor with essence of rose, or peppermint, or finely powdered hoarhound. pour it out in a buttered paper, placed in a square tin pan. cologne.--take one gallon 95 per cent alcohol or cologne spirits, two ounces oil of bergamot, one-half ounce orange, one-half ounce oil of cedar, one-half drachm oil of nevio, one-half drachm oil rosemary. mix well and it is fit for use. a nice article. bay rum, equal to the best imported.--oil of bay, fine, one and one-half drachms, oil of neroli (bigard) ten drops, ether acetic two drachms, alcohol deod. (strong) three pints, water, two and one-fourth pints, caromel sufficient to tinge. let it stand two weeks and filter. copying pad.--white gelatine four ounces, water eight ounces, glycerine eight ounces, gum dextrine two ounces. always use these same proportions for any amount. melt the gelatine in the water at a gentle heat, add to it the glycerine, in which the gum dextrine has been thoroughly incorporated. now stir all together until thoroughly mixed and then pour into pans of the desired size, to the depth of one-half inch. _recipe for ink to be used._--violet analine forty grains, gum arabic twelve grains, alcohol one-fourth ounce, water one-half ounce. dissolve the gum in the water and alcohol, then add the analine. shake in a bottle from time to time until the analine is dissolved. _to work the copying pad._--write with ink on any good paper, press the written surface on the pad and allow it to remain two minutes; then take off and the writing will remain, from which impressions may be taken by laying on plain paper, and smoothing with the hand. as soon as the last impression is taken be sure and wash off with a wet sponge. to bore holes in glass.--any hard steel tool will cut glass with great facility when kept freely wet with camphor dissolved in turpentine. a drill bow may be used, or even the hand alone. a hole bored may be readily enlarged by a round file. the ragged edges of glass vessels may also be thus easily smoothed by a flat file. flat window glass can be readily sawed by a watch spring saw by aid of this solution. in short the most brittle glass can be wrought almost as easily as brass by the use of cutting tools kept constantly moist with camphorized oil of turpentine. to etch upon glass.--procure several thick, clear pieces of crown glass; and immerse them in melted wax, so that they may receive a complete coating, or pour over them a solution of wax in benzine. when perfectly cold draw on them with a fine steel point, flowers, trees, houses, portraits, etc. whatever parts of the drawings are intended to be corroded with the acid should be perfectly free from the least particle of wax. when all these drawings are finished the pieces of glass must be immersed one by one in a square leaden box or receiver, where they are to be submitted to the action of hydroflouric acid gas, made by acting on powdered flour-spar by concentrated sulphuric acid. when the glasses are sufficiently corroded, they are to be taken out, and the wax is to be removed by first dipping them in warm and then in hot water, or by washing with turpentine or benzine. various colors may be applied to the corroded parts of the glass, whereby a fine painting may be executed. in the same manner sentences and initials of names may be etched on wine-glasses, tumblers, etc. rubber hand stamps.--set up the desired name and address in common type, oil the type, and place a guard about one-half inch high around the form. now mix plaster of paris to the desired consistency, pour in and allow it to set. have your vulcanized rubber all ready, as made in long strips three inches wide and one-eighth of an inch thick, cut off the size of the intended stamp. remove the plaster cast from the type, and place both the cast and the rubber in a screw press, applying sufficient heat to thoroughly soften the rubber, then turn down the screw hard, and let it remain until the rubber receives the exact impression of the cast and becomes cold, when it is removed, neatly trimmed with a sharp knife, and cemented to the handle, ready for use. common twist candy.--boil three pounds of common sugar and one pint of water over a slow fire for half an hour without skimming. when boiled enough take it off, rub your hands over with butter; take that which is a little cooled and pull it as you would molasses candy, until it is white; then twist or braid it and cut it up in strips. sticky fly paper.--boiled linseed oil and rosin; melt and add honey. soak the paper in a strong solution of alum, then dry before applying the above. kiss-me-quick.--spirits one gallon, essence of thyme one-fourth ounce, essence of orange flowers two ounces, essence of neroli one-half ounce, otto of roses thirty drops, essence of jasmine one ounce, essence of balm mint one-half ounce, petals of roses four ounces, oil of lemon twenty drops, calorous aromaticus one-half ounce, essence neroli one-fourth ounce. mix and strain. how to test the richness of milk.--procure any long glass vessel--a cologne bottle or long phial. take a narrow strip of paper, just the length from the neck to the bottom of the phial, and mark it off with 100 lines at equal distances, or into fifty lines, and count each as two, and paste upon the phial so as to divide its length into 100 equal parts. fill it to the highest mark with milk fresh from the cow, and allow it to stand in a perpendicular position 24 hours. the number of spaces occupied by the cream will give you its exact percentage in the milk without any guess work. fine peppermint lozenges.--best powdered white sugar seven pounds, pure starch one pound, oil of peppermint to flavor. mix with mucilage. how to fasten rubber to wood and metal.--as rubber plates and rings are nowadays used almost exclusively for making connections between steam and other pipes and apparatus, much annoyance is often experienced by the impossibility or imperfection of an air-tight connection. this is obviated entirely by employing a cement which fastens alike well to the rubber and to the metal or wood. such cement is prepared by a solution of shellac in ammonia. this is best made by soaking pulverized gum shellac in ten times its weight of strong ammonia, when a slimy mass is obtained, which in three or four weeks will become liquid without the use of hot water. this softens the rubber and becomes, after volatilization of the ammonia, hard and impermeable to gases and fluids. to transfer printed matter and print from it again.--take your picture or print and soak it for a short time in a weak solution of caustic potash, then remove it carefully, and let it dry on a sheet of clean paper. then take a piece of copper, zinc, or steel, which has previously been well cleaned, and dip it into hot white wax. let the first coat set, then dip again. having got the plate thoroughly coated and set, lay the matter to be transferred on the plate, and rub it gently all over on the back; now raise it up, and it will be transferred on to the wax on the plate. now take needles of a different thickness, and scrawl all over the wax, following the lines of the engraving. having got the picture all traced out, pour upon it some weak acid if you use zinc, which is too soft to print many from, therefore it is better to use copper or steel. if you use copper, make the following solution to pour over it: verdigris four parts, salt four parts, sal ammoniac four parts, alum one part, water sixteen parts, sour vinegar twelve parts. dissolve by heat. for steel, use pyroligneous acid five parts, alcohol one part, nitric acid one part. mix the first two, then add the nitric acid. pouring the preparations over the plates where the traces of the pictures are, it will eat into the metal plate without affecting the wax. let it stand till it has eaten a sufficient depth, then wash the plate with cold water, dry it and place it near the fire till all the wax is melted off. you can now print as many as you please from the plate by rubbing on it printer's ink, so as to fill all the fine spaces; which, when done, wipe it over smoothly with clean cloths to remove the superfluous ink which is on the face of the plate. now take damp paper or cardboard, and press it on the plate, either with a copying press or the hand, and you get a fine impression, or as many as you want by repeating the inking process. i would recommend beginners to try their skill with valueless prints before attempting to make transfers of fine engravings, as the picture to be transferred is destroyed by the process. i.x.l. baking powder.--take one pound tartaric acid in crystals, one and one-half pounds bi-carbonate of soda, and one and one-half pounds of potash starch. each must be powdered separately, well dried by a slow heat, well mixed through a sieve. pack hard in tinfoil, tin or paper glazed on the outside. the tartaric acid and bi-carbonate of soda can of course be bought cheaper of wholesale druggists than you can make them, unless you are doing things on a large scale, but potato starch any one can make. it is only necessary to peel the potatoes and to grate them up fine into vessels of water, to let them settle, pour off the water, and make the settlings into balls, and dry them. with these directions anyone can make as good baking-powder as is sold anywhere. if he wants to make it very cheap, he can take cream of tartar and common washing (carbonate) soda, instead of the articles named in the recipe, but this would be advisable only where customers insist on excessively low prices in preference to quality of goods. everlasting fence posts.--i discovered many years ago that wood could be made to last longer than iron in the ground, but thought the process so simple and inexpensive that it was not worth while to make any stir about it. i would as soon have poplar, basswood, or quaking ash as any other kind of timber for fence posts. i have taken out basswood posts after having been set seven years, which were as sound when taken out as when they were first put in the ground. time and weather seem to have no effect on them. the posts can be prepared for less than two cents apiece. this is the recipe: take boiled linseed oil and stir it in pulverized charcoal to the consistency of paint. put a coat of this over the timber, and there is not a man that will live to see it rot. liquid glue.--to one ounce of borax in one pint of boiling water, add two ounces of shellac, and boil until the shellac is dissolved. to mend tinware by the heat of a candle.--take a phial about two-thirds full of muriatic acid and put into it little bits of sheet zinc as long as it dissolves them; then put in a crumb of sal ammoniac and fill up with water and it is ready to use. then with the cork of the phial, wet the place to be mended with the preparation; then put a piece of zinc over the hole and hold a lighted candle or spirit lamp under the place, which melts the solder on the tin, and causes the zinc to adhere without further trouble. wet the zinc also with the solution; or a little solder may be put on instead of the zinc or with the zinc. to whiten and soften the hands.--take one-half lb. mutton tallow, one ounce camphor gum, one ounce glycerine; melt, and when thoroughly mixed, set away to cool. rub the hands with this every night. a branding ink.--a waterproof branding ink, good for marking sheep: shellac two ounces, borax two ounces, water twenty-four ounces, gum arabic two ounces, lamp black sufficient. boil the borax and shellac in the water till they are dissolved, and withdraw them from the fire. when the solution becomes cold, complete 25 ounces with water, and add lamp black enough to bring the preparation to a suitable consistency. when it is to be used with a stencil it must be made thicker than when it is used with a brush. the above gives black ink. for red ink substitute venetian red for lamp black; for blue ultramarine; and for green a mixture of ultramarine and chrome yellow. french polish, or dressing for leather.--mix two pints best vinegar with one pint soft water. stir into it one-fourth pound glue, broken up, one-half pound logwood chips, one-fourth ounce finely powdered indigo, one-fourth ounce best soft soap, and one-fourth isinglass. put the mixture over the fire, and let it boil ten minutes or more; then strain, bottle and cork. when cold it is fit for use. apply with a sponge. new york barber's star hair oil.--castor oil six and one-half pints, alcohol one and one-half pints, citronella and lavender oil, each one-half ounce. barber's shampooing mixture.--soft water one pint, sal soda one ounce, cream tartar one-fourth ounce. apply thoroughly to the hair. crucibles.--the best crucibles are made of a pure fire clay, mixed with finely ground cement of oil crucibles, and a portion of black lead or graphite; some pounded coke may be mixed with the plumbago. the clay should be prepared in a similar way as for making pottery ware. the vessels, after being formed, must be slowly dried, and then properly baked in a kiln. _black lead crucibles_ are made of two parts of graphite and one of fire clay, mixed with water into a paste, pressed in moulds, and well dried, but not baked hard in the kiln. this compound forms excellent small or portable furnaces. what to invent, and how to protect your invention. what to invent.--cheap, useful articles that will sell at sight. something that everyone needs, and the poorest can afford. invent simple things for the benefit of the masses, and your fortune is made. some years back a one-armed soldier amassed a fortune from a single toy--a wooden ball attached to a rubber string. they cost scarcely anything, yet millions were sold at a good price. a german became enormously rich by patenting a simple wooden plug for beer barrels. "what man has done, man may do." how to protect your invention.--patent it. if you do not, others will reap the benefits that rightfully belong to you. a patent is a protection given to secure the inventor in the profits arising from the manufacture and sale of an article of his own creation. to whom letters patent are granted.--section 4886 of the revised statutes of the united states provides that: "any person who has invented or discovered any new and useful art, machine, manufacture or composition of matter, or any new and useful improvement thereof, not known or used by others in this country, and not patented or described in any printed publication in this or any foreign country, before his invention or discovery thereof, and not in public use, or on sale for more than two years prior to his application, unless the same is proved to have been abandoned, may, upon the payment of the fees required by law, and other due proceedings had, obtain a patent therefor." and section 4888 of the same statute enacts: section 4888. before any inventor or discoverer shall receive a patent for his invention or discovery, he shall make application therefor, in writing, to the commissioner of patents, and shall file in the patent office a written description of the same, and of the manner and process of making, constructing, compounding, and using it, in such full, clear, concise and exact terms, as to enable any person skilled in the art or science to which it appertains, or with which it is most nearly connected, to make, construct, compound, and use the same; and in case of a machine, he shall explain the principle thereof and the best mode in which he has contemplated applying that principle, so as to distinguish it from other inventions; and he shall particularly point out and distinctly claim that part, improvement or combination which he claims as his invention or discovery. the specification and claim shall be signed by the inventor and attested by two witnesses. it is also required by law that when "the case admits of drawings," it shall be properly illustrated; and also, if the commissioner requires it, that a model shall be furnished in cases capable of such demonstration. the cost of obtaining letters patent in ordinary cases is: first, government fees, $15; counsel fees, including drawings, $25; second, or final government fees, to be paid within six months from date of allowance, $20; total, $60. designs.--a design patent can be obtained for novelties in the shape of configuration of articles, or impressions by any means whatever. these patents are of great value to the trade. the government fees for a design patent are: on filing every application for a design patent $10.00 on issuing a design patent for 3-1/2 years no further charge. on issuing a design patent for 7 years 5.00 on issuing a design patent for 14 years 20.00 caveats.--a caveat is a confidential communication used in the patent office, and it consists of a specification, drawings, oath and petition. the specification must contain a clear description of the intended invention. how a copyright is secured.--the method by which a copyright is obtained under the revised acts of congress is as simple and inexpensive as can be reasonably asked. all unnecessary red tape is dispensed with, and the cost to the author who is seeking thus to protect himself in the enjoyment of the profits of his work, is so small as to be scarcely appreciable. this is an example of cheapness and directness toward which all branches of public administration should tend, if a government is to fulfill its proper mission of serving the people without needlessly taxing them. directions have lately been issued for the guidance of persons wishing to obtain copyrights; and, as many of our readers may not be conversant with the subject, we give a brief abstract of the process. the first thing necessary is to send a printed copy of the title of the work, plainly directed to "librarian of congress, washington, d.c." the copyright law applies not only to books, pamphlets and newspapers, but also to maps, charts, photographs, paintings, drawings, music, statuary, etc. if there is a title page, send that; if not, a title must be printed expressly for the purpose, and in both cases the name of the author or claimant of copyright must accompany the title. use no smaller paper than commercial note. a remittance of one dollar must be made along with the application. this is the whole charge--half of it being for the entry on the record, and the other half for your certificate, which the librarian will send you promptly by mail. you will of course prepay your postage. within ten days after your book, or other article, is published, you are required to send two complete copies of the best edition to the librarian, addressed as before, prepaying postage; or the librarian will furnish "penalty labels," under which they can be sent free of postage. if this deposit of copies is neglected, the copyright is void, and you are liable to fine of $25. the law requires that on the title page of a copyrighted work, or some part of the drawing, painting, statue, or whatever it may be, there shall be printed these words: "entered according to act of congress, in the year ----, by ----, in the office of the librarian of congress, at washington;" or, if preferred, this briefer form may be used: "copyright, 18--, by ----." to this may be added, "right of translation reserved," or "all rights reserved;" but in that case the librarian must have been duly notified, so that he may include it in the record. any person who prints the copyright notice on his work without having obtained a copyright, is liable to a penalty of $1.00. the original term of a copyright runs for twenty-eight years, and it may then be renewed for a further term of fourteen years, either by the author or by his widow or children, application being made not less than six months before the expiration of the right. trade marks and labels cannot be copyrighted under this law, but are provided for by a separate act, relating to matters of detail, which cannot here be recited, but in regard to which, the librarian at washington will give the needed information whenever required. trade marks, labels, prints, etc.--copyrights cannot be granted upon trade marks, nor upon mere names of companies or articles, nor upon prints or labels intended to be used with any article of manufacture. if protection for such names or labels is desired, application must be made to the patent office, where they are registered at a fee of $6 for labels, and $25 for trade marks. by the word "print" is meant any device, word, or figures (not a trade mark) impressed directly upon the article, to denote the name of the manufacturer, etc. by the word "label" is meant a slip of paper, or other material, to be attached to manufactured articles, or to packages containing them, and bearing the name of the manufacturer, directions for use, etc. water ices.--some make these with acid, water, flavor, and the whites of eggs. _no good._ the best rules for the amount of sugar is to suit your taste. frangipanna.--spirits one gallon, oil bergamot one ounce, oil of lemon one ounce; macerate for four days, frequently shaking; then add water one gallon, orange flower water one pint, essence of vanilla two ounces. mix. silvering powder.--nitrate of silver and common salt, of each thirty grains, cream of tartar three and one-half drachms. pulverize finely, mix thoroughly, and bottle for use. unequaled for polishing copper and plated goods. extract of lemon.--three ounces oil lemon; cut with 95 proof alcohol; add one gallon 80 proof alcohol, and filter through cotton or felt. put up in two ounce bottles. sells for 25 cents; jobs at $1.00 and $1.50 according to quality and style of package. balm of a thousand flowers.--deodorized alcohol one pint, nice white bar soap four ounces; shave the soap when put in, stand in a warm place till dissolved, then add oil of citronella one drachm, and oils of neroli and rosemary, of each one-half drachm. tin cans.--size of sheet for from 1 to 100 gallons: for 1 gallon 7 by 20 ins. for 3-1/2 gallons 10 by 28 ins. for 5 gallons 12 by 40 ins. for 6 gallons 14 by 40 ins. for 10 gallons 20 by 42 ins. for 15 gallons 30 to 42 ins. for 25 gallons 30 by 56 ins. for 40 gallons 36 by 63 ins. for 50 gallons 40 by 70 ins. for 75 gallons 40 by 84 ins. for 100 gallons 40 by 98 ins. this includes all laps, seams, etc., which will be found sufficiently correct for all practical purposes. moulds and dies.--copper, zinc and silver in equal proportions, melt together under a coat of powdered charcoal, and mould into the form you desire. bring them to nearly a white heat, and lay on the thing you would take an impression of, press with sufficient force, and you will get a perfect and beautiful impression. indestructible lamp wicks.--steep common wicks in a concentrated aqueous solution of tungstate of soda, and then dry thoroughly in an oven. a gold plate for small articles, without a battery.--digest a small fragment of gold with about ten times its weight of mercury until it is dissolved, shake the amalgam together in a bottle, and after cleansing the articles, coat them uniformly with the amalgam. then expose them on an iron tray heated to low redness for a few minutes. the mercury volatilizes, leaving the gold attached as a thin coating to the article. the heating should be done in a stove, so that the poisonous mercurial fumes may pass up the chimney. a gelatine mould for casting plaster ornaments.--allow twelve ounces of gelatine to soak for a few hours in water, until it has absorbed as much as it can, then apply heat, by which it will liquify. if the mould is required to be elastic, add three ounces of treacle, and mix well with the gelatine. if a little chrome alum (precise proportions are immaterial) be added to the gelatine, it causes it to lose its property of being again dissolved in water. a saturated solution of bichromate of potash brushed over the surface of the mould, allowed to become dry and afterwards exposed to sunlight for a few minutes, renders the surface so hard as to be unaffected by moisture. imitation of ground glass.--the following is from an antwerp scientific journal. paint the glass with the following varnishes: sandarac eighteen drachms, mastic four drachms, ether twenty-four ounces, benzine six to eighteen ounces. the more benzine the coarser the grain of imitation glass will be. unshrinkable patterns.--the best mixture for small patterns, that does not shrink in casting, is sixty-nine parts lead, fifteen and one-half parts antimony, fifteen and one-half parts bismuth, by weight. a cheap kind for finished patterns can be made of ten parts zinc, one part antimony, one part tin. to make artificial marble for paper weights or other fancy articles.--soak plaster of paris in a solution of alum, bake it in an over, and then grind it to a powder. in using mix it with water, and to produce the clouds and veins stir in any dry color you wish; this will become very hard, and is susceptible of a very high polish. molds of glue and molasses, such as rodgers uses for making his statuettes.--the flexible moulds referred to are prepared as follows: glue eight pounds, molasses (new orleans) seven pounds. soak the glue over night in a small quantity of cold water, then melt it by heat over a salt water bath, stir until froth begins to rise, then add and stir in briskly the molasses previously heated. continue to heat and stir the mixture for about half an hour; then pour. to clarify liquids.--the following composition is said to bleach all colored liquids, and to render bone-black perfectly unnecessary: albumen three hundred, neutral tartrate of potash two, alum five, sal ammoniac seven hundred parts. the albumen must of course not be coagulated. the ingredients are first dissolved in a little water and then added to the liquid to be clarified. to prevent store windows from steaming.--j. f. writes: i am about to have the front show windows of my store inclosed with inside windows. can you tell any way to prevent the outside windows frosting in cold weather? a. clean the glass occasionally with a cloth moistened with pure glycerine, wiping it so as to leave only a trace of the glycerine adhering to the surface--this on the inside. artificial india rubber.--a cheap and useful substitute for indian rubber is prepared by mixing a thick solution of glue with tungstate of soda and hydrochloric acid. a compound of tungstic acid and glue is precipitated, which at a temperature of 86 degrees to 104 degrees f. is sufficiently elastic to admit of being drawn out into very thin sheets. on cooling this mass becomes solid and brittle, but on being heated is again soft and plastic. this new compound can be used for many of the purposes to which rubber is adapted. rubber stamps for photographs.--many photographers employ a rubber stamp for imprinting the backs of mounts, and in these circumstances a good ink is very essential. here is the recipe for making one quoted from the _engineer_, and said to yield an excellent ink which, while not drying on the pad, will yet not readily smear when impressed upon paper: aniline red (violet) one hundred and eighty grains, distilled water two ounces, glycerine one teaspoonful, treacle one-half teaspoonful. the crystals of aniline are powdered and dissolved in the boiling distilled water, and the other ingredients then added. a good idea.--_how to remove pain and soreness from wounds._ the value of the smoke from burned wool to remove the pain and soreness from wounds of all kinds, or from sores, is great, and it will give immediately relief from the intense pain caused by a gathering. the easiest way to prepare this is to cut all-wool flannel--if you haven't the wool--into narrow strips, take some hot ashes with a few small live coals on a shovel, sprinkle some of the flannel strips on it, and hold the injured member in the smoke for five or ten minutes, using plenty of flannel to make a thick smoke. repeat as often as seems necessary, though one smoking is usually enough. chilblains.--we glean two prescriptions from the _british medical journal_. they are now being used in this country, and with good results. lin. belladonnæ two drachms, lin. aconita one drachm, acid carbolici six minims, collod. flexil one ounce. mix and apply every night with a camel's hair pencil, collod. flexil four drachms, oleiricini four drachms, spt. tereb, four drachms. use three times daily with camel's hair brush. said to be good for grip.--anything that affords hope of relief from grip is of interest. pauline crayson writes from cranford, n.j., to _new york tribune_, saying: "i have found peroxide of hydrogen (medicinal) a marvelous remedy in the treatment of grip and influenza. this medicine should be diluted with water and administered internally, and by snuffing through the nostrils or by spraying the nostrils and throat. i believe the good results from this treatment, which i have never known to fail of producing a speedy cure, are due to the destruction of the microbe upon which this disease depends." the remedy is simple and within the reach of everybody, and can easily be tested. sticks like a brother.--a paste that will adhere to anything.--prof. alex. winchell is credited with the invention of a cement that will stick to anything (_nat. drug_). take two ounces of clear gum arabic, one and one-half ounces of fine starch and one-half ounce of white sugar. pulverize the gum arabic, and dissolve it in as much water as the laundress would use for the quality of starch indicated. dissolve the starch and sugar in the gum solution. then cook the mixture in a vessel suspended in boiling water until the starch becomes clear. the cement should be as thick as tar and keep so. it can be kept from spoiling by dropping in a lump of gum camphor, or a little oil of cloves or sassafras. this cement is very strong indeed, and will stick perfectly to glazed surfaces, and is good to repair broken rocks, minerals or fossils. the addition of a small amount or sulphate of aluminum will increase the effectiveness of the paste, besides helping to prevent decomposition. directions for making all kinds of candy. molasses taffy.--new orleans molasses one pint, sugar one and one-half pounds, water one-half pint (no doctor). stir all the time to a good light snap. lemon flavor. work as above. cream taffy.--same as above. when to the ball degree have ready half cup cider vinegar, one-fourth pipe cream tartar, dissolve in the vinegar, four ounces butter. add, stir, and work as you do the white taffy. nut taffy.--use the cream taffy recipe. just before the candy is done cooking stir in any kind of nut goodies, pour out, and when cool enough not to run, form it into a block, cut or break it with a hammer. good brown butter-scotch.--c sugar, three pounds; water, one and one-fourth pint; cream tartar, one full pipe dissolved in one cup cider vinegar; molasses, one-half pint; butter, eight ounces (no flavor). add all except the vinegar, cream tartar and butter. boil to medium ball, then add the cream tartar in the vinegar and butter. stir all the time carefully. boil to light snap finish as before in cheap butter-scotch. sour lemon drops.--make a batch of barley squares. just as soon as you pour it on the slab sprinkle over it three-fourths ounce dry tartaric acid, two tablespoons lemon flavor; turn the cold edges in to the center of the batch, work it like bread dough; place this before a hot stove on your table and cut into little pieces with your scissors, or run the batch through a drop machine. all goods that you want to spin out or run through a machine or cut with scissors should be kept warm by a sheet iron stove, on a brick foundation, fitted in the table evenly, and the candy placed in front to keep warm. should the candy slab, after it is greased, act sticky, not allowing the candy to come up freely, throw a dust of flour over the sticky place after it has been greased. stick candy.--stick candy is made precisely the same as peppermint clips, by keeping the batch round, and a second person to twist them and keep them rolling until cold. this can be done only by practice. the sticks are then chopped in the desired length by heavy shears. strawberry.--same, only flavor with strawberry; color with liquid coloring slightly. maple caramels.--use one-half maple sugar with c sugar. no flavor. walnut caramels.--same as the first. when done, stir in sufficient nuts to suit. a better caramel can be made with white sugar, and milk instead of water. still better, by using cream one quart, and when cream cannot be had, condensed milk dissolved in milk works fine. almond bars.--same as peanut, only add the almond nuts in time to allow them to roast a little in the boiling sugar. one-fourth of a pint of new orleans syrup added to the boiling sugar improves the flavor and color. chocolate coating.--can use sweet confectioners', or confectioners' plain (never use the quarter and one-pound grocery packages, as it contains too much sugar to melt good). place a small piece of paraffine the size of a hickory-nut and one small teaspoon of lard in a rice cooker, melt, add one-half pound of chocolate, stir until dissolved; dip balls of cream in this chocolate, drop on wax paper to cool, and you have fine hand made chocolate drops. cold sugar icing.--for dipping cream drops. confectioners' sugar with the white of eggs and a small amount of dissolved gum arabic in water. make this into a batter. if thick, the drops will be rough; if thin, the drops will be smooth. cocoanut cream ice.--two pounds granulated sugar, three-fourths pint water, boil to a light crack; set off, add four ounces glucose (or the amount of cream tartar you can hold on the point of a penknife); set back on the fire, just let come to a boil to dissolve the glucose; set off again, add immediately one-fourth ounce shaved paraffine, six ounces cream dough cut up fine, one grated cocoanut. stir all until it creams, pour out into a frame on brown paper dusted with flour, mark and cut with a knife when cold. opera creams.--two pounds white sugar, three-fourths pint cow's cream, boil to a soft ball; set off; add two ounces glucose; set on, stir easy until it commences to boil, then pour out, let get three-fourths cold, and stir it until it turns into a cream. then work into two tablespoons vanilla, line a pan with wax paper, flatten the batch in it, and mark it in squares. set aside two hours to harden. italian cream operas.--melt four ounces butter with four ounces plain chocolate. take a batch of the opera cream; when cooked, add the above, stir it in the kettle until it creams, then pan and work it as you do the operas. butter creams.--one and one-half pounds white sugar, and one-half pound c. sugar, three-fourths pound glucose, one-fourth pint molasses, one and one-fourth pint water; boil to the hard snap, add six ounces butter, set off until it melts; set on and let boil, to well mix the butter; pour out. have one pound hard cream dough thoroughly warmed, just so you can handle it. when the batch is cold enough on the stove to handle, place the warm cream lengthwise on the center of it and completely wrap the cream up in it. place this on your table before your heater, spin out in long strips, have some one to mark them heavy or good. when cold, break where marked. boston chips.--three pounds of white sugar, one-half pipe cream tartar, one and one-fourth pints water; boil with a lid over it to the hard snap; pour; pull this only half as much as any other candy; for too much pulling takes out all the gloss when done; flavor it on the hook; wear your gloves, place it before your heater on the table, flatten out and spin out into thin ribbons, break off and curl them up in little piles. strawberry chips can be made the same way, adding a pinch of cochineal paste. date or fig squares.--can be made by cutting them fine, scatter them thick over the greased stone, and pour over them a batch of barley square candy. mark and cut with a knife. pine tree tar cough candy.--first have one tablespoon oil of tar dissolved in two tablespoons of alcohol. cook to a hard snap twenty pounds sugar (white), three quarts water, three pounds glucose; pour out; scatter over (while cooling) twenty drops of tar, two tablespoons oil of capsicum, three tablespoons oil of wintergreen; work all well into the batch (do not pull this on the hook). place before your heater on the table and spin it out in large round sticks. have some one to keep them rolling until cold. cut into sticks about three and one-half inches long. wrap them in printed labels. date and fig creams.--seed dates, cut a piece out of the end v shape, insert a white or pink cream ball, press it in, and stick a clove in the end; it looks like a pear. cut figs in strips, place the seedy side around a piece of cream dough. the hand made cream can be made into various varieties of candy to suit your fancy. factory cream dough.--this recipe is worth twenty-five dollars to any candy maker. when the cream is first done it appears flaky and coarse; but the next morning it is fine, and the longer it sets the better it is. when made up it never gets stale or hard. never use flour to roll out cream with when you can get the xxx lozenge sugar. forty pounds granulated sugar, five quarts water; boil to a stiff ball; set off; add quickly twelve pounds of glucose. do not stir. set on the fire, let it come to a boil until you see even the scum boiled in (do not allow the glucose to cook in the sugar). pour out, wait only until you can lay the back of your hand on the top of batch. (never let it get colder, it is better to cream while hot than cold like other goods). cream it with two garden hoes, or cream scrapers. add while creaming one-fourth pint scant measure of glycerine. no need of kneading it, scrape into your tub for use. (if a sugar is used the cream is sticky.) imitation hand-made chocolate.--take a suitable hand made. make your plaster paris prints. take a quantity of the above cream, melt in a bath, flavor and mould. dip. a number one chocolate drop.--moulding cream; granulated sugar, twenty pounds; water, three quarts. boiled to a thread, set off, add three pounds of glucose dissolved; pour, let get cold. cream, melt, add pinch of glucose to one pint simple syrup; four tablespoonfuls of glycerine. stir. mould. cheap chocolates.--quick work. make a batch of the above number one. exactly the same process. after the glucose is dissolved in the batch do not pour out, but add five pounds of the hard factory cream in pieces. stir, flavor, melt. set this kettle in a kettle of boiling water, have a boy to stir and watch it; do not allow it to get so thin as to simmer, only thin enough to run into your starch prints. this cream saves time and labor. to work over scraps of candy.--to thirty pounds of scraps use one gallon water; stir until it boils; set off, for it would never melt any more by boiling; continue stirring until all is dissolved. set aside until cold. skim off the top. this can be worked into hoar-hound or dark penny goods, pop-corn bricks, etc. to cook over maple sugar.--to sixty pounds broken up maple, add water (according to the hard or soft grain of the sugar) enough to dissolve. stir until melted. if the grain was soft, add fifteen pounds granulated sugar; if the hard grain, only add that amount of c. sugar. boil to 244 degrees by thermometer, or good ball. take out some in porcelain sauce pan, grain until cloudy (to make quick work always have a small portion in the same sauce pan for the next stirring). pour in moulds greased, or put in a tub of cold water. artificial maple sugar.--dark c. sugar (driest), two pounds; water, one-third pint; butter, two ounces, melted; flavor with maple flavor; boil to a ball, cream in the pan. pour before it gets too stiff. molasses pop-corn balls.--always sift your corn after it is popped. for home use, add butter and lemon flavor to your syrup. this is too expensive for retail and factory use, though some use lard sparingly. boil molasses to a stiff ball, wet your tub, put in your corn; now with a dipper pour over your candy and stir with a paddle through the corn, wet your hands in cold water, make your balls and wrap in wax paper, twisting the ends close to the balls. for white or red.--sugar and glucose half and half, water, to melt and boil as above. work the same. to make six hundred bricks a day and pop this corn, put a coarse sieve in a box or barrel bottom, instead of the natural bottom. sift your corn. have your popper made with a swinging wire, hanging from the ceiling down over the furnace to save labor. have a stout, thick, wide board for the floor of your press; make a stout frame the width that two brick will measure in length; as long as twelve bricks are thick, and have your boards six or eight inches wide. put your frame together; now make a stout lid of one-inch lumber to fit in your frame; have four cleats nailed crosswise to make it stout, and a 2×4 piece nailed lengthwise across the top of these (shorter than the lid is); now for a lever get a hard 2×4, six to eight feet long; fasten the ends of this lever to the floor, giving it six inches of the rope to play in. now you are ready; wet your flour board and dust it with flour; do the lid and frame the same. to every thirty pounds melted scraps of candy use two pounds of butter. (you can't cut the bricks without it.) cook to a hard ball. to three-fourths tub of corn, pour three small dippers of syrup; pour this when mixed in your frame on the flour board, put on the lid, with the lever press once the center, once each end, and once more the center; take out the lid, lift the frame, dump out on the table. when two-thirds cool, cut lengthwise with a sharp, thin knife, then cut your bricks off crosswise. penny pop-corn bricks are made the same way. candy penny pop-corn pieces.--cook a batch of glucose to a light snap, flavor well, pour thin. while hot place your pop-corn sheet hard down on the candy, mark deep cut and wrap. i have put boys on this work in the shop at five dollars a week pay, and knew them to clear for the proprietor from five to twenty dollars daily for several months; one to pop corn, one to cook syrup, one to press, and one to cut them, girls to wrap and box. to shell cocoanuts.--take the nut in the left hand with the three eyes up; strike from the nut down with your hatchet; peel with a knife or spoke shave, cut them into four pieces, cover them with water, set on the furnace, and let come to a good boil. if the nuts are sour, strain and add fresh cold water quickly so as the heat will not darken them, and repeat. if very sour scrape the insides out. grate them, taking out one pieces at a time, as the air does them no good. red center.--take two-thirds, pour thin; color the remaining one-third red with the liquor color; place this on the half of the two-thirds, and turn the other up over on top, roll out flat with a roller, cool, cut. the same goods cooked to a soft ball may be made into balls to be coated in red sugar after throwing them in hot sugar syrup; also to be dipped in melted cream, or brown the cocoanut balls on top with burnt sugar. chocolate glaze cream coating eats well over these goods, or dip the balls as you like. flavorings.--to any kind of oils take eight times in bulk the amount of alcohol: stir, let set in a warm place a short time; can be used if needed immediately. home made maple sugar.--to two pounds of maple (bricks, not cakes) 1 pint water, one-third pipe cream of tartar (or four ounces of glucose is best); boil slow to a smooth degree, cool, skim. white sugar can be used. to keep molasses from sugaring in the barrel; when making the molasses, to every barrel add twenty pounds of glucose, stir it in. to lighten the color and aid the flavor of rank, dark molasses, do the same as above. to allow molasses to cool slowly makes it dark. it should be stirred lively until cool. also to improve sour, rank molasses, take the molasses, for instance, ten gallons; take five pounds dry c sugar, five pounds glucose, water two quarts. boil the sugar and glucose until thoroughly dissolved; add the molasses, boil five minutes. you can make fine syrup this way. to make a candy house.--house for a show window. take any design you fancy, of card board. cut out the windows; place this on your candy slab. now with a lead pencil mark out your design, and as many of each piece as you need (it is a good idea to make an extra piece so if you break one you can go ahead). now take of the icing sugar and fill your paper funnel as if for cake icing, and overline the pencil marks you made on the stone. when done you find you have a frame that will hold hot candy. boil a batch of barley square goods (mentioned in this book), and pour on some in a dipper; take this and pour in your icing sugar frame or patterns you made on the stone, when half cold, so as not to run; run a thin knife under them carefully, lift them and lay them in a different place on the stone; when you have moulded all cut off the icing sugar that sticks to the candy. then put your candy house together, sides first, and take pieces of lemon stick candy, dip them in the hot candy, and stick in the bottom and top corners of your house; hold them a few seconds to cool, then finish likewise. when done, take your icing sugar and funnel paper and on the outside corners of the candy house put icing sugar and the windows finish the same. candies, if desired, can be stuck on with the icing sugar, etc. the icing sugar should be stiff for a nice job, and will hide the corners. candy pyramids can be made this way also. to make a delicious candy cocoanut cake.--have your cake layers cold. place in your rice steamer one-half grated cocoanut and a chunk of hand-made cream the size of your fist; stir until mixed and you can spread it; do not melt it more than necessary. this cake will not dry out if made with factory cream. i gave this recipe to two london practical cake bakers; they said it beat any cake recipe they had ever received. put your mind to work and with a little practice you will get up candies of your own invention, from the knowledge you derive here in this book. ice cream.--i will give only the best recipe, my own improvement, as workmen will find all my private recipes in this book to be different from others, as well as first-class. two quarts thick cream, one pound a sugar, one-fourth ounce french gelatine, yolks of three eggs; add one quart of the cream and gelatine, set on the fire; stir; do not let boil; melt; set off, add the eggs and sugar stirred up together with a little of the cream, stirring all the time; set on, let get hot; set off, add the other quart of cream; stir, strain, freeze. break your ice fine; use salt from one pint to one quart. flavor after it is frozen. fair ground lemonade.--take one barrel water; dissolve in one quart of warm water twenty-five cents worth citric acid; dissolve two dollars' worth a sugar in one gallon water. stir all together. a few cut up pieces of lemon can be added for appearance sake. jap cocoanut.--one pound xxx confectioner's sugar, dampened a little; one and one-half pounds glucose; stir when cooked to a soft ball; add all the grated cocoanut it will stick together; boil, stir to the lightest crack. lemon ice.--seven lemons, the juice only, juice of three oranges. take one pint water, dissolve in one-half ounce of french sheet gelatine; then add whites of two eggs, one and one-fourth pounds a sugar, dissolved; add all together with three pints cold water; freeze as for ice cream. keep machine running briskly until finished. orange ice.--the same by changing the fruit proportionately. the adulterations used by certain factories.--(please never try to make use of the following, for i never would print it for that purpose, only to expose the stuff.) grape sugar, which looks like cheap suet melted, and is so hard as to be chopped with an ax, though it dissolves readily. terra alba, white clay, which is fine as sugar, and is sieved into cream work or on candy, and worked into it. rice flour, ground rice mixed into cocoanut goods; cerealine, ground, prepared corn mixed into cocoanut. glucose has the name of being an adulteration, though i fail, from seventeen years' experience, to find it such; it contains nothing outside of the acid to make it so, and that is in so small a portion as to be harmless. it is an article that is of greater value to man than the inexperienced give it credit for. if i had time i could argue this question satisfactorily to any unprejudiced person. gamboge is a bad article for candy, yellow, cheap, hurtful color. ground cocoanut shells are used mostly in adulterating pepper, etc. "who is to blame for adulterating goods?" i claim three parties--first, the proprietor; next, candy makers; and next, the ignorant class of people that want sixteen cents' worth of boiled sugar for eight cents, when they do not stop to think it could not possibly be made for less than eight cents, all told. germany and france have strong laws against all adulterations. soon america will prohibit the same, and bless god when the day and law we so much need will come. how to ornament cakes.--you need four cups of confectioners' finest sugar, whites of two eggs. beat the eggs just a little, add the sugar gradually, juice one lemon; beat this stiff, until the sugar will bend when you hold the paddle up. now take a sheet of thick writing paper, fold it into a funnel shape, hold it in your left hand; fill this with the icing, prepared as above, about two-thirds full, fold in the top and place both thumbs on it, cut off a little of the small end of the funnel to allow the icing to come out when you press with your thumbs. next, with a knife, cover your cake with icing sugar smoothly; if it sticks to the knife, wet it a little. let dry half hour; then with a lead pencil make leaves or designs, and with your paper funnel ice your pencil designs. colored icing looks well. taking leaf photographs--a very pretty amusement, especially for those who have just completed the study of botany, is the taking of leaf photographs. one very simple process is this: at any druggist's get an ounce of bichromate of potassium. put this into a pint bottle of water. when the solution becomes saturated--that is, the water is dissolved as much as it will--pour off some of the clear liquid into a shallow dish; on this float a piece of ordinary writing paper till it is thoroughly moistened, let it dry in the dark. it should be a bright yellow. on this put the leaf, under a piece of black soft cloth and several sheets of newspaper. put these between two pieces of glass (all the pieces should be of the same size) and with spring clothespins fasten them together. expose to a bright sun, placing the leaf so that the rays will fall upon it as nearly perpendicular as possible. in a few moments it will begin to turn brown; but it requires from half an hour to several hours to produce a perfect print. when it has become dark enough, take it from the frame, and put it into clear water, which must be changed every few minutes until the yellow part becomes white. sometimes the leaf veinings will be quite distinct. by following these directions it is scarcely possible to fail, and a little practice will make perfect. curious things.--1. to apparently burn water, fill a glass lamp with water, and put into it for a wick a piece of gum camphor. the lamp should not be quite full, and the camphor may be left to float upon the surface of the water. on touching a lighted match to the camphor, up shoots a clear, steady flame, and seems to sink below the surface of the water, so that the flame is surrounded by the liquid. it will burn a long time. if the camphor be ignited in a large dish of water it will commonly float about while burning. 2. to change the faces of a group to a livid, deathly whiteness, and to destroy colors, wet a half teacupful of common salt in alcohol and burn it on a plate in a dark room. let the salt soak a few minutes before igniting. the flame will deaden the brightest colors in the room, and the dresses of the company will seem to be changed. let each one put his face behind the flame, and it will present a most ghastly spectacle to those who stand before it. this is serviceable in tableau where terror of death is to be represented. the change wrought by the flame, when the materials are properly prepared, is very surprising. 3. wet a piece of thick wrapping paper, then dry near the stove. while dry, lay it down upon a varnished table or dry woolen cloth, and rub it briskly with a piece of india rubber. it will soon become electrified, and if tossed against the wall or the looking glass will stick some time. tear tissue-paper into bits, one-eighth of an inch square, and this piece of electrified paper will draw them. or take a tea-tray and put it on three tumblers. lay the electric paper on it, and on touching the tray you will get a little spark. let the paper lay on the tray, and on touching the tray again you will get another spark, but of the opposite kind of electricity. replace the paper and you will get another, and so on. 4. to produce a spectrum, burn magnesium wire in a dark room, and as soon as the flame is extinguished, let each one try to look into the other's faces. the spectrum of the extinguished light is clearly seen. muriate of tin. tin liquor.--if druggists keep it, it is best to purchase of them already made, but if you prefer, proceed as follows: get at a tinner's shop block tin, put it into a shovel and melt it. after it is melted, pour it from the height of four or five feet into a pail of clear water. the object of this is to have the tin in small particles, so that the acid can dissolve it. take it out of the water and dry it; then put it in a strong brass bottle. pour over it muriatic acid twelve ounces, then slowly add sulphuric acid eight ounces. the acid should be added about a tablespoonful at a time, at intervals of five or eight minutes, for if you add it too rapidly you run the risk of breaking the bottle by heat. after you have all the acid in, let the bottle stand until the ebullition subsides; then stop it up with beeswax or glass stopper, and set it away; and it will keep good for a year or more, or it will be fit for use in twenty-four hours. the centennial illuminating oil.--_recipe for making one gallon._--take seven-eighths gallon benzine or crude petroleum, add to it one-half ounce gum camphor, one-half ounce alcohol, one-half pint common salt, one-half ounce oil of sassafras. stir and mix it well for about five minutes. let is stand for twenty-four hours and it is ready for use. it is better to buy the benzine from pittsburgh, pa., as the druggists usually charge two or three times the wholesale price. chapter x. coin department. complete and standard list of american silver and copper coins which command a premium: united states silver dollars. [illustration: liberty 1794] 1794 flowing hair $ 20 00 1794 flowing hair, fine 30 00 1795 flowing hair 1 25 1796 fillet head 1 25 1796 fillet head 1 60 1797 fillet head, 6 stars facing 1 60 1797 fillet head, 7 stars facing 1 60 1798 fillet head, 13 stars, small eagle 1 50 1798 fillet head, 15 stars, small eagle 2 00 1798 13 stars, large eagle 1 10 1799 5 stars facing 1 40 1799 6 " " 1 10 1800 spread eagle 1 15 1801 spread eagle 1 30 1802 spread eagle 1 30 1802 over 1801, spread eagle 1 35 1803 spread eagle 1 35 1804 dollar. [illustration: obverse] [illustration: reverse] 1804 excessively rare $500 00 1840 liberty seated 1 05 1841 liberty seated 1 05 1844 liberty seated 1 05 1845 liberty seated 1 05 1848 liberty seated 1 15 1849 liberty seated 1 05 1851 liberty seated 23 00 1852 liberty seated 23 00 1853 liberty seated 1 10 1854 liberty seated 2 50 1855 liberty seated 1 60 1856 liberty seated 1 50 1857 liberty seated 1 50 1858 liberty seated 23 00 1861 liberty seated 1 05 1862 liberty seated 1 05 1863 liberty seated 1 05 1864 liberty seated 1 05 1865 liberty seated 1 05 1866 liberty seated 1 05 1867 liberty seated 1 05 1868 liberty seated 1 05 1869 liberty seated 1 05 1879 trade dollar 1 05 1880 trade dollar 1 05 1881 trade dollar 1 05 1882 trade dollar 1 05 1883 trade dollar 1 05 1884 trade dollar 1 05 united states pattern dollars. [illustration: 1836] 1836 c. gobrecht's name in field $ 9 00 1836 flying eagle 4 00 1838 flying eagle 17 00 1839 flying eagle 13 50 half dollars. [illustration: liberty 1794] 1794 flowing hair, fair $ 2 00 1794 flowing hair, good 3 00 1795 flowing hair 60 1796 fillet head, 15 stars 17 50 1796 fillet head, 16 stars 20 00 1797 fillet head, 15 stars 18 00 1801 fillet head 2 00 1802 fillet head 2 00 1803 fillet head 55 1804 fillet head 7 50 1805 fillet head 55 1805 over 1804, fillet head 60 1806 fillet head, if extra fine 55 1807 fillet head, if extra fine 55 1807 head to left, if extra fine 55 1815 head to left, fair 1 50 1815 head to left, good 2 00 1815 head to left, fine 2 50 1820 over 1819 55 1836 liberty cap, milled edge 1 50 1836 liberty cap, milled edge, fine 1 75 1838 liberty cap 12 00 (having "o" mark underneath bust, and meaning new orleans mint, under head like above cut. ordinary 1838 half dollars without this mint mark are not wanted.) 1851 liberty seated $ 55 1851 liberty seated, fine 65 1852 liberty seated, fair 1 40 1852 liberty seated, good 1 75 1852 liberty seated, fine 2 00 1879 liberty seated, fine 55 quarter dollars. [illustration: liberty 1796] 1796 fillet head, fair $ 1 50 1796 fillet head, good 2 00 1804 fillet head, fair 1 50 1804 fillet head, good 2 00 1805 fillet head, good 30 1806 fillet head, good 30 1807 head to left 30 1815 head to left, fine 35 1818 head to left, fine 30 1819 head to left, fine 30 1820 head to left, fine 30 1821 head to left, fine 30 1822 head to left, fine 30 1823 head to left, fair 16 00 1823 head to left, good 21 00 1824 head to left, fair 35 1824 head to left, good 60 1824 head to left, fine 1 00 1827 head to left, fair 17 50 1827 head to left, good 22 00 1853 (without arrows and rays) 2 50 twenty cent pieces. 1876 $ 25 1877 1 75 1878 1 75 [illustration: liberty 1796] [illustration: united states of america] dimes. 1796 fillet head, fair $ 75 1796 fillet head, good 1 50 1797 13 stars, fair 1 10 1797 13 stars, good 2 00 1797 16 stars, fair 1 25 1796 16 stars, good 2 00 1798 fillet head, fair 90 1798 fillet head, good 1 75 1800 fillet head, fair 1 00 1800 fillet head, good 1 75 1801 fillet head, fair 1 00 1801 fillet head, good 1 75 1802 fillet head, fair 1 25 1802 fillet head, good 2 00 1803 fillet head, fair 75 1803 fillet head, good 1 25 1804 fillet head, fair 1 25 1804 filled head, good 2 22 1805 filled head, good 20 1807 filled head, good 25 1809 head to left, fair 20 1809 head to left, good 50 1809 head to left, fine 75 1811 head to left, fair 25 1811 head to left, good 50 1811 head to left, fine 75 1814 head to left, fine 15 1820 head to left, fine 15 1821 head to left, small date, fine 15 1822 head to left, fair 50 1822 head to left, good 75 1822 head to left, fine 1 00 1824 head to left, fine 15 1828 head to left, fine 15 [illustration: 1846] [illustration: one dime] 1846 liberty seated $ 25 [illustration: liberty 1794] [illustration: united states of america] half dimes. 1794 flowing hair, fair $ 1 10 1794 flowing hair, good 2 00 1794 flowing hair, fine 3 00 1795 flowing hair, fair 30 1795 flowing hair, good 60 1796 15 stars, fillet head, fair 1 50 1796 15 stars, fillet head, good 2 00 1797 15 stars, fillet head, fair 1 10 1797 15 stars, fillet head, good 1 75 1797 16 stars, fillet head, fair 1 00 1797 16 stars, fillet head, good 1 75 1800 fillet head, fair 40 1800 fillet head, good 75 1801 fillet head, fair 1 00 1801 fillet head, good 2 00 1802 fillet head, fair 20 00 1802 fillet head, good 40 00 1802 fillet head, fine 75 00 1803 fillet head, fair 1 00 1803 fillet head, good 1 75 1805 fillet head, fair 1 60 1805 fillet head, good 2 25 1838 liberty seated, without stars, fair 08 1838 liberty seated, without stars, good 20 1838 liberty seated, without stars, fine 30 1846 liberty seated, fair 75 1846 liberty seated, good 1 00 1846 liberty seated, fine 1 50 [illustration: united states of america 1873] silver three cent pieces. 1855 large star in center $ 10 1863 large star in center 40 1864 large star in center 50 1865 large star in center 30 1866 large star in center 30 1867 large star in center 30 1868 large star in center 30 1869 large star in center 25 1870 large star in center 20 1871 large star in center 20 1872 large star in center 20 1873 large star in center 75 nickel, five cent pieces. 1877 $ 25 [illustration: united states of america 1877] nickel, three cent pieces. 1877 $ 40 copper two cent pieces. 1872 $ 05 1873 90 copper cents. [illustration: liberty 1793] [illustration: united states of america one cent 1/100] 1793 liberty cap $ 1 25 1794 15 1795 liberty cap 10 1796 liberty cap 15 1796 fillet head 15 1797 fillet head 08 1798 fillet head 05 1799 fillet head 3 00 1799 fillet head 6 00 1800 fillet head 05 1801 fillet head 05 1804 fillet head 2 00 1804 fillet head, fine 2 75 1805 fillet head 08 1806 fillet head 06 1807 fillet head 03 [illustration: 1808] [illustration: united states of america one cent] 1808 head to left $ 10 1809 head to left 40 1809 head to left, fine 75 1810 head to left 05 1811 head to left 25 1812 head to left 03 1813 head to left 15 1814 head to left 05 1817 head to left, 15 stars 05 1821 head to left 08 1823 head to left 12 1857 head to left, large date 06 1857 head to left 06 1857 head to left, small date 06 [illustration: united states of america 1856] eagle nickel cents. 1856 fair $ 55 1856 good 80 1856 fine 1 10 half cents. [illustration: liberty 1795] [illustration: united states of america half cent] 1793 liberty cap $ 1 00 1794 liberty cap 25 1795 lettered edge 20 1795 thin die 20 1796 liberty cap 7 50 1797 liberty cap 25 1797 lettered edge 85 1800 fillet head 05 1802 fillet head 60 1803 fillet head 05 1805 fillet head 06 1806 fillet head 06 1807 fillet head 06 1808 fillet head 06 1810 head to left 18 1811 head to left 60 1831 head to left 2 00 1836 head to left 3 00 1840 head to left 1 75 1841 head to left 1 75 1842 head to left 2 50 1843 head to left 3 00 1844 head to left 2 00 1845 head to left 1 75 1846 head to left 1 75 1847 head to left 2 50 1848 head to left 3 00 1849 head to left, small date 3 00 1849 head to left, large date 06 1850 head to left 05 1852 head to left 2 50 1854 head to left 05 1856 head to left 15 1857 head to left 08 american silver and copper coins not issued by the united states mint. silver coinage. dollars.--first coinage, 1794; none issued 1805 to 1835, inclusive, and 1837. half-dollars.--first coinage, 1794; none issued 1798, 1799, 1816. quarter-dollars.--first coinage, 1796; none issued 1794, 1795, 1797 to 1804, 1808 to 1814, inclusive, 1816, 1817, 1826, 1829, 1830. dimes.--first coinage, 1796; none issued 1794, 1795, 1799, 1806, 1808, 1810, 1812, 1813, 1815 to 1819, inclusive, 1826. half-dimes.--first coinage, 1794; none issued 1798, 1799, 1801, 1806 to 1828, inclusive. the coinage of half-dimes was discontinued in 1873 by act of congress. three-cent pieces (silver).--first coinage, 1851; and then the dates follow in succession until 1873, when the coinage of them was discontinued. copper cents. copper cents.--first coinage, 1793, none issued 1815; they then follow to 1857, when the coinage was changed to nickel. the nickel cent of 1856 was only a pattern, which continued during this year up to 1864, inclusive. the bronze cent was introduced in this year. in 1865 the nickel cent was discontinued, and up to date the bronze cents are issued. half-cents.--first coinage, 1793; none issued 1798, 1799, 1801, 1812 to 1824, inclusive; 1827, 1837, 1838, 1839; in 1857 the issue of half-cents was discontinued. in 1864 the two-cent piece in bronze was introduced, and discontinued in 1873, by act of congress. in 1865 the three-cent nickel piece was first issued. in 1866 the five-cent piece was first issued; a very few were struck in 1865 as pattern. in 1883 the die was changed to that of the current issue with liberty head. although upwards of five million coins of the 1883 nickels without the words "cents" were issued, they will in the course of a few years command a premium. at present they are still quite common. loisette's system of memory. so much has been said about loisette's memory system, the art has been so widely advertised, and so carefully guarded from all the profane who do not send five or many dollars to the professor, that a few pages showing how every man may be his own loisette, may be both interesting and valuable. in the first place, the system is a good one, and well worth the labor of mastering, and if the directions are implicitly followed there can be no doubt that the memory will be greatly strengthened and improved, and that mnemonic feats, otherwise impossible, may be easily performed. loisette, however, is not an inventor, but an introducer. he stands in the same relation to dr. pick that the retail dealer holds to the manufacturer; the one produced the article; the other brings it to the public. even this statement is not quite fair to loisette, for he has brought much practical common sense to bear upon pick's system, and in preparing the new art of mnemonics for the market, in many ways he has made it his own. if each man would reflect upon the method by which he himself remembers things, he would find his hand upon the key of the whole mystery. for instance, the author was once trying to remember the word _blythe_. there occurred to my mind the words "bellman," "belle," and then the verse --the peasant upward climbing hears the bells of _buloss_ chiming. "barcarole," "barrack," and so on, until the word "blythe" presented itself with a strange insistence, long after i had ceased trying to recall it. on another occasion, when trying to recall the name "richardson," i got the words "hay-rick," "robertson," "randallstown," and finally "wealthy," from which naturally i got "rich" and "richardson" almost in a breath. still another example: trying to recall the name of an old schoolmate, "grady," i got "brady," "grave," "gaseous," "gastronome," "gracious," and i finally abandoned the attempt, simply saying to myself that it began with a "g," and there was an "a" sound after it. the next morning, when thinking of something entirely different, this name "grady" came up in my mind with as much distinctness as though some one had whispered it in my ear. this remembering was done without any conscious effort on my part, and was evidently the result of the exertion made the day before, when mnemonic processes were put to work. every reader must have had similar experience, which he can recall, and which will fall in line with the examples given. it follows, then, that when we endeavor, without the aid of any system, to recall a forgotten fact or name, our memory presents to us words of a similar sound or meaning in its journey toward the goal to which we have started it. this goes to show that our ideas are arranged in groups in whatever secret cavity or recess of the brain they occupy, and that the arrangement is one not alphabetical exactly and not entirely by meaning, but after some fashion partaking of both. if you are looking for the word "meadow" you may reach "middle" before you come to it, or "mexico," or many words beginning with the "m" sound, or containing the "dow," as "window" or "dough," or you may get "field" or "farm"--but you are on the right track, and if you do not interfere with your intellectual process you will finally come to the idea which you are seeking. how often have you heard people say: "i forget his name; it is something like beadle or beagle--at any rate it begins with a b." each and all of these were unconscious loisettians, and they were practicing blindly, and without proper method or direction, the excellent system which he teaches. the thing, then, to do--and it is the final and simple truth which loisette teaches--is to travel over this ground in the other direction--to cement the fact which you wish to remember to some other fact or word which you know will be brought out by the implied conditions--and thus you will always be able to travel from your given starting point to the thing which you wish to call to mind. [illustration: _a_ _b_ _c_ _d_ _e_] to illustrate: let the broken line in the annexed diagram represent a train of thought. if we connect the idea "_a_" with "_e_" through the steps _b_, _c_ and _d_, the tendency of the mind ever afterward will be to get to _e_ from _a_ that way, or from any of the intermediates that way. it seems as though a channel were cut in our mindstuff along which the memory flows. how to make it flow this way will be seen later on. loisette, in common with all mnemonic teachers, uses the old devise of representing numbers by letter--and as this is the first and easiest step in the art, this seems to be the most logical place to introduce the accepted equivalents of the arabic numerals: 0 is always represented by _s_, _z_ or _c_ soft. 1 is always represented by _t_, _th_ or _d_. 2 is always represented by _n_. 3 is always represented by _m_. 4 is always represented by _r_. 5 is always represented by _l_. 6 is always represented by _sh, j, ch_ soft or _g_ soft. 7 is always represented by _g_ hard, _kc_ hard, _q_ or final _ng_. 8 is always represented by _f_ or _v_. 9 is always represented by _p_ or _b_. all the other letters are used simply to fill up. double letters in a word count only as one. in fact, the system goes by sound, not by spelling--for instance, "this" or "dizzy" would stand for _ten_; "catch" or "gush" would stand for 76, and the only difficulty is to make some word or phrase which will contain only the significant letters in the proper order, filled out with non-significants into some guise of meaning or intelligibility.[2] suppose you wish to get some phrase or word that would express the number 3,685, you arrange the letters this way: +-----+-----+-----+------+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | | 3 | ^ | 6 | ^ | 8 | ^ | 5 | +-----+-----+-----+------+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | a | m | a | sh | a | f | a | l | | e | | e | j | e | v | e | | | i | | i | ch | i | | i | | | o | | o | g | o | | o | | | u | | u | | u | | u | | | h | | h | | h | | h | | | w | | w | | w | | w | | | x | | x | | x | | x | | | y | | y | | y | | y | | +-----+-----+-----+------+-----+-----+-----+-----+ you can make out "image of law," "my shuffle," "matchville," etc., etc., as far as you like to work it out. [2] you can remember the equivalents by noting the fact that _z_ is the first letter of "zero" and _c_ of "cipher;" _t_ has but one stroke, _n_ has two, _m_ has three. the script _f_ is very like 8, the script _p_ like 9; _r_ is the last letter of four, _l_ is the roman numeral for _fifty_, which suggests _five_. the others may be retained as memorizing these two nonsense lines: six _shy_ _j_ewesses c_h_ase _g_eorge seven great _k_ings _c_ame _q_uarreli_ng_. now, suppose you wish to memorize the fact that $1,000,000 in gold weighs 3,685 pounds, you go about it in this way, and here is the kernel and crux of loisette's system: "how much does $1,000,000 in gold weigh?" "weigh--scales." "scales--statue of justice." "statue of justice--_image of law_." the process is simplicity itself. the thing you wish to recall, and that you fear to forget, is the weight; consequently you cement your chain of suggestion to the idea which is most prominent to your mental question. what do you weigh with? scales. what does the mental picture of scales suggest? the statue of justice, blindfolded and weighing out award and punishment to man. finally, what is this statue of justice but the image of law? and the words "image of law," translated back from the significant letters _m_, _g_ soft, _f_ and _l_, give you 3--6--8--5, the number of pounds in $1,000,000 in gold. you bind together in your mind each separate step in the journey, the one suggests the other, and you will find a year from now that the fact will be as fresh in your memory as it is to-day. you cannot lose it. it is chained to you by an unbreakable mnemonic tie. mark, that it is not claimed that "weight" will of itself suggest "scales" and "scales" "statue of justice," etc., but that, once having passed your attention up and down the ladder of ideas, your mental tendency will be to take the same route, and get to the same goal again and again. indeed, beginning with the weight of $1,000,000, "image of law" will turn up in your mind without your consciousness of any intermediate station on the way, after some iteration and reiteration of the original chain. again, so as to fasten the process in the reader's mind even more firmly, suppose that it were desired to fix the date of the battle of hastings (a.d. 1066) in the memory; 1066 may be represented by the words "the wise judge" (_th_ equals 1, _s_ equals 0, _j_ equals 6, _dg_ equals 6; the others are non-significants); a chain might be made thus: battle of hastings--arbitrament of war. arbitrament of war--arbitration. arbitration--judgment. judgment--the wise judge. make mental pictures, connect ideas, repeat words and sounds, go about it in any way you please, so that you will form a mental habit of connecting the "battle of hastings" with the idea of "arbitrament of war," and so on for the other links in the chain, and the work is done. loisette makes the beginning of his system unnecessarily difficult, to say nothing of his illogical arrangement in the grammar of the art of memory, which he makes the first of his lessons. he analyzes suggestion thus: 1. inclusion. 2. exclusion. 3. concurrence. all of which looks very scientific and orderly, but is really misleading and badly named. the truth is that one idea will suggest another. 1. by likeness or opposition of meaning, as "house" suggests "room" or "door," etc., or "white" suggests "blacks," "cruel," "kind," etc. 2. by likeness of sound, as "harrow" and "barrow;" "henry" and "hennepin." 3. by mental juxtaposition, a peculiarity different in each person and depending upon each one's own experiences. thus "st. charles" suggests "railway bridge" to me, because i was vividly impressed by the breaking of the wabash bridge at that point. "stable" and "broken leg" come near each other in my experience, so do "cow" and "shot-gun" and "licking." out of these three sorts of suggestions it is possible to get from any one fact to any other in a chain certain and safe, along which the mind may be depended upon afterward always to follow. the chain is, of course, by no means all. its making and its binding must be accompanied by a vivid, methodically directed attention, which turns all the mental light gettable in a focus upon the subject passing across the mind's screen. before loisette was thought of this was known. in the old times in england, in order to impress upon the minds of the rising generation the parish boundaries in the rural districts, the boys were taken to each of the landmarks in succession, the position and bearings of each pointed out carefully, and, in order to deepen the impression, the young people were then and there vigorously thrashed, a mechanical method of attracting the attention which was said never to have failed. this system has had its supporters in many of the old-fashioned schools, and there are men who will read these lines who can recall, with an itching sense of vivid expression, the 144 lickings which were said to go with the multiplication table. in default of a thrashing, however, the student must cultivate as best he can an intense fixity of perception upon every fact or word or date that he wishes to make permanently his own. it is easy. it is a matter of habit. if you will you can photograph an idea upon your cerebral gelatine so that neither years nor events will blot it out or overlay it. you must be clearly and distinctly aware of the thing you are putting into your mental treasure-house, and drastically certain of the cord by which you have tied it to some other thing of which you are sure. unless it is worth your while to do this, you might as well abandon any hopes of mnemonic improvement, which will not come without the hardest kind of hard work, although it is work that will grow constantly easier with practice and reiteration. you need, then: 1. methodic suggestion. 2. methodic attention. 3. methodic reiteration. and this is all there is to loisette, and a great deal it is. two of them will not do without the third. you do not know how many steps there are from your hall-door to your bed-room, though you have attended to and often reiterated the journey. but if there are twenty of them, and you have once bound the word "nice," or "nose," or "news," or "hyenas," to the fact of the stairway, you could never forget it. the professor makes a point, and very wisely, of the importance of working through some established chain, so that the whole may be carried away in the mind--not alone for the value of the facts so bound together, but for the mental discipline so afforded. here, then, is the "president series," which contains the name and the date of inauguration of each president from washington to cleveland. the manner in which it is to be mastered is this: beginning at the top, try to find in your mind some connection between each word and the one following it. see how you can at some future time make one suggest the next, either by suggestion of sound or sense, or by mental juxtaposition. when you have found this dwell on it attentively for a moment or two. pass it backward and forward before you, and then go on to the next step. the chain runs thus, the names of the presidents being in small caps, the date word in italics: president chosen as the first word as the one most apt to occur to the mind of any one wishing to repeat the names of the presidents. dentist presi_dent_ and _dent_ist. draw what does a dentist do? _to give up_ when something is drawn from one it is given up. this is a date phrase meaning 1789. self-sacrifice there is an association of thought between giving and self-sacrifice. washington associate the quality of self-sacrifice with washington's character. morning wash _wash_ington and _wash_. dew early witness and dew. flower beds dew and flowers. _took a bouquet_ flowers and bouquet. date phrase (1707.) garden bouquet and garden. eden the first garden. adam juxtaposition of thought. adams suggestion by sound. fall juxtaposition by thought. failure fall and failure. _deficit_ upon a failure there is usually a deficit. date word (1801.) debt the consequence of a deficit. bonds debt and bonds. confederate bonds suggestion by meaning. jefferson davis juxtaposition of thought. jefferson. now, follow out the rest for yourself, taking about ten at a time, and binding those you do last to those you have done before each time, before attacking the next bunch. 1 | 2 | 3 ----------------------+--------------------+-----------------jefferson | _the fraud_ | _the heavy shell_ judge jeffreys | painted clay | mollusk bloody assize | baked clay | unfamiliar word bereavement | tiles | dictionary _too heavy a sob_ | tyler | johnson's parental grief | wat tyler | johnson mad son | poll tax | son madison | compulsory | bad son madeira | _free will_ | dishonest boy first-rate wine | free offering | _thievish boy_ frustrating | burnt offering | take _defeating_ | poker | give feet | polk | grant toe the line | end of dance | award row | termination "ly" | school premium munroe | _adverb_ | examination row | part of speech | cramming boat | part of a man | _fagging_ steamer | taylor | laborer _the funnel_ | measurer | hay field windpipe | theodolite | hayes throat | _theophilus_ | hazy quinzy | fill us | clear quinzy adams | fillmore | _vivid_ quince | more fuel | brightly lighted fine fruit | _the flame_ | camp fire _the fine boy_ | flambeau | war field sailor boy | bow | garfield sailor | arrow | guiteau jack tar | pierce | murderer jackson | hurt | prisoner stone wall | _feeling_ | prison fare indomitable | wound | _half fed_ _tough make_ | soldier | well fed oaken furniture | cannon | well read bureau | buchanan | author van buren | rebuke | arthur rent | official censure | round table side-splitting | _to officiate_ | tea table _divert_ | wedding | tea cup annoy | linked | _half full_ harrassing | lincoln | divide harrison | link | cleave old harry | stroll | cleveland the tempter | sea shore | ----------------------+--------------------+-----------------it will be noted that some of the date words, as "free will," only give three figures of the date, 845; but it is to be supposed that if the student knows that many figures in the date of polk's inauguration he can guess the other one. the curious thing about this system will now become apparent. if the reader has learned the series so that he can say it down from first president to cleveland, he can with no effort, and without any further preparation, say it _backward_, from cleveland up to the commencement. there could be no better proof that this is the natural mnemonic system. it proves itself by its works. -------------------+------------------+------------ | 0--hoes | -------------------+------------------+------------ 1--wheat |34--mare |67--jockey 2--hen |35--mill |68--shave 3--home |36--image |69--ship 4--hair |37--mug |70--eggs 5--oil |38--muff |71--gate 6--shoe |39--mob |72--gun 7--hook |40--race |73--comb 8--off |41--hart |74--hawker 9--bee |42--horn |75--coal 10--daisy |43--army |76--cage 11--tooth |44--warrior |77--cake 12--dine |45--royal |78--coffee 13--time |46--arch |79--cube 14--tower |47--rock |80--vase 15--dell |48--wharf |81--feet 16--ditch |49--rope |82--vein 17--duck |50--wheels |83--fame 18--dove |51--lad |84--fire 19--tabby |52--lion |85--vial 20--hyenas |53--lamb |86--fish 21--hand |54--lair |87--fig 22--nun |55--lily |88--fife 23--name |56--lodge |89--fib 24--owner |57--lake |90--pies 25--nail |58--leaf |91--putty 26--hinge |59--elbow |92--pane 27--ink |60--chess |93--bomb 28--knife |61--cheat |94--bier 29--knob |62--chain |95--bell 30--muse |63--sham |96--peach 31--mayday |64--chair |97--book 32--hymen |65--jail |98--beef 33--mama |66--judge |99--pope |------------------| | 100--diocese | -------------------+------------------+----------the series should be repeated backward and forward every day for a month, and should be supplemented by a series of the reader's own making, and by this one, which gives the numbers from 0 to 100, and which must be chained together before they can be learned. by the use of this table, which should be committed as thoroughly as the president series, so that it can be repeated backwards and forwards, any date, figure or number can be at once constructed, and bound by the usual chain to the fact which you wish it to accompany. when the student wishes to go farther and attack larger problems than the simple binding of two facts together, there is little in loisette's system that is new, although there is much that is good. if it is a book that is to be learned, as one would prepare for an examination, each chapter is to be considered separately. of each a _precis_ is to be written in which the writer must exercise all of his ingenuity to reduce the matter in hand to its final skeleton of fact. this he is to commit to memory both by the use of the chain and the old system of interrogation. suppose after much labor through a wide space of language one boils a chapter to an event down to the final irreducible sediment: "magna charta was exacted by the barons from king john at runnymede." you must now turn this statement this way and that way, asking yourself about it every possible and impossible question, gravely considering the answers, and, if you find any part of it especially difficult to remember, chaining it to the question which will bring it out. thus, "what was exacted by the barons from king john at runnymede?" "magna charta." "by whom was magna charta exacted from king john at runnymede?" "by the barons." "from whom was," etc., etc.? "king john." "from what king," etc., etc.? "king john." "where was magna charta," etc., etc.? "at runnymede." and so on and so on, as long as your ingenuity can suggest questions to ask, or points of view from which to consider the statement. your mind will be finally saturated with the information and prepared to spill it out at the first squeeze of the examiner. this, however, is not new. it was taught in the schools hundreds of years before loisette was born. old newspaper men will recall in connection with it horace greeley's statement that the test of a news item was the clear and satisfactory manner in which a report answered the interrogatories, "what?" "when?" "where?" "who?" "why?" in the same way loisette advises the learning of poetry, _e.g._, "the assyrian came down like a wolf on the fold." "who came down?" "how did the assyrian come down?" "like what animal did?" etc. and so on and so on, until the verses are exhausted of every scrap of information to be had out of them by the most assiduous cross-examination. whatever the reader may think of the availability or value of this part of the system, there are so many easily applicable tests of the worth of much that loisette has done, that it may be taken with the rest. few people, to give an easy example, can remember the value of +-the ratio between the circumference and the diameter of the circle--beyond four places of decimals, or at most six--3,141,592+. here is the value to 108 decimal places: 3. 14159265·3589793238·4626433832·7950288419·7169399375·1058209749· 4459230781·6406286208·9986280348·2534211706·79 82148086 by a very simple application of the numerical letter values these 108 decimal places can be carried in the mind and recalled about as fast as you can write them down. all that is to be done is to memorize these nonsense lines: mother day will buy any shawl. my love pick up my new muff. a russian jeer may move a woman. cables enough for utopia. get a cheap ham pie by my cooley. the slave knows a bigger ape. i rarely hop on my sick foot. cheer a sage in a fashion safe. a baby fish now views my wharf. annually mary ann did kiss a jay. a cabby found a rough savage. now translate each significant into its proper value and you have the task accomplished. "mother day," _m_ equals 3, _th_ equals 1, _r_ equals 4, _d_ equals 1, and so on. learn the lines one at a time by the method of interrogatories. "who will buy any shawl?" "which mrs. day will buy a shawl?" "is mother day particular about the sort of shawl she will buy?" "has she bought a shawl?" etc., etc. then cement the end of each line to the beginning of the next one, thus, "shawl"--"warm garment"--"warmth"--"love"--"my love," and go on as before. stupid as the work may seem to you, you can memorize the figures in fifteen minutes this way so that you will not forget them in fifteen years. similarly you can take haydn's dictionary of dates and turn fact after fact into nonsense lines like these which you cannot lose. and this ought to be enough to show anybody the whole art. if you look back across the sands of time and find out that it is that ridiculous old "thirty days hath september," which comes to you when you are trying to think of the length of october--if you can quote your old prosody, "o datur ambiguis," etc. with much more certainty than you can serve up your horace; if in fine, jingles and alliterations, wise and otherwise, have stayed with you, while solid and serviceable information has faded away, you may be certain that here is the key to the enigma of memory. you can apply it yourself in a hundred ways. if you wish to clinch in your mind the fact that mr. love lives at 485 dearborn street, what is more easy than to turn 485 into the words "rifle" and chain the ideas together, say thus: "love--happiness--good time--picnic--forest--wood rangers--range--rifle range--_rifle_--fine weapon--costly weapon--dearly bought--dearborn." or if you wish to remember mr. bowman's name, and you notice he has a mole on his face which is apt to attract your attention when you next see him, cement the ideas thus: "mole, mark, target, archer, bowman." facts worth knowing. handy facts to settle many arguments london plague in 1665. telephone invented 1861. there are 2,750 languages. two persons die every second. sound moves 743 miles per hour. chinese invented paper 170 b.c. a square mile contains 640 acres. a barrel of pork weighs 200 pounds. hawks can fly 150 miles in one hour. watches were first constructed in 1476. chinese in united states in 1880, 105,613. rome was founded by romulus, 752 b.c. gold was discovered in california in 1848. phonograph invented by t. a. edison, 1877. the first balloon ascended from lyons, france, 1783. the first fire insurance office in america, boston, 1724. jet is found along the coast of yorkshire, eng., near whitby. napoleon i. crowned emperor 1804; died at st. helena, 1820. electric light invented by lodyguin and kossloff, at london, 1874. harvard is the oldest college in the united states: established 1638. war declared with great britain, june 19, 1812; peace feb. 18, 1815. until 1776 cotton spinning was performed by the hand spinning-wheel. measure 209 feet on each side and you will have a square acre within an inch. postage stamps first came into use in england in the year 1840; in the united states in 1847. the highest range of mountains are the himalayas, the mean elevation being from 16,000 to 18,000 feet. envelopes were first used in 1839. telescopes were invented in 1590. iron horseshoes were made in 481. a barrel of flour weighs 196 pounds. a hand (horse measure) is four inches. a rifle ball moves 1,000 miles per hour. first steamer crossed the atlantic, 1819. assassination of lincoln, april 14, 1865. german empire re-established, jan. 18, 1871. storm clouds move thirty-six miles an hour. first subscription library, philadelphia, 1731. dark ages, from the 6th to the 14th century. the latin tongue became obsolete about 580. the great london fire occurred sept. 26, 1666. the value of a ton of pure gold is $602,799.21. ether was first used for surgical purposes in 1844. ignatius loyola founded the order of jesuits, 1541. first authentic use of organs, 755; in england, 951. the first newspaper advertisement appeared in 1652. cork is the bark taken from a species of the oak tree. benjamin franklin used the first lightning rods, 1752. glass windows (colored) were used in the 8th century. authentic history of china commenced 3,000 years b.c. introduction of homoepathy into the united states, 1825. spectacles were invented by an italian in the 13th century. medicine was introduced into rome from greece, 200 b.c. first electric telegraph, paddington to brayton, eng., 1835. the chaldeans were the first people who worked in metals. first life insurance, in london, 1772; in america, philadelphia, 1812. egyptian pottery is the oldest known; dates from 2,000 b.c. julius cæsar invaded britain, 55 b.c.; assassinated, 44 b.c. soap was first manufactured in england in the 16th century. the largest free territorial government is the united states. first photographs produced in england, 1802; perfected, 1841. first marine insurance, a.d. 533; england, 1598; america, 1721. professor oersted, copenhagen, discovered electro-magnetism, in 1819. first american express, new york to boston--w. f. harnden. glass windows were first introduced into england in the 8th century. chicago is little more than fifty years old, and is the eighteenth city of the world. glass was made in egypt, 3000 b.c.; earliest date of transparent glass, 719 b.c. first public schools in america were established in the new england states about 1642. the largest inland sea is the caspian, between europe and asia, being 700 miles long and 270 miles wide. the term "almighty dollar" originated with washington irving, as a satire on the american love for gain. the highest natural bridge in the world is at rockbridge, virginia, being 200 feet high to the bottom of the arch. the largest circulation of paper money is that of the united states, being 700 millions, while russia has 670 millions. the largest insurance company in the world is the mutual life of new york city, having cash assets of $108,000,000. the largest empire in the world is that of great britain, being 8,557,658 square miles, and more than a sixth part of the globe. the first electrical signal ever transmitted between europe and america passed over the field submarine cable on aug. 5, 1858. the longest tunnel in the world is st. gothard, on the line of the railroad between luzerne and milan, being nine and one-half miles in length. the loftiest active volcano is popocatapetl. it is 17,784 feet high, and has a crater three miles in circumference and 1,000 feet deep. burnt brick was known to have been used in building the tower of babel. they were introduced into england by the romans. the most remarkable echo known is that in the castle of simonetta, two miles from milan. it repeats the echo of a pistol sixty times. the largest volcano in the world is etna. its base is 90 miles in circumference; its cone 11,000 feet high. its first eruption occurred 474 b.c. the largest tree in the world, as yet discovered, is in tulare county, california. it is 275 feet high and 106 feet in circumference at its base. the largest desert is sahara, in northern africa. its length is 3,000 miles and breadth 900 miles; having an area of 2,000,000 square miles. the largest suspension bridge is in brooklyn. the length of the main span is 1,595 feet 6 inches. the entire length of the bridge is 5,989 feet. the first deaf and dumb asylum was founded in england by thomas braidwood, 1760; and the first in the united states was at hartford, 1817. the largest diamond in the world is the braganza, being a part of the portuguese jewels. it weighs 1,880 carats. it was found in brazil in 1741. the grade of titles in great britain stands in the following order from the highest: a prince, duke, marquis, earl, viscount, baron, baronet, knight. the largest number of cattle ever received in one year was that of chicago in the year 1884, being 1,874,984 beeves, 30,223 calves, 5,640,625 hogs, 749,917 sheep and 15,625 horses. it required 9,000 trains of 31 cars each, which, if coupled together, would reach 2,146 miles. the "valley of death," in the island of java, is simply the crater of an extinct volcano, filled with carbonic-acid gas. it is half a mile in circumference. the city of amsterdam, holland, is built upon piles driven into the ground. it is intersected by numerous canals, crossed by nearly three hundred bridges. coal was used as fuel in england as early as 852, and in 1234 the first charter to dig for it was granted by henry iii. to the inhabitants of newcastle-on-tyne. tobacco was discovered in san domingo in 1496; afterwards by the spaniards in yucatan in 1520. it was introduced in france in 1560, and into england in 1583. the present national colors of the united states were not adopted by congress until 1777. the flag was first used by washington at cambridge, january 1, 1776. paris was known as lutetia until 1184, when the name of the great french capital was changed to that which it has borne ever since. the longest span of wire in the world is used for a telegraph in india over the river ristuah. it is over 6,000 feet, and is stretched between two hills 1,200 feet high. the largest library in the world is in paris, founded by louis xiv. it contains 1,400,000 volumes, 175,000 manuscripts, 300,000 maps and charts, and 150,000 coins and medals. the tallest man was john hale, of lancashire, england, who was nine feet six inches in height. his hand was seventeen inches long and eight and one-half inches broad. in round numbers, the weight of $1,000,000 in standard gold coin is 1-3/4 tons; standard silver coin, 26-3/4 tons; subsidiary silver coin, 25 tons; minor coins, 5-cent nickel, 100 tons. the largest stationery engine in the world is at the zinc mines at friedenville, pa. the number of gallons of water raised every minute is 17,500. the driving wheels are 35 feet diameter and weigh 40 tons each. the cylinder is 110 inches in diameter. the part of united states territory most recently acquired is the island of san juan, near vancouver's island. it was evacuated by england at the close of november, 1873. the highest monument in the world is the washington monument, being 555 feet. the highest structure of any kind is the eiffel tower, paris, finished in 1889 and 989 feet high. it is claimed that crows, eagles, ravens and swans live to be 100 years old; herons, 59; parrots, 60; pelicans and geese, 50; skylarks, 30; sparrow hawks, 40; peacocks, canaries and cranes, 24. the greatest cataract in the world is niagara, the height of the american falls being 165 feet. the highest fall of water in the world is that of the yosemite in california, being 2,550 feet. the most ancient catacombs are those of the theban kings, begun 4,000 years ago. the catacombs of rome contain the remains of about 6,000,000 human beings; those of paris, 3,000,000. the quickest passage ever made across the atlantic was that of the steamer lucania, of the cunard line, being 5 days 7 hours and 23 minutes from new york to queenstown; the distance being 2,850 miles. there has been no irregularity in the recurrence of leap year every four years since 1800, and will be none until 1900, which will be a common year, although it will come fourth after the preceding leap year. the first english newspaper was the _english mercury_, issued in the reign of queen elizabeth, and was issued in the shape of a pamphlet. the _gazette_ of venice was the original model of the modern newspaper. the mormon church in utah shows a membership of 127,294--23,000 families. the church has 12 apostles, 58 patriarchs, 3,885 seventies, 3,153 high priests, 11,000 elders, 1,500 bishops and 4,400 deacons, being an office for each six persons. a "monkey wrench" is not so named because it is a handy thing to monkey with, or for any kindred reason. "monkey" is not its name at all, but "moncky." charles moncky, the inventor of it, sold his patent for $2,000, and invested the money in a house in williamsburg, king's county, n.y., where he now lives. the union arch of the washington aqueduct is the largest in the world, being 220 feet; 20 feet in excess of the chester arch across the dee in england, 68 feet longer than that of the london bridge; 92 feet longer than that at neuilly on the seine, and 100 feet longer than that of waterloo bridge. the height of the washington arch is 100 feet. the largest ship ever built, the great eastern, recently broken to pieces and sold to junk dealers, was designed and constructed by scott russell, at maxwell, on the thames. work on the giant vessel was commenced in may, 1854. she was successfully launched january 13, 1858. the launching alone occupied the time from november 3, 1857, until the date above given. her total length was 600 feet; breadth, 118 feet; total weight when launched 12,000 tons. her first trip of any consequence was made to new york in 1859-60. the most extensive mines in the world are those of freiberg, saxony. they were begun in the twelfth century, and in 1835 the galleries, taken collectively, had reached the unprecedented length of 123 miles. a new gallery, begun in 1838, had reached a length of eight miles at the time of the census of 1878. the deepest perpendicular mining shaft in the world is located at prizilram, bohemia. it is a lead mine; it was begun 1832. january, 1880, it was 3,280 feet deep. the deepest coal mine in the world is near tourney, belgium; it is 3,542 feet in depth, but, unlike the lead mine mentioned above, it is not perpendicular. the deepest rock-salt bore in the world is near berlin, prussia; it is 4,185 feet deep. the deepest hole ever bored into the earth is the artesian well at pottsdam, which is 5,500 feet in depth. the deepest coal mines in england are the dunkirk colleries of lancashire, which are 2,824 feet in depth. the deepest coal shaft in the united states is located at pottsville, pa. in 1885 it had reached a depth of 1,576 feet. from this great depth 400 cars, holding four tons each, are hoisted daily. the deepest silver mine in the united states is the yellow jacket, one of the great comstock system at virginia city, nevada; the lower levels are 2,700 feet below the hoisting works. fate of the apostles.--the following brief history of the fate of the apostles may be new to those whose reading has not been evangelical: st. matthew is supposed to have suffered martyrdom or was slain with the sword at the city of ethiopia. st. mark was dragged through the streets of alexandria, in egypt, till he expired. st. luke was hanged upon an olive tree in greece. st. john was put into a cauldron of boiling oil at rome and escaped death. he afterward died a natural death at ephesus in asia. st. james the great was beheaded at jerusalem. st. james the less was thrown from a pinnacle or wing of the temple and then beaten to death with a fuller's club. st. philip was hanged up against a pillar at hieropolis, a city of phrygia. st. bartholomew was flayed alive by the command of a barbarous king. st. andrew was bound to a cross, whence he preached unto the people until he expired. st. thomas was run through the body with a lance at caromandel, in the east indias. st. jude was shot to death with arrows. st. simon zealot was crucified in persia. st. matthias was first stoned and then beheaded. st. barnabas was stoned to death by jews at salania. st. paul was beheaded at rome by the tyrant nero. the capital of the united states has been located at different times at the following places: at philadelphia from september 5, 1774, until december, 1776; at baltimore from december 20, 1776, to march, 1777; at philadelphia from march 4, 1777, to september, 1777; at lancaster, pa., from september 27, 1777, to september 30, 1777; at york, pa., from september 30, 1777, to july, 1778; at philadelphia from july 2, 1778, to june 30, 1783; at princeton, n.j., june 30, 1783, to november 20, 1783; annapolis, md., november 26, 1783, to november 30, 1784; trenton, from november, 1784, to january, 1785; new york from january 11, 1785, to 1790; then the seat of government was removed to philadelphia, where it remained until 1800, since which time it has been in washington. the single tax. this idea was first formulated by mr. henry george in 1879, and has grown steadily in favor. single tax men assert as a fundamental principle that all men are equally entitled to the use of the earth; therefore, no one should be allowed to hold valuable land without paying to the community the value of the privilege. they hold that this is the only rightful source of public revenue, and they would therefore abolish all taxation--local, state and national--except a tax upon the rental value of land exclusive of its improvements, the revenue thus raised to be divided among local, state and general governments, as the revenue from certain direct taxes is now divided between local and state governments. the single tax would not fall on all land, but only on valuable land, and on that in proportion to its value. it would thus be a tax, not on use or improvements, but on ownership of land, taking what would otherwise go to the landlord as owner. in accordance with the principle that all men are equally entitled to the use of the earth, they would solve the transportation problem by public ownership and control of all highways, including the roadbeds of railroads, leaving their use equally free to all. the single tax system would, they claim, dispense with a hoard of tax-gatherers, simplify government, and greatly reduce its cost; give us with all the world that absolute free trade which now exists between the states of the union; abolish all taxes on private uses of money; take the weight of taxation from agricultural districts, where land has little or no value apart from improvements, and put it upon valuable land, such as city lots and mineral deposits. it would call upon men to contribute for public expenses in proportion to the natural opportunities they monopolize, and make it unprofitable for speculators to hold land unused, or only partly used, thus opening to labor unlimited fields of employment, solving the labor problem and abolishing involuntary poverty. value of foreign coins. proclaimed by law, january 1, 1891. --------------------+--------------+-----------------+-----------| country. | monetary | standard. | value in | | units | | u.s. money --------------------+--------------+-----------------+-----------argentine republic |peso |gold and silver |$ .96 5-10 austria |florin |silver | .38 1-10 belgium |franc |gold and silver | .19 3-10 bolivia |boliviano |silver | .77 1-10 brazil |milreis |gold | .54 6-10 canada |dollar |gold | 1.00 chili |peso |gold and silver | .91 2-10 china |tael |silver | 1.27 cuba |peso |gold and silver | .92 6-10 denmark |crown |gold | .26 8-10 ecuador |peso |silver | .77 1-10 egypt |piaster |gold | .04 9-10 france |franc |gold and silver | .19 3-10 great britain |pound sterling|gold | 4.86 6-100 greece |drachma |gold and silver | .19 3-10 german empire |mark |gold | .23 8-10 hayti |gourde |gold and silver | .96 5-10 india |rupee |silver | .36 6-10 italy |lira |gold and silver | .19 3-10 japan |yen |silver | .85 8-10 liberia |dollar |gold | 1.00 mexico |dollar |silver | .83 7-10 netherlands |florin |gold and silver | .40 2-10 norway |crown |gold | .26 8-10 peru |sol |silver | .77 1-10 portugal |milreis |gold | 1.08 russia |rouble |silver | .61 7-10 sandwich islands |dollar |gold | 1.00 spain |peseta |gold and silver | .19 3-10 sweden |crown |gold | .26 8-10 switzerland |franc |gold and silver | .19 3-10 tripoli |mahbub |silver | .69 5-10 turkey |piaster |gold | .04 4-10 u.s. of columbia |peso |silver | .79 5-10 venezuela |bolivar |gold and silver | .15 4-10 --------------------+--------------+-----------------+-----------the largest producing farm in the world lies in the southwest corner of louisiana, owned by a northern syndicate. it runs one hundred miles north and south. the immense tract is divided into convenient pastures, with stations of ranches every six miles. the fencing alone cost nearly $50,000. the "seven wonders of the world" are seven most remarkable objects of the ancient world. they are: the pyramids of egypt, pharos of alexandria, walls and hanging gardens of babylon, temple of diana at ephesus, the statue of the olympian jupiter, mausoleum of artemisia, and colossus of rhodes. the seven sages flourished in greece in the 6th century b.c. they were renowned for their maxims of life and as the authors of the mottoes inscribed in the delphian temple. their names are: solon, chilo, pittacus, bias, periander, clebolus and thales. the estimated number of christians in the world is over 408,000,000; of buddhists, 420,000,000; of the followers of brahma, 180,000,000; of mohammedans, 150,000,000; of jews, 8,000,000; of atheists, deists, and infidels, 85,000,000; of pagans, 50,000,000, and of the 1,100 other minor creeds, 123,000,000. in 1775 there were only 27 newspapers published in the united states. ten years later, in 1785, there were seven published in the english language in philadelphia alone, of which one was a daily. the oldest newspaper published in philadelphia at the time of the federal convention was the _pennsylvania gazette_, established by samuel keimer, in 1728. the second newspaper in point of age was the _pennsylvania journal_, established in 1742 by william bradford, whose uncle, andrew bradford, established the first newspaper in pennsylvania, the _american weekly mercury_, in 1719. the next in age, but the first in importance, was the _pennsylvania packet_, established by john dunlop in 1771. in 1784 it became a daily, being the first daily newspaper printed on this continent. gems of thought. poor richard's almanac by benjamin franklin. poor richard's almanac. courteous reader: i have heard that nothing gives an author so great pleasure as to find his works respectfully quoted by other learned authors. this pleasure i have seldom enjoyed. for though i have been, if i may say it without vanity, an _eminent_ author of _almanacs_ annually now for a full quarter of a century, my brother authors in the same way, for what reason i know not, have ever been very sparing in their applauses; and no other author has taken the least notice of me; so that did not my writings produce me some solid pudding, the great deficiency of praise would have quite discouraged me. i concluded at length that the people were the best judges of my merit, for they buy my works; and besides, in my rambles where i am not personally known, i have frequently heard one or other of my adages repeated, with _as poor richard says_ at the end of it. this gives me some satisfaction, as it showed, not only that my instructions were regarded, but discovered likewise some respect for my authority; and i own that to encourage the practice of remembering and repeating those sentences, i have sometimes quoted myself with great activity. judge, then, how much i must have been gratified by an incident i am going to relate to you. i stopped my horse lately where a great number of people were collected at a vendue of merchant's goods. the hour of sale not being come, they were conversing on the badness of the times; and one of the company called to a plain, clean old man with white locks, "pray, father abraham, what think you of the times? won't these heavy taxes quite ruin the country? how shall we ever be able to pay them? what would you advise us to do?" father abraham stood up and replied: "if you would have my advice, i will give it you in short; for _a word to the wise is enough_, and _many words won't fill a bushel_, as poor richard says." they all joined, desiring him to speak his mind, and gathering round him, he proceeded as follows: friends, says he, and neighbors, the taxes are indeed very heavy, and if those laid on by the government were the only ones we had to pay, we might the more easily discharge them; but we have many others, and much more grievous to some of us. we are taxed twice as much by our idleness, three times as much by our pride and four times as much by our folly; and from these taxes the commissioners cannot ease or deliver us, by allowing an abatement. however, let us hearken to good advice, and something may be done for us; _god helps them that help themselves_, as poor richard says in his _almanac_ of 1733. it would be thought a hard government that should tax its people one-tenth part of their time, to be employed in its service, but idleness taxes many of us much more, if we reckon all that is spent in absolute sloth, or doing of nothing, with that which is spent in idle employments or amusements that amount to nothing. sloth, by bringing on disease, absolutely shortens life. _sloth, like rust, consumes faster than labor wears; while the used key is always bright_, as poor richard says. _but dost thou love life? then do not squander time, for that's the stuff life is made of_, as poor richard says. how much more that is necessary do we spend in sleep? forgetting that _the sleeping fox catches no poultry_, and that _there will be sleeping enough in the grave_, as poor richard says. if times be of all things the most precious, _wasting of time must be_, as poor richard says, _the greatest prodigality_; since, as he elsewhere tells us, _lost time is never found again_; and what we call _time enough! always proves little enough_. let us then up and be doing, and doing to the purpose; so, by diligence, shall we do more with less perplexity. _sloth makes all things difficult, but industry all things easy_, as poor richard says; and _he that riseth late must trot all day, and shall scarce overtake his business at night; while laziness travels so slowly that poverty soon overtakes him_, as we read in poor richard; who adds, _drive thy business! let not that drive thee!_ and early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise. so what signifies _wishing_ and _hoping_ for better times? we may make these times better if we bestir ourselves. _industry need not wish_, as poor richard says, and _he that lives on hope will die fasting_. _there are no gains without pains; then help, hands! for i have no lands_; or if i have they are smartly taxed. and, as poor richard likewise observes, _he that hath a trade hath an estate, and he that hath a calling hath an honor_; but then the trade must be worked at, and the calling well followed, or neither the estate nor the office will enable us to pay our taxes. if we are industrious we shall never starve; for, as poor richard says, _at the working-man's house hunger looks in, but dares not enter._ nor will the bailiff or the constable enter, for _industry pays debts, while despair increaseth them_. what though you have found no treasure, nor has any rich relation left you a legacy, _diligence is the mother of good luck_, as poor richard says, _and god gives all things to industry_ then plough deep while the sluggards sleep, and you shall have corn to sell and to keep, says poor dick. work while it is called to-day, for you know not how much you may be hindered to-morrow; which makes poor richard say, _one to-day is worth two to-morrows_; and farther, _have you somewhat to do tomorrow? do it to-day!_ if you were a servant, would you not be ashamed that a good master should catch you idle? are you then your own master? _be ashamed to catch yourself idle_, as poor richard says. when there is so much to be done for yourself, your family, your country, and your gracious king, be up by peep of day! _let not the sun look down and say, "inglorious here he lies!"_ handle your tools without mittens! remember that _the cat in gloves catches no mice!_ as poor richard says. 'tis true there is much to be done, and perhaps you are weak-handed; but stick to it steadily, and you will see great effects; for _constant dropping wears away stones_; and _by diligence and patience the mouse ate in two the cable_; and _little strokes fell great oaks_; as poor richard says in his _almanac_, the year i cannot just now remember. methinks i hear some of you say, "must a man afford himself no leisure?" i will tell, thee, my friend, what poor richard says, _employ thy time well, if thou meanest to gain leisure_; and _since thou are not sure of a minute, throw not away an hour!_ leisure is time for doing something useful; this leisure the diligent man will obtain, but the lazy man never; so that, as poor richard says, _a life of leisure and a life of laziness are two things._ do you imagine that sloth will afford you more comfort than labor? no! for as poor richard says, _trouble springs from idleness, and grievous toil from needless ease. many, without labor, would live by their wits only, but they'll break for want of stock_ (i.e. capital); whereas industry gives comfort, and plenty, and respect. _fly pleasures, and they'll follow you. the diligent spinner has a large shift_; and now i have a sheep and a cow, everybody bids me good morrow. all which is well said by poor richard. but with our industry we must likewise be steady, settled, and careful, and oversee our own affairs _with our own eyes_, and not trust too much to others; for, as poor richard says, i never saw an oft removed tree, nor yet an oft removed family, that throve so well as those that settled be. and again, _three removes are as bad as a fire_; and again, _keep thy shop, and thy shop will keep thee_; and again, _if you would have your business done, go; if not, send._ and again, he that by the plough would thrive, himself must either hold or drive. and again, _the eye of the master will do more work than both his hands_; and again, _want of care does us more damage than want of knowledge_; and again, _not to oversee workmen is to leave them your purse open._ trusting too much to others' care is the ruin of many; for, as the almanac says, _in the affairs of this world men are saved, not by faith, but by the want of it_; but a man's own care is profitable; for saith poor dick, _learning is to the studious and riches to the careful_; as well as, _power to the bold, and heaven to the virtuous._ and further, _if you would have a faithful servant, and one that you like, serve yourself._ and again, he adviseth to circumspection and care, even in the smallest matters; because, sometimes, _a little neglect may breed great mischief_; adding, _for want of a nail the shoe was lost; for want of a shoe the horse was lost; and for want of a horse the rider was lost_; being overtaken and slain by the enemy; all for want of a little care about a horseshoe nail! so much for industry, my friends, and attention to one's own business; but to these we must add frugality, if we would make our industry more certainly successful. _a man may_, if he knows not how to save as he gets, _keep his nose all his life to the grindstone, and die not worth a groat at last. a fat kitchen makes a lean will_, as poor richard says; and many estates are spent in the getting, since women for tea[3] forsook spinning and knitting, and men for punch forsook hewing and splitting. [3] tea at this time was a costly drink, and was regarded as a luxury. if you would be wealthy, says he in another almanac, _think of saving as well as of getting. the indies have not made spain rich; because her outgoes are greater than her incomes._ away, then, with your expensive follies, and you will not have so much cause to complain of hard times, heavy taxes, and chargeable families; for, as poor dick says,- women and wine, game and deceit, make the wealth small and the wants great. and farther, _what maintains one vice would bring up two children._ you may think, perhaps, that a _little_ tea, or a _little_ punch now and then; a diet a _little_ more mostly; clothes a _little_ more finer; and a _little_ more entertainment now and then, can be no great matter; but remember what poor richard says, _many a little makes a mickle_; and further, _beware of little expenses_; _a small leak will sink a great ship_; and again,- who dainties love, shall beggars prove; and moreover, _fools make feasts and wise men eat them_. here are you all got together at this vendue of fineries knick-knacks. you call them _goods_; but if you do not take care, they will prove evils to some of you. you expect they will be sold cheap, and perhaps they may for less than they cost; but, if you have no occasion for them, they must be _dear_ to you. remember what poor richard says: _buy what thou hast no need of and ere long thou shalt sell thy necessaries._ and again, _at a great pennyworth, pause a while._ he means, that perhaps the cheapness is apparent only, and not real; or the bargain by straitening thee in thy business, may do thee more harm than good. for in another place he says, _many have been ruined by buying good pennyworths._ again, poor richard says, _'tis foolish to lay out money in a purchase of repentance_; and yet this folly is practiced every day at vendues for want of minding the _almanac_. _wise men_, as poor richard says, _learn by others' harms_; _fools scarcely by their own_; but _felix quem faciunt aliena pericula cautum._[4] many a one for the sake of finery on the back, has gone with a hungry belly, and half-starved their families. _silks and satins, scarlets and velvets_, as poor richard says, _put out the kitchen fire_. these are not the necessaries of life; they can scarcely be called the conveniences; and yet, only because they look pretty, how many _want_ to have them! the artificial wants of mankind thus become more numerous than the natural; and, as poor dick says, _for one_ poor _person there are a hundred_ indigent. [4] he's a lucky fellow who is made prudent by other men's perils. by these and other extravagances, the genteel are reduced to poverty, and forced to borrow of those whom they formerly despised, but who, through industry and frugality, have maintained their standing; in which case it appears plainly, that _a ploughman on his legs is higher than a gentleman on his knees_, as poor richard says. perhaps they have had a small estate left them, which they know not the getting of; they think, _'tis day, and will never be night_, that a _little to be spent out of so much is not worth minding_; (_a child and a fool_, as poor richard says, _imagine_ twenty shilling and twenty years can never be spent), but _always taking out of the meal-tub and never putting in, soon comes to the bottom._ then, as poor dick says, _when the well's dry, they know the_ _worth of water_. but this they might have known before, if they had taken his advice. _if you would know the value of money, go and try to borrow some_; for _he that goes a borrowing, goes a sorrowing_, and indeed, so does he that lends to such people, _when he goes to get it again_. poor dick further advises and says- fond pride of dress is, sure a very curse; ere fancy you consult, consult your purse. and again, _pride is as loud a beggar as want, and a great deal more saucy._ when you have bought one fine thing, you must buy ten more, that your appearance may be all of a piece; but poor dick says, _'tis easier to suppress the first desire than to satisfy all that follow it._ and 'tis as truly folly for the poor to ape the rich, as for the frog to swell in order to equal the ox. great estates may venture more, but little boats should keep near shore. 'tis, however, a folly soon punished; for, _pride that dines on vanity sups on contempt_, as poor richard says. and in another place, _pride breakfasted with plenty, dined with poverty and supped with infancy_. and after all, what use is this pride of appearance, for which so much is risked, so much is suffered? it cannot promote health or ease pain; it makes no increase of merit in the person; it creates envy; it hastens misfortune. what is a butterfly? at best he's but a caterpillar drest, the gaudy fop's his picture just, as poor richard says. but what madness must it be to _run into debt_ for these superfluities! we are offered, by the terms of this vendue, six months' credit; and that, perhaps, has induced some of us to attend it, because we cannot spare the ready money, and hope now to be fine without it. but, ah! think what you do when you run in debt: _you give to another power over your liberty._ if you cannot pay at the time, you will be ashamed to see your creditor; you will be in fear when you speak to him; you will make poor, pitiful, sneaking excuses, and by degrees come to lose our veracity, and sink into base, downright lying; for, as poor richard says, _the second vice is lying, the first is running into debt_; and again, to the same purpose, _lying rides upon debt's back_; whereas a free-born englishman ought not to be ashamed or afraid to see or speak to any man living. but poverty often deprives a man of all spirit and virtue. _'tis hard for an empty bag to stand upright!_ as poor richard truly says. what would you think of that prince, or that government who should issue an edict forbidding you to dress like a gentleman or gentlewoman, on pain of imprisonment or servitude? would you not say that you are free, have a right to dress as you please, and that such an edict would be a breach of your privileges, and such a government tyranical? and yet you are about to put yourself under such tyranny, when you run in debt for such dress! your creditor has authority, at his pleasure, to deprive you of your liberty, by confining you in jail for life, or to sell you for a servant, if you should not be able to pay him.[5] when you have got your bargain you may, perhaps, think little of payment; but _creditors_ (poor richard tells us) _have better memories than debtors_; and in another place says, _creditors are a superstitious set, great observers of set days and times._ the day comes round before you are aware, and the demand is made before you are prepared to satisfy it; or, if you will bear your debt in mind, the term which at first seemed so long will, as it lessens, appear extremely short. time will seem to have added wings to his heels as well as his shoulders. _those have a short lent_, saith poor richard, _who owe money to be paid at easter._ then since, as he says, _the borrower is a slave to the lender, and the debtor to the creditor_, disdain the chain, preserve your freedom, and maintain your independency. be _industrious_ and _free_; be _frugal_ and _free_. at present, perhaps, you may think yourself in thriving circumstances, and that you can bear a little extravagance without injury; but- for age and want, save while you may, no morning sun lasts a whole day. [5] at the time when this was written, and for many years afterward, the laws against bankrupts and poor debtors were extremely severe. as poor richard says, gain may be temporary and uncertain; but ever, while you live, expense is constant and certain; and _'tis easier to build two chimneys than to keep one in fuel_, as poor richard says; so, _rather go to bed supperless than rise in debt._ get what you can and what you get hold: 'tis the stone that will turn all your lead in gold,[6] as poor richard says; and, while you have got the philosopher's stone, sure, you will no longer complain of bad times or the difficulty of paying taxes. [6] in the middle ages there was a great search made for the philosopher's stone, as it was called, a mineral which should have the power of turning base metals into gold. this doctrine, my friends, is reason and wisdom; but, after all, do not depend too much upon your own industry and frugality and prudence, though excellent things; for they may all be blasted without the blessing of heaven; and therefore, ask that blessing humbly, and be not uncharitable to those that at present seem to want it, but comfort and help them. remember job suffered, and was afterwards prosperous. and now, to conclude, _experience keeps a dear school, but fools will learn in no other, and scarce in that_; for it is true, _we may give advice, but we cannot give conduct_, as poor richard says. however, remember this, _they that won't be counselled, can't be helped_, as poor richard says; and further, that, _if you will not hear reason, she'll surely rap your knuckles._ thus the old gentleman ended his harangue. the people heard it, and approved the doctrine; and immediately practiced the contrary, just as if it had been a common sermon. for the vendue opened, and they began to buy extravagantly, notwithstanding all his cautions, and their own fear of taxes. i found the good man had thoroughly studied my _almanacs_, and digested all i had dropped on those topics during the course of five-and-twenty-years. the frequent mention he made of me must have tired any one else; but my vanity was wonderfully delighted with it, though i was conscious that not a tenth part of the wisdom was my own which he ascribed to me, but rather the gleanings that i had made of the sense of all ages and nations. however, i resolved to be the better for the echo of it; and, though i had at first determined to buy stuff for a new coat, i went away resolved to wear my old one a little longer. reader, if thou wilt do the same, _thy_ profit will be as great as mine. i am, as ever, thine to serve thee. july 7, 1757. richard saunders. the water-mill. oh! listen to the water-mill, through all the live-long day, as the clicking of the wheels wears hour by hour away; how languidly the autumn wind doth stir the withered leaves, as on the field the reapers sing, while binding up the sheaves! a solemn proverb strikes my mind, and as a spell is cast, "the mill will never grind again with water that is past." the summer winds revive no more leaves strewn o'er earth and main, the sickle never more will reap the yellow garnered grain; the rippling stream flows on, aye tranquil, deep, and still, but never glideth back again to busy water-mill. the solemn proverb speaks to all, with meaning deep and vast, "the mill will never grind again with water that is past." oh! clasp the proverb to thy soul, dear loving heart and true, for golden years are fleeting by, and youth is passing, too; ah! learn to make the most of life, nor lose one happy day, for time will ne'er return sweet joys neglected, thrown away; nor leave one tender word unsaid, thy kindness sow broadcast- "the mill will never grind again with water that is past." oh! the wasted hours of life, that have swiftly drifted by, alas! the good we might have done, all gone without a sigh; love that we might once have saved by a single kindly word, thoughts conceived but ne'er expressed, perishing unpenned, unheard. oh! take the lesson to thy soul, forever clasp it fast, "the mill will never grind again with water that is past." work on while yet the sun doth shine, thou man of strength and will, the streamlet ne'er doth useless glide by clicking watermill; nor wait until to-morrow's light beams brightly on thy way. for all that thou canst call thine own, lies in the phrase, "to-day;" possessions, power, and blooming health, must all be lost at last- "the mill will never grind again with water that is past." oh! love thy god and fellow man, thyself consider last, for come it will when they must scan dark errors of the past; soon will this fight of life be o'er, and earth recede from view, and heaven in all its glory shine where all is pure and true. ah! then thou'lt see more clearly still the proverb deep and vast, "the mill will never grind again with water that is past." d. c. mccallum. is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? forbid it, almighty god! i know not what course others may take, but for me, give me liberty or give me death. patrick henry. the law is a sort of hocus-pocus science, that smiles in yer face while it picks yer pocket; and the glorious uncertainty of it is of mair use to the professors than the justice of it. macklin. our mission. in calm and stormy weather our mission is to grow; to keep the angle paramount and bind the brute below. we grow not all in sunshine, but richly in the rain; and what we deem our losses may prove our final gain. the snows and frosts of winter a richer fruitage bring; from battling with the anvil the smith's grand muscles spring. 'tis by the law of contrast that fine effects are seen; as thus we blend in colors the orange with the green. by action and reaction we reach our perfect growth; nor by excess of neither, but equipoise of both. the same code binds the human. that governs mother earth; god cradled her in tempest and earthquakes from her birth. our life is but a struggle for perfect equipoise; our pains are often jewels, our pleasures gilded toys. between the good and evil the monarch will must stand, to shape the final issue by god's divine command. our mission is to battle with ill in every form- to borrow strength and volume from contact with the storm. in the beautiful hereafter these blinding mortal tears shall crystalize in jewels to sparkle in the spheres. with weak and moldish vision we work our way below; but sure our souls are building much wiser than we know. and when the work is finished the scaffolding then falls; and lo! a radiant temple, with pearl and sapphire walls. a temple far transcending the grandest piles below, whose dome shall blaze with splendor, in god's eternal glow. wealth is necessary; let us not disclaim against it; every nation needs it to attain the highest achievements in civilization. but it is a blessing only as a servant, and is destructive as a master. john p. altgeld. if i were a young man i should ally myself with some high and at present unpopular cause, and devote my every effort to accomplish its success. john g. whittier. ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, where wealth accumulates and men decay. princes and lords may flourish and may fade; a breath can make them, as breath has made; but an honest peasantry, a country's pride, when once destroyed, can never be supplied. war preys on two things--life and property: but he preys with a partial appetite. feasting on life, he licks his jaws and says, "more, by your leave!" devouring property, he says, between grin and glut, "this is so good that it ought to be paid for!" into the vacuum of wasted life rush the moaning winds of grief and desolation; in to the vacuum of wasted property rushes the goblin of debt. the wasted life is transformed at length into a reminiscent glory; the wasted property becomes a hideous nightmare. the heroes fallen rise from their bloody cerements into everlasting fame; the property destroyed rises from the red and flame-swept field as a spectral vampire, sucking the still warm blood of the heroic dead and of their posthumous babes to the tenth generation! the name of the vampire is bond. john clark ridpath. to a waterfowl. whither, mid'st falling dew, while glow the heavens with the last steps of day, far through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue thy solitary way? vainly the fowler's eye might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, as, darkly seen against the crimson sky, thy figure floats along. seek'st thou the plashy brink of weedy lake, or marge of river wide, or where the rocking billows rise and sink on the chafed ocean side? there is a power whose care teaches thy way along that pathless coast- the desert and illimitable air- lone wandering, but not lost. all day thy wings have fanned, at that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere, yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, though the dark night is near. and soon that toil shall end; soon shall thou find a summer home, and rest, and scream among thy fellows; reeds shall bend soon, o'er thy sheltered nest. thou'rt gone, the abyss of heaven hath swallowed up thy form; yet on my heart deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given and shall not soon depart. he who, from zone to zone, guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, in the long way that i must tread alone will lead my steps aright. william cullen bryant. robert burns (considered by many the world's greatest song writer and natural poet.) while burns was yet a plow boy he was challenged by two highly educated gentlemen, who were seated awaiting their dinner to be served at an inn in the town of ayr. the terms of the challenge was for each to write a verse on the event of their first acquaintance, the one writing the best and most appropriate short rhyme was to have his dinner paid for by the other two. burns wrote as follows: i jonnie peep, saw two sheep. two sheep saw me. half a crown apiece will pay for their fleece. and i jonnie peep go free. on another occasion while drinking at a bar a hanger on who was notorious for his much drinking and was dubbed the marquis, asked burns to write an appropriate epitaph for his grave stone. burns, quick as flash and without any apparent effort, wrote: here lies a faulse marquis: whose title is shamed if ever he rises it will be to be damned. to a mouse. wee, sleekit, cowrin' tim'rous beastie. oh, what a panic's in thy breastie! thou needna start awa' sae hasty. wi' bickering brattle! i wad be laith to rin and chase thee, wi murd'ing prattle! i'm truly sorry man's dominion has broken nature's social union, and justifies that ill opinion which makes thee startle at me, thy poor earth-born companion and fellow-mortal! i doubt na, whiles, but thou may thieve; what then? poor beastie, thou maun live! a daimen icker in a thrave 's a sma' o' request i'll get a blessin' wi' the lave, and never miss 't! thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin! its silly wa's the win's are strewin'! and naething now to big a new ane o' foggage green! and bleak december's winds ensuin' baith snell and keen! thou saw the fields laid bare and waste and weary winter comin' fast. and cozie here, beneath the blast, thou thought to dwell; till, crash! the cruel coulter past out through thy cell. that wee bit heap o'leaves and stibble has cost thee mony a weary nibble! now thou's turn'd out for a' thy trouble, but house or hauld, to thole the winter's sleety dribble and cranreuch cauld. but, mousie, thou art no thy lane, in proving foresight may be vain; the bes laid schemes o' mice and men gang aft a-gley, and lea 'e us naught but grief and pain for promised joy. still thou art blest, compared wi' me! the present only toucheth thee, but, och! i backward cast my ee on prospects drear! and forward, though i canna see, i guess and fear. robert burns. chapter xi. oratorical department. the author believes he is here presenting such selections as will be accepted as masterpieces. mr. bryan's speech at new haven, where he was disturbed by students is taken from his book, the first battle, and is here offered to show the wonderful composure of the speaker, rather than to present a fine or eloquent speech. the new york sun's editorial, and the resolution of the council of indians will show the difference of opinion that exists between commercial editors and the men of nature. it is obvious that these students were disturbing a public meeting, and to justify them is to wink at crime, scorn at justice, mock at the freedom of speech and excuse ignorance. certainly the indian presents the idea of advancing forward, while the new york sun man is advancing (?) backward. patrick henry's speech. virginia must prepare for war. there is no time for ceremony. the question before the house is one of awful moment to this country. for my own part, i consider it as nothing less than a question of freedom or slavery; and in proportion to the magnitude of the subject ought to be the freedom of debate. it is only in this way that we can hope to arrive at truth, and fulfill the great responsibility which we hold to god and our country. should i keep back my opinions at such a time, through fear of giving offense, i should consider myself as guilty of treason toward my country, and of an act of disloyalty toward the majesty of heaven, which i revere above all earthly kings. it is natural to man to indulge in the illusions of hope. we are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth, and listen to the song of that siren till she transforms us into beasts. is this the part of wise men engaged in a great and arduous struggle for liberty? are we disposed to be of the number of those who, having eyes see not, and having ears hear not the things which so nearly concern their temporal salvation? for my part, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, i am willing to know the whole truth; to know the worst, and provide for it. i have but one lamp by which my feet are guided; and that is the lamp of experience. i know of no way of judging of the future but by the past. and judging by the past, i wish to know what there has been in the conduct of the british ministry for the last ten years to justify those hopes with which gentlemen have been pleased to solace themselves and the house. is it that insidious smile with which our petition has been lately received? trust it not. it will prove a snare to your feet. suffer not yourselves to be betrayed by a kiss. ask yourselves how this gracious reception of our petition comports with those warlike preparations which cover our waters and darken our land. are fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and reconciliation? have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled, that force must be called in to win back our love? let us not deceive ourselves. these are the implements of war and subjugation; the last arguments to which kings resort. i ask what means this martial array, if its purpose be not to force us to submission. can gentlemen assign any other possible motive for it? has great britain an enemy in this quarter of the world to call for all this accumulation of navies and armies? no; she has none. they are meant for us; they can be meant for no other. they are sent over to bind and rivet upon us those chains which the british ministry have been so long forging. and what have we to oppose to them? shall we try argument? we have been trying that for the last ten years. have we anything new to offer upon the subject? nothing. we have held the subject up in every light of which it is capable; but it has been all in vain. shall we resort to entreaty and humble supplication? what terms shall we find which have not been already exhausted? let us not deceive ourselves longer. we have done everything that could be done to avert the storm which is now coming on. we have petitioned, we have remonstrated, we have supplicated; we have prostrated ourselves before the throne, and have implored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hand of the ministry and parliament. our petitions have been slighted; our remonstrances have produced additional violence and insult; our supplications have been disregarded; and we have been spurned, with contempt, from the foot of the throne. in vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and reconciliation. there is no longer any room for hope. if we wish to be free--if we mean to preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges for which we have been so long contending--if we mean not basely to abandon the noble struggle in which we have been so long engaged, and which we have pledged never to abandon until the glorious object of our contest shall be obtained--we must fight! i repeat it, we must fight! an appeal to arms, and to the god of hosts, is all that is left to us. they tell us that we are weak--unable to cope with so formidable an adversary. but when shall we be stronger? will it be the next week, or the next year? will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a british guard shall be stationed in every house? shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction? shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance by lying supinely on our backs, and hugging the delusive phantom of hope until our enemies have bound us hand and foot? we are not weak if we make a proper use of those means which the god of nature hath placed in our power. three millions of people, armed in the holy cause of liberty, are invincible by any force which the enemy can send against us. besides, we shall not fight our battles alone. there is a just god who presides over the destinies of nations, and will raise us friends to fight our battle for us. the battle is not to the strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. besides, we have no election. if we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. there is no retreat but in submission and slavery. our chains are forged; their clanking may be heard on the plains of boston. the war is inevitable--and let it come! i repeat it. let it come! it is in vain to extenuate the matter. gentlemen may cry, peace, peace--but there is no peace. the war is actually begun. the next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ear the clash of resounding arms. our brethren are already in the field! why are we here idle? what is it that gentlemen wish? what would they have? is life so dear or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? forbid it, almighty god! i know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!--speech in convention, march 25, 1775. abraham lincoln's speech. speech at the dedication of the national cemetery at gettysburg, pennsylvania, november 19, 1863. "four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. we are met on a great battlefield of that war. we have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting-place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. it is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. but in a large sense we cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. the brave men, living and dead, who struggled here have consecrated it far above our poor power to add or detract. the world will little note, nor long remember, what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. it is for us, the living, rather to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. it is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us--that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion; that we here highly resolve that these dead have not died in vain; that this nation, under god, shall have a new birth of freedom; and that government of the people, by the people, for the people shall not perish from the earth." william jennings bryan's speeches. yale college incident.--bryan speaks under difficulties i am glad that there are students here, because i want to say a word to students. your college has helped to add fame to your city, and those who assemble here are supposed to come in order that they may better equip themselves for the duties of life. i am glad to talk to students, because, my friends, we have a cause which appeals to students. if the syndicates and corporations rule this country, then no young man has a fair show unless he is the favorite of a corporation. (applause--and yells for mckinley by a cordon of the students.) if the people have a right to govern themselves and exercise that right, then every citizen has an equal chance and every man may achieve what he desires. we wish to leave all the avenues open so that the son of the humblest citizen may aspire to the highest position within the gift of the people. (applause and yells repeated.) i am not speaking now to the sons who are sent to college on the proceeds of ill-gotten gains. (enthusiastic applause.) i will wait until these sons have exhausted what their fathers have left them and then appeal to their children who will have to commence life where their grandfathers commenced. (great applause.) my friends, a just government is best for the great masses of the people. equal laws and equal opportunities are best for nine out of every ten of us. (yells again repeated.) therefore, our cause appeals to every young man who wants to make this government so good as to deserve the love, confidence and the support of every citizen in this land. we appeal not only to the students; we appeal to business men who have been terrorized by the financial--what may i call it? (applause.) people have been tyrannized over by financial institutions until in some instances it is more dangerous to raise your voice against the ruling power than it is in an absolute monarchy. (great applause and yells.) if there is anybody who loves this sort of thing then i shall offend him by speaking of it, but i shall not offend any man who loves liberty and the right of free speech in this country. (great applause.) the business men have been told that the free coinage of silver would ruin them. if it can ruin them with more rapidity than the gold standard has ruined them, then, my friends, it will be bad, indeed, because the gold standard has increased the number of failures among business men, and every step that has been taken has been followed----(yells from the students.) i have been so used to talking to young men who earn their own living that i do not know----(great applause and cheering.) i say, i have been so used to talking to young men who earn their own living that i hardly know what language to use to address myself to those who desire to be known, not as creators of wealth, but as the distributors of wealth which somebody else created. (great applause and cheering.) if you will show me a young man who has been taught to believe----(more yells and cries of "mckinley.") in all my travels i have not found a crowd that needed talking to so much as this crowd does. (cries of "that's right.") i came to this city something more than a year ago, and i then learned something of the domination of your financial classes. i have seen it elsewhere, but, my friends, the great mass of the people even of this city, will be better off under bimetallism that permits the nation to grow, than under a gold standard which starves everybody except the money changer and the money owner. we sometimes out west are instructed by your insurance companies. i carry insurance in old line companies and in what are known as the mutual or assessment companies. i carry insurance in fraternal organizations like the united workmen and the modern woodmen, as well as in the old line companies, and i am glad that my assessment companies are satisfied to take my money and give me insurance without attempting to tell me how i must vote. your old line companies have seen fit to insult the intelligence of the people by attempting to exercise a guardian care, notwithstanding the fact that we are able to look after ourselves without their instructions. you have laboring men also in large numbers in this city. i do not know whether the advocates of the gold standard here who employ men in the shops insist upon telling their employes how to vote. i have in other places found employers who would put in envelopes the pay for the day's work or week's work, and then print on the outside of the envelopes some instructions to the employes. if the manufacturer, employer, or railroad president feels that there must be something on the outside of the envelope as well as upon the inside, let him write on the outside: "you will find within your wages. they are to cover your work. we recognize that the men who have sense enough to do the work we want done have sense enough to vote right, without our telling them how to vote." i notice that in some places they have been organizing sound money clubs, and they have the applicant sign a statement, saying that the free coinage of silver would hurt him in his business as a wage earner. i have wondered why our great financial magnates do not put in their application a statement similar to that. why don't the heads of these syndicates which have been bleeding the government make application to sound money clubs and write in their application that the free coinage of silver would hurt them in their business as heads of syndicates? they want people to believe that they are entirely benevolent, that they are philanthropists, and that what they do is done merely because they believe that the people will be benefited by having them run the government, and they submit to the inconvenience of running the government in order to help the people, who, they say, will be benefited. (more confusion and applause by the students.) why is it that the broker or the bond buyer does not write in his application that he has a personal interest in the gold standard? why is it that these men want to throw upon the wage earners whatever odium there may be in using his vote to protect his personal interests? i believe the wage earner, and the farmer, and the business man, and the professional man, all of these will be benefited by a volume of money sufficient to do business with. if you make money scarce you make money dear. if you make money dear you drive down the value of everything, and when you have falling prices you have hard times. and who prosper by hard times? there are but few, and those few are not willing to admit that they get any benefit from hard times. no party ever declared in its platform that it was in favor of hard times, and yet the party that declares for a gold standard in substance declares for a continuation of hard times. here a band which had been playing for a drill in another part of the square came nearer and made talking more difficult, and my voice not being in good condition i concluded my remarks by saying: it is hard to talk when all the conditions are favorable, and i must ask you to excuse me from talking any further in the presence of the noises against which we have to contend today. i have since learned that some misunderstood my closing words, and thought i again referred to the students, but this is an error. they were making no disturbance when i finished speaking. i did not even mean to criticize the band, because i was sure that the interruption was not intentional, but my voice being hoarse and the crowd large, it was difficult to make myself heard even when there was perfect quiet. the incident gave rise to a good deal of public discussion. a few papers criticised my language on that occasion and declared that my words provoked the hostile demonstration. as a matter of fact, the hostility was manifested before i began to speak, and it was some minutes before i could obtain a hearing. this is the only speech in which i have inserted the applause, and it is only done here because the interruptions are also quoted. the report is reproduced exactly as it appeared at the time in order that the reader may form his own opinion upon the subject. the following press dispatch appeared in the morning papers of september 3: yale students criticised. muskogee, i.t., sept. 29.--at a mass meeting of the cherokees, creeks, choctaws and seminoles, held here yesterday, the following resolution was unanimously adopted: resolved, that we contemplate with deep regret the recent insulting treatment of william j. bryan by students of a college in the land of the boasted white man's civilization, and we admonish all indians who think of sending their sons to yale that association with such students could but prove hurtful alike to their morals and their progress toward the higher standard of civilization. the "sun" defends the yale students. the new york sun came to the defense of the boys in an editorial, from which the following is an extract: what did these students really do? on the day that yale university opened its new college year, bryan came to new haven and prepared to address a great crowd at the green adjacent to which are the college buildings of the center of university life, in a town of which the university is the great and distinguishing feature. the students gathered in strong force, as was natural. practically they were on their own ground. they expressed their feelings against repudiation with the vigor and vociferousness of youth; and they had a right to do it. they ought to have done it; and the sentiment to which they gave utterance was honorable to them. the boys made a great noise, cheering for mckinley and yelling and jeering at repudiation, so that mr. bryan could not be heard for several minutes. if they had applauded him incessantly for even a full half hour, would there have been any complaint of their preventing him from starting out in his speech? has not a crowd in the open air as much right to hiss as to cheer? at what period in our history was that privilege taken from americans? these dissenting students, the reports agree, did not offer any personal violence to mr. bryan or anybody else. they did not throw rotten eggs at him or otherwise assail his dignity, but merely shouted their college cry and yelled derisively. they did not like the cause the speaker represented. they detested and despised both it and him, and they made known their feelings noisily. speech concluding debate on the chicago platform. mr. chairman and gentlemen of the convention: i would be presumptuous, indeed, to present myself against the distinguished gentlemen to whom you have listened if this were a mere measuring of abilities; but this is not a contest between persons. the humblest citizen of the land, when clad in the armor of a righteous cause, is stronger than all the hosts of error. i come to speak to you in defense of a cause as holy as the cause of liberty--the cause of humanity. when this debate is concluded, a motion will be made to lay upon the table the resolution offered in commendation of the administration, and also the resolution offered in condemnation of the administration. we object to bringing this question down to the level of persons. the individual is but an atom; he is born, he acts, he dies; but principles are eternal; and this has been a contest over a principle. never before in the history of this country has there been witnessed such a contest as that through which we have just passed. never before in the history of american politics has a great issue been fought out as this issue has been, by the voters of a great party. on the fourth of march, 1895, a few democrats, most of them members of congress, issued an address to the democrats of the nation, asserting that the money question was the paramount issue of the hour; declaring that a majority of the democratic party had the right to control the action of the party on this paramount issue; and concluding with the request that the believers of free coinage of silver in the democratic party should organize, take charge of, and control the policy of the democratic party. three months later, at memphis, an organization was perfected and the silver democrats went forth openly and courageously proclaiming their belief, and declaring that, if successful, they would crystallize into a platform the declaration they had made. then began the conflict. with a zeal approaching the zeal which inspired the crusaders who followed peter the hermit, our silver democrats went forth from victory unto victory until they are now assembled, not to discuss, not to debate, but to enter up the judgment already rendered by the plain people of this country. in this contest brother has been arrayed against brother, father against son. the warmest ties of love, acquaintance and association have been disregarded; old leaders have been cast aside when they have refused to give expression to the sentiments of those whom they would lead, and new leaders have sprung up to give direction to this cause of truth. thus has the contest been waged, and we have assembled here under as binding and solemn instructions as were ever imposed upon representatives of the people. we do not come as individuals. as individuals we might have been glad to compliment the gentleman from new york (senator hill,) but we know that the people for whom we speak would never be willing to put him in a position where he could thwart the will of the democratic party. i say it was not a question of persons; it was a question of principle, and it is not with gladness, my friends, that we find ourselves brought into conflict with those who are now arrayed on the other side. the gentleman who preceded me (ex-governor russell) spoke of the state of massachusetts; let me assure him that not one present in all this convention entertains the least hostility to the people of the state of massachusetts, but we stand here representing people who are the equals, before the law, of the greatest citizens in the state of massachusetts. when you (turning to the gold delegates) come before us and tell us that we are about to disturb your business interests, we reply that you have disturbed our business interests by your course. we say to you that you have made the definition of a business man too limited in its application. the man who is employed for wages is as much a business man as his employer; the attorney in a country town is as much a business man as the corporation counsel in a great metropolis; the merchant at the cross-roads store is as much a business man as the merchant of new york; the farmer who goes forth in the morning and toils all day--who begins in the spring and toils all summer--and who by the application of brain and muscle to the natural resources of the country creates wealth, is as much a business man as the man who goes upon the board of trade and bets upon the price of grain; the miners who go down a thousand feet into the earth, or climb two thousand feet upon the cliffs, and bring forth from their hiding places the precious metals to be poured into the channels of trade are as much business men as the few financial magnates who, in a back room, corner the money of the world. we come to speak for this broader class of business men. ah, my friends, we say not one word against those who live upon the atlantic coast, but the hardy pioneers who have braved all the dangers of the wilderness, who have made the desert to blossom as the rose--the pioneers away out there (pointing to the west), who rear their children near to nature's heart, where they can mingle their voices with the voices of the birds--out there where they have erected schoolhouses for the education of their young, churches where they praise their creator, and cemeteries where rest the ashes of their dead--these people, we say, are as deserving of the consideration of our party as any people in this country. it is for these that we speak. we do not come as aggressors. our war is not a war of conquest; we are fighting in the defense of our homes, our families, and posterity. we have petitioned, and our petitions have been scorned; we have entreated, and our entreaties have been disregarded; we have begged, and they have mocked when our calamity came. we beg no longer; we entreat no more; we petition no more. we defy them. the gentleman from wisconsin has said that he fears a robespierre. my friends, in this land of the free you need not fear that a tyrant will spring up from among the people. what we need is an andrew jackson to stand, as jackson stood, against the encroachments of organized wealth. they tell us that this platform was made to catch votes. we reply to them that changing conditions make new issues; that the principles upon which democracy rests are as everlasting as the hills, but that they must be applied to new conditions as they arise. conditions have arisen, and we are here to meet those conditions. they tell us that the income tax ought not to be brought in here; that it is a new idea. they criticize us for the criticism of the supreme court of the united states. my friends, we have not criticized; we have simply called attention to what you already know. if you want criticisms, read the dissenting opinions of the court. there you will find criticisms. they say that we have passed an unconstitutional law; we deny it. the income tax law was not unconstitutional when it was passed; it was not unconstitutional when it went before the supreme court for the first time; it did not become unconstitutional until one of the judges changed his mind, and we cannot be expected to know when a judge will change his mind. the income tax is just. it simply intends to put the burden of government justly upon the backs of the people. i am in favor of an income tax. when i find a man who is not willing to bear his share of the burdens of the government which protects him, i find a man who is unworthy to enjoy the blessings of a government like ours. they say that we are opposing national bank currency; it is true. if you will read what thomas benton said, you will find he said that, in searching history, he could find but one parallel to andrew jackson; that was cicero, who destroyed the conspiracy of cataline and saved rome. benton said that cicero only did for rome what jackson did for us when he destroyed the bank conspiracy and saved america. we say in our platform that we believe that the right to coin and issue money is a function of government. we believe it. we believe that it is a part of sovereignty, and can no more with safety be delegated to private individuals than we could afford to delegate to private individuals the power to make penal statutes or levy taxes. mr. jefferson, who was once regarded as good democratic authority, seems to have differed in opinion from the gentleman who has addressed us on the part of the minority. those who are opposed to this proposition tell us that the issue of paper money is a function of the bank, and that the government ought to go out of the banking business. i stand with jefferson rather than with them, and tell them, as he did, that the banks ought to go out of the governing business. they complain about the plank which declares against life tenure in office. they have tried to strain it to mean that which is does not mean. what we oppose by that plank is the life tenure which is being built up in washington, and which excludes from participation in official benefits the humbler members of society. let me call your attention to two or three important things. the gentleman from new york says that he will propose an amendment to the platform providing that the proposed change in our monetary system shall not affect contracts already made. let me remind you that there is no intention of affecting those contracts which according to present laws are made payable in gold; but if he means to say that we cannot change our monetary system without protecting those who have loaned money before the change was made, i desire to ask him where, in law or in morals, he can find justification for not protecting the debtors when the act of 1873 was passed, if he now insists that we must protect the creditors. he says he will also propose an amendment which will provide for the suspension of free coinage if we fail to maintain the parity within a year. we reply that when we advocate a policy which we believe will be successful, we are not compelled to raise a doubt as to our own sincerity by suggesting what we shall do if we fail. i ask him, if he would apply his logic to us, why he does not apply it to himself. he says he wants the country to try to secure an international agreement. why does he not tell us what he is going to do if he fails to secure an international agreement? there is more reason for him to do that than there is for us to provide against the failure to maintain the parity. our opponents have tried for twenty years to secure an international agreement, and those are waiting for it most patiently who do not want it at all. and now, my friends, let me come to the paramount issue. if they ask us why it is that we say more on the money question than we say upon the tariff question, i reply that, if protection has slain its thousands, the gold standard has slain its tens of thousands. if they ask us why we do not embody in our platform all the things that we believe in, we reply that when we have restored the money of the constitution all other necessary reforms will be possible; but that until this is done there is no other reform that can be accomplished. why is it that within three months such a change has come over the country? three months ago, when it was confidently asserted that those who believe in the gold standard would frame our platform and nominate our candidates, even the advocates of the gold standard did not think that we could elect a president. and they had good reason for their doubt, because there is scarcely a state here today asking for the gold standard which is not in the absolute control of the republican party. but note the change. mr. mckinley was nominated at st. louis upon a platform which declared for the maintenance of the gold standard until it can be changed into bimetallism by international agreement. mr. mckinley was the most popular man among the republicans, and three months ago everybody in the republican party prophesied his election. how is it today? why, the man who was once pleased to think that he looked like napoleon--that man shudders today when he remembers that he was nominated on the anniversary of the battle of waterloo. not only that, but as he listens he can hear with ever-increasing distinctness the sound of the waves as they beat upon the lonely shores of st. helena. why this change? ah, my friends, is not the reason for the change evident to any one who will look at the matter? no private character, however pure, no personal popularity, however great, can protect from the avenging wrath of an indignant people a man who will declare that he is in favor of fastening the gold standard upon this country, or who is willing to surrender the right of self-government and place the legislative control of our affairs in the hands of foreign potentates and powers. we go forth confident that we shall win. why? because upon the paramount issue of this campaign there is not a spot of ground upon which the enemy will dare to challenge battle. if they tell us that the gold standard is a good thing, we shall point to their platform and tell them that their platform pledges the party to get rid of the gold standard and substitute bimetallism. if the gold standard is a good thing, why try to get rid of it? i call your attention to the fact that some of the very people who are in this convention today and who tell us that we ought to declare in favor of international bimetallism--thereby declaring that the gold standard is wrong and that the principle of bimetallism is better--these very people four months ago were open and avowed advocates of the gold standard, and were then telling us that we could not legislate two metals together, even with the aid of all the world. if the gold standard is a good thing, we ought to declare in favor of its retention and not in favor of abandoning it; and if the gold standard is a bad thing why should we wait until other nations are willing to help us to let go? here is the line of battle, and we care not upon which issue they force the fight; we are prepared to meet them on either issue or on both. if they tell us that the gold standard is the standard of civilization, we reply to them that this, the most enlightened of all the nations of the earth, has never declared for a gold standard and that both the great parties this year are declaring against it. if the gold standard is the standard of civilization, why, my friends, should we not have it. if they come to meet us on that issue we can tell them that they will search the pages of history in vain to find a single instance where the common people of any land have ever declared themselves in favor of the gold standard. they can find where the holders of fixed investments have declared for a gold standard, but not where the masses have. mr. carlisle said in 1878 that this was a struggle between "the idle holders of idle capital" and "the struggling masses, who produce the wealth and pay the taxes of the country"; and, my friends, the question we are to decide is: upon which side will the democratic party fight; upon the side of "the idle holders of idle capital" or upon the side of "the struggling masses?" that is the question which the party must answer first, and then it must be answered by each individual hereafter. the sympathies of the democratic party, as shown by the platform, are on the side of the struggling masses who have ever been the foundation of the democratic party. there are two ideas of government. there are those who believe that, if you will only legislate to make the well-to-do prosperous, their prosperity will leak through on those below. the democratic idea, however has been that if you legislate to make the masses prosperous, their prosperity will find its way up through every class which rests upon them. you come to us and tell us that the great cities are in favor of the gold standard; we reply that the great cities rest upon our broad and fertile prairies. burn down your cities and leave our farms and your cities will spring up again as if by magic; but destroy our farms and the grass will grow in the streets of every city in the country. my friends, we declare that this nation is able to legislate for its own people on every question, without waiting for the aid or consent of any other nation on earth; and upon that issue we expect to carry every state in the union. i shall not slander the inhabitants of the fair state of massachusetts nor the inhabitants of the state of new york by saying that, when they are confronted with the proposition, they will declare that this nation is not able to attend to its own business. it is the issue of 1776 over again. our ancestors, when but three millions in number, had the courage to declare their political independence of every other nation; shall we, their descendants, when we have grown to seventy millions, declare that we are less independent than our forefathers? no, my friends, that will never be the verdict of our people. therefore, we care not upon what lines the battle is fought. if they say bimetallism is good, but that we cannot have it until other nations help us, we reply that, instead of having a gold standard because england has, we will restore bimetallism, and then let england have bimetallism because the united states has it. if they dare to come out in the open field and defend the gold standard as a good thing, we will fight them to the uttermost. having behind us the producing masses of the nation and the world, supported by the commercial interests, the laboring interests, and the toilers everywhere, we will answer their demand for a gold standard by saying to them: you shall not press down upon the brow of labor this crown of thorns, you shall not crucify mankind upon a cross of gold. speeches of c. a. bogardus. "i don't know much about the tariff | "i don't know much about the question, but i think i know enough | money question, but it appears to know that if we buy $20.00 worth | to me that if under the gold of rails of a foreigner, the | standard we borrow $20,000,000 foreigner will have the money and | of a foreigner, when we pay it we will have the rails, but if we | back the foreigner will have the make the rails in america and buy | money and the interest, too, but them of an american, america will | if we coin the silver (which have the money and the rails, too." | is an american product) into | american dollars, borrow abraham lincoln. | $20,000,000 of an american, | when we pay it back america will | have the money and the interest, | too." | | c. a. bogardus. | | "nothing should ever tempt | "i hope nothing ever will tempt us--nothing will ever tempt us | us to scale the debt of the to scale down the sacred debt | nation through a legal of the nation through a | technicality. whatever may legal technicality. whatever may | be the language of the contract be the language of the contract | the united states should the united states will discharge | discharge its obligations all its obligations in the | according to the contract." currency recognized as the best | throughout the civilized world | c. a. bogardus. at the time of payment." | | wm. mckinley. | | | "this word to all when i am dead, | "this word to all while we are be sure you are right, then go | alive, ahead." | be sure we are right, then let | drive." david crockett. | | c. a. bogardus. speeches of c. a. bogardus address delivered at farmington, iowa, november 20, 1897, by c. a. bogardus. subject: how to read. mr. chairman, ladies and gentlemen:-it is not so much the amount of reading that educates us, as it is what we read and the manner it is done that benefits us, for as poor richard says: "the used key is always bright," so the well-read book always shows the handling. a small well chosen library carefully read is of vastly more benefit than the large, poorly chosen, unread volumes that adorn the shelves of many homes. yet i am not sure but that poorly chosen books are better not read than read. a learned doctor once said: "it is not what we eat that sustains life, but is what we digest." we might well paraphrase his words and say it is not what we read that educates us, but it is what we understand. for what we want is not learning, but knowledge; that is the ability to make learning answer its true end as a quickener of intelligence and widener of the intellectual field. we should not read to contradict; nor to believe and take for granted; nor to find talk and discourse; but to weigh and consider. this being self-evident, we should ever remember that whatever is worth reading at all is worth reading well. hence, inasmuch as reading matter is always the expression of some author's thoughts, it follows that the object of reading at all is to learn the thoughts of the writer. so we may well aver that to read understandingly requires thought and industry. for reading availeth not unless done understandingly. therefore, an article is not read, in the full sense of the word, until it is understood. i will close by reading an article from an old scrap-book. when it is read i trust it will accomplish a double mission, viz: that we more thoroughly comprehend the necessity of putting thought into our reading; and that the real virtue in thought is acting in harmony with the knowledge or right. the article to which i refer is entitled "an angel in a saloon." i will now read it: "one afternoon in the month of june, 1870, a lady in deep mourning, followed by a little child, entered one of the fashionable saloons in the city of n----. the writer happened to be passing at the time, and prompted by curiosity, followed her in, to see what would ensue. stepping up to the bar, and addressing the proprietor, who happened to be present, she said: "'sir, can you assist me? i have no home, no friends, and am not able to work.' "he glanced at her and then at the child, with a mingled look of curiosity and pity. evidently he was much surprised to see a woman in such a place begging, but without asking any questions gave her some change, and turning to those present, he said: "'gentlemen, here is a lady in distress. can't some of you help her a little?' "they cheerfully acceded to the request, and soon a purse of two dollars was made up, and put in her hand. "'madam,' said the gentleman who gave her the money, 'why do you come to a saloon? it isn't a proper place for a lady, and why are you driven to such a step?' "'sir,' said the lady, 'i know it isn't a proper place for a lady to be in, and you ask me why i am driven to such a step. i will tell you in one short word,' pointing to a bottle behind the counter, labelled whiskey, 'that is what brought me here--whiskey!' "'i was once happy and surrounded with all the luxuries that wealth could procure, with a fond, indulgent husband. but in an evil hour he was tempted, and not possessing the will to resist the temptation, fell, and in one short year my dream of happiness was over, my home was forever desolate, and the kind husband, and the wealth that some called mine lost, lost, never to return, and all by the accursed wine cup. "'you see before you only the wreck of my former self, homeless and friendless, with nothing left me in this world but this little child,' and weeping bitterly, she affectionately caressed the golden curls that shaded a face of exquisite loveliness. regaining her composure, and turning to the proprietor of the saloon, she continued: "'sir, the reason why i occasionally enter a place like this is to implore those who deal in the deadly poison to desist, to stop a business that spreads desolation, ruin, poverty and starvation. think one moment of your own loved ones, and then imagine them in the situation i am in. i appeal to your better nature, i appeal to your heart,--for i know you possess a kind one,--to retire from a business so ruinous to your patrons. "'did you know the money you take across the bar is the same as taking the bread out of the mouths of the famished wives and children of your customers? that it strips the clothing from their backs, deprives them of all the comforts of this life and throws unhappiness, misery, crime, and desolation in their once happy homes? oh! sir, i implore, beseech, and pray you to retire from a business you blush to own you are engaged in before your fellow-men, and enter one that will not only be profitable to yourself but your fellow-creatures also. you will excuse me if i have spoken too plainly, but i could not help it when i thought of the misery, the unhappiness, and the suffering it has caused me.' "'madam, i am not offended,' he answered in a voice husky with emotion, 'but i thank you from the bottom of my heart for what you have said.' "'mamma,' said the little child, who meantime had been spoken to by some of the gentlemen present, taking hold of her mother's hand, 'these gentlemen wish me to sing "little bessie" for them. shall i do so?' "they all joined in the request, and placing her in a chair she sang, in a sweet childish voice, the following beautiful song: "'out in the gloomy night, sadly i roam, i have no mother dear, no pleasant home; nobody cares for me, no one would cry even if poor little bessie should die. weary and tired i've been wandering all day, asking for work, but i'm too small, they say; on the damp ground i must now lay my head; father's a drunkard and mother is dead. "'we were so happy till father drank rum, then all our sorrow and trouble begun; mother grew pale and wept every day, baby and i were too hungry to play; slowly they faded till one summer night found their dead faces all silent and white; then with big tears slowly dropping i said, "father's a drunkard and mother is dead." "'oh! if the temperance men only could find poor, wretched father and talk very kind; if they would stop him from drinking, then i should be so very happy again. is it too late, temperance men? please try or poor little bessie must soon starve and die! all day long i've been begging for bread,- father's a drunkard and mother is dead.' "the game of billiards was left unfinished, the cards thrown aside and the unemptied glass remained on the counter; all had pressed near, some with pity-beaming eyes, entranced with the musical voice and beauty of the child, who seemed better fitted to be with angels above than in such a place. "the scene i shall never forget to my dying day, and the sweet cadence of her musical voice still rings in my ears, and every word of the song as it dropped from her lips sank deep into the hearts of those gathered around her. "with her golden hair falling carelessly around her little shoulders, and looking so trustingly and confidingly upon the gentlemen around her, her beautiful eyes illuminated with a light that seemed not of this earth, she formed a picture of purity and innocence worthy the genius of a poet or painter. "at the close of the song many were weeping; men who had not shed a tear for years, now wept like children. one young man who had resisted with scorn the pleadings of a loving mother and the entreaties of friends to strive to lead a better life, to desist from a course that was wasting his fortune and ruining his health, now approached the child, and taking both hands in his, while tears streamed down his cheeks, exclaimed with deep emotion: "'god bless you, my little angel! you have saved me from ruin and disgrace, from poverty and a drunkard's grave. if there are angels on earth, you are one! god bless you! god bless you! and putting a bill into the hands of the mother said, 'please accept this trifle as a token of my regard and esteem, for your little girl has done me a kindness i can never repay; and remember, whenever you are in want, you will find in me a true friend,' at the same time giving her his name and address. "taking her child by the hand she turned to go, but pausing at the door, said: "'god bless you, gentlemen! accept the heartfelt thanks of a poor, friendless woman for the kindness and courtesy you have shown her.' before any one could reply she was gone. "a silence of several minutes ensued, which was broken by the proprietor, who exclaimed: "'gentlemen, that lady was right, and i have sold my last glass of whiskey; if any one of you want more you will have to go elsewhere.' "'and i have drank my last glass of whiskey,' said a young man who had long been given up as utterly beyond the reach of those who had a deep interest in his welfare, as sunk too low ever to reform." speech at decatur, indiana, september 22, 1896. the occasion being a rally in which the hon. b. f. shively, candidate for governor, and john r. brunt, candidate for congress, had spoken over three hours. the indianapolis sentinel said of mr. bogardus that "he held the closest attention throughout, and closed _amid great cheers and cries of go ahead_." mr. bogardus spoke as follows: mr. chairman, ladies and gentlemen:--that phase of the money question which is before the american people today and upon which we will vote in november is merely shall we, or shall we not, open the mints to the free and unlimited coinage of silver as they are now open to the coinage of gold. concurrent with, and as a part of the phase, is the declaration that when the metals are so coined that the money made therefrom shall be treated equally under the law, and that the democratic idea of equal rights to each and special privileges to neither, shall be again incorporated in our national laws. a great many rash, and it seems to me foolish things, are being said concerning the independent bimetallists of our country, to charge the free coinage people with being repudiators and anarchists, is but to put the party making such false statement in the position of a base misrepresenter, and sooner or later the charge must slap its maker in the face. there is no doubt in my mind, but that there is a party in this country who is advocating repudiation, but it is not the democratic party; it is the republican party that is advocating it. webster says repudiation is the act of rejecting or refusing. if a party desires to pay the national debt according to contract it certainly is not advocating repudiation, but if a party desires to violate the contract it desires to repudiate. now, my friends, let us get right at the facts, before we can tell who the repudiators are; we must know what the contract is, and then we must know what the contesting parties want to do in the premises. i will read you a copy of a u.s. bond: (copy of u.s. bond.) the united states of america are indebted to the bearer in the sum of one hundred dollars. this bond is issued in accordance with the provisions of an act of congress, entitled, "an act to authorize the refunding of the national debt," approved july 14th, 1870, amended by an act approved january 20th, 1871, and is redeemable at the pleasure of the united states, after the first day of july, a.d., 1907, in coin of the standard value of the united states on said july 14th, 1870, with interest in such coin from the day of date hereof, at the rate of four per cent per annum, payable quarterly, on the first day of october, january, april and july of each year. the principal and interest are exempt from the payment of all taxes or duties of the united states, as well as from taxation in any form, by or under state, municipal or local authority. washington, july 1st, 1877. j. m. doty, register of the treasury. entered (g. w. b.) (recorded w. s.) now i am not trying to mislead you when i say that a party who proposes to pay that bond according to contract is not a repudiator, nor am i misleading when i say that a party who attempts to prevent its payment according to contract is a repudiator. the bond, according to its own wording, is payable in coin of the standard value of july 14, 1870. when we learn exactly what that coin is we will then, like saul of tarsus, see things in a new light. by the law that was in force on that date silver or gold could be coined into standard money and their standard value was their legal value. the democratic party desires the privilege of coining the metals according to that law, and then paying the bonds with those coins according to that law. no repudiation there. no, not a particle. (cheers.) the republicans do not want to coin silver and gold according to that law, and they do not want to allow the debts to be paid in gold or silver money according to that law. there is repudiation there, yes lots of it; in fact, it is nothing but repudiation. (great applause.) do you want to hear about the anarchy part of this question? (cries of yes! yes!) very well, let us examine along that line. the democrats say that the government can coin money and regulate its value and they will accept it in payment of a debt. no anarchy there; no, not a bit. (laughter.) the republicans admit that the government can coin money and regulate its value and make it a legal tender. but they openly declare that they won't take it in the payment of a debt unless they want to. there is anarchy there in abundance, yes in great abundance. (great and continued applause.) let me ask the republicans if it is not a little strange that a law savored with such element of anarchy and repudiation, should have been in full force in america from 1792 to 1873, a period of eighty-one years, and have pleased the people so well, that during all that time no political party ever openly advocated its repeal? is it not, i ask, strange that george washington, who fought so bravely for independence, should have signed a law for repudiation and anarchy? strange, ah, very strange! is it not, that general grant, when he discovered that he had unknowingly signed a bill for the repeal of the law that they now say would be repudiation, should have said he did not know that the law demonetized silver, and if he had known it he would have suffered his right arm to have been cut off before he would have signed the law. my friends, not only do the republicans advocate repudiation, but it also by proposing a scarce money system is advocating confiscation of the debtor's property, for with a large money basis, money is easier to get than with a small money basis. careful thought will show that easy money means high prices, and when money is scarce and hard to get prices are low; it therefore follows that president lincoln was correct when he said: "if a government contract a debt and then contract the money before the debt is paid, it is the most heinous crime a government can commit against its people." we may boast long and strong of the great wisdom of our diplomats and the brilliancy of our statesmen, but whatever they may say will never overshadow the fact that in a people's government the people must vote understandingly, and when we thoroughly analyze this charge of repudiation and anarchy, we will see that it is the same old trick of the burglar crying stop thief to the honest man, while the rogue himself escapes. much is being said about our money being good abroad, and great fear is expressed by the banker's party that our silver money under bimetallism will only be worth fifty cents on the dollar in foreign countries. now, my friends, let us use common sense, and we will easily solve the problem as to how to make our silver dollars good abroad, that feature of the question can be accomplished by following this plain easy method, namely, the next time a foreigner presents a bond of a few million dollars for payment, have uncle sam hand the gentleman the amount in silver dollars, then let the foreigner attend to making them good abroad. it will be to his interest to procure a law making the silver good in his own country. now, i want to ask you in the name of common sense, would not you think the foreigner crazy if when we paid him in our silver, he would go to his own country and cry down the very money we had paid him? oh, no, he would not do that; he would use his influence to have a law passed in favor of bimetallism in his own country. but you may urge that he might not succeed in his effort, and he would have a lot of half value american dollars on hand that would not be good abroad. very well, the worst thing that could possibly happen to us under circumstances of that kind would be when the foreigner found he could not pass the money abroad he would discover all of a sudden that the money is good in america, and as a matter of fact he would spend his money where it would be taken for goods. so we see that we would thus either force a recognition of our money abroad or else we would control the markets of the world. then in reality we would pay our debts abroad in american produce at a fair price and keep our money at home, where it belongs, as a medium of exchange. and we would then realize the wisdom of the hon. wm. e. gladstone when he said to the english parliament that "so far as england was concerned bimetallism to them as a creditor country would compel them to pay more for american produce," but the grand old man in his frank and honest manner added, "so far as america is concerned, it would immediately give her control of the markets of the world." when we lament the fact that under our present financial system the rich are growing richer and the poor are becoming poorer day by day, we hear some one say, "that is true, but the law of the survival of the fittest is to blame for those facts." if you will pardon me for seemingly diverging from the subject i will say something in regard to the abuse of the law of the survival of the fittest. yes, i admit that under any law, and under any conditions, those who are best suited to the conditions under which they live will get on better than those who are not so well suited by nature to combat for existence and prosperity. nature has so laid its plans that, at or near the equator in the warm climate tropical fruits grow better than they do in iceland, while the pine trees, true to nature, thrive best in cold regions. the polar bear enjoys the snows of alaska, but would suffocate in the tropical heat of borneo or sumatra. true to the law of the survival of the fittest, the elephant and ostrich thrive in sunny africa, but would perish in norway's winters. these things are true, because all nature is in perfect harmony with itself. when carefully considered, we find that the reason some things prosper in one place and perish in another is merely that they are fitted for the conditions in which they thrive and are unfitted for the vicious surrounding in which they perish. the lion and tiger prosper among vicious beasts, but the child and lamb survive better where love, mercy and righteousness reign. let us suppose that christ and john l. sullivan were contesting for the pugilistic championship under london prize ring rules, most assuredly sullivan would win in the first round. but let us change the conditions and make the place of contest the pulpit of a quaker church, and the subject: "suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for such is the kingdom of heaven," don't you think sullivan would be quite out of place and christ would be the victor on that occasion? suppose a fine pasture, bountiful with grass and water should be well stocked with a few hundred sheep and lambs and lurking around in hidden nooks of the field were a dozen or more norway wolves; the sheep and the wolves are in the same pasture, i want to ask you, my friend, what kind of stock do you think the farmer will have in that pasture in a few days if he says to himself the law of the survival of the fittest will protect those sheep if they are fit to live, and if they can't survive then i will shear the wolves for my winter's wool. my friends, if that farmer ever got any wool from those wolves he would have to get it from their stomachs; he couldn't shear it from their backs, because it don't grow on that class of animals. what would you think of the farmer's good wife if after the wolves had killed and sucked the warm blood of the last lamb she would in her supreme recognition of the law of the survival of the fittest take from her child's grave the tombstone that had carved thereon the image of a little lamb at rest under the weeping willow and place in its stead a statue of marble with the life-sized image of a wolf with the blood of a lamb streaming from his teeth? no, that would not be the act of a sane mother, nor would the farmer willingly leave the sheep in the pasture with no other protection but the wolves. under laws recognizing viciousness the most vicious will survive best. our country and her people are industrious and willing, but we are in debt, having promised to pay american dollars that by the vicious system of contracting the money under the gold standard which makes dollars harder and harder to get, which is only another way of expressing the fact that wages and produce will go lower year by year under the system of greed that is accompanying the gold standard in all countries. but one thing can help the masses of our people out of the bondage of debt, and that thing is higher prices for labor and produce. higher prices in america will follow either of two causes--foreign famine and war or bimetallism and an increased volume of money. the latter is within our control, the former method no one should desire. let us not disclaim against the wolves, for scientists tell us that the shepherd dog that so kindly protects the sheep is a direct descendant of the wolf, but he has been domesticated by the law of man. so we see that under the vicious law of the survival of the fittest the wolf as a master was a sheep destroyer, but under the civilized law of the survival of the fittest, the descendant of the vicious wolf as we know, the shepherd dog is a servant of the sheep. gold is good money, but as a master it is a tyrant. let us hitch it side by side with silver and paper money, put it all under direct control of the government, and the wealth of this nation will be our servant, but with gold in control our nation's wealth becomes a hard master. the other day, while on the train, in conversation with a rich banker, the subject of the rich and poor came up. he said "there was nothing in the law that tended to make people rich or poor." his idea was that individual prosperity came from each man's ability as a financier. "why," said he, "don't you know that if the property was all equally divided among the people, the same people who now have it would get it again in a very short time?" i asked him if he was willing to change certain laws about the banking business, then divide the property and money of the united states equally among the people? he said "he did not want to have any such thing done." when i asked him to specifically name his objections to such a transaction, he replied "that it would not be fair to take what he made and give it to some one who had not made it." then when i reminded him that he had said he would have it all back in a short time, he said that "if the law was changed about banking he would not have the same chance to get it back that he now had to keep it." i told him that i agreed with him on his last statement, but if i should agree with him in his first statement i could not see how the changed law and division of property would affect his ability, and if it did affect it, then i said the banking law must be a part of his ability. then he replied that "banking laws were something that our congressmen would attend to." at this part of the conversation the train stopped and the banker bade me good-by and with a pleasant smile greeted a crowd that was waiting at the depot to escort him to the opera house, where he was to make a speech in favor of a law allowing the banks to issue all the money and retire the government from the banking business. the fellow was a candidate for congress. as the train left the station i took from my valise a little book of statistics and found that 79 per cent of our congressmen and 63 per cent of our senators were either bankers or bank directors, then i thought his last remark was true, that our congressmen would attend to the banking laws all right, especially from a banker's point of view. i then thought of a path up the mountain side that was so crooked a traveler going up would meet himself coming back. thanks for your attention. speech delivered at jacksonville, illinois, december 15, 1897, by c. a. bogardus. our financial system. mr. chairman, ladies and gentlemen:--i am going to request my hearers this evening to be not possessed of party prejudice. if there is any one feature of the human mind that works more disaster to civilization and humanity, than another, that feature is political partyism made blind by prejudice. prejudice blinds the eye to light and benumbs the mind until reason is shut out. the bible says, "and if the blind lead the blind, both shall fall into the ditch." in examining any proposition we should not proceed to change reasons and facts to suit our thoughts, but rather remove all prejudice from our mind and then change our thoughts to agree with the facts. for my part i would that all voters and their wives and children would form themselves into a party of political truthseekers. when that is done humanity, justice and a pure government of all the people, by all the people and for all the people, will form the armor of our civilization. but as long as blind partyism prevails men will get into heated political discussions that only widen the gulf of misunderstanding. misleading newspaper articles will make the gulf deeper, and the cunning hand of plutocracy and coercion will widen the waters of the gulf into a vast restless ocean, without even the signs of a rainbow to tell them that the great storm of poverty and human slavery to the money power, that knows no love, no mercy, no justice or christianity, shall not continue forever and anon. as we stand on a mountain crest and cast our eyes over the wide extent of country, it is the more prominent features that impress themselves on our vision. the lesser details, the waving field, the blooming bush, the evergreen moss, the singing bird and fragrant rose, which attract the attention and admiration of the immediate bystander, are lost to our view by the distance. but the range of forest-clad hills, the winding river, the crystal lake, the wide expanse of fertile plains and snow-capped mountain peaks, determine the landscape and claim our attention. we of the united states are today surrounded by the anglo-american civilization of the closing days of the 19th century. let us from this height glance along the road of our nation's journey hither. we can at best only hope to notice the more prominent lines of advance. to carefully trace the growth of all the departments would not only greatly exceed the limited time at our command this evening, but would also confuse us by the multiplicity of subjects demanding our attention. when god created man in his own image and placed him on earth, he gave man dominion over the earth and all the fullness thereof. there is an old maxim which teaches, that through respect for the giver, we should not give, barter or sell away a present. god gave the earth and all that is in it to mankind. may we not here ask, to what mankind was the earth given? and what is meant by man? it is plain to the student that by man is meant all mankind, for all time so long as he shall live, for we find in research of the scripture that "god is not god of the dead, but of the living." i want to ask you in the name of justice and humanity, should a great majority of mankind now, in the strongest and most highly civilized country, give the earth and its abundance to the money corporations, trusts and combines, that are in reality transforming our beloved republic into a "den of thieves;" or should we keep possession of the bountiful gift, that our children and the children of the generations to follow will inherit the land, that was so graciously presented to all mankind, by an all wise providence? one of the uppermost features in our civilization today is our national medium of exchange, called "money." reasonable men of all parties agree that our money should be sound and honest, and limited only in amount by the necessities and requirements of the citizens of our country, in striving after a nobler and higher civilization in which the greatest good to the greatest number shall be the pinnacle of ultimate achievement. in june of 1896, the representatives of a great party met in national convention in the city of st. louis, mo., and outlined a party platform in which we find a plank which says: "we are therefore opposed to the free coinage of silver, except by international agreement with the leading commercial nations of the world, which we pledge ourselves to promote, and until such agreement can be obtained, the existing gold standard must be preserved." as we think of and discuss this or any other proposition, the question foremost in our mind should be: is that proposition, if adopted, likely to promote the interest of an independent liberty loving, democratic people, or will it, if adopted, work in an opposite direction? in my judgment, a careful examination of that plank will reveal the fact that it is hypocritical in the extreme, and in itself makes by its own declaration, improbable the very thing it pretends to advocate and pledge itself to support, namely: bimetallism, by an international agreement with the leading commercial nations of the world. there is no business man, farmer or politician who has ever successfully accomplished any undertaking by adopting the idea most prominent in this plank, which is declaring bimetallism to be right, and then saying that we cannot and will not do anything to procure it if the leading commercial nations of the world do not consent to it. let us examine this plank in detail, and see if the general proposition of waiting for our common enemy to assist us in helping ourselves is not ridiculous. we notice that the party in drawing up this plank, says: "that they pledge themselves to promote bimetallism by agreement;" then in the next clause, say, "and until such an agreement can be obtained, the existing gold standard must be preserved." let me illustrate: suppose this gentleman on my right having a horse fairly worth on the market $100, should say to the young man on my left that he desired to sell the animal. if the young man wished to buy he would ask the price of the horse. i ask, what would the owner receive for his steed, if he should reply, "well, i ask $100, but if you will not give that much, i will take $25." now, my gold standard friends, do you not know that the purchaser would take advantage of the seller and only give $25 for the horse. when the party at st. louis pledged themselves to promote international bimetallism, and then asserted, "until such an agreement can be obtained the existing gold standard must be preserved," they in effect, like the man with the horse, put their business in the other fellow's hands; for was not that clause simply another way of saying to the foreigner, if you will not give us bimetallism we will take the gold standard, although we prefer the bimetallic standard? fellow citizens, i ask you in the name of american independence, does it not appear as though there was a colored gentleman somewhere in the background? let us examine further, and we will see that the colored man wears a british coat of arms, and has his american office on williams street, new york city. we will make no mistakes in our conclusion if we understand the facts, and to more clearly appreciate the full international effect, of the plank under examination, let us draw another picture from human nature. we will imagine you people of jacksonville to be a little sporty, and that you have in your midst a prize fighter of whom you are quite proud; we will suppose that springfield has a character of the same kind, and the st. louis athletic club should offer $50,000 as a purse for a fistic contest between these two champions, $40,000 to be the reward of the winner and $10,000 to soothe the wounds of the defeated pugilist. we will suppose the fight is arranged and the men go into careful training, the time for the mill has at last arrived, the ring is complete, and all details perfect. a large audience has assembled and betting is liberally indulged in; of course jacksonville sports back their home man. at the appointed hour the contestants enter the ring. then you see your jacksonville man is much the superior in appearance to the springfield upstart. your man being the quicker and stronger, has a longer reach, and is the more scientific. (america is quicker and stronger, has a longer reach, and is more scientific than any other nation on earth.) you feel sure your man will win the fight on short notice, in fact you almost pity the man from springfield, to see that he must compete in a fistic combat with such a giant as the jacksonville gladiator. the referee announces that marquis of queensbury's rules are to govern, he looks at his watch and announces that in one minute the fight will be on, the fighters raise their hands to position. when just a few seconds of time still remains before the slugging is to commence, your jacksonville man says to his opponent, hold on, if you don't run, i will. what, i ask you, would you think of your prize fighter then? think of the united states training for a century for supremacy of american self-government over foreign monarchical governments, then when all things are completed for the final fight of the survival of the fittest, a great party saying to the monarchies of europe, "we know bimetallism is right, but if you will not consent to it, then we will stick to the gold standard. if you don't run, we will." (great laughter and applause.) party prejudice prevailed and through the misrepresentations of the papers and certain unscrupulous politicians the party making those representations carried the election. international bimetallic commissioners were sent to the foreign countries to procure this great international agreement, and did they get it? facts answer no. let me again implore you to lay aside party prejudice and look matters squarely in the face, and we will immediately see, that not only did mr. wolcott and his party make a signal failure in procuring international bimetallism, but by the very terms of the st. louis platform it was impossible for him to succeed in his alleged purpose. now, my friends, let us suppose mr. wolcott and his two associates are in england talking with the rich moneyed men for international bimetallism and mr. wolcott is dealing out sledge-hammer argument in favor of international bimetallism, using the same argument in england the bryan democrats used in the campaign of 1896 in the united states. the financial men of england would then say to mr. wolcott, did you say that bimetallism in the united states meant 50-cent dollars? mr. wolcott would answer, "yes, i said that;" whereupon the englishman would say, "then international bimetallism would mean international 50-cent dollars." question no. 2. mr. wolcott, did not you say bimetallism in the united states meant repudiation? yes, would come from mr. wolcott. then the englishman would reply, "would not international bimetallism mean international repudiation?" question no. 3. "mr. wolcott, did you not tell the people of the united states that free silver over there meant anarchy and lost confidence?" again mr. wolcott is forced to admit that was just what he said here in 1896. in a triumphant air the englishman would say international free silver would mean international anarchy and international lost confidence. (laughter and applause). if mr. wolcott should further continue the argument, what could the poor fellow say if the englishman would draw the republican platform of '96 on him and read the following: "and until such agreement can be obtained the existing gold standard must be preserved." johnny bull would add, "you americans served notice on us that all we had to do was to stick to the gold standard and you would also stick to it." "now, we money men of england think we can get more bushels of corn, oats, rye and barley, more days labor of you fellows for what you owe us under the gold standard than we could under international bimetallism. we know it is hard on you, but it is the making of us, and we will stick to the gold standard; and as you said you would stick to it if we did, all we can do for you, mr. wolcott, is to serve you a fine wine supper, and tell you to return to america and stick to the gold standard." (great applause.) my friends, the most ridiculous proceeding i ever heard of was the republican party sending commissioners abroad to procure international bimetallism with that plank staring them in the face. i want to ask you if you do not think that if mr. wolcott would have taken a carload or two of the republican literature of 1896 and handed out the pamphlets to the englishmen, saying this is what we think of free silver in the united states, will you help us to have it by an international action? would not that kind of literature hurt the cause instead of helping it? for my part, i have no objections to the president sending a senator from colorado to the foreign countries to advocate bimetallism, but i do insist that he sent the wrong senator. most certainly mr. teller could have gone abroad with a little handful of free silver literature that was left over in the campaign of '96 and accomplished more, in a day's honest consistent work, for bimetallism, than could senator wolcott with the tons of gold standard pamphlets published by the republican party. (great applause.) a noticeable fact is that one of the greatest job lots of political trickery and deception that was ever attempted in america has been practiced in the united states since the month of june, 1896. later in the season the so-called gold-standard democrats conventioned in indianapolis; their money plank reads, "we assert the necessity of such intelligent currency reform as will confine the government to its legitimate functions, completely separated from the banking business, and afford to all sections of our country a safe, uniform and elastic bank currency, under government supervision, measured in volume by the need of business." strange as it may seem, while mr. wolcott was abroad, pretendingly for the purpose of procuring bimetallism by international agreement, the president and secretary of the treasury were working up a scheme to have the gold standard adopted according to the tenor of the indianapolis platform. when we consider 7,000,000 voted for international free silver, and 6,500,000 voted for independent free silver, we see the united states has 13,500,000 bimetallists; only 134,000, or less than one per cent, voted the gold-standard democratic ticket. yet, my friends, we today find mr. gage trying to overrule the desire of more than ninety-nine per cent and put into law the will of less than one per cent of our voting population. and what amount of money do the gold standard people want? they say they want it safe, uniform and elastic, measured in volume by the need of business. will you tell me by whose business they wish to measure the volume of money? it cannot be the farmers' business and the merchants' business they would have to measure the volume by, for that would make a double standard of measurement, and they tell us we cannot have but one standard of measurement. then i ask, whose business will measure the amount under such a law? to me the answer comes back in reverberating tones repeated with emphasis, measured in volume according to the bankers' business, of course. our philosophers tell us there are two kinds of elasticity--elasticity by compression and elasticity by expansion. thus an elastic substance after being either compressed or expanded when released, returns to its original shape and size, so when the bankers want money expanded in volume according to the need of their business, they would expand it, and whenever their business ends are best accomplished by contraction; then, of course, contraction is the program with them. while the government is completely separated from the banking business so they can furnish no relief, we might compare that system with an alligator on the banks of a louisiana river lying out to sun himself; he gets the bankers' elastic idea in his head, and his upper jaw flies over his back, and his mouth is twice as large as when it is closed, elasticity by expansion. (laughter.) a sweet substance gathers on his open mouth, and the flies light there to eat it (just as the people will gather around the bankers for money when there is no other place to procure it). the flies gather thicker and thicker, and the mouth gets bigger and bigger, more and more elasticity by expansion; finally the alligator, like the banker, happens to think that there is another kind of elasticity, when down comes the upper jaw on the lower jaw and the flies are caught in the trap, and the government shall go out of the banking business to furnish no relief or escape (cries of good, and cheers). my friends, if i mistake not, every cry of the republican party from the time of john c. fremont until the campaign of 1896 has been against banks issuing paper money except that the government was strictly in the banking business. have not they always told us, that when state or other banks issue paper money without the government in the banking business to back up the issue, such money in case of a failure of the issuing bank became wild-cat money, and did they not say to us wild-cat money made paupers? now they go squarely back on all they have taught us on the money question, and advocate the wild-cat money system themselves according to their own statements. one thing i will concede is, that the republicans and gold standard democrats are certainly on their past statements entitled to the $1,000,000 offered by the united states patent office for the invention of a perpetual motion, would not they have a complete and perpetual motion in their bank issuing money with the government completely separate from the banking business, for we see the bank issue would be made of paper, so we have the perpetual motion in this simple problem. rags make paper, paper makes money, money makes banks, banks make paupers, and paupers make rags. rags make paper, paper makes money (great cheer and laughter). now, my friends, let me read you a plank in a platform that contains the spirit upon which our forefathers freed the thirteen american colonies from england, the spirit on which their descendants maintained american liberty and builded from 3,000,000 population along the atlantic shores in 1781, a nation of 70,000,000 grand anglo-americans, with their half a hundred states and territories extending from the rock bound coast of the pine tree state to the golden gates of california, stretching over a vast area of more than 3,000,000 square miles, with great cities, towns, villages and hamlets, with our colleges and universities that are equaled by none in europe. i will now read you the money plank of the chicago platform, which contains the spirit represented by the statute at new york, of liberty enlightening the world. it is as follows: "we demand a free and unlimited coinage of both gold and silver at the present legal ratio of 16 to 1, without waiting for the aid or consent of any other nation. we demand that the standard silver dollar shall be a full legal tender equally with gold, for the payment of all debts public and private, and we favor such legislation as will in the future prevent the demonetization of any kind of legal tender money by private contract." while bimetallism is the theme this evening, you will excuse me for intruding on your time long enough to briefly comment on the spirit of that plank that shines prominently above all other issues in the chicago platform--it is these simple words, "without waiting for the aid or consent of any other nation." i want to ask you, what would have been the result if our forefathers in 1776 had adopted any other spirit than this? does not the answer immediately echo that we would be today english? history tells us that while the british red coats with their muskets were invading the colonies, a handful of bold liberty loving men met at philadelphia and signed the declaration of independence. you may read that instrument and you will see that it declares for american liberty from an american point of view, without waiting for the aid or consent of any other nation. when bold old non-international agreement john hancock read that declaration, he made a speech to the multitude in front of liberty hall, in which he implored them to throw aside trivial differences, and on the main question of independence, all good liberty loving people should hang together. benjamin franklin replied: "yes, we must all hang together or we will all hang separate." in franklin's witticism, i think i can see the solution of our present financial trouble--the good people of all parties must solve the problem, then we must all hang together or we will all hang separately to the tail of the old british lion, and while we voters are thus suspended, the cubs of that lion will devour the young anglo-american eagles before they scarcely have time to scream for mercy. not only did that spirit of independence pervade in philadelphia in 1776, but it was foremost at bunker hill. but benedict arnold and major andre seemed to have taken a different view, and the former fled to english assistance, the latter was executed because of his attempt to do likewise. but the spirit of independence, without waiting for the consent of any other nation, shone forth like a plumed knight or a mighty gladiator on the 19th day of october, 1781, at yorktown, when the british gave up their swords and surrendered to the liberty loving fathers of america. do you think cornwallis would have surrendered to washington if the colonial congress had declared that they would promote independence by international agreement, and until such agreement could be obtained, the existing will of king george must be maintained, and if washington and his army had fought for english instead of american supremacy? i want to say to you that it was not the international agreement spirit that won in the war of 1812 at new orleans. general jackson told his kentucky riflemen to keep their powder dry and guns well loaded, and when they were close enough to see the white of the enemies' eyes to shoot directly between them. history tells us that the third volley charmed and the british surrendered to the american army once more without an international agreement. in the blackest of the dark days of the late rebellion when the possible, and to a certain extent the seeming probable success of the confederacy was spreading like an appalling cloud over our country, we find it on record that the english were preparing their man-of-war and navy to assist the south when the illustrious lincoln said, "hands off," and it was so; suppose mr. lincoln had said to england, "let us have an international agreement that you are not to interfere." why, my friends, i believe england would have signed such an agreement the day after mr. lincoln had acknowledged the independence of the southern states, and not before. we may as well know that the success of a republican or democratic form of government is envied by all the monarchies or empires where the people have less self-government. the gold standard monarchies or empires will never, knowingly, do anything to improve times in a republic and thus create among their subjects a desire to throw off the monarchial yoke of oppression. i know that much has been said against the american republic becoming entangled with the european powers, but i fear that many in treating on this line do not show the real menace of such an entanglement. we all know that the laws of the empires and monarchies are in the interest of the moneyed classes, and we are proud to say that in america our laws are for the masses. let me tell you by way of comparison why we should keep out of an international agreement entanglement on the money question. i will use the tariff as an illustration. i care not what your politics may be, you will all agree with me that there was one redeeming feature in the mckinley bill. that some good feature was in the wilson-gormon act, and the same quality of goodness today shines forth in the present dingley tariff law. do you ask what that feature is? i answer it is this: that law was passed by the independent action of the american congress. if we do not like it we can repeal it, without waiting for the aid or consent of any other nation on earth. our government bonds are all payable in coins of the united states of the standard weight and value of july 14, 1870; that weight was 23.22 grains of gold or 371.25 grains of silver to the dollar. the value of those coins was that they were a legal tender in the payment of debts. if we have an international agreement for bimetallism we can not have it all our own way--the foreigner would be entitled to a voice. suppose we would fix the ratio at any other than the ratio of july 14th, 1870. then our dollars would no longer be of the weight that the bonds call for and the foreigner would have the best of us, for our own coins would not be a legal tender in payment of our bonds. now suppose we wanted to repeal that law, could we repeal it by international agreement? well, i guess not. the foreigners would never consent to the repeal of a law that was to their advantage. therein lies the real menace of an international agreement even if we could get it. the only way we could ever get rid of that agreement would be just to back squarely out, then we might properly be called repudiators. we often hear it said that the congress of 1792 used great care to put just a dollar's worth of silver in a silver dollar and dollar's worth of gold in the gold dollar. now while it is true that according to the law of april 12, 1792, a dollar's worth of silver was put in the silver dollar, the amount of silver became worth a dollar as a creature of law, and it is not true that the silver dollar became worth a dollar because of the value of the silver contained in it. that congress made the dollar just as god made man. god said, "let us make man," and the lord god formed man of the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and man became a living soul. god did not study and bother his mind about taking a man's worth of dust to make a man. no, he took some dust of the ground and formed therefrom a man and by his own authority breathed the breath of life in man's nostrils and man thus became a living soul. god then gave man legal authority over the living creatures of the earth and also gave him authority to replenish the earth. man's rights came from the power of god. the constitution says congress shall have power to coin money and regulate the value thereof. so congress made the dollar as god made man, and the american congress formed the dollar of the silver and gold of the earth, put the eagle on one side of the coin and breathed into that coin the legal tender law, and the bimetallic dollar became a living soul of prosperity for eighty-one years as long as the silver and gold were allowed to fly side by side; but when in 1873 the wings were clipped from the silver and the legal tender breath shut off, then the gold had to do all the work; it being too weak to do so, adversity came. they tell us that law cannot regulate value and that gold never changes in value. let us for a moment form ourselves into a party of truthseekers and look up the record as to that proposition. the law of april 2nd, 1792, said 371.75 grains of silver could be freely coined into one dollar, or two halves, or four quarters, or ten dimes, each to be a legal tender at its face value, if not worn, for any amount; that law also said 24.75 grains of gold could be coined into coins of the value of the dollar; of course you understand the gold was in higher denominations than the dollar. now let us watch carefully as to whether or not the law cannot regulate value and that gold never changes. in 1834 the law said 23.20 grains of gold when coined in american money constituted a dollar. let me see, the gold has changed all at once and the law regulates the amount of gold that goes in a dollar. in 1837, the law requires 23.22 grains of gold to the dollar, another change. in 1853 the law says that no longer shall it require 371.75 grains of silver to make a dollar's worth of fractional coins, but that 342.22 grains of silver would make two halves, four quarters or ten dimes, and they should be a legal tender in the payment of debts for $5. in '73 the coinage of the standard silver dollar was stopped by law, and silver fell in price. in 1878 the bland-allison act allowed the coinage of the standard silver dollar. in 1890 the sherman act called for more silver coinage and the price of silver immediately advanced. in 1893 the coinage of silver was again stopped and the price of silver dropped, hence we see that the law does regulate values, and that gold does change in value so far even as the dollar is concerned. a teacher once told benjamin franklin that a boy told him, if he would take a tub weighing 100 pounds and put 500 pounds of water in it, which only about half filled the tub, the tub and water would weigh 600 pounds, but if he would put a live fish weighing 100 pounds in the tub, the tub, water and fish would not weigh more than 600 pounds. can you explain that curious contradiction of the law of gravity, asked the teacher of franklin. whereupon mr. franklin requested his interrogator to call at his office next day. franklin procured a tub weighing 100 pounds, put in it 500 pounds of water, and the weight was 600 pounds, just as the boy had told the teacher; then mr. franklin added a 100-pound live fish and the total weight was 700 pounds. the next day the teacher called on franklin for his solution of the great problem, whereupon franklin replied, there was but one solution to the question. "what is that?" anxiously inquired the visitor. "why," replied franklin, "the boy lied." my friends, when they tell us the law cannot regulate value and that gold never changes, and when we examine the records and see that gold does change and that law does regulate value, we say there is but one answer to them, and that is just as franklin answered the teacher about the boy. we hear it said by the republicans that free silver would drive gold out of the country; our democratic friends tell us that free silver will not drive gold out of the country. so we see on that point people seem to differ in opinion. for my part i believe that free silver either will drive the gold out or else it will not. i want to ask the republicans to acknowledge for the sake of argument that silver would not drive the gold out. now, let us examine the question if silver don't drive the gold out, and we have a block of gold large enough to make into $100, and a block of silver sufficiently large to make into a like amount, if the gold-standard democratic idea prevails, all the money we could coin would be the $100 from the gold, for silver could not be coined, but if bimetallism prevailed we could coin $100 from the gold and $100 from the silver, making $200, that is, if the silver does not drive out the gold. but the republicans may urge that free silver would drive out the gold by the gold going at a premium over silver, then we would coin the block of silver into 100 legal tender dollars and the gold would be exchanged for a block of silver say 25 per cent larger than the block that drove it out, and we would coin that block into 125 legal tender dollars, adding it to the silver that stayed at home, making 225 dollars, just $25 more than we would have if the gold did not advance to a premium. but they tell us that would be coining the cheapest metal. now, honor bright, you republicans cannot complain of that for the reason i will presently explain. we often hear it urged that during the eighty-one years of bimetallism in the united states only about 8,000,000 silver dollars were coined, and that subsequently to 1873 more than 400,000,000 have been coined. true, there were only about 8,000,000 dollar pieces made of the silver metal, but there were more than $8,000,000 made because of the silver, for as france had a ratio of 15-1/2 to 1 against our ratio of 16 to 1 our gold stayed at home and the silver was at a 3 per cent premium over the gold according to the french ratio, then a $100 block of gold drove a $100 block of silver to france, and drove from france to america a block of gold large enough to make $103. so we had our gold made into $100, and the gold that came from france in exchange for silver made into $103, making a total of $203, whereas we could only have had $200 if one metal had not gone at a premium. history, arithmetic and common sense prove the correctness of this proposition. abraham lincoln once said he did not know much about the tariff question, but he thought he knew enough to know that if we bought $20 worth of steel rails of a foreigner the foreigner would have the money and we would have the rails; but if we made the rails in america and bought them of an american, america would have the money and the rails, too. now, my republican friends, don't you believe that? i do. i may not know much about the money question, but i think i know enough to know that if under the gold standard we borrow $20,000,000 of a foreigner, when we pay it back the foreigner will have the money and the interest, too, but if we coin the silver, which is an american product, into legal tender dollars, borrow $20,000,000 of an american, when we pay it back it kind of seems to me somehow that america will have the money and the interest, too. what say you, lincoln republicans? but another objection is that we would have a great commerce destroying flood of silver in this country. let us examine that proposition as seekers after the truth. here comes mr. foreigner with a carload or two of silver, the united states mints coin it into legal tender american dollars and hands it back to mr. foreigner. now, mr. foreigner will either take that silver money away with him or else he will leave it here. if he takes it away it will not flood this country, will it? well, if he leaves it here he will either give it to us or buy something with it. now, if he gives it to us, will not you republicans be willing to take your share? won't you democrats willingly receive your share? and, i ask, is there a gold standard banker in all america who would not, with just a tiny wee bit of persuading, be willing to take the shares of both republicans and democrats? now, if mr. foreigner should buy something with this great flood of silver we can see the wisdom of mr. gladstone when he said, "if america should adopt bimetallism they would within six weeks control the markets of the world." a favorite expression of our republican friends is, that because mexico does not maintain a parity between gold and silver under bimetallism, the united states cannot. when a man tells us that we should pity him. if we examine that question by comparison we will see the party making such a statement is either not sincere, or else he is not posted on the relative strength of the united states and mexico. records show that mexico has 700,000 square miles of land, more than one-half of which is nearly or quite barren desert or waste land, leaving only about 350,000 miles of arable land, 4,981 miles of railway, 27,861 miles of telegraph line and a population of 10,000,000 indians and spaniards. the united states has 3,460,000 square miles, over two-thirds of which is arable land, and very productive of the staple articles consumed by the most enlightened nations of the world. we have 170,000 miles of railway, 780,000 miles of telegraph line, and a population of 72,000,000 anglo-americans; thus we see we have over ten times as much arable land exclusive of alaska, thirty-four times as much railway, twenty-nine times as much telegraph line, and over seven times the population of mexico. in size, wealth, commerce and science, mexico is not to be compared with the united states. when we compare mexico with the united states, we are comparing it with the most gigantic country of the nineteenth century. you can form the united states into eighteen states each as large as spain, or thirty-one states as large as italy, or sixty-two states as large as england and wales. what a mighty confederation of land, water, commerce, wealth and people is the united states when we come to think of it. why, friends, we can take five of the six first-class countries of europe--france, great britain and ireland, germany, austria and italy, then add mexico--let some mighty smith forge them all together into one vast empire, and you can lay them all down in the united states, west of the hudson river, twice. wittingly has it been said that the united states has the natural basis for the greatest continuous government ever established by man. mexico has less than 100 miles of inland navigation, while the united states has over 35,000 miles. steam boats can go up the mississippi, missouri and ohio rivers over 2,500 miles from the gulf, thus carrying our seaboard into the very heart of our continent. as to our resources, the crop of 1879, after feeding our population, furnished for export 283,000,000 bushels of grain. this vast crop was raised on 164,215 square miles, or less than one-twelfth of our arable land. it is estimated that if all our arable land was under the plow, it would feed a population of 1,000,000,000 people, and furnish for export 1,000,000,000 bushels of grain food for export. but what can we say of the people of mexico and the united states? the difference in our population is not alone the difference between 10,000,000 in mexico and 72,000,000 in the united states, but the difference between 10,000,000 indians and spaniards and 72,000,000 anglo-americans. mexicans and indians are but semi-civilized, and the spaniards are, generally speaking, a sluggardly, non-advancing people, while the anglo-americans of the united states are the most highly civilized people on the earth, wide awake and progressive in science, literature and mechanical inventions. at a recent exposition in paris where the foremost nations of the world were exhibiting for premiums five gold medals were given for the greatest inventions or discoveries, and how many came to the united states? only five; that is all. now to say that because mexico cannot maintain a parity between gold and silver, america cannot, is just about like saying that a kentucky race horse cannot beat an english horse because a mexican donkey cannot do so. my friends, our ability to maintain a parity between gold and silver is our ability to absorb money in our daily and yearly business. give our country the increased volume of money that bimetallism will give us instead of the necessary contracted volume that the gold standard leaves us, and we will have a genuine lasting wave of prosperity moving westward from new england, starting the shops at increased wages. that wave will meet with joy the western prosperity wave that sets in motion the mining and agricultural interests of a patient and patriotic people, the eastern and western wave will shake hands with the southern cotton growers and northern wheat raisers. from the four quarters of our nation prosperity will spring up from an american point of view without waiting for the aid or consent of any other country, and without international agreement. then will a mighty people standing for humanity and general prosperity, shout aloud, "we lead, let others follow." i thank you for your attention. good night. what next? patrick henry, the revolutionist, on march 25th, 1775, said: "i have but one lamp by which my feet are guided and that is the lamp of experience. i know of no way of judging of the future but by the past." patrick, the irishman, always said, "our hind sight is better than our front sight." right in the beginning let me say that inasmuch as an open confession is good for the soul, i most emphatically and with one gulp swallow this doctrine in toto. i take it for granted that a vast majority will, without much persuasion, acknowledge that our historical knowledge has been garnered by looking backward. experience shows that causes, equal to each other, produce equal effects; hence to arrive at a rational conclusion as to what must we do to be saved from eastern imperialism or its equal, western greed, supported by law, let us look at the united states in retrospect. my space is limited. i shall bid for your gratitude by being brief. i consult my watch, a beautiful piece of machinery, and learn that it is three o'clock; it is july 21st, 1902. it has been raining, or rather drizzling for about twenty hours. it is an ideal time for reflection. near the window where i sit is a large, vacant lot. the grass is fragrant, its surface is smooth and elevated. i remember viewing the same lot eight years ago, just after a similar rain to the one that is now abating. the lot was then a large pond, eighteen inches deep. what a change labor has made on its surface! looking another direction, i see a lot, now covered with water as it was eight years ago. i will venture the assertion that it will be covered with water a thousand years hence, unless labor improves it as it has the one just mentioned. my library contains several volumes devoted entirely to the history of the united states. they all say that four hundred years ago, what is now the united states was a vast territory of uncultivated land, crossed by the mountain ranges and rivers, that still hold forth. there were also people here, and they had a government. we call it tribe rule, and tribal relations. they were savages. hence, looking backward as far as history permits, we find the united states a tract of land that was the home of nature, and natures, beasts. inhabited by the roaming indian, whose government and mechanical ability were as widely different from the present style as the city of chicago is from old fort dearborn, in lake michigan swamps of 1811. history recounts that european government had succeeded in governing so that the toiling subjects preferred to come to america, and dwell among indians, and rule themselves, than to stay in europe among friends, and be ruled by the old style, european government. be it remembered that it was not the tangible improvements which were the handiwork of labor, from which the poor of europe fled. but it was the european laws that oppressed them. it was oppression from which they were fleeing. they did not come to the new connecticut because it was new, but because it was the only available place for them. they did not come to america because they did not like law, or because they did not want to worship god, but to gain justice and privilege of worship. the poor came to america to earn a living without kingly interference. the king sent rulers not to earn a living, but to _get_ a living. the poor said, "i will go to america and eat bread in the sweat of my face." the ruler said, "where you go, i will go also, and i will eat bread in the sweat of your face." thus we see that the oppressed came to america to avoid tyranny, while simultaneously the rulers came over to impose the very rule the toilers were seeking to avoid. so successful were they in their purpose that in 1776, the toiling class (who are always in the majority), concluded that they needed no more european rule, and in seven years of war, the idle rulers were driven from america. in forming the new government, the people, who had so courageously fought to drive out england's "kingly" rule, commenced to look for formulas for a government. they turned to england for precedents, consequently a government was formed, which in many respects resembled the english government. especially was this resemblance noticeable in the supreme court, for the judges hold office for life, during good behavior. right here let me observe that there is no good reason why the inferior courts should not have a life tenure of office, if such a policy is correct for the supreme court, and if it is better for inferior courts to hold office for short terms, it is best that the supreme court be subject to the same policy. it is ridiculous that our representatives should be made such by popular vote, and the laws they make be construed by a set of judges whose office expires only when the spirit judge has a harp, and the dust judge has a coffin. popular vote retires the inferior judge, a fashionable funeral retires the supreme judge, but the robe is left as the imperial emblem. it seems to me it is time to abolish the life tenure of office with our supreme court, and it is entirely fitting that their robes be hung in the curio hall of some popular museum, as a souvenir of a ridiculous custom no longer desirable in a popular government. let me here drop a thought. you may have it for what you think it is worth. the expressed will of a majority of the people should be the supreme court decision in the united states. were that the case an income tax would be constitutional, and a tariff between the states and some territory owned and controlled by our government would be unconstitutional. since the victory at yorktown, great questions have been argued and settled by the laboring men and inventors; great questions have been argued, but not settled, by the politicians. washington used candles, we use electric lights. washington's four men picked the seed from twenty-five pounds of cotton per day; four men in our generation, gin 25,000 pounds per day; washington traveled with horses and oxen, thirty miles per day; we travel by steam 1,000 miles per day; washington sent a letter one hundred miles and waited a week for the answer; we telegraph thousands of miles and get an answer within the hour; washington's voice could be heard a quarter of a mile; we talk and carry on conversation hundreds of miles. each of these propositions, and thousands of others have been settled by the inventors and toilers. in short and in fine, the difference between the united states with her natural resources of 125 years ago, and the united states of today, with her vast farms, great mines, magnificent cities and half a hundred thousand miles of railroad, and other improvements too numerous to mention, all this difference, i say, is co-extensive with america _before and after_ taking the labor treatment. but what can we say of the politician and his doings during these years, stripped of all ambiguity, when we tell the unpolished, but plain truth, we must say he never advanced one iota until he was routed from his old position by the toiling masses. it is curious to note that every new social, political, and ethical idea hatches in the same mind and is developed by the same crowd that contrives the machinery and builds the cities, railroads, farms, mines, etc. the politicians, except where labor has compelled them to march forward, stand where patrick henry and thomas jefferson put them when the constitution was adopted. of course there were some steep places in our governmental structure, and where labor has not buoyed up the politician, he has occasionally slid back to the rules of king george the iii. as king george had one tax for england at home, and another for the colonies, so with us, of late, we have one tax for ourselves and another for our possessions. (we should, however, give the politician, due credit for the way he spells colonies.) english style is to commence with a "c." our modern style necessitates commencing with a "p." then, the pronunciation is different; in england it is "colonies," in america, "possessions." yet all over the world they mean the same, to-wit, the strong taxing the weak without allowing representation. it is literally true that henry, jefferson, washington, and the adams argued the slavery question. as long as we retain the philippine islands, that question still faces us, for their advent to our possession brought slavery for us to foster, and we are fostering it. the money question was argued one hundred years ago, and it is still up for argument. politicians still are turning on both wings of the tariff. republicans hold to the argument that the european manufacturers, because of the low wages paid their workingmen, would undersell our home manufacturers if free trade was adopted by the united states. democrats contend that free trade will work to benefit 99 per cent of our people, where, as they claim, protection benefits only 1 per cent, to the injury of the masses. according to the chicago tribune of july 19th, 1902, europe is afraid that, unless a high tariff law protects it, american manufactures will flood their markets, thus hindering their home industry. strange, indeed, that in america we should fear free trade with europe, because they pay low wages, and europe fears free trade with us, because we pay higher wages. another peculiar thing is shown in the tribune article, when it mentions that there is not much fear that european nations will agree on a general tariff law, because, as it says, "austria might want to admit free the very articles that france, germany or england might want to shut out." wonder how much the tariff barons of the united states would pay the tribune editor for an article in favor of a high protective tariff that would say, "there is not much danger of a general tariff law continuing in the united states, because texas or kansas might want to admit free the very things that massachusetts or connecticut might want a high tariff imposed on." let us acknowledge the truth. tariff laws are class legislation. it is odd, indeed, that we should have such great regard for the interest of the foreigner on the money question, and then so utterly ignore his interests on the tariff question. if our hind sight were not better than our fore sight, it would seem queer to hear politicians advocate the gold standard and a high tariff, and with the same breath rage against the trusts, when the trust is simply the fruit of these two laws. it were as logical to send a highwayman, train robber or an incendiary to congress to break up bank robbings and general stealing as to send an advocate of the gold standard and protective tariff to congress to break up the trusts. the inventor and laborer are a congenial team and, under their influence, the world improves and enriches. the politician and money power are another well mated team, and under their rule they get the wealth that the other team produces. the people elect the representatives; the money power gets the legislation. lincoln called the united states a government "of the people, for the people, and by the people." we have outgrown lincoln's time, and there is a suspicion that we are a government of the trusts, and for the trusts, by the representatives. i suggest that inasmuch as our representatives have become misrepresentatives for the masses, and tools for the classes, it would be wise to adopt pure democracy and make our laws by direct legislation. then we will have a government of _all_ the people, by _all_ the people, and for _all_ the people.--if not this plan, what next? the warwick woodlands; or things as they were twenty years ago by frank forester my first visit, day the first it was a fine october evening when i was sitting on the back stoop of his cheerful little bachelor's establishment in mercer street, with my old friend and comrade, henry archer. many a frown of fortune had we two weathered out together; in many of her brightest smiles had we two reveled--never was there a stauncher friend, a merrier companion, a keener sportsman, or a better fellow, than this said harry; and here had we two met, three thousand miles from home, after almost ten years of separation, just the same careless, happy, dare-all do-no-goods that we were when we parted in st. james's street,--he for the west, i for the eastern world--he to fell trees, and build log huts in the backwoods of canada,--i to shoot tigers and drink arrack punch in the carnatic. the world had wagged with us as with most others: now up, now down, and laid us to, at last, far enough from the goal for which we started--so that, as i have said already, on landing in new york, having heard nothing of him for ten years, whom the deuce should i tumble on but that same worthy, snugly housed, with a neat bachelor's menage, and every thing ship-shape about him?--so, in the natural course of things, we were at once inseparables. well--as i said before, it was a bright october evening, with the clear sky, rich sunshine, and brisk breezy freshness, which indicate that loveliest of the american months,--dinner was over, and with a pitcher of the liquid ruby of latour, a brace of half-pint beakers, and a score --my contribution--of those most exquisite of smokables, the true old manila cheroots, we were consoling the inward man in a way that would have opened the eyes, with abhorrent admiration, of any advocate of that coldest of comforts--cold water--who should have got a chance peep at our snuggery. suddenly, after a long pause, during which he had been stimulating his ideas by assiduous fumigation, blowing off his steam in a long vapory cloud that curled a minute afterward about his temples,--"what say you, frank, to a start tomorrow?" exclaimed harry,--"and a week's right good shooting?" "why, as for that," said i, "i wish for nothing better--but where the deuce would you go to get shooting?" "never fash your beard, man," he replied, "i'll find the ground and the game too, so you'll find share of the shooting!--holloa! there--tim, tim matlock." and in brief space that worthy minister of mine host's pleasures made his appearance, smoothing down his short black hair, clipped in the orthodox bowl fashion, over his bluff good-natured visage with one hand, while he employed its fellow in hitching up a pair of most voluminous unmentionables, of thick yorkshire cord. a character was tim--and now i think of it, worthy of brief description. born, i believe--bred, certainly, in a hunting stable, far more of his life passed in the saddle than elsewhere, it was not a little characteristic of my friend harry to have selected this piece of yorkshire oddity as his especial body servant; but if the choice were queer, it was at least successful, for an honester, more faithful, hard-working, and withal, better hearted, and more humorous varlet never drew curry-comb over horse-hide, or clothes-brush over broad-cloth. his visage was, as i have said already, bluff and good-natured, with a pair of hazel eyes, of the smallest--but, at the same time, of the very merriest--twinkling from under the thick black eyebrows, which were the only hairs suffered to grace his clean-shaved countenance. an indescribable pug nose, and a good clean cut mouth, with a continual dimple at the left corner, made up his phiz. for the rest, four feet ten inches did tim stand in his stockings, about two-ten of which were monopolized by his back, the shoulders of which would have done honor to a six foot pugilist,--his legs, though short and bowed a little outward, by continual horse exercise, were right tough serviceable members, and i have seen them bearing their owner on through mud and mire, when straighter, longer, and more fair proportioned limbs were at an awful discount. depositing his hat then on the floor, smoothing his hair, and hitching up his smalls, and striving most laboriously not to grin till he should have cause, stood tim, like "giafar awaiting his master's award!" "tim!" said harry archer. "sur!" said tim. "tim! mr. forester and i are talking of going up to-morrow--what do you say to it?" "oop yonner?" queried tim, in the most extraordinary west-riding yorkshire, indicating the direction, by pointing his right thumb over his left shoulder--"weel, ay'se nought to say aboot it--not ay!" "soh! the cattle are all right, and the wagon in good trim, and the dogs in exercise, are they?" "ay'se warrant um!" "well, then, have all ready for a start at six to-morrow,--put mr. forester's manton alongside my joe spurling in the top tray of the case, my single gun and my double rifle in the lower, and see the magazine well filled--the diamond gunpowder, you know, from mr. brough's. you'll put up what mr. forester will want, for a week, you know--he does not know the country yet, tim;--and, hark you, what wine have i at tom draw's?" "no but a case of claret." "i thought so, then away with you! down to the baron's and get two baskets of the star, and stop at fulton market, and get the best half hundred round of spiced beef you can find--and then go up to starke's at the octagon, and get a gallon of his old ferintosh--that's all, tim--off with you!--no! stop a minute!" and he filled up a beaker and handed it to the original, who, shutting both his eyes, suffered the fragrant claret to roll down his gullet in the most scientific fashion, and then, with what he called a bow, turned right about, and exit. the sun rose bright on the next morning, and half an hour before the appointed time, tim entered my bed-chamber, with a cup of mocha, and the intelligence that "measter had been oop this hour and better, and did na like to be kept waiting!"--so up i jumped, and scarcely had got through the business of rigging myself, before the rattle of wheels announced the arrival of the wagon. and a model was that shooting wagon--a long, light-bodied box, with a low rail--a high seat and dash in front, and a low servant's seat behind, with lots of room for four men and as many dogs, with guns and luggage, and all appliances to boot, enough to last a month, stowed away out of sight, and out of reach of weather. the nags, both nearly thorough-bred, fifteen two inches high, stout, clean-limbed, active animals--the off-side horse a gray, almost snow-white--the near, a dark chestnut, nearly black--with square docks setting admirably off their beautiful round quarters, high crests, small blood-like heads, and long thin manes--spoke volumes for tim's stable science; for though their ribs were slightly visible, their muscles were well filled, and hard as granite. their coats glanced in the sunshine--the white's like statuary marble; the chestnut's like high polished copper--in short the whole turn-out was perfect. the neat black harness, relieved merely by a crest, with every strap that could be needed, in its place, and not one buckle or one thong superfluous; the bright steel curbs, with the chains jingling as the horses tossed and pawed impatient for a start; the tapering holly whip; the bear-skins covering the seats; the top-coats spread above them-every thing, in a word, without bordering on the slang, was perfectly correct and gnostic. four dogs--a brace of setters of the light active breed, one of which will out-work a brace of the large, lumpy, heavy-headed dogs,--one red, the other white and liver, both with black noses, their legs and sterns beautifully feathered, and their hair, glossy and smooth as silk, showing their excellent condition--and a brace of short-legged, bony, liver-colored spaniels--with their heads thrust one above the other, over or through the railings, and their tails waving with impatient joy --occupied the after portion of the wagon. tim, rigged in plain gray frock, with leathers and white tops, stood, in true tiger fashion, at the horses' heads, with the forefinger of his right hand resting upon the curb of the gray horse, as with his left he rubbed the nose of the chestnut; while harry, cigar in mouth, was standing at the wheel, reviewing with a steady and experienced eye the gear, which seemed to give him perfect satisfaction. the moment i appeared on the steps, "in with you, frank--in with you," he exclaimed, disengaging the hand-reins from the terrets into which they had been thrust, "i have been waiting here these five minutes. jump up, tim!" and, gathering the reins up firmly, he mounted by the wheel, tucked the top-coat about his legs, shook out the long lash of his tandem whip, and lapped it up in good style. "i always drive with one of these"--he said, half apologetically, as i thought--"they are so handy on the road for the cur dogs, when you have setters with you--they plague your life out else. have you the pistol-case in, tim, for i don't see it?" "all raight, sur," answered he, not over well pleased, as it seemed, that it should even be suspected that he could have forgotten any thing --"all raight!" "go along, then," cried harry, and at the word the high bred nags went off; and though my friend was too good and too old a hand to worry his cattle at the beginning of a long day's journey--many minutes had not passed before we found ourselves on board the ferry-boat, steaming it merrily towards the jersey shore. "a quarter past six to the minute," said harry, as we landed at hoboken. "let shot and chase run, tim, but keep the spaniels in till we pass hackensack." "awa wi ye, ye rascals," exclaimed tim, and out went the high blooded dogs upon the instant, yelling and jumping in delight about the horses-and off we went, through the long sandy street of hoboken, leaving the private race-course of that stanch sportsman, mr. stevens, on the left, with several powerful horses taking their walking exercise in their neat body clothes. "that puts me in mind, frank," said harry, as he called my attention to the thorough-breds, "we must be back next tuesday for the beacon races-the new course up there on the hill; you can see the steps that lead to it--and now is not this lovely?" he continued, as we mounted the first ridge of weehawken, and looked back over the beautiful broad hudson, gemmed with a thousand snowy sails of craft or shipping--"is not this lovely, frank? and, by the by, you will say, when we get to our journey's end, you never drove through prettier scenery in your life. get away, bob, you villain--nibbling, nibbling at your curb! get away, lads!" and away we went at a right rattling pace over the hills, and through the cedar swamp; and, passing through a toll-gate, stopped with a sudden jerk at a long low tavern on the left-hand side. "we must stop here, frank. my old friend, ingliss, a brother trigger, too, would think the world was coming to an end if i drove by-twenty-nine minutes these six miles," he added, looking at his watch, "that will do! now, tim, look sharp--just a sup of water! good day--good day to you, mr. ingliss; now for a glass of your milk punch"--and mine host disappeared, and in a moment came forth with two rummers of the delicious compound, a big bright lump of ice bobbing about in each among the nutmeg. "what, off again for orange county, mr. archer? i was telling the old woman yesterday that we should have you by before long; well, you'll find cock pretty plenty, i expect; there was a chap by here from ulster --let me see, what day was it--friday, i guess--with produce, and he was telling, they have had no cold snap yet up there! thank you, sir, good luck to you!" and off we went again, along a level road, crossing the broad, slow river from whence it takes its name, into the town of hackensack. "we breakfast here, frank"--as he pulled up beneath the low dutch shed projecting over half the road in front of the neat tavern--"how are you, mr. vanderbeck--we want a beefsteak, and a cup of tea, as quick as you can give it us; we'll make the tea ourselves; bring in the black tea, tim--the nags as usual." "aye! aye! sur"--"tak them out--leave t' harness on, all but their bridles"--to an old gray-headed hostler. "whisp off their legs a bit; ay will be oot enoo!" after as good a breakfast as fresh eggs, good country bread--worth ten times the poor trash of city bakers--prime butter, cream, and a fat steak could furnish, at a cheap rate, and with a civil and obliging landlord, away we went again over the red-hills--an infernal ugly road, sandy, and rough, and stony--for ten miles farther to new prospect. "now you shall see some scenery worth looking at," said harry, as we started again, after watering the horses, and taking in a bag with a peck of oats--"to feed at three o'clock, frank, when we stop to grub, which must do al fresco--" my friend explained--"for the landlord, who kept the only tavern on the road, went west this summer, bit by the land mania, and there is now no stopping place 'twixt this and warwick," naming the village for which we were bound. "you got that beef boiled, tim?" "ay'd been a fouil else, and aye so often oop t' road too," answered he with a grin, "and t' moostard is mixed, and t' pilot biscuit in, and a good bit o' cheshire cheese! wee's doo, ay reckon. ha! ha! ha!" and now my friend's boast was indeed fulfilled; for when we had driven a few miles farther, the country became undulating, with many and bright streams of water; the hill sides clothed with luxuriant woodlands, now in their many-colored garb of autumn beauty; the meadow-land rich in unchanged fresh greenery--for the summer had been mild and rainy--with here and there a buckwheat stubble showing its ruddy face, replete with promise of quail in the present, and of hot cakes in future; and the bold chain of mountains, which, under many names, but always beautiful and wild, sweeps from the highlands of the hudson, west and southwardly, quite through new jersey, forming a link between the white and green mountains of new hampshire and vermont, and the more famous alleghenies of the south. a few miles farther yet, the road wheeled round the base of the tourne mountain, a magnificent bold hill, with a bare craggy head, its sides and skirts thick set with cedars and hickory--entering a defile through which the ramapo, one of the loveliest streams eye ever looked upon, comes rippling with its crystal waters over bright pebbles, on its way to join the two kindred rivulets which form the fair passaic. throughout the whole of that defile, nothing can possibly surpass the loveliness of nature; the road hard, and smooth, and level, winding and wheeling parallel to the gurgling river, crossing it two or three times in each mile, now on one side, and now on the other--the valley now barely broad enough to permit the highway and the stream to pass between the abrupt masses of rock and forest, and now expanding into rich basins of green meadow-land, the deepest and most fertile possible--the hills of every shape and size--here bold, and bare, and rocky--there swelling up in grand round masses, pile above pile of verdure, to the blue firmament of autumn. by and by we drove through a thriving little village, nestling in a hollow of the hills, beside a broad bright pond, whose waters keep a dozen manufactories of cotton and of iron--with which mineral these hills abound--in constant operation; and passing by the tavern, the departure of whose owner harry had so pathetically mourned, we wheeled again round a projecting spur of hill into a narrower defile, and reached another hamlet, far different in its aspect from the busy bustling place we had left some five miles behind. there were some twenty houses, with two large mills of solid masonry; but of these not one building was now tenanted; the roof-trees broken, the doors and shutters either torn from their hinges, or flapping wildly to and fro; the mill wheels cumbering the stream with masses of decaying timber, and the whole presenting a most desolate and mournful aspect. "its story is soon told," harry said, catching my inquiring glance--"a speculating, clever new york merchant--a waterpower--a failure--and a consequent desertion of the project; but we must find a birth among the ruins!" and as he spoke, turning a little off the road, he pulled up on the green sward; "there's an old stable here that has a manger in it yet! now, tim, look sharp!" and in a twinkling the horses were loosed from the wagon, the harness taken off and hanging on the corners of the ruined hovels, and tim hissing and rubbing away at the gray horse, while harry did like duty on the chestnut, in a style that would have done no shame to melton mowbray! "come, frank, make yourself useful! get out the round of beef, and all the rest of the provant--it's on the rack behind; you'll find all right there. spread our table-cloth on that flat stone by the waterfall, under the willow; clap a couple of bottles of the baron's champagne into the pool there underneath the fall; let's see whether your indian campaigning has taught you anything worth knowing!" to work i went at once, and by the time i had got through--"come, tim," i heard him say, "i've got the rough dirt off this fellow, you must polish him, while i take a wash, and get a bit of dinner. holloa! frank, are you ready!" and he came bounding down to the water's edge, with his newmarket coat in hand, and sleeves rolled up to the elbows, plunged his face into the cool stream, and took a good wash of his soiled hands in the same natural basin. five minutes afterward we were employed most pleasantly with the spiced beef, white biscuit, and good wine, which came out of the waterfall as cool as gunter could have made it with all his icing. when we had pretty well got through, and were engaged with our cheroots, up came tim matlock. "t' horses have got through wi' t' corn--they have fed rarely so i harnessed them, sur, all to the bridles--we can start when you will." "sit down, and get your dinner then, sir--there's a heel tap in that bottle we have left for you--and when you have done, put up the things, and we'll be off. i say, frank, let us try a shot with the pistols--i'll get the case--stick up that fellow-commoner upon the fence there, and mark off a twenty paces." the marking irons were produced, and loaded--"fire--one--two--three"-bang! and the shivering of the glass announced that never more would that chap hold the generous liquor; the ball had struck it plump in the centre, and broken off the whole above the shoulder, for it was fixed neck downward on the stake. "it is my turn now," said i; and more by luck, i fancy, than by skill, i took the neck off, leaving nothing but the thick ring of the mouth still sticking on the summit of the fence. "i'll hold you a dozen of my best regalias against as many of manillas, that i break the ring." "done, harry!" "done!" again the pistol cracked, and the unerring ball drove the small fragment into a thousand splinters. "that fotched 'um!" exclaimed tim, who had come up to announce all ready. "ecod, measter frank, you munna wager i' that gate* [*gate-yorkshire; anglice, way.] wi' master, or my name beant tim, but thou'lt be clean bamboozled." well, not to make a short story long, we got under way again, and, with speed unabated, spanked along at full twelve miles an hour for five miles farther. there, down a wild looking glen, on the left hand, comes brawling, over stump and stone, a tributary streamlet, by the side of which a rough track, made by the charcoal burners and the iron miners, intersects the main road; and up this miserable looking path, for it was little more, harry wheeled at full trot. "now for twelve miles of mountain, the roughest road and wildest country you ever saw crossed in a phaeton, good master frank." and wild it was, indeed, and rough enough in all conscience; narrow, unfenced in many places, winding along the brow of precipices without rail or breast-work, encumbered with huge blocks of stone, and broken by the summer rains! an english stage coachman would have stared aghast at the steep zigzags up the hills, the awkward turns on the descents, the sudden pitches, with now an unsafe bridge, and now a stony ford at the bottom; but through all this, the delicate quick finger, keen eye, and cool head of harry, assisted by the rare mouths of his exquisitely bitted cattle, piloted us at the rate of full ten miles the hour; the scenery, through which the wild track ran, being entirely of the most wild and savage character of woodland; the bottom filled with gigantic timber trees, cedar, and pine, and hemlock, with a dense undergrowth of rhododendron, calmia, and azalia, which, as my friend informed me, made the whole mountains in the summer season one rich bed of bloom. about six miles from the point where we had entered them we scaled the highest ridge of the hills, by three almost precipitous zigzags, the topmost ledge paved by a stratum of broken shaley limestone; and, passing at once from the forest into well cultivated fields, came on a new and lovelier prospect--a narrow deep vale scarce a mile in breadth--scooped, as it were, out of the mighty mountains which embosomed it on every side--in the highest state of culture, with rich orchards, and deep meadows, and brown stubbles, whereon the shocks of maize stood fair and frequent; and westward of the road, which, diving down obliquely to the bottom, loses itself in the woods of the opposite hill-side, and only becomes visible again when it emerges to cross over the next summit--the loveliest sheet of water my eyes has ever seen, varying from half a mile to a mile in breadth, and about five miles long, with shores indented deeply with the capes and promontories of the wood-clothed hills, which sink abruptly to its very margin. "that is the greenwood lake, frank, called by the monsters here long pond!--'the fiends receive their souls therefor,' as walter scott says-in my mind prettier than lake george by far, though known to few except chance sportsmen like myself! full of fish, perch of a pound in weight, and yellow bass in the deep waters, and a good sprinkling of trout, towards this end! ellis ketchum killed a five-pounder there this spring! and heaps of summer-duck, the loveliest in plumage of the genus, and the best too, me judice, excepting only the inimitable canvass-back. there are a few deer, too, in the hills, though they are getting scarce of late years. there, from that headland, i killed one, three summers since; i was placed at a stand by the lake's edge, and the dogs drove him right down to me; but i got too eager, and he heard or saw me, and so fetched a turn; but they were close upon him, and the day was hot, and he was forced to soil. i never saw him till he was in the act of leaping from a bluff of ten or twelve feet into the deep lake, but i pitched up my rifle at him, a snap shot! as i would my gun at a cock in a summer brake, and by good luck sent my ball through his heart. there is a finer view yet when we cross this hill, the bellevale mountain; look out, for we are just upon it; there! now admire!" and on the summit he pulled up, and never did i see a landscape more extensively magnificent. ridge after ridge the mountain sloped down from our feet into a vast rich basin ten miles at least in breadth, by thirty, if not more, in length, girdled on every side by mountains--the whole diversified with wood and water, meadow, and pasture-land, and corn-field--studded with small white villages--with more than one bright lakelet glittering like beaten gold in the declining sun, and several isolated hills standing up boldly from the vale! "glorious indeed! most glorious!" i exclaimed. "right, frank," he said; "a man may travel many a day, and not see any thing to beat the vale of sugar-loaf--so named from that cone-like hill, over the pond there--that peak is eight hundred feet above tide water. those blue hills, to the far right, are the hudson highlands; that bold bluff is the far-famed anthony's nose; that ridge across the vale, the second ridge i mean, is the shawangunks; and those three rounded summits, farther yet--those are the kaatskills! but now a truce with the romantic, for there lies warwick, and this keen mountain air has found me a fresh appetite!" away we went again, rattling down the hills, nothing daunted at their steep pitches, with the nags just as fresh as when they started, champing and snapping at their curbs, till on a table-land above the brook, with the tin steeple of its church peering from out the massy foliage of sycamore and locust, the haven of our journey lay before us. "hilloa, hill-oa ho! whoop! who-whoop!" and with a cheery shout, as we clattered across the wooden bridge, he roused out half the population of the village. "ya ha ha!--ya yah!" yelled a great woolly-headed coal-black negro. "here 'm massa archer back again--massa ben well, i spect--" "well--to be sure i have, sam," cried harry. "how's old poll? bid her come up to draw's to-morrow night--i've got a red and yellow frock for her--a deuce of a concern!" "ya ha! yah ha ha yaah!" and amid a most discordant chorus of african merriment, we passed by a neat farm-house shaded by two glorious locusts on the right, and a new red brick mansion, the pride of the village, with a flourishing store on the left--and wheeled up to the famous tom draw's tavern--a long white house with a piazza six feet wide, at the top of eight steep steps, and a one-story kitchen at the end of it; a pump with a gilt pineapple at the top of it, and horse-trough, a wagon shed and stable sixty feet long; a sign-post with an indescribable female figure swinging upon it, and an ice house over the way! such was the house, before which we pulled up just as the sun was setting, amid a gabbling of ducks, a barking of terriers, mixed with the deep bay of two or three large heavy fox-hounds which had been lounging about in the shade, and a peal of joyous welcome from all beings, quadruped or biped, within hearing. "hulloa! boys!" cried a deep hearty voice from within the barroom. "hulloa! boys! walk in! walk in! what the eternal h-ll are you about there?" well, we did walk into a large neat bar-room, with a bright hickory log crackling upon the hearth-stone, a large round table in one corner, covered with draught-boards, and old newspapers, among which showed preeminent the "spirit of the times;" a range of pegs well stored with great-coats, fishing-rods, whips, game-bags, spurs, and every other stray appurtenance of sporting, gracing one end; while the other was more gaily decorated by the well furnished bar, in the right-hand angle of which my eye detected in an instant a handsome nine pound double barrel, an old six foot queen ann's tower-musket, and a long smooth-bored rifle; and last, not least, outstretched at easy length upon the counter of his bar, to the left-hand of the gang-way--the right side being more suitably decorated with tumblers, and decanters of strange compounds--supine, with fair round belly towering upward, and head voluptuously pillowed on a heap of wagon cushions--lay in his glory--but no! hold!--the end of a chapter is no place to introduce--tom draw!* [*it is almost a painful task to read over and revise this chapter. the "twenty years ago" is too keenly visible to the mind's eye in every line. of the persons mentioned in its pages, more than one have passed away from our world forever; and even the natural features of rock, wood, and river, in other countries so vastly more enduring than their perishable owners, have been so much altered by the march of improvement, heaven save the mark! that the traveler up the erie railroad, will certainly not recognize in the description of the vale of ramapo, the hill-sides all denuded of their leafy honors, the bright streams dammed by unsightly mounds and changed into foul stagnant pools, the snug country tavern deserted for a huge hideous barn-like depot, and all the lovely sights and sweet harmonies of nature defaced and drowned by the deformities consequent on a railroad, by the disgusting roar and screech of the steam-engine. one word to the wise! let no man be deluded by the following pages, into the setting forth for warwick now in search of sporting. these things are strictly as they were twenty years ago! mr. seward, in his zeal for the improvement of chatauque and cattaraugus, has certainly destroyed the cock-shooting of orange county. a sportsman's benison to him therefor.] day the the second much as i had heard of tom draw, i was i must confess, taken altogether aback when i, for the first time, set eyes upon him. i had heard harry archer talk of him fifty times as a crack shot; as a top sawyer at a long day's fag; as the man of all others he would choose as his mate, if he were to shoot a match, two against two--what then was my astonishment at beholding this worthy, as he reared himself slowly from his recumbent position? it is true, i had heard his sobriquet, "fat tom," but, heaven and earth! such a mass of beef and brandy as stood before me, i had never even dreamt of. about five feet six inches at the very utmost in the perpendicular, by six or--"by'r lady"--nearer seven in circumference, weighing, at the least computation, two hundred and fifty pounds, with a broad jolly face, its every feature--well-formed and handsome, rather than otherwise--mantling with an expression of the most perfect excellence of heart and temper, and overshadowed by a vast mass of brown hair, sprinkled pretty well with gray!--down he plumped from the counter with a thud that made the whole floor shake, and with a hand outstretched, that might have done for a goliah, out he strode to meet us. "why, hulloa! hulloa! mr. archer," shaking his hand till i thought he would have dragged the arm clean out of the socket--"how be you, boy? how be you?" "right well, tom, can't you see? why confound you, you've grown twenty pound heavier since july!--but here, i'm losing all my manners!--this is frank forester, whom you have heard me talk about so often! he dropped down here out of the moon, tom, i believe! at least i thought about as much of seeing the man in the moon, as of meeting him in this wooden country--but here he is, as you see, come all the way to take a look at the natives. and so, you see, as you're about the greatest curiosity i know of in these parts, i brought him straight up here to take a peep! look at him, frank--look at him well! now, did you ever see, in all your life, so extraordinary an old devil?--and yet, frank, which no man could possibly believe, the old fat animal has some good points about him--he can walk some! shoot, as he says, first best! and drink--good lord, how he can drink!" "and that reminds me," exclaimed tom, who with a ludicrous mixture of pleasure, bashfulness, and mock anger, had been listening to what he evidently deemed a high encomium; "that we hav'nt drinked yet; have you quit drink, archer, since i was to york? what'll you take, mr. forester? gin? yes, i have got some prime gin! you never sent me up them groceries though, archer; well, then, here's luck! what, yorkshire, is that you? i should ha' thought now, archer, you'd have cleared that lazy injun out afore this time!" "whoy, measter draa--what 'na loike's that kind o' talk? coom coom now, where'll ay tak t' things tull?" "put mr. forester's box in the bed-room off the parlor--mine up stairs, as usual," cried archer. "look sharp and get the traps out. now, tom, i suppose you have got no supper for us?" "cooper, cooper! you snooping little devil," yelled tom, addressing his second hope, a fine dark-eyed, bright-looking lad of ten or twelve years; "don't you see mr. archer's come?--away with you and light the parlor fire, look smart now, or i'll cure you! supper--you're always eat! eat! eat! or, drink! drink!--drunk! yes! supper; we've got pork! and chickens..." "oh! d--n your pork," said i, "salt as the ocean i suppose!" "and double d--n your chickens," chimed in harry, "old superannuated cocks which must be caught now, and then beheaded, and then soused into hot water to fetch off the feathers; and save you lazy devils the trouble of picking them. no, no, tom! get us some fresh meat for to-morrow; and for to-night let us have some hot potatoes, and some bread and butter, and we'll find beef; eh, frank? and now look sharp, for we must be up in good time tomorrow, and, to be so, we must to bed betimes. and now, tom, are there any cock?" "cock! yes, i guess there be, and quail, too, pretty plenty! quite a smart chance of them, and not a shot fired among them this fall, any how!" "well, which way must we beat to-morrow? i calculate to shoot three days with you here; and, on wednesday night, when we get in, to hitch up and drive into sullivan, and see if we can't get a deer or two! you'll go, tom?" "well, well, we'll see any how; but for to-morrow, why, i guess we must beat the 'squire's swamp-hole first; there's ten or twelve cock there, i know; i see them there myself last sunday; and then acrost them buck-wheat stubbles, and the big bog meadow, there's a drove of quail there; two or three bevys got in one, i reckon; leastwise i counted thirty-three last friday was a week; and through seer's big swamp, over to the great spring!" "how is seer's swamp? too wet, i fancy," archer interposed, "at least i noticed, from the mountain, that all the leaves were changed in it, and that the maples were quite bare." "pretty fair, pretty fair, i guess," replied stout tom, "i harnt been there myself though, but jem was down with the hounds arter an old fox t'other day, and sure enough he said the cock kept flopping up quite thick afore him; but then the critter will lie, harry; he will lie like thunder, you know; but somehow i concaits there be cock there too; and then, as i was saying, we'll stop at the great spring and get a bite of summat, and then beat hellhole; you'll have sport there for sartin! what dogs have you got with you, harry?" "your old friends, shot and chase, and a couple of spaniels for thick covert!" "now, gentlemen, your suppers are all ready." "come, tom," cried archer; "you must take a bite with us--tim, bring us in three bottles of champagne, and lots of ice, do you hear?" and the next moment we found ourselves installed in a snug parlor, decorated with a dozen sporting prints, a blazing hickory fire snapping and spluttering and roaring in a huge franklin stove; our luggage safely stowed in various corners, and archer's double gun-case propped on two chairs below the window. an old-fashioned round table, covered with clean white linen of domestic manufacture, displayed the noble round of beef which we had brought up with us, flanked by a platter of magnificent potatoes, pouring forth volumes of dense steam through the cracks in their dusky skins; a lordly dish of butter, that might have pleased the appetite of sisera; while eggs and ham, and pies of apple, mince-meat, cranberry, and custard, occupied every vacant space, save where two ponderous pitchers, mantling with ale and cider, and two respectable square bottles, labelled "old rum" and "brandy-1817," relieved the prospect. before we had sat down, timothy entered, bearing a horse bucket filled to the brim with ice, from whence protruded the long necks and split corks of three champagne bottles. "now, tim," said archer, "get your own supper, when you've finished with the cattle; feed the dogs well to-night; and then to bed. and hark you, call me at five in the morning; we shall want you to carry the game-bag and the drinkables; take care of yourself, tim, and good night!" "no need to tell him that," cried tom, "he's something like yourself; i tell you, archer, if tim ever dies of thirst, it must be where there is nothing wet, but water!" "now hark to the old scoundrel, frank," said archer, "hark to him pray, and if he doesn't out-eat both of us, and out-drink anything you ever saw, may i miss my first bird to-morrow--that's all! give me a slice of beef, frank; that old goth would cut it an inch thick, if i let him touch it; out with a cork, tom! here's to our sport to-morrow!" "uh; that goes good!" replied tom, with an oath, which, by the apparent gusto of the speaker, seemed to betoken that the wine had tickled his palate--"that goes good! that's different from the darned red trash you left up here last time." "and of which you have left none, i'll be bound," answered archer, laughing; "my best latour, frank, which the old infidel calls trash." "it's all below, every bottle of it," answered tom: "i wouldn't use such rot-gut stuff, no, not for vinegar. 'taint half so good as that red sherry you had up here oncet; that was poor weak stuff, too, but it did well to make milk punch of; it did well instead of milk." "now, frank," said archer, "you won't believe me, that i know; but it's true, all the same. a year ago, this autumn, i brought up five gallons of exceedingly stout, rather fiery, young brown sherry--draught wine, you know!--and what did tom do here, but mix it, half and half, with brandy, nutmeg, and sugar, and drink it for milk punch!" "i did so, by the eternal," replied tom, bolting a huge lump of beef, in order to enable himself to answer--"i did so, and good milk punch it made, too, but it was too weak! come, mr. forester, we harn't drinked yet, and i'm kind o' gittin dry!" and now the mirth waxed fast and furious--the champagne speedily was finished, the supper things cleared off, hot water and starke's ferintosh succeeded, cheroots were lighted, we drew closer in about the fire, and, during the circulation of two tumblers--for to this did harry limit us, having the prospect of unsteady hands and aching heads before him for the morrow--never did i hear more genuine and real humor, than went round our merry trio. tom draw, especially, though all his jokes were not such altogether as i can venture to insert in my chaste paragraphs, and though at times his oaths were too extravagantly rich to brook repetition, shone forth resplendent. no longer did i wonder at what i had before deemed harry archer's strange hallucination; tom draw is a decided genius--rough as a pine knot in his native woods--but full of mirth, of shrewdness, of keen mother wit, of hard horse sense, and last, not least, of the most genuine milk of human kindness. he is a rough block; but, as harry says, there is solid timber under the uncouth bark enough to make five hundred men, as men go now-a-days in cities! at ten o'clock, thanks to the excellent precautions of my friend harry, we were all snugly berthed, before the whiskey, which had well justified the high praise i had heard lavished on it, had made any serious inroads on our understanding, but not before we had laid in a quantum to ensure a good night's rest. bright and early was i on foot the next day, but before i had half dressed myself i was assured, by the clatter of the breakfast things, that archer had again stolen a march upon me; and the next moment my bed-room door, driven open by the thick boot of that worthy, gave me a full view of his person--arrayed in a stout fustian jacket--with half a dozen pockets in full view, and heaven only knows how many more lying perdu in the broad skirts. knee-breeches of the same material, with laced half-boots and leather leggins, set off his stout calf and well turned ankle. "up! up! frank," he exclaimed, "it is a morning of ten thousand; there has been quite a heavy dew, and by the time we are afoot it will be well evaporated; and then the scent will lie, i promise you! make haste, i tell you, breakfast is ready!" stimulated by his hurrying voice, i soon completed my toilet, and entering the parlor found harry busily employed in stirring to and fro a pound of powder on one heated dinner plate, while a second was undergoing the process of preparation on the hearthstone under a glowing pile of hickory ashes. at the side-table, covered with guns, dog-whips, nipple-wrenches, and the like, tim, rigged like his master, in half boots and leggins, but with a short roundabout of velveteen, in place of the full-skirted jacket, was filling our shot-pouches by aid of a capacious funnel, more used, as its odor betokened, to facilitate the passage of gin or jamaica spirits than of so sober a material as cold lead. at the same moment entered mine host, togged for the field in a huge pair of cow-hide boots, reaching almost to the knee, into the tops of which were tucked the lower ends of a pair of trowsers, containing yards enough of buffalo-cloth to have eked out the main-sail of a north river sloop; a waistcoat and single-breasted jacket of the same material, with a fur cap, completed his attire; but in his hand he bore a large decanter filled with a pale yellowish liquor, embalming a dense mass of fine and worm-like threads, not very different in appearance from the best vermicelli. "come, boys, come--here's your bitters," he exclaimed; and, as if to set the example, filled a big tumbler to the brim, gulped it down as if it had been water, smacked his lips, and incontinently tendered it to archer, who, to my great amazement, filled himself likewise a more moderate draught, and quaffed it without hesitation. "that's good, tom," he said, pausing after the first sip; "that's the best i ever tasted here; how old's that?" "five years!" tom replied: "five years last fall! daddy tom made it out my own best apples--take a horn, mr. forester," he added, turning to me --"it's first best cider sperrits--better a darned sight than that scotch stuff you make such an etarnal fuss about, toting it up here every time, as if we'd nothing fit to drink in the country!" and to my sorrow i did taste it--old apple whiskey, with lord knows how much snake-root soaked in it for five years! they may talk about gall being bitter; but, by all that's wonderful, there was enough of the amari aliquid in this fonte, to me by no means of leporum, to have given an extra touch of bitterness to all the gall beneath the canopy; and with my mouth puckered up, till it was like anything on earth but a mouth, i set the glass down on the table; and for the next five minutes could do nothing but shake my head to and fro like a chinese mandarin, amidst the loud and prolonged roars of laughter that burst like thunder claps from the huge jaws of thomas draw, and the subdued and half respectful cachinnations of tim matlock. by the time i had got a little better, the black tea was ready, and with thick cream, hot buckwheat cakes, beautiful honey, and--as a stand by-the still venerable round, we made out a very tolerable meal. this done, with due deliberation archer supplied his several pockets with their accustomed load--the clean-punched wads in this--in that the westley richards' caps--here a pound horn of powder--there a shot-pouch on syke's lever principle, with double mouth-piece--in another, screw-driver, nipple-wrench, and the spare cones; and, to make up the tale, dog-whip, dram-bottle, and silk handkerchief in the sixth and last. "nothing like method in this world," said harry, clapping his low-crowned broad-brimmed mohair cap upon his head; "take my word for it. now, tim, what have you got in the bag?" "a bottle of champagne, sur," answered tim, who was now employed slinging a huge fustian game-bag, with a net-work front, over his right shoulder, to counterbalance two full shot-belts which were already thrown across the other--"a bottle of champagne, sur--a cold roast chicken--t' cheshire cheese--and t' pilot biscuits. is your dram-bottle filled wi' t' whiskey, please sur?" "aye, aye, tim. now let loose the dogs--carry a pair of couples and a leash along with you; and mind you, gentlemen, tim carries shot for all hands; and luncheon--but each one finds his own powder, caps, &c.; and any one who wants a dram, carries his own--the devil a-one of you gets a sup out of my bottle, or a charge out of my flask! that's right, old trojan, isn't it?" with a good slap on tom's broad shoulder. "shot! shot--why shot! don't you know me, old dog?" cried tom, as the two setters bounded into the room, joyful at their release--"good dog! good chase!" feeding them with great lumps of beef. "avast! there tom--have done with that," cried harry; "you'll have the dogs so full that they can't run." "why, how'd you like to hunt all day without your breakfast--hey?" "here, lads! here, lads! wh-e-ew!" and followed by his setters, with his gun under his arm, away went harry; and catching up our pieces likewise, we followed, nothing loth, tim bringing up the rear with the two spaniels fretting in their couples, and a huge black thorn cudgel, which he had brought, as he informed me, "all t' way from bonny cawoods." it was as beautiful a morning as ever lighted sportsmen to their labors. the dew, exhaled already from the long grass, still glittered here and there upon the shrubs and trees, though a soft fresh south-western breeze was shaking it thence momently in bright and rustling showers; the sun, but newly risen, and as yet partially enveloped in the thin gauze-like mists so frequent at that season, was casting shadows, seemingly endless, from every object that intercepted his low rays, and chequering the whole landscape with that play of light and shade, which is the loveliest accessory to a lovely scene; and lovely was the scene, indeed, as e'er was looked upon by painter's or by poet's eye--how then should humble prose do justice to it? seated upon the first slope of a gentle hill, midway of the great valley heretofore described, the village looked due south, toward the chains of mountains, which we had crossed on the preceding evening, and which in that direction bounded the landscape. these ridges, cultivated half-way up their swelling sides, which lay mapped out before our eyes in all the various beauty of orchards, yellow stubbles, and rich pastures dotted with sleek and comely cattle, were rendered yet more lovely and romantic, by here and there a woody gorge, or rocky chasm, channeling their smooth flanks, and carrying down their tributary rills, to swell the main stream at their base. toward these we took our way by the same road which we had followed in an opposite direction on the previous night--but for a short space only--for having crossed the stream, by the same bridge which we had passed on entering the village, tom draw pulled down a set of bars to the left, and strode out manfully into the stubble. "hold up, good lads!--whe-ew--whewt!" and away went the setters through the moist stubble, heads up and sterns down, like fox-hounds on a breast-high scent, yet under the most perfect discipline; for at the very first note of harry's whistle, even when racing at the top of their pace, they would turn simultaneously, alter their course, cross each other at right angles, and quarter the whole field, leaving no foot of ground unbeaten. no game, however, in this instance, rewarded their exertions; and on we went across a meadow, and two other stubbles, with the like result. but now we crossed a gentle hill, and, at its base, came on a level tract, containing at the most ten acres of marsh land, overgrown with high coarse grass and flags. beyond this, on the right, was a steep rocky hillock, covered with tall and thrifty timber of some thirty years' growth, but wholly free from under-wood. along the left-hand fence ran a thick belt of underwood, sumac and birch, with a few young oak trees interspersed; but in the middle of the swampy level, covering at most some five or six acres, was a dense circular thicket composed of every sort of thorny bush and shrub, matted with cat-briers and wild vines, and overshadowed by a clump of tall and leafy ashes, which had not as yet lost one atom of their foliage, although the underwood beneath them was quite sere and leafless. "now then," cried harry, "this is the 'squire's swamp-hole!' now for a dozen cock! hey, tom? here, couple up the setters, tim; and let the spaniels loose. now flash! now dan! down charge, you little villains!" and the well broke brutes dropped on the instant. "how must we beat this cursed hole?" "you must go through the very thick of it, consarn you!" exclaimed tom; "at your old work already, hey? trying to shirk at first!" "don't swear so! you old reprobate! i know my place, depend on it," cried archer; "but what to do with the rest of you!--there's the rub!" "not a bit of it," cried tom--"here, yorkshire--ducklegs--here, what's your name--get away you with those big dogs--atwixt the swamp-hole, and the brush there by the fence, and look out that you mark every bird to an inch! you, mr. forester, go in there, under that butter-nut; you'll find a blind track there, right through the brush--keep that 'twixt tim and mr. archer; and keep your eyes skinned, do! there'll be a cock up before you're ten yards in. archer, you'll go right through, and i'll..." "you'll keep well forward on the right--and mind that no bird crosses to the hill; we never get them, if they once get over. all right! in with you now! steady, flash! steady! hie up, dan!" and in a moment harry was out of sight among the brush-wood, though his progress might be traced by the continual crackling of the thick underwood. scarce had i passed the butter-nut, when, even as torn had said, up flapped a woodcock scarcely ten yards before me, in the open path, and rising heavily to clear the branches of a tall thorn bush, showed me his full black eye, and tawny breast, as fair a shot as could be fancied. "mark!" holloaed harry to my right, his quick ear having caught the flap of the bird's wing, as he rose. "mark cock--frank!" well--steadily enough, as i thought, i pitched my gun up! covered my bird fairly! pulled!--the trigger gave not to my finger. i tried the other. devil's in it, i had forgot to cock my gun! and ere i could retrieve my error, the bird had topped the bush, and dodged out of sight, and off--"mark! mark!--tim!" i shouted. "ey! ey! sur--ay see's urn!" "why, how's that, frank?" cried harry. "couldn't you get a shot?" "forgot to cock my gun!" i cried; but at the self-same moment the quick sharp yelping of the spaniels came on my ear. "steady, flash! steady, sir! mark!" but close upon the word came the full round report of harry's gun. "mark! again!" shouted harry, and again his own piece sent its loud ringing voice abroad. "mark! now a third! mark, frank!" and as he spoke i caught the quick rush of his wing, and saw him dart across a space, a few yards to my right. i felt my hand shake; i had not pulled a trigger in ten months, but in a second's space i rallied. there was an opening just before me between a stumpy thick thorn-bush which had saved the last bird, and a dwarf cedar; it was not two yards over; he glanced across it; he was gone, just as my barrel sent its charge into the splintered branches. "beautiful!" shouted harry, who, looking through a cross glade, saw the bird fall, which i could not. "beautiful shot, frank! do all your work like that, and we'll get twenty couple before night!" "have i killed him!" answered i, half doubting if he were not quizzing me. "killed him? of course you have; doubled him up completely! but look sharp! there are more birds before me! i can hardly keep the dogs down, now! there! there goes one--clean out of shot of me, though! mark! mark, tom! gad, how the fat dog's running!" he continued. "he sees him! ten to one he gets him! there he goes--bang! a long shot, and killed clean!" "ready!" cried i. "i'm ready, archer!" "bag your bird, then. he lies under that dock leaf, at the foot of yon red maple! that's it; you've got him. steady now, till tom gets loaded!" "what did you do?" asked i. "you fired twice, i think!" "killed two!" he answered. "ready, now!" and on he went, smashing away the boughs before him, while ever and anon i heard his cheery voice, calling or whistling to his dogs, or rousing up the tenants of some thickets into which even he could not force his way; and i, creeping, as best i might, among the tangled brush, now plunging half thigh deep in holes full of tenacious mire, now blundering over the moss-covered stubs, pressed forward, fancying every instant that the rustling of the briers against my jacket was the flip-flap of a rising woodcock. suddenly, after bursting through a mass of thorns and wild-vine, which was in truth almost impassable, i came upon a little grassy spot quite clear of trees, and covered with the tenderest verdure, through which a narrow rill stole silently; and as i set my first foot on it, up jumped, with his beautiful variegated back all reddened by the sunbeams, a fine and full-fed woodcock, with the peculiar twitter which he utters when surprised. he had not gone ten yards, however, before my gun was at my shoulder and the trigger drawn; before i heard the crack i saw him cringe; and, as the white smoke drifted off to leeward, he fell heavily, completely riddled by the shot, into the brake before me; while at the same moment, whir-r-r! up sprung a bevy of twenty quail, at least, startling me for the moment by the thick whirring of their wings, and skirring over the underwood right toward archer. "mark, quail!" i shouted, and, recovering instantly my nerves, fired my one remaining barrel after the last bird! it was a long shot, yet i struck him fairly, and he rose instantly right upward, towering high! high! into the clear blue sky, and soaring still, till his life left him in the air, and he fell like a stone, plump downward! "mark him! tim!" "ey! ey! sur. he's a de-ad un, that's a sure thing!" at my shot all the bevy rose a little, yet altered not their course the least, wheeling across the thicket directly round the front of archer, whose whereabout i knew, though i could neither see nor hear him. so high did they fly that i could observe them clearly, every bird well defined against the sunny heavens. i watched them eagerly. suddenly one turned over; a cloud of feathers streamed off down the wind; and then, before the sound of the first shot had reached my ears, a second pitched a few yards upward, and, after a heavy flutter, followed its hapless comrade. turned by the fall of the two leading birds, the bevy again wheeled, still rising higher, and now flying very fast; so that, as i saw by the direction which they took, they would probably give draw a chance of getting in both barrels. and so indeed it was; for, as before, long ere i caught the booming echoes of his heavy gun, i saw two birds keeled over, and, almost at the same instant, the cheery shout of tim announced to me that he had bagged my towered bird! after a little pause, again we started, and, hailing one another now and then, gradually forced our way through brake and brier toward the outward verge of the dense covert. before we met again, however, i had the luck to pick up a third woodcock, and as i heard another double shot from archer, and two single bangs from draw, i judged that my companions had not been less successful than myself. at last, emerging from the thicket, we all converged, as to a common point, toward tim; who, with his game-bag on the ground, with its capacious mouth wide open to receive our game, sat on a stump with the two setters at a charge beside him. "what do we score?" cried i, as we drew near; "what do we score?" "i have four woodcocks, and a brace of quail," said harry. "and i, two cock and a brace," cried tom, "and missed another cock; but he's down in the meadow here, behind that 'ere stump alder!" "and i, three woodcock and one quail!" i chimed in, naught abashed. "and ay'se marked doon three woodcock--two more beside yon big un, that measter draa made siccan a bungle of--and all t' quail--every feather on um--doon t' bog meadow yonner--ooh! but we'se mak grand sport o't!" interposed tim, now busily employed stringing bird after bird up by the head, with loops and buttons in the game-bag! "well done then, all!" said harry. "nine timber-doodles and five quail, and only one shot missed! that's not bad shooting, considering what a hole it is to shoot in. gentlemen, here's your health," and filling himself out a fair sized wine-glassfull of ferintosh, into the silver cup of his dram-bottle, he tossed it off; and then poured out a similar libation for tim matlock. tom and myself, nothing loth, obeyed the hint, and sipped our modicums of distilled waters out of our private flasks. "now, then," cried archer, "let us pick up these scattering birds. tom draw, you can get yours without a dog! and now, tim, where are yours?" "t' first lies oop yonner in yon boonch of brachens, ahint t' big scarlet maple; and t' other--" "well! i'll go to the first. you take mr. forester to the other, and when we have bagged all three, we'll meet at the bog meadow fence, and then hie at the bevy!" this job was soon done, for draw and harry bagged their birds cleverly at the first rise; and although mine got off at first without a shot, by dodging round a birch tree straight in tim's face, and flew back slap toward the thicket, yet he pitched in its outer skirt, and as he jumped up wild i cut him down with a broken pinion and a shot through his bill at fifty yards, and chase retrieved him well. "cleverly stopped, indeed!" frank halloaed; "and by no means an easy shot! and so our work's clean done for this place, at the least!" "the boy can shoot some," observed tom draw, who loved to bother timothy; "the boy can shoot some, though he does come from yorkshire!" "gad! and ay wush ay'd no but gotten thee i' yorkshire, measter draa!" responded tim. "why! what if you had got me there?" "what? whoy, ay'd clap thee iv a cage, and hug thee round t' feasts and fairs loike; and shew thee to t' folks at so mooch a head. ay'se sure ay'd mak a fortune o' t!" "he has you there, tom! ha! ha! ha!" laughed archer. "tim's down upon you there, by george! now, frank, do fancy tom draw in a cage at borough-bridge or catterick fair! lord! how the folks would pay to look at him! fancy the sign board too! the great american man-mammoth! ha! ha! ha! but come, we must not stay here talking nonsense, or we shall do no good. show me, tim, where are the quail!" "doon t' bog meadow yonner! joost t' slack,* [*slack--yorkshire. anglice, moist hollow] see thee, there!" pointing with the stout black-thorn; "amang yon bits o' bushes!" "very well--that's it; now let go the setters; take flash and dan along with you, and cut across the country as straight as you can go to the spring head, where we lunched last year; that day, you know, tom, when mctavish frightened the bull out of the meadow, under the pin-oak tree. well! put the champagne into the spring to cool, and rest yourself there till we come; we shan't be long behind you." away went tim, stopping from time to time to mark our progress, and over the fence into the bog meadow we proceeded; a rascally piece of broken tussockky ground, with black mud knee-deep between the hags, all covered with long grass. the third step i took, over i went upon my nose, but luckily avoided shoving my gun-barrels into the filthy mire. "steady, frank, steady! i'm ashamed of you!" said harry; "so hot and so impetuous; and your gun too at the full cock; that's the reason, man, why you missed firing at your first bird, this morning. i never cock either barrel till i see my bird; and, if a bevy rises, only one at a time. the birds will lie like stones here; and we cannot walk too slow. steady, shot, have a care, sir!" never, in all my life, did i see any thing more perfect than the style in which the setters drew those bogs. there was no more of racing, no more of impetuous dash; it seemed as if they knew the birds were close before them. at a slow trot, their sterns whipping their flanks at every step, they threaded the high tussockks. see! the red dog straightens his neck, and snuffs the air. "look to! look to, frank! they are close before old chase!" now he draws on again, crouching close to the earth. "toho! shot!" now he stands! no! no! not yet--at least he is not certain! he turns his head to catch his master's eye! now his stern moves a little; he draws on again. there! he is sure now! what a picture--his black full eye intently glaring, though he cannot see any thing in that thick mass of herbage; his nostril wide expanded, his lips slavering from intense excitement; his whole form motionless, and sharply drawn, and rigid, even to the straight stern and lifted foot, as a block wrought to mimic life by some skilful sculptor's chisel; and, scarce ten yards behind, his liver-colored comrade backs him--as firm, as stationary, as immovable, but in his attitude, how different! chase feels the hot scent steaming up under his very nostril; feels it in every nerve, and quivers with anxiety to dash on his prey, even while perfectly restrained and steady. shot, on the contrary, though a few minutes since he too was drawing, knows nothing of himself, perceives no indication of the game's near presence, although improved by discipline, his instinct tells him that his mate has found them. hence the same rigid form, stiff tail, and constrained attitude, but in his face--for dogs have faces--there is none of that tense energy, that evident anxiety; there is no frown upon his brow, no glare in his mild open eye, no slaver on his lip! "come up, tom; come up, frank, they are all here; we must get in six barrels; they will not move: come up, i say!" and on we came, deliberately prompt, and ready. now we were all in line: harry the centre man, i on the right, and tom on the left hand. the attitude of archer was superb; his legs, set a little way apart, as firm as if they had been rooted in the soil; his form drawn back a little, and his head erect, with his eye fixed upon the dogs; his gun held in both hands, across his person, the muzzle slightly elevated, his left grasping the trigger guard; the thumb of the right resting upon the hammer, and the fore-finger on the trigger of the left hand barrel; but, as he had said, neither cocked. "fall back, tom, if you please, five yards or so," he said, as coolly as if he were unconcerned, "and you come forward, frank, as many; i want to drive them to the left, into those low red bushes; that will do: now then, i'll flush them; never mind me, boys, i'll reserve my fire." and, as he spoke, he moved a yard or two in front of us, and under his very feet, positively startling me by their noisy flutter, up sprang the gallant bevy: fifteen or sixteen well grown birds, crowding and jostling one against the other. tom draw's gun, as i well believe, was at his shoulder when they rose; at least his first shot was discharged before they had flown half a rood, and of course harmlessly: the charge must have been driven through them like a single ball; his second barrel instantly succeeded, and down came two birds, caught in the act of crossing. i am myself a quick shot, too quick if anything, yet my first barrel was exploded a moment after tom draw's second; the other followed, and i had the satisfaction of bringing both my birds down handsomely; then up went harry's piece--the bevy being now twenty or twenty-five yards distant--cocking it as it rose, he pulled the trigger almost before it touched his shoulder, so rapid was the movement; and, though he lowered the stock a little to cock the second barrel, a moment scarcely passed between the two reports, and almost on the instant two quail were fluttering out their lives among the bog grass. dropping his butt, without a word, or even a glance to the dogs, he quietly went on to load; nor indeed was it needed: at the first shot they dropped into the grass, and there they lay as motionless as if they had been dead, with their heads crouched between their paws; nor did they stir thence till the tick of the gun-locks announced that we again were ready. then lifting up their heads, and rising on their fore-feet, they sat half erect, eagerly waiting for the signal. "hold up, good lads!" and on they drew, and in an instant pointed on two several birds. "fetch!" and each brought his burthen to our feet; six birds were bagged at that rise, and thus before eleven o'clock we had picked up a dozen cock, and within one of the same number of fine quail, with only two shots missed. the poor remainder of the bevy had dropped, singly, and scattered, in the red bushes, whither we instantly pursued them, and where we got six more, making a total of seventeen birds bagged out of a bevy, twenty strong at first. one towered bird of harry's, certainly killed dead, we could not with all our efforts bring to bag; one bird tom draw missed clean, and the remaining one we could not find again; another dram of whiskey, and into seer's great swamp we started: a large piece of woodland, with every kind of lying. at one end it was open, with soft black loamy soil, covered with docks and colts-foot leaves under the shade of large but leafless willows, and here we picked up a good many scattered woodcock; afterward we got into the heavy thicket with much tangled grass, wherein we flushed a bevy, but they all took to tree, and we made very little of them; and here tom draw began to blow and labor; the covert was too thick, the bottom too deep and unsteady for him. archer perceiving this, sent him at once to the outside; and three times, as we went along, ourselves moving nothing, we heard the round reports of his large calibre. "a bird at every shot, i'd stake my life," said harry, "he never misses cross shots in the open;" at the same instant, a tremendous rush of wings burst from the heaviest thicket: "mark! partridge! partridge!" and as i caught a glimpse of a dozen large birds fluttering up, one close upon the other, and darting away as straight and nearly as fast as bullets, through the dense branches of a cedar brake, i saw the flashes of both harry's barrels, almost simultaneously discharged, and at the same time over went the objects of his aim; but ere i could get up my gun the rest were out of sight. "you must shoot, frank, like lightning, to kill these beggars; they are the ruffed grouse, though they call them partridge here: see! are they not fine fellows?" another hour's beating, in which we still kept picking up, from time to time, some scattering birds, brought us to the spring head, where we found tim with luncheon ready, and our fat friend reposing at his side, with two more grouse, and a rabbit which he had bagged along the covert's edge. cool was the star champagne; and capital was the cold fowl and cheshire cheese; and most delicious was the repose that followed, enlivened with gay wit and free good humor, soothed by the fragrance of the exquisite cheroots, moistened by the last drops of the ferintosh qualified by the crystal waters of the spring. after an hour's rest, we counted up our spoil; four ruffed grouse, nineteen woodcocks, with ten brace and a half of quail beside the bunny, made up our score-done comfortably in four hours. "now we have finished for to-day with quail," said archer, "but we'll get full ten couple more of woodcock; come, let us be stirring; hang up your game-bag in the tree, and tie the setters to the fence; i want you in with me to beat, tim; you two chaps must both keep the outside--you all the time, tom; you, frank, till you get to that tall thunder-shivered ash tree; turn in there, and follow up the margin of a wide slank you will see; but be careful, the mud is very deep, and dangerous in places; now then, here goes!" and in he went, jumping a narrow streamlet into a point of thicket, through which he drove by main force. scarce had he got six yards into the brake, before both spaniels quested; and, to my no small wonder, the jungle seemed alive with woodcock; eight or nine, at the least, flapped up at once, and skimmed along the tongue of coppice toward the high wood, which ran along the valley, as i learned afterward, for full three miles in length--while four or five more wheeled off to the sides, giving myself and draw fair shots, by which we did not fail to profit; but i confess it was with absolute astonishment that i saw two of those turned over, which flew inward, killed by the marvelously quick and unerring aim of archer, where a less thorough sportsman would have been quite unable to discharge a gun at all, so dense was the tangled jungle. throughout the whole length of that skirt of coppice, a hundred and fifty yards, i should suppose at the utmost, the birds kept rising as it were incessantly--thirty-five, or, i think, nearly forty, being flushed in less than twenty minutes, although comparatively few were killed, partly from the difficulty of the ground, and partly from their getting up by fours and fives at once. into the high wood, however, at the last we drove them; and there, till daylight failed us, we did our work like men. by the cold light of the full moon we wended homeward, rejoicing in the possession of twenty-six couple and a half of cock, twelve brace of quail--we found another bevy on our way home and bagged three birds almost by moonlight--five ruffed grouse, and a rabbit. before our wet clothes were well changed, supper was ready, and a good blow-out was followed by sound slumbers and sweet dreams, fairly earned by nine hours of incessant walking. day the third so thoroughly was i tired out by the effects of the first day's fagging i had undergone in many months, and so sound was the slumber into which i sank the moment my head touched the pillow, that it scarcely seemed as if five minutes had elapsed between my falling into sweet forgetfulness, and my starting bolt upright in bed, aroused by the vociferous shout, and ponderous tramping, equal to nothing less than that of a full-grown rhinoceros, with which tom draw rushed, long before the sun was up, into my chamber. "what's this, what's this now?" he exclaimed; "why the plague arn't you up and ready?--why here's the bitters mixed, and archer in the stable this half hour past, and jem's here with the hounds--and you, you lazy snorting injun, wasting the morning here in bed!" my only reply to this most characteristic salutation, was to hurl my pillow slap in his face, and--threatening to follow up the missile with the contents of the water pitcher, which stood temptingly within my reach, if he did not get out incontinently--to jump up and array myself with all due speed; for, when i had collected my bewildered thoughts, i well remembered that we had settled on a fox-hunt before breakfast, as a preliminary to a fresh skirmish with the quail. in a few minutes i was on foot and in the parlor, where i found a bright crackling fire, a mighty pitcher of milk punch, and a plate of biscuit, an apt substitute for breakfast before starting; while, however, i was discussing these, archer arrived, dressed just as i have described him on the preceding day, with the addition of a pair of heavy hunting spurs, buckled on over his half-boots, and a large iron-hammered whip in his right hand. "that's right, frank," he exclaimed, after the ordinary salutations of the morning. "why that old porpoise told me you would not be ready these two hours; he's grumbling out yonder by the stable door, like a hog stuck in a farm-yard gate. but come, we may as well be moving, for the hounds are all uncoupled, and the nags saddled--put on a pair of straps to your fustian trowsers and take these racing spurs, though peacock does not want them--and now, hurrah!" this was soon done, and going out upon the stoop, a scene--it is true, widely different from the kennel door at melton, or the covert side at billesdon coplow, yet not by any means devoid of interest or animation-presented itself to my eyes. about six couple of large heavy hounds, with deep and pendant ears, heavy well-feathered sterns, broad chests, and muscular strong limbs, were gathered round their feeder, the renowned jem lyn; on whom it may not be impertinent to waste a word or two, before proceeding to the mountain, which, as i learned, to my no little wonder, was destined to be our hunting ground. picture to yourself, then, gentle reader, a small but actively formed man, with a face of most unusual and portentous ugliness, an uncouth grin doing the part of a smile; a pair of eyes so small that they would have been invisible, but for the serpent-like vivacity and brightness with which they sparkled from their deep sockets, and a profusion of long hair, coal-black, but lank and uncurled as an indian's, combed smoothly down with a degree of care entirely out of keeping with the other details, whether of dress or countenance, on either cheek. above these sleek and cherished tresses he wore a thing which might have passed for either cap or castor, at the wearer's pleasure; for it was wholly destitute of brim except for a space some three or four inches wide over the eye-rows; and the crown had been so pertinaciously and completely eaten in, that the sides sloped inward at the top, as if to personate a bishop's mitre; a fishing line was wound about this graceful and, if its appearance belied it not most foully, odoriferous headdress; and into the fishing line was stuck the bowl and some two inches of the shank of a well-sooted pipe. an old red handkerchief was twisted rope-wise about his lean and scraggy neck, but it by no means sufficed to hide the scar of what had evidently been a most appalling gash, extending right across his throat, almost from ear to ear, the great cicatrix clearly visible like a white line through the thick stubble of some ten days' standing that graced his chin and neck. an old green coat, the skirts of which had long since been docked by the encroachment of thorn-bushes and cat-briers, with the mouth-piece of a powder-horn peeping from its breast pocket, and a full shot-belt crossing his right shoulder; a pair of fustian trowsers, patched at the knees with corduroy, and heavy cowhide boots completed his attire. this, as it seemed, was to be our huntsman; and booth to say, although he did not look the character, he played the part, when he got to work, right handsomely. at a more fitting season, harry in a few words let me into this worthy's history and disposition. "he is," he said, "the most incorrigible rascal i ever met with--an unredeemed and utter vagabond; he started life as a stallion-leader, a business which he understands-as in fact he does almost every thing else within his scope--thoroughly well. he got on prodigiously!--was employed by the first breeders in the country!--took to drinking, and then, in due rotation, to gambling, pilfering, lying, every vice, in short, which is compatible with utter want of any thing like moral sense, deep shrewdness, and uncommon cowardice. "he cut his throat once--you may see the scar now--in a fit of delirium tremens, and tom draw, who, though he is perpetually cursing him for the most lying critter under heaven, has, i believe, a sort of fellow feeling for him--nursed him and got him well; and ever since he has hung about here, getting at times a country stallion to look after, at others hunting, or fishing, or doing little jobs about the stable, for which tom gives him plenty of abuse, plenty to eat, and as little rum as possible, for if he gets a second glass it is all up with jem lyn for a week at least. "he came to see me once in new york, when i was down upon my back with a broken leg--i was lying in the parlor, about three weeks after the accident had happened. tim matlock had gone out for something, and the cook let him in; and, after he had sat there about half an hour, telling me all the news of the races, and making me laugh more than was good for my broken leg, he gave me such a hint, that i was compelled to direct him to the cupboard, wherein i kept the liquor-stand; and unluckily enough, as i had not for some time been in drinking tune, all three of the bottles were brimful; and, as i am a christian man, he drank in spite of all i could say--i could not leave the couch to get at him--two of them to the dregs; and, after frightening me almost to death, fell flat upon the floor, and lay there fast asleep when tim came in again. he dragged him instantly, by my directions, under the pump in the garden, and soused him for about two hours, but without producing the least effect, except eliciting a grunt or two from this most seasoned cask. "such is jem lyn, and yet, absurd to say, i have tried the fellow, and believe him perfectly trustworthy--at least to me! "he is a coward, yet i have seen him fight like a hero more than once, and against heavy odds, to save me from a threshing, which i got after all, though not without some damage to our foes, whose name might have been legion. "he is the greatest liar i ever met with; and yet i never caught him in a falsehood, for he believes it is no use to tell me one. "he is most utterly dishonest, yet i have trusted him with sums that would, in his opinion, have made him a rich man for life, and he accounted to the utmost shilling; but i advise you not try the same, for if you do he most assuredly will cheat you!" among the heavy looking hounds, which clustered round this hopeful gentleman, i quickly singled out two couple of widely different breed and character from the rest; your thorough high-bred racing fox-hounds, with ears rounded, thin shining coats, clean limbs, and all the marks of the best class of english hounds. "aye! frank," said archer, as he caught my eye fixed on them, "you have found out my favorites. why, bonny belle, good lass, why bonny belle!-here blossom, blossom, come up and show your pretty figures to your countryman! poor hanbury--do you remember, frank, how many a merry day we've had with him by thorley church, and takely forest?--poor hanbury sent them to me with such a letter, only the year before he died; and those, dauntless and dangerous, i had from will, lord harewood's huntsman, the same season!" "there never was sich dogs--there never was afore in orange," said tom. "i will say that, though they be english; and though they be too fast for fox, entirely, there never was sich dogs for deer" "but how the deuce," i interrupted, "can hounds be too fast, if they have bone and stanchness!" "stanchness be darned; they holes them!" "no earthstoppers in these parts, frank," cried harry; "and as the object of these gentlemen is not to hunt solely for the fun of the thing, but to destroy a noxious varmint, they prefer a slow, sure, deep-mouthed dog, that does not press too closely on pug, but lets him take his time about the coverts, till he comes into fair gunshot of these hunters, who are lying perdu as he runs to get a crack at him." "and pray," said i, "is this your method of proceeding?" "you shall see, you shall see; come get to horse, or it will be late before we get our breakfast, and i assure you i don't wish to lose either that, or my day's quail-shooting. this hunt is merely for a change, and to get something of an appetite for breakfast. now, tim, be sure that every thing is ready by eight o'clock at the latest--we shall be in by that time with a furious appetite." thus saying he mounted, without more delay, his favorite, the gray; while i backed, nothing loth, the chestnut horse; and at the same time to my vast astonishment, from under the long shed out rode the mighty tom, bestriding a tall powerful brown mare, showing a monstrous deal of blood combined with no slight bone--equipped with a cavalry bridle, and strange to say, without the universal martingal; he was rigged just as usual, with the exception of a broad-brimmed hat in place of his fur cap, and grasped in his right hand a heavy smooth-bored rifle, while with the left he wheeled his mare, with a degree of active skill, which i should certainly have looked for any where rather than in so vast a mass of flesh as that which was exhibited by our worthy host. two other sportsmen, grave, sober-looking farmers, whom harry greeted cheerily by name, and to whom in all due form i was next introduced, well-mounted, and armed with long single-barreled guns, completed our party; and away we went at a rattling trot, the hounds following at archer's heels, as steadily as though he hunted them three times a week. "now arn't it a strange thing," said tom, "arn't it a strange thing, mr. forester, that every critter under heaven takes somehow nat'rally to that are archer--the very hounds--old whino there! that i have had these eight years, and fed with my own hands, and hunted steady every winter, quits me the very moment he claps sight on him; by the eternal, i believe he is half dog himself." "you hunted them indeed," interrupted harry, "you old rhinoceros, why hang your hide, you never so much as heard a good view-holloa till i came up here--you hunted them--a man talk of hunting, that carries a cannon about with him on horseback; but come, where are we to try first, on rocky hill, or in the spring swamps?" "why now i reckon, archer, we'd best stop down to sam blain's--by the blacksmith's--he was telling t'other morning of an eternal sight of them he'd seen down hereaway--and we'll be there to rights!--jem, cus you, out of my way, you dumb nigger--out of my way, or i'll ride over you"-for, traveling along at a strange shambling run, that worthy had contrived to keep up with us, though we were going fully at the rate of eight or nine miles in the hour. "hurrah!" cried tom, suddenly pulling up at the door of a neat farm-house on the brow of a hill, with a clear streamlet sweeping round its base, and a fine piece of woodland at the farther side. "hurrah! sam blain, we've come to make them foxes, you were telling of a sunday, smell h-ll right straight away. here's archer, and another yorker with him--leastwise an englisher i should say--and squire conklin, and bill speers, and that white nigger jem! look sharp, i say! look sharp, cuss you, else we'll pull off the ruff of the old humstead." in a few minutes sam made his appearance, armed, like the rest, with a queen ann's tower-musket. "well! well!" he said, "i'm ready. quit making such a clatter! lend me a load of powder, one of you; my horn's leaked dry, i reckon!" tom forthwith handed him his own, and the next thing i heard was blain exclaiming that it was "desperate pretty powder," and wondered if it shot strong. "shoot strong? i guess you'll find it strong enough to sew you up, if you go charging your old musket that ways!" answered tom. "by the lord, archer, he's put in three full charges!" "well, it will kill him, that's all!" answered harry, very coolly; "and there'll be one less of you. but come! come! let's be bustling; the sun's going to get up already. you'll leave your horses here, i suppose, gentlemen, and get to the old stands. tom draw, put mr. forester at my old post down by the big pin-oak at the creek side; and you stand there, frank, still as a church-mouse. it's ten to one, if some of those fellows don't shoot him first, that he'll break covert close by you, and run the meadows for a mile or two, up to the turnpike road, and over it to rocky hill--that black knob yonder, covered with pine and hemlock. there are some queer snake fences in the flat, and a big brook or two, but peacock has been over every inch of it before, and you may trust in him implicitly. good bye! i'm going up the road with jem to drive it from the upper end." and off he went at a merry trot, with the hounds gamboling about his stirrups, and jem lyn running at his best pace to keep up with him. in a few minutes they were lost behind a swell of woodland, round which the road wheeled suddenly. at the same moment tom and his companions reappeared from the stables where they had been securing their four-footed friends; and, after a few seconds, spent in running ramrods down the barrels to see that all was right, inspecting primings, knapping flints, or putting on fresh copper caps, it was announced that all was ready; and passing through the farm-yard, we entered, through a set of bars, a broad bright buckwheat stubble. scarcely an hundred yards had we proceeded, before we sprung the finest bevy of the largest quail i had yet seen, and flying high and wild crossed half-a-dozen fields in the direction of the village, whence we had started, and pitched at length into an alder brake beside the stream. "them chaps has gone the right way," tom exclaimed, with a deep sigh, who had with wondrous difficulty refrained from firing into them, though he was loaded with buckshot; "right in the course we count to take this forenoon. now, squire, keep to the left here, take your station by the old earths there away, under the tall dead pine; and you, bill, make tracks there, straight through the middle cart-way, down to the other meadow, and sit you down right where the two streams fork; there'll be an old red snooping down that side afore long, i reckon. we'll go on, mr. forester; here's a big rail fence now; i'll throw off the top rail, for be darned if i climb any day when i can creep--there, that'll do, i reckon; leastwise if you can ride like archer--he d--ns me always if i so much as shakes a fence afore he jumps it--you've got the best horse, too, for lepping. now let's see! well done! well done!" he continued, with a most boisterous burst of laughter--"well done, horse, any how!"-as peacock, who had been chafing ever since he parted from his comrade bob, went at the fence as though he were about to take it in his stroke --stopped short when within a yard of it, and then bucked over it, without touching a splinter, although it was at least five feet, and shaking me so much, that, greatly to tom's joy, i showed no little glimpse of day-light. "i reckon if they run the meadows, you'll hardly ride them, forester," he grinned; "but now away with you. you see the tall dark pin oak, it hasn't lost one leaf yet; right in the nook there of the bars you'll find a quiet shady spot, where you can see clear up the rail fence to this knob, where i'll be. off with you, boy--and mind you now, you keep as dumb as the old woman when her husband cut her tongue out, 'cause she had too much jaw." finishing his discourse, he squatted himself down on the stool of a large hemlock, which, being recently cut down, cumbered the woodside with its giant stem, and secured him, with its evergreen top now lowly laid and withering, from the most narrow scrutiny; while i, giving the gallant horse his head, went at a brisk hand-gallop across the firm short turf of the fair sloping hill-side, taking a moderate fence in my stroke, which peacock cleared in a style that satisfied me harry had by no means exaggerated his capacity to act as hunter, in lieu of the less glorious occupation, to which in general he was doomed. in half a minute more i reached my post, and though an hour passed before i heard the slightest sound betokening the chase, never did i more thoroughly enjoy an hour. the loveliness of the whole scene before me--the broad rich sweep of meadowland lying, all bathed in dew, under the pale gray light of an autumnal morning, with groups of cattle couched still between the trees where they had passed the night; the distant hills, veiled partially in mist, partially rearing their round leafy heads toward the brightening sky; and then the various changes of the landscape, as slowly the day broke behind the eastern hill; and all the various sounds of bird, and beast, and insect, which each succeeding variation of the morning served to call into life as if by magic. first a faint rosy flush stole up the eastern sky, and nearly at the self-same moment, two or three vagrant crows came flapping heavily along, at a height so immeasurable that their harsh voices were by distance modified into a pleasing murmur. and now a little fish jumped in the streamlet; and the splash, trifling as it was, with which he fell back on the quiet surface, half startled me. a moment afterward an acorn plumped down on my head, and as i looked up, there sat, on a limb not ten feet above me, an impudent rogue of a gray squirrel, half as big as a rabbit, erect upon his haunches, working away at the twin brother of the acorn he had dropped upon my hat to break my reverie, rasping it audibly with his chisel-shaped teeth, and grinning at me just as coolly as though i were a harmless scare-crow. when i grew tired of observing him, and looked toward the sky again, behold the western ridge, which is far higher than the eastern hills, had caught upon its summits the first bright rays of the yet unseen day-god; while the rosy flush of the east had brightened into a blaze of living gold, exceeded only by the glorious hues with which a few bright specks of misty cloud glowed out against the azure firmament, like coals of actual fire. again a louder splash aroused me; and, as i turned, there floated on a glassy basin, into which the ripples of a tiny fall subsided, three wood-ducks, with a noble drake, that loveliest in plumage of all aquatic fowl, perfectly undisturbed and fearless, although within ten yards of their most dreaded enemy. how beautiful are all their motions! there! one has reared herself half way out of the water; another stretches forth a delicate web foot to scratch her ear, as handily as a dog on dry land; and now the drake reflects his purple neck to preen his ruffled wing, and now--bad luck to you, peacock, why did you snort and stamp?--they are off like a bullet, and out of sight in an instant. and now out comes the sun himself, and with him the accursed hum of a musquitoe--and hark! hush!--what was that?--was it? by heavens! it was the deep note of a fox-hound! aye! there comes harry's cheer, faintly heard, swelling up the breeze. "have at him, there! ha-a-ve at him, good lads!" again! again! those are the musical deep voices of the slow hounds! they have a dash in them of the old southern breed! and now! there goes the yell! the quick sharp yelping rally of those two high-bred bitches. by heaven! they must be viewing him! how the woods ring and crash! "together hark! together hark! together! for-ra-ard, good lads, get for-a-ard! hya-a-araway!" well halloaed, harry! i could swear to that last screech, out of ten thousand, though it is near ten years since i last heard it! but heavens! how they press him! hang it! there goes a shot--the squire has fired at him, as he tried the earths! now, if he have but missed him, and pan, the god of hunters, send it so, he has no chance but to try the open. by jove he has! he must have missed! for bonny belle and blossom are raving half a mile this side of him already. and now tom sees him--how quietly he steals up to the fence. there! he has fired! and all our sport is up! no! no! he waves his hat and points this way! can he have missed? no! he has got a fox!--he lifts it out by the brush--there must have been two, then, on foot together. he has done it well to get that he has killed away, or they would have stopped on him! hush! the leaves rustle here beside me, with a quick patter--the twigs crackle--it is he! move not! not for your life, peacock! there! he has broken cover fairly! now he is half across the field! he stops to listen! ah! he will head again. no! no! that crash, when they came upon the warm blood, has decided him--away he goes, with his brush high, and its white tag brandished in the sunshine--now i may halloa him away. "whoop! gone awa-ay! whoop!" i was answered on the instant by harry's quick--"hark holloa! get awa-ay! to him hark! to him hark! hark holloa!" most glorious artemis, what heaven-stirring music! and yet there are but poor six couple; the scent must be as hot as fire, for every hound seems to have twenty tongues, and every leaf an hundred echoes! how the boughs crash again! lo! they are here! bonny belle leading--head and stern up, with a quick panting yelp! blossom, and dangerous, and dauntless scarcely a length behind her, striving together, neck and neck; and, by st. hubert, it must be a scent of twenty thousand, for here these heavy southrons are scarcely two rods behind them. but fidget not, good peacock! fret not, most excellent pythagoras! one moment more, and i am not the boy to baulk you. and here comes harry on the gray; by george! he makes the brushwood crackle! now for a nasty leap out of the tangled swamp! a high six-barred fence of rough trees, leaning toward him, and up hill! surely he will not try it! will he not though? see!--his rein is tight yet easy! his seat, how beautiful, how firm, yet how relaxed and graceful! well done, indeed! he slacks his rein one instant as the gray rises! the rugged rails are cleared, and the firm pull supports him! but harry moves not in the saddle--no! not one hair's breadth! a five foot fence to him is nothing! you shall not see the slightest variation between his attitude in that strong effort, and in the easy gallop. if tom draw saw him now, he could have some excuse for calling him "half horse"--and he does see him! hark to that most unearthly knell! like unto nothing, either heavenly or human! he waves his hat and hurries back as fast as he is able to the horses, well knowing that for pedestrians at least, the morning's sport is ended. harry and i were now almost abreast, riding in parallel lines, down the rich valley, very nearly at the top speed of our horses; taking fence after fence in our stroke, and keeping well up with the hounds, which were running almost mute, such was the furious speed to which the blazing scent excited them. we had already passed above two-thirds of the whole distance that divides the range of woods, wherein we found him, and the pretty village which we had constituted our head quarters, a distance of at least three miles; and now a very difficult and awkward obstacle presented itself to our farther progress, in the shape of a wide yawning brook between sheer banks of several feet in height, broken, with rough and pointed stones, the whole being at least five yards across. the gallant hounds dashed over it; and, when we reached it, were half way across the grass field next beyond it. "hold him hard, frank," harry shouted; "hold him hard, man, and cram him at it!" and so i did, though i had little hope of clearing it. i lifted him a little on the snaffle, gave him the spur just as he reached the brink, and with a long and swinging leap, so easy that its motion was in truth scarce perceptible, he swept across it; before i had the time to think, we were again going at our best pace almost among the hounds. over myself, i cast a quick glance back toward harry, who, by a short turn of the chase had been thrown a few yards behind me. he charged it gallantly; but on the very verge, cowed by the brightness of the rippling water, the gray made a half stop, but leaped immediately, beneath the application of the galling spur; he made a noble effort, but it was scarce a thing to be effected by a standing leap, and it was with far less pleasure than surprise, that i saw him drop his hind legs down the steep bank, having just landed with fore-feet in the meadow. i was afraid, indeed, he must have had an ugly fall, but, picked up quickly by the delicate and steady finger of his rider, the good horse found some slight projection of the bank, whereby to make a second spring. after a heavy flounder, however, which must have dismounted any less perfect horseman, he recovered himself well, and before many minutes was again abreast of me. thus far the course of the hunted fox had lain directly homeward, down the valley; but now the turnpike road making a sudden turn crossed his line at right angles, while another narrower road coming in at a tangent, went off to the south-westward in the direction of the bold projection, which i had learned to recognize as rocky hill; over the high fence into the road; well performed, gallant horses! and now they check for a moment, puzzling about on the dry sandy turnpike. "dangerous feathers on it now! speak to it! speak to it, good hound!" how beautiful that flourish of the stern with which he darts away on the recovered scent; with what a yell they open it once again! harry was right, he makes for rocky hill, but up this plaguey lane, where the scent lies but faintly. now! now! the road turns off again far westward of his point! he may, by jove! and he has left it! "have at him then, lads; he is ours!" and lo! the pace increases. ha! what a sudden turn, and in the middle too of a clear pasture. "has he been headed, harry?" "no, no; his strength is failing." and see! he makes his point again toward the hill; it is within a quarter of a mile, and if he gain it we can do nothing with him, for it is full of earths. but he will never reach it. see! he turns once again; how exquisitely well those bitches run it; three times he has doubled, now almost as short as a hare, and they, running breast-high, have turned with him each time, not over-running it a yard. see how the sheep have drawn together into phalanx yonder, in that bare pasture to the eastward; he has crossed that field for a thousand! yes, i am right. see! they turn once again. what a delicious rally! an outspread towel would cover those four leading hounds--now dauntless has it; has it by half a neck. "he always goes up when a fox is sinking," harry exclaimed, pointing toward him with his hunting whip. aye! he has given up his point entirely; he knew he could not face the hill. look! look at those carrion crows! how low they stoop over that woody bank. that is his line. here is the road again. over it once more merrily! and now we view him. "whoop! forra-ard, lads, forra-ard!" he cannot hold five minutes; and see, there comes fat tom pounding that mare along the road as if her fore-feet were of hammered iron; he has come up along the turnpike, at an infernal pace, while that turn favored him; but he will only see us kill him, and that, too, at a respectful distance. another brook stretches across our course, hurrying to join the greater stream along the banks of which we have so long been speeding; but this is a little one; there! we have cleared it cleverly. now! now! the hounds are viewing him. poor brute! his day is come. see how he twists and doubles, ah! now they have him! no! that short turn has saved him, and he gains the fence--he will lie down there! no! he stretches gallantly across the next field--game to the last, poor devil! there! "who-whoop! dead! dead! who-whoop!" and in another instant harry had snatched him from the hounds, and holding him aloft displayed him to the rest, as they came up along the road. "a pretty burst," he said to me, "a pretty burst, frank, and a good kill; but they can't stand before the hounds, the foxes here, like our stout islanders; they are not forced to work so hard to gain their living. but now let us get homeward; i want my breakfast, i can tell you, and then a rattle at the quail. i mean to get full forty brace to-day, i promise you." "and we," said i, "have marked down fifteen brace already toward it; right in the line of our beat, tom says." "that's right; well, let us go on." and in a short half hour we were all once again assembled about tom's hospitable board, and making such a breakfast, on every sort of eatable that can be crowded on a breakfast table, as sportsmen only have a right to make; nor they, unless they have walked ten, or galloped half as many miles, before it. before we had been in an hour, harry once again roused us out. all had been, during our absence, fully prepared by the indefatigable tim; who, as the day before, accoutered with spare shot and lots of provender, seemed to grudge us each morsel that we ate, so eager was he to see us take the field in season. off we went then; but what boots it to repeat a thrice told tale; suffice it, that the dogs worked as well as dogs can work; that birds were plentiful, and lying good; that we fagged hard, and shot on the whole passably, so that by sunset we had exceeded harry's forty brace by fifteen birds, and got beside nine couple and a half of woodcock; which we found, most unexpectedly, basking themselves in the open meadow, along the grassy banks of a small rill, without a bush or tree within five hundred yards of them. evening had closed before we reached the well known tavern-stand, and the merry blaze of the fire, and many candles, showed us, while yet far distant, that due preparations were in course for our entertainment. "what have we here?" cried harry, as we reached the door--"race horses? why, tom, by heaven! we've got the flying dutchman here again; now for a night of it." and so in truth it was, a most wet, and most jovial one, seasoned with no small wit; but of that, more anon. day the fourth when we had entered tom's hospitable dwelling, and delivered over our guns to be duly cleaned, and the dogs to be suppered, by tim matlock, i passed through the parlor, on my way to my own crib, where i found archer in close confabulation with a tall rawboned dutchman, with a keen freckled face, small 'cute gray eyes, looking suspiciously about from under the shade of a pair of straggling sandy eyebrows, small reddish whiskers, and a head of carroty hair as rough and tangled as a fox's back. his aspect was a wondrous mixture of sneakingness and smartness, and his expression did most villainously belie him, if he were not as sharp a customer as ever wagged an elbow, or betted on a horse-race. "frank," exclaimed harry, as i entered, "i make you know mr. mctaggart, better known hereabouts as the flying dutchman, though how he came by a scotch name i can't pretend to say; he keeps the best quarter horses, and plays the best hand of whist in the country; and now, get yourself clean as quick as possible, for tom never gives one five minutes wherein to dress himself; so bustle." and off he went as he had finished speaking, and i shaking my new friend cordially by an exceeding bony unwashed paw, incontinently followed his example--and in good time i did so; for i had scarcely changed my shooting boots and wet worsteds for slippers and silk socks, before my door, as usual, was lounged open by tom's massy foot, and i was thus exhorted. "come, come, your supper's gittin' cold; i never see such men as you and archer is; you're wash, wash, wash--all day. it's little water enough that you use any other ways." "why, is there any other use for water, tom?" i asked, simply enough. "it's lucky if there aint, any how--leastwise, where you and archer is-else you'd leave none for the rest of us. it's a good thing you han't thought of washing your darned stinking hides in rum--you will be at it some of these odd days, i warrant me--why now, mctaggart, it's only yesterday i caught archer up stairs, a fiddling away up there at his teeth with a little ivory brush; brushing them with cold water--cleaning them he calls it. cuss all such trash, says i." while i was listening in mute astonishment, wondering whether in truth the old savage never cleaned his teeth, archer made his appearance, and to a better supper never did i sit down, than was spread at the old round table, in such profusion as might have well sufficed to feed a troop of horse. "what have we got here, tom?" cried harry, as he took the head of the social board; "quail-pie, by george--are there any peppers in it, tom?" "sartain there is," replied that worthy, "and a prime rump-steak in the bottom, and some first-best salt pork, chopped fine, and three small onions; like little wax-skin used to fix them, when he was up here last fall." "take some of this pie, frank;" said archer, as he handed me a huge plate of leafy reeking pie-crust, with a slice of fat steak, and a plump hen quail, and gravy, and etceteras, that might have made an alderman's mouth water; "and if you don't say it's the very best thing you ever tasted, you are not half so good a judge as i used to hold you. it took little johnny and myself three wet days to concoct it. pie, tom, or roast pig?" he continued; "or broiled woodcock? here they are, all of them?" "why, i reckon i'll take cock; briled meat wants to be ate right stret away as soon as it comes off the griddle; and of all darned nice ways of cooking, to brile a thing, quick now, over hot hickory ashes, is the best for me!" "i believe you're right about eating the cock first, for they will not be worth a farthing if they get cold. so you stick to the pig, do you-hey, mctaggart? well, there is no reckoning on taste--holloa, tim, look sharp! the champagne all 'round--i'm choking!" and for some time no sound was heard, but the continuous clatter of knives and forks, the occasional popping of a cork succeeded by the gurgling of the generous wine as it flowed into the tall rummers; and every now and then a loud and rattling eructation from tom draw, who, as he said, could never half enjoy a meal if he could not stop now and then to blow off steam. at last, however--for supper, alas! like all other earthly pleasures, must come to an end--"the fairest still the fleetest"--our appetites waned gradually; and notwithstanding harry's earnest exhortations, and the production of a broiled ham-bone, devilled to the very utmost pitch of english mustard, soy, oil of aix, and cayenne pepper, by no hands, as may be guessed, but those of that universal genius, timothy; one by one, we gave over our labors edacious, to betake us to potations of no small depth or frequency. "it is directly contrary to my rule, frank, to drink before a good day's shooting--and a good day i mean to have to-morrow!--but i am thirsty, and the least thought chilly; so here goes for a debauch! tim, look in my box with the clothes, and you will find two flasks of curacao; bring them down, and a dozen lemons, and some lump sugar--look alive! and you, tom, out with your best brandy; i'll make a jorum that will open your eyes tight before you've done with it. that's right, tim; now get the soup-tureen, the biggest one, and see that it's clean. the old villain has got a punch-bowl--bring half a dozen of champagne, a bucket full of ice, and then go down into the kitchen, and make two quarts of green tea, as strong as possible; and when it's made, set it to cool in the ice-house!" in a few minutes all the ingredients were at hand; the rind, peeled carefully from all the lemons, was deposited with two tumblers full of finely powdered sugar in the bottom of the tureen; thereupon were poured instantly three pints of pale old cognac; and these were left to steep, without admixture, until tim matlock made his entrance with the cold, strong, green tea; two quarts of this, strained clear, were added to the brandy, and then two flasks of curacoa! into this mixture a dozen lumps of clear ice were thrown, and the whole stirred up 'till the sugar was entirely suspended; then pop! pop! went the long necks, and their creaming nectar was discharged into the bowl; and by the body of bacchus--as the italians swear--and by his soul, too, which he never steeped in such delicious nectar, what a drink that was, when it was completed. even tom draw, who ever was much disposed to look upon strange potables as trash, and who had eyed the whole proceedings with ill-concealed suspicion and disdain, when he had quaffed off a pint-beaker full, which he did without once moving the vessel from his head, smacked his lips with a report which might have been heard half a mile off, and which resembled very nearly the crack of a first-rate huntsman's whip. "that's not slow, now!" he said, half dubiously, "to tell the truth now, that's first rate; i reckon, though, it would be better if there wasn't that tea into it--it makes it weak and trashy-like!" "you be hanged!" answered harry, "that's mere affectation--that smack of your lips told the story; did you ever hear such an infernal sound? i never did, by george!" "begging your pardon, measter archer," interposed timothy, pulling his forelock, with an expression of profound respect, mingled with a ludicrous air of regret, at being forced to differ in the least degree from his master; "begging your pardon, measter archer, that was a roommer noise, and by a vary gre-at de-al too, when measter mctavish sneezed me clean oot o' t' wagon!" "what's that?--what the devil's that?" cried i; "this mctavish must be a queer genius; one day i hear of his frightening a bull out of a meadow, and the next of his sneezing a man out of a phaeton." "it's simply true! both are simply true! we were driving very slowly on an immensely hot day in the middle of august, between lebanon springs and claverack; mctavish and i on the front seat, and tim behind. well! we were creeping at a foot's pace, upon a long, steep hill, just at the very hottest time of day; not a word had been spoken for above an hour, for we were all tired and languid--except once, when mctavish asked for his third tumbler, since breakfast, of starke's ferintosh, of which we had three two-quart bottles in the liquor case--when suddenly, without any sign or warning, mctavish gave a sneeze which, on my honor, was scarcely inferior in loudness to a pistol shot! the horses started almost off the road, i jumped about half a foot off my seat, and positively without exaggeration, timothy tumbled slap out of the wagon into the road, and lay there sprawling in the dust, while mac sat perfectly unmoved, without a smile upon his face, looking straight before him, exactly as if nothing had happened." "nonsense, harry," exclaimed i; "that positively won't go down." "that's an etarnal lie, now, archer!" tom chimed in; "leastwise i don't know why i should say so neither, for i never saw no deviltry goin' on yet, that didn't come as nat'ral to mctavish, as lying to a minister, or..." "rum to tom draw!" responded harry. "but it's as true as the gospel, ask timothy there!" "nay it's all true; only it's scarce so bad i' t' story, as it was i' right airnest! ay cooped oot o' t' drag--loike ivry thing--my hinder eend was sair a moanth and better!" "now then," said i, "it's tom's turn; let us hear about the bull." "oh, the bull!" answered tom. "well you see, archer there, and little waxskin--you know little waxskin, i guess, mister forester--and old mctavish, had gone down to shoot to hellhole--where we was yesterday, you see!--well now! it was hot--hot, worst kind; i tell you--and i was sort o' tired out--so waxskin, in he goes into the thick, and archer arter him, and up the old crick side--thinkin, you see, that we was goin up, where you and i walked yesterday--but not a bit of it; we never thought of no such thing, not we! we sot ourselves down underneath the haystacks, and made ourselves two good stiff horns of toddy; and cooled off there, all in the shade, as slick as silk. "well, arter we'd been there quite a piece, bang! we hears, in the very thick of the swamp--bang! bang!--and then i heerd harry archer roar out 'mark! mark!--tom, mark!--you old fat rascal,'--and sure enough, right where i should have been, if i'd been a doin right, out came two woodcock--big ones--they looked like hens, and i kind o' thought it was a shame, so i got up to go to them, and called mctavish to go with me; but torights, jest as he was a gitting up, a heap of critters comes all chasin up, scart by a dog, i reckon, kickin their darned heels up, and bellowin like mad--and there was one young bull amongst them, quite a lump of a bull now i tell you; and the bull he came up pretty nigh to us, and stood, and stawmped, and sort o' snorted, as if he didn't know right what he would be arter, and mctavish, he gits up, and turns right round with his back to the critter; he got a bit of a round jacket on, and he stoops down till his head came right atween his legs, kind o' straddlin like, so that the bull could see nothing of him but his t'other eend, and his head right under it, chin uppermost, with his big black whiskers, lookin as fierce as all h-ll, and fiercer; well! the bull he stawmped agin, and pawed, and bellowed, and i was in hopes, i swon, that he would have hooked him; but just then mctavish, starts to run, going along as i have told you, hind eend foremost--bo-oo went the bull, a-boooo, and off he starts like a strick, with his tail stret on eend, and his eyes starin and all the critters arter him, and then they kind o' circled round--and all stood still and stared--and stawmped, 'till he got nigh to them, and then they all stricks off agin; and so they went on--runnin and then standin still,--and so they went on the hull of an hour, i'll be bound; and i lay there upon my back laughin 'till i was stiff and sore all over; and then came waxskin and all archer, wrathy as h-ll and swearin'--lord how they did swear! "they'd been a slavin there through the darned thorns and briers, and the old stinkin mud holes, and flushed a most almighty sight of cock, where the brush was too thick to shoot them, and every one they flushed, he came stret out into the open field, where archer knew we should have been, and where we should have killed a thunderin mess, and no mistake; and they went on dam-min, and wonderin, and sweatin through the brush, till they got out to the far eend, and there they had to make tracks back to us through the bog meadow, under a brilin sun, and when they did get back, the bull was jest a goin through the bars--and every d--d drop o' the rum was drinked up; and the sun was settin, and the day's shootin--that was spoiled!--and then mctavish tantalized them the worst sort. but i did laugh to kill; it was the best i ever did see, was that spree--ha! ha! ha!" and, as he finished, he burst out into his first horse laugh, in which i chorused him most heartily, having in truth been in convulsions, between the queerness of his lingo, and the absurdly grotesque attitudes into which he threw himself, in imitating the persons concerning whom his story ran. after this, jest succeeded jest! and story, story! 'till, in good truth, the glass circling the while with most portentous speed, i began to feel bees in my head, and till in truth no one, i believe, of the party, was entirely collected in his thoughts, except tom draw, whom it is as impossible for liquor to affect, as it would be for brandy to make a hogshead drunk, and who stalked off to bed with an air of solemn gravity that would have well become a spanish grandee of the olden time, telling us, as he left the room, that we were all as drunk as thunder, and that we should be stinkin in our beds till noon to-morrow. a prediction, by the way, which he took right good care to defeat in his own person; for in less than five hours after we retired, which was about the first of the small hours, he rushed into my room, and finding that the awful noises which he made, had no effect in waking me, dragged me bodily out of bed, and clapping my wet sponge in my face, walked off, as he said, to fetch the bitters, which were to make me as fine as silk upon the instant. this time, i must confess that i did not look with quite so much disgust on the old apple-jack; and in fact, after a moderate horn, i completed my ablutions, and found myself perfectly fresh and ready for the field. breakfast was soon despatched, and on this occasion as soon as we had got through the broiled ham and eggs, the wagon made its appearance at the door. "what's this, harry?" i exclaimed; "where are we bound for, now?" "why, master frank," he answered, "to tell you the plain truth, while you were sleeping off the effects of the last night's regent's punch, i was on foot inquiring into the state of matters and things; and since we have pretty well exhausted our home beats, and i have heard that some ground, about ten miles distant, is in prime order, i have determined to take a try there; but we must look pretty lively, for it is seven now, and we have got a drive of ten stiff miles before us. now, old grampus, are you ready?" "aye, aye!" responded tom, and mounted up, a work of no small toil for him, into the back seat of the wagon, where i soon took my seat beside him, with the two well-broke setters crouching at our feet, and the three guns strapped neatly to the side rails of the wagons. harry next mounted the box. tim touched his hat and jumped up to his side, and off we rattled at a merry trot, wheeling around the rival tavern which stood in close propinquity to tom's; then turning short again to the left hand, along a broken stony road, with several high and long hills, and very awkward bridges in the valleys, to the north-westward of the village. five miles brought us into a pretty little village lying at the base of another ridge of what might almost be denominated mountains, save that they were cultivated to the very top. as we paused on the brow of this, another glorious valley spread out to our view, with the broad sluggish waters of the wallkill winding away, with hardly any visible motion, toward the north-east, through a vast tract of meadow-land covered with high, rank grass, dotted with clumps of willows and alder brakes, and interspersed with large, deep swamps, thick-set with high grown timber; while far beyond these, to the west, lay the tall variegated chain of the shawangunk mountains. rattling briskly down the hill, we passed another thriving village, built on the mountain side; made two or three sharp ugly turns, still going at a smashing pace, and coming on the level ground, entered an extensive cedar swamp, impenetrable above with the dark boughs of the evergreen colossi, and below with half a dozen varieties of rhododendron, calmia, and azalia. through this dark, dreary track, the road ran straight as the bird flies, supported on the trunks of trees, constituting what is here called a corduroy road; an article which, praise be to all the gods, is disappearing now so rapidly, that this is the only bit to be found in the civilized regions of new york--and bordered to the right and left by ditches of black tenacious mire. beyond this we scaled another sandy hillock, and pulled up at a little wayside tavern, at the door of which harry set himself lustily to halloa. "why, john; hilloa, hillo; john riker!" whereon, out came, stooping low to pass under the lintel of a very fair sized door, one of the tallest men i ever looked upon; his height, too, was exaggerated by the narrowness of his chest and shoulders, which would have been rather small for a man of five foot seven; but to make up for this, his legs were monstrous, his arms muscular, and his whole frame evidently powerful and athletic, though his gait was slouching, and his air singularly awkward and unhandy. "why, how do, mr. archer? i hadn't heerd you was in these pairts--arter woodcock, i reckon?" "yes, john, as usual; and you must go along with us, and show us the best ground." "well, you see, i carn't go to-day--for squire breawn, and dan faushea, and a whole grist of goshen boys is comin' over to the island here to fish; but you carn't well go wrong." "why not; are birds plenty?" "well! i guess they be! plentier than ever yet i see them here." "by jove! that's good news," harry answered; "where shall we find the first?" "why, amost anywheres--but here, jist down by the first bridge, there's a hull heap--leastwise there was a friday--and then you'd best go on to the second bridge, and keep the edge of the hill right up and down to merrit's island; and then beat down here home to the first bridge again. but won't you liquor?" "no, not this morning, john; we did our liquoring last night. tom, do you hear what john says?" "i hear, i hear," growled out old tom; "but the critter lies like nauthen. he always does lie, cuss him." "well, here goes, and we'll soon see!" and away we went again, spinning down a little descent, to a flat space between the hill-foot and the river, having a thick tangled swamp on the right, and a small boggy meadow full of grass, breast-high, with a thin open alder grove beyond it on the left. just as we reached the bridge harry pulled up. "jump out, boys, jump out! here's the spot." "i tell you there aint none; darn you! there aint none never here, nor haint been these six years; you know that now, yourself, archer." "we'll try it, all the same," said harry, who was coolly loading his gun. "the season has been wetter than common, and this ground is generally too dry. drive on, tim, over the bridge, into the hollow; you'll be out of shot there; and wait till we come. holloa! mark, tom." for, as the wagon wheels rattled upon the bridge, up jumped a cock out of the ditch by the road side, from under a willow brush, and skimmed past all of us within five yards. tom draw and i, who had got out after harry, were but in the act of ramming down our first barrels; but harry, who had loaded one, and was at that moment putting down the wad upon the second, dropped his ramrod with the most perfect sang-froid i ever witnessed, took a cap out of his right-hand pocket, applied it to the cone, and pitching up his gun, knocked down the bird as it wheeled to cross the road behind us, by the cleverest shot possible. "that's pretty well for no birds, anyhow, tom," he exclaimed, dropping his butt to load. "go and gather that bird, frank, to save time; he lies in the wagon rut, there. how now? down charge, you chase, sir! what are you about?" the bird was quickly bagged, and harry loaded. we stepped across a dry ditch, and both dogs made game at the same instant. "follow the red dog, frank!" cried archer, "and go very slow; there are birds here!" and as he spoke, while the dogs were crawling along, cat-like, pointing at every step, and then again creeping onward, up skirred two birds under the very nose of the white setter, and crossed quite to the left of harry. i saw him raise his gun, but that was all; for at the self-same moment one rose to me, and my ear caught the flap of yet another to my right; five barrels were discharged so quickly, that they made but three reports; i cut my bird well down, and looking quickly to the left, saw nothing but a stream of feathers drifting along the wind. at the same time, old tom shouted on the right, "i have killed two, by george! what have you done, boys?" "two, i!" said archer. "wait, frank, don't you begin to load till one of us is ready; there'll be another cock up, like enough. keep your barrel; i'll be ready in a jiffy!" and well it was that i obeyed him, for at the squeak of the card, in its descent down his barrel, another bird did rise, and was making off for the open alders, when my whole charge riddled him; and instantly at the report three more flapped up, and of course went off unharmed; but we marked them, one by one, down in the grass at the wood edge. harry loaded again. we set off to pick up our dead birds. shot drew, as i thought, on my first, and pointed dead within a yard of where he fell. i walked up carelessly, with my gun under my arm, and was actually stooping to bag him, as i thought, when whiz! one rose almost in my face; and, bothered by seeing us all around him, towered straight up into the air. taken completely by surprise, i blazed away in a hurry, and missed clean; but not five yards did he go, before tom cut him down. "aha, boy! whose eye's wiped now?" "mine, tom, very fairly; but can that be the same cock i knocked down, archer?" "not a bit of it; i saw your's fall dead as a stone; he lies half a yard farther in that tussock." "how the deuce did you see him? why, you were shooting your own at the same moment." "all knack, frank; i marked both my own and yours, and one of tom's besides. are you ready? hold up, shot! there; he has got your dead bird. was i not right? and look to! for, by jove! he is standing on another, with the dead bird in his mouth! that's pretty, is it not?" again two rose, and both were killed; one by tom, and one by archer; my gun hanging fire. "that's nine birds down before we have bagged one," said archer; "i hope no more will rise, or we'll be losing these." but this time his hopes were not destined to meet accomplishment, for seven more woodcock got up, five of which were scattered in the grass around us, wing-broken or dead, before we had even bagged the bird which shot was gently mouthing. "i never saw anything like this in my life, tom. did you?" cried harry. "i never did, by george!" responded tom. "now do you think there's any three men to be found in york, such darned etarnal fools as to be willing to shoot a match agin us?" "to be sure i do, lots of them; and to beat us too, to boot, you stupid old porpoise. why, there's harry t--and nick l---, and a dozen more of them, that you and i would have no more chance with, than a gallon of brandy would have of escaping from you at a single sitting. but we have shot pretty well, to-day. now do, for heaven's sake, let us try to bag them!" and scattered though they were in all directions, among the most infernal tangled grass i ever stood on, those excellent dogs retrieved them one by one, till every bird was pocketed. we then beat on and swept the rest of the meadow, and the outer verge of the alders, picking up three more birds, making a total of seventeen brought to bag in less than half an hour. we then proceeded to the wagon, took a good pull of water from a beautiful clear spring by the road-side, properly qualified with whiskey, and rattled on about one mile farther to the second bridge. here we again got out. "now, tim," said harry. "mark me well! drive gently to the old barrack yonder under the west-end of that wood-side, unhitch the horses and tie them in the shade; you can give them a bite of meadow hay at the same time; and then get luncheon ready. we shall be with you by two o'clock at farthest." "ay, ay, sur!" and off he drove at a steady pace, while we, striking into the meadow, to the left hand of the road, went along getting sport such as i never beheld, or even dreamed of before. for about five hundred yards in width from the stream, the ground was soft and miry to the depth of some four inches, with long sword-grass quite knee-deep, and at every fifty yards a bunch of willows or swamp alders. in every clump of bushes we found from three to five birds, and as the shooting was for the most part very open, we rendered on the whole a good account of them. the dogs throughout behaved superbly, and tom was altogether frantic with the excitement of the sport. the time seemed short indeed, and i could not for a moment have imagined that it was even noon, when we reached the barrack. this was a hut of rude, unplaned boards, which had been put up formerly with the intent of furnishing a permanent abode for some laboring men, but which, having been long deserted, was now used only as a temporary shelter by charcoal burners, haymakers, or like ourselves, stray sportsmen. it was, however, though rudely built, and fallen considerably into decay, perfectly beautiful from its romantic site; for it stood just at the end of a long tangled covert, with a huge pin oak-tree, leaning abruptly out from an almost precipitous bank of yellow sand, completely canopying it; while from a crevice in the sand-stone there welled out a little source of crystal water, which expanded into as sweet a basin as ever served a dryad for her bath in arcady, of old. before it stretched the wide sweep of meadow land, with the broad blue wallkill gliding through it, fringed by a skirt of coppice, and the high mountains, veiled with a soft autumnal mist, sleeping beyond, robed in their many-colored garb of crimson, gold, and green. besides the spring the indefatigable tim had kindled a bright glancing fire, while in the basin were cooling two long-necked bottles of the baron's best; a clean white cloth was spread in the shade before the barrack door, with plates and cups, and bread cut duly, and a traveling case of cruets, with all the other appurtenances needful. on our appearance he commenced rooting in a heap of embers, and soon produced six nondescript looking articles enclosed--as they dress maintenon cutlets or red mullet--in double sheets of greasy letter paper--these he incontinently dished, and to my huge astonishment they turned out to be three couple of our woodcock, which that indefatigable varlet had picked, and baked under the ashes, according to some strange idea, whether original, or borrowed at second hand from his master, i never was enabled to ascertain. the man, be he whom he may, who invented that plat, is second neither to caramel nor to ude--the exquisite juicy tenderness of the meat, the preservation of the gravy, the richness of the trail--by heaven! they were inimitable. in that sweet spot we loitered a full hour--then counted our bag, which amounted already to fifty-nine cock, not including those with which tim's gastronomic art had spread for us a table in the wilderness--then leaving him to pack up and meet us at the spot where we first started, we struck down the stream homeward, shooting our way along a strip of coppice about ten yards in breadth, bounded on one side by a dry bare bank of the river, and on the other by the open meadows. we of course kept the verges of this covert, our dogs working down the middle, and so well did we manage it, that when we reached the wagon, just as the sun was setting, we numbered a hundred and twenty-five birds bagged, besides two which were so cut by the shot as to be useless, six which we had devoured, and four or five which we lost in spite of the excellence of our retrievers. when we got home again, although the dutchman was on the spot, promising us a quarter race upon the morrow, and pressing earnestly for a rubber to-night, we were too much used up to think of anything but a good supper and an early bed. day the fifth our last day's shooting in the vale of sugar-loaf was over; and, something contrary to harry's first intention, we had decided, instead of striking westward into sullivan or ulster, to drive five miles upon our homeward route, and beat the longpond mountain--not now for such small game as woodcock, quail, or partridge; but for a herd of deer, which, although now but rarely found along the western hills, was said to have been seen already several times, to the number of six or seven head, in a small cove, or hollow basin, close to the summit of the bellevale ridge. as it was not of course our plan to return again to tom draw's, everything was now carefully and neatly packed away; the game, of which we had indeed a goodly stock, was produced from tom's ice-house, where, suspended from the rafters, it had been kept as sound and fresh as though it had been all killed only on the preceding day. a long deep box, fitting beneath the gun-case under the front seat, was now produced, and proved to be another of harry's notable inventions; for it was lined throughout, lid, bottom, sides and all, with zinc, and in the centre had a well or small compartment of the same material, with a raised grating in the bottom. this well was forthwith lined with a square yard, or rather more, of flannel, into which was heaped a quantity of ice pounded as fine as possible, sufficient to cram it absolutely to the top; the rest of the box was then filled with the birds, displayed in regular rows, with heads and tails alternating, and a thin coat of clean dry wheaten straw between each layer, until but a few inches' depth remained between the noble pile and the lid of this extempore refrigerator; this space being filled in with flannel packed close and folded tightly, the box was locked and thrust into the accurately fitting boot by dint of the exertion of timothy's whole strength. "there, frank," cried harry, who had superintended the storage of the whole with nice scrutiny, "those chaps will keep there as sound as roaches, till we get to young tom's at ramapo; you cannot think what work i had, trying in vain to save them, before i hit upon this method; i tried hops, which i have known in england to keep birds in an extraordinary manner--for, what you'll scarce believe, i once ate a ptarmigan, the day year after it was killed, which had been packed with hops, in perfect preservation, at farnley, mr. fawke's place in yorkshire!--and i tried prepared charcoal, and got my woodcock down to new york, looking like chimney sweeps, and smelling--" "what the devil difference does it make to you now, archer, i'd be pleased to know!" interposed tom; "what under heaven they smells like--a man that eats cock with their guts in, like you does, needn't stick now, i reckon, for a leetle mite of a stink!" "shut up, you old villain," answered harry, laughing, "bring the milk punch, and get your great coat on, if you mean to go with us; for it's quite keen this morning, i can tell you; and we must be stirring too, for the sun will be up before we get to teachman's. now, jem, get out the hounds; how do you take them, tom?" "why, that darned injun, jem, he'll take them in my lumber wagon--and, i say, jem, see that you don't over-drive old roan--away with you, and rouse up garry, he means to go, i guess!" after a mighty round of punch, in which, as we were now departing, one half at least of the village joined, we all got under way; tom, buttoned up to the throat in a huge white lion skin wrap-rascal, looking for all the world like a polar bear erect on its hind legs; and all of us muffled up pretty snugly, a proceeding which was rendered necessary by a brisk bracing north-west breeze. the sky, though it was scarcely the first twilight of an autumnal dawn, was beautifully clear, and as transparent--though still somewhat dusky--as a wide sheet of crystal; a few pale stars were twinkling here and there; but in the east a broad gray streak changing on the horizon's edge to a faint straw color, announced the sun's approach. the whole face of the country, hill, vale, and woodland, was overspread by an universal coat of silvery hoar-frost; thin wreaths of snowy mist rising above the tops of the sere woodlands, throughout the whole length of the lovely vale, indicated as clearly as though it were traced on a map, the direction of the stream that watered it; and as we paused upon the brow of the first hillock, and looked back toward the village, with its white steeples and neat cottage dwellings buried in the still repose of that early hour, with only one or two faint columns of blue smoke worming their way up lazily into the cloudless atmosphere, a feeling of regret--such as has often crossed my mind before, when leaving any place wherein i have spent a few days happily, and which i never may see more --rendered me somewhat indisposed to talk. something or other--it might with harry, perhaps, have been a similar train of thought--caused both my comrades to be more taciturn by far than was their wont; and we had rattled over five miles of our route, and scaled the first ridge of the hills, and dived into the wide ravine; midway the depth of this the pretty village of bellevale lies on the brink of the dammed rivulet, which, a few yards below the neat stone bridge, takes a precipitous leap of fifty feet, over a rustic wier, and rushes onward, bounding from ledge to ledge of rifted rocks, chafing and fretting as if it were doing a match against time, and were in danger of losing its race. thus we had passed the heavy lumber wagon, with jem and garry perched on a board laid across it, and the four couple of stanch hounds nestling in the straw which tom had provided in abundance for their comfort, before the silence was broken by any sounds except the rattle of the wheels, the occasional interjectional whistle of harry to his horses, or the flip of the well handled whip. just, however, as we were shooting ahead of the lumber wain, an exclamation from tom draw, which should have been a sentence, had it not been very abruptly terminated in a long rattling eructation, arrested archer's progress. pulling short up where a jog across the road, constructed--after the damnable mode adopted in all the hilly portions of the interior--in order to prevent the heavy rains from channelling the descent, afforded him a chance of stopping on the hill, so as to slack his traces. "how now," he exclaimed; "what the deuce ails you now, you old rhinoceros?" "oh, archer, i feels bad; worst sort, by judas! it's that milk punch, i reckon; it keeps a raising--raising, all the time like..." "and you want to lay it, i suppose, like a ghost, in a sea of whiskey; well, i've no especial objection! here, tim, hand the case bottle, and the dram cup! no! no! confound you, pass it this way first, for if tom once gets hold of it, we may say good-bye to it altogether. there," he continued, after we had both taken a moderate sip at the superb old ferintosh, "there, now take your chance at it, and for heaven's sake do leave a drop for jem and garry; by george now, you shall not drink it all!" as tom poured down the third cup full, each being as big as an ordinary beer-glass. "there was above a pint and a half in it when you began, and now there's barely one cup-full between the two of them. an't you ashamed of yourself now, you greedy old devil?" "it doos go right, i swon!" was the only reply that could be got out of him. "that's more a plaguy sight than the bullets will do, out of your old tower musket; you're so drunk now, i fancy, that you couldn't hold it straight enough to hit a deer at three rods, let alone thirty, which you are so fond of chattering about." "do tell now," replied tom, "did you, or any other feller, ever see me shoot the worser for a mite of liquor, and as for deer, that's all a no sich thing; there arnt no deer a this side of duckseedar's. it's all a lie of teachman's and that deckering son of a gun." "holloa! hold up, tom--recollect yesterday!--i thought there had been no cock down by the first bridge there, these six years; why you're getting quite stupid, and a croaker too, in your old age." "mayhap i be," he answered rather gruffly; "mayhap i be, but you won't git no deer to-day, i'll stand drinks for the company; and if we doos start one, i'll lay on my own musket agin your rifle." "well! we'll soon see, for here we are," harry replied, as after leaving the high-road just at the summit of the bellevale mountain, he rattled down a very broken rutty bye-road at the rate of at least eight miles an hour, vastly to the discomfiture of our fat host, whose fleshy sides were jolted almost out of their skin by the concussion of the wheels against the many stones and jogs which opposed their progress. "here we are, or at least soon will be. it is but a short half mile through these woods to teachman's cottage. is there a gun loaded, tim? it's ten to one we shall have a partridge fluttering up and treeing here directly; i'll let the dogs out--get away, flash! get away, dan! you little rascals. jump out, good dogs, shot, chase--hie up with you!" and out they went rattling and scrambling through the brush-wood all four abreast! at the same moment tim, leaning over into the body of the wagon, lugged out a brace of guns from their leathern cases; harry's short ounce ball rifle, and the long single barreled duck gun. "'t roifle is loaden wi' a single ball, and 't single goon wi' yan of them green cartridges!" "much good ball and buck-shot will do us against partridge; nevertheless, if one trees, i'll try if i can't cut his head off for him," said archer, laughing. "nay! nay! it be-ant book-shot; it's no but noomber three; tak' haud on't, measter draa, tak' haud on't. it's no hoort thee, mon, and 't horses boath stand foire cannily!" scarce had fat tom obeyed his imperative solicitations, and scarce had tim taken hold of the ribbands which harry relinquished the moment he got the rifle into his hands, before a most extraordinary hubbub arose in the little skirt of coppice to our left; the spaniels quested for a second's space at the utmost, when a tremendous crash of the branches arose, and both the setters gave tongue furiously with a quick savage yell. the road at this point of the wood made a short and very sudden angle, so as to enclose a small point of extremely dense thicket between its two branches; on one of these was our wagon, and down the other the lumber-wain was rumbling, at the moment when this strange and most unexpected outcry started us all. "what in t' fient's neam is yon?" cried timothy. "and what the devil's that?" responded i and archer in a breath. but whatever it was that had aroused the dogs to such an most unusual pitch of fury, it went crashing through the brush-wood for some five or six strokes at a fearful rate toward the other wagon; before, however it had reached the road, a most appalling shout from jem, followed upon the instant by the blended voices of all the hounds opening at once, as on a view, excited us yet farther! i was still tugging at my double gun, in the vain hope of getting it out time enough for action. tom had scrambled out of the wagon on the first alarm, and stood eye, ear, and heart erect, by the off side of the horses, which were very restless, pawing, and plunging violently, and almost defying timothy best skill to hold them; while harry, having cast off his box-coat, stood firm and upright on the foot board as a carved statue, with his rifle cocked and ready; when, headed back upon us by the yell of lyn and the loud clamor of his fresh foes, the first buck i had seen in america, and the largest i had seen any where, dashed at a single plunge into the round, clearing the green head of a fallen hemlock, apparently without an effort, his splendid antlers laid back on his neck, and his white flag lashing his fair round haunch as the fleet bitches bonny belle and blossom yelled with their shrill fierce trebles close behind him. seeing that it was useless to persist in my endeavor to extricate my gun, and satisfied that the matter was in good hands, i was content to look on, an inactive but most eager witness. tom, who from his position at the head of the off horse, commanded the first view of the splendid creature, pitched his gun to his shoulder hastily and fired; the smoke drifted across my face, but through its vapory folds i could distinguish the dim figure of the noble hart still bounding unhurt onward; but, before the first echo of the round ringing report of tom's shot-gun reached my ear, the sharp flat crack of harry's rifle followed it, and at the self-same instant the buck sprang six feet into the air, and pitched head foremost on the ground; it was but for a moment, however, for with the speed of light he struggled to his feet, and though sore wounded, was yet toiling onward when the two english foxhounds dashed at his throat and pulled him down again. "run in, tom, run in! quick," shouted harry, "he's not clean killed, and may gore the dogs sadly!" "i've got no knife," responded tom, but dauntlessly he dashed in, all the same, to the rescue of the bitches--which i believe he loved almost as well as his own children--and though, encumbered by his ponderous white top-coat, not to say by his two hundred and fifty weight of solid flesh, seized the fierce animal by the brow-antlers, and bore him to the ground, before harry, who had leaped out of the wagon, with his first words, could reach him. the next moment the keen short hunting knife, without which archer never takes the field, had severed at a single stroke the weasand of the gallant brute; the black blood streamed out on the smoking hoar-frost, the full eyes glazed, and, after one sharp fluttering struggle, the life departed from those graceful limbs, which had been but a few short instants previous so full of glorious energy--of fiery vigor. "well, that's the strangest thing i ever heard of, let alone seeing," exclaimed archer, "fancy a buck like that lying in such a mere fringe of coppice, and so near to the road-side, too! and why the deuce did he lay here till we almost passed him!" "i know how it's been, any heaw," said jem, who had by this time come up, and was looking on with much exultation flashing in his keen small eye. "bill speer up on the hill there telled me jist now, that they druv a big deer down from the back-bone clear down to this here hollow just above, last night arter dark. bill shot at him, and kind o' reckoned he hot him--but i guess he's mistaken--leastwise he jumped strong enough jist neaw!--but which on you was 't 'at killed him?" "i did," exclaimed tom, "i did by--!" "why you most impudent of all old liars," replied harry--while at the same time, with a most prodigious chuckle, tim matlock pointed to the white bark of a birch sapling, about the thickness of a man's thigh, standing at somewhat less than fifteen paces' distance, wherein the large shot contained by the wire cartridge--the best sporting invention by the way, that has been made since percussion caps--had bedded themselves in a black circle, cut an inch at least into the solid wood, and about two inches in diameter! "i ken gay and fairly," exclaimed tim, "'at ay rammed an eley's patent cartridge into 't single goon this morning; and yonder is 't i' t' birk tree, and ay ken a load o' shot fra an unce bullet!" the laugh was general now against fat tom; especially as the small wound made by the heavy ball of harry's rifle was plainly visible, about a hand's breadth behind the heart, on the side toward which he had aimed; while the lead had passed directly through, in an oblique direction forward, breaking the left shoulder blade, and lodging just beneath the skin, whence a touch of the knife dislodged it. "what now--what now, boys?" cried the old sinner, no whit disconcerted by the general mirth against him. "i say, by gin! i killed him, and i say so yet. which on ye all--which on ye all daared to go in on him, without a knife nor nothen. i killed him, i say, anyhow, and so let's drink!" "well, i believe we must wet him," harry answered, "so get out another flask of whiskey, tim; and you jem and garry lend me a hand to lift this fine chap into the wagon. by jove! but this will make the teachmans open their eyes; and now look sharp! you sent the teachmans word that we were coming, tom?" "sartin! and they've got breakfast ready long enough before this, anyways." with no more of delay, but with lots more of merriment and shouting, on we drove; and in five minutes' space, just as the sun was rising, reached the small rude enclosure around two or three log huts, lying just on the verge of the beautiful clear lake. two long sharp boats, and a canoe scooped out of a whole tree, were drawn up on the sandy beach; a fishing net of many yards in length was drying on the rails; a brace of large, strong, black and tan foxhounds were lying on the step before the door; a dozen mongrel geese, with one wing-tipped wild one among them, were sauntering and gabbling about the narrow yard; and a glorious white-headed fishing eagle, with a clipped wing, but otherwise at large, was perched upon the roof hard by the chimney. at the rattle of our arrival, out came from the larger of the cottages, three tall rough-looking countrymen to greet us, not one of whom stood less than six foot in his stockings, while two were several inches taller. great was their wonder, and loud were their congratulations when they beheld the unexpected prize which we had gained, while on our route; but little space was given at that time to either; for the coffee, which, by the way, was poor enough, and the hot cakes and fried perch, which were capital, and the grilled salt pork, swimming in fat, and the large mealy potatoes bursting through their brown skins, were ready smoking upon a rough wooden board, covered, however, by a clean white table cloth, beside a sparkling fire of wood, which our drive through the brisk mountain air had rendered by no means unacceptable. we breakfasted like hungry men and hunters, both rapidly and well; and before half an hour elapsed, archer, with jem and one of our bold hosts, started away, well provided with powder and ball, and whiskey, and accompanied by all the hounds, to make a circuit of the western hill, on the summit of which they expected to be joined by two or three more of the neighbors, whence they proposed to drive the whole sweep of the forest-clad descent down to the water's edge. tim was enjoined to see to the provisions, and to provide as good a dinner as his best gastronomic skill and the contents of our portable larder might afford, and i was put under the charge of tom, who seemed, for about an hour, disposed to do nothing but to lie dozing with a cigar in his mouth, stretched upon the broad of his back, on a bank facing the early sunshine just without the door; while our hosts were collecting bait, preparing fishing tackle, and cleaning or repairing their huge clumsy muskets. at length, when the drivers had been gone already for considerably more than an hour, he got up and shook himself. "now, then, boys," he exclaimed, "we'll be a movin. you joe teachman, what are you lazin there about, cuss you? you go with mr. forester and garry in the big boat, and pull as fast as you can put your oars to water, till you git opposite the white-stone pint--and there lie still as fishes! you may fish, though, if you will, forester," he added, turning to me, "and i do reckon the big yellow pearch will bite the darndest, this cold morning, arter the sun gits fairly up--but soon as ever you hear the hounds holler, or one of them chaps shoot, then look you out right stret away for business! cale, here, and i'll take the small boat, and keep in sight of you; and so we can kiver all this eend of the pond like, if the deer tries to cross hereaways. how long is't, cale, since we had six on them all at once in the water--six--seven-eight! well, i swon, it's ten years agone now! but come, we mus'nt stand here talkin, else we'll get a dammin when they drives down a buck into the pond, and none of us in there to tackle with him!" so without more ado, we got into our boats, disposed our guns, with the stocks towards us in the bows, laid in our stock of tinder, pipes, and liquor, and rowed off merrily to our appointed stations. never, in the whole course of my life, has it been my fortune to look upon more lovely scenery than i beheld that morning. the long narrow winding lake, lying as pure as crystal beneath the liquid skies, reflecting, with the correctness of the most perfect mirror, the abrupt and broken hills, which sank down so precipitously into it--clad as they were in foliage of every gorgeous dye, with which the autumn of america loves to enhance the beauty of her forest pictures--that, could they find their way into its mountain-girdled basin, ships of large burthen might lie afloat within a stone's throw of the shore--the slopes of the wood-covered knolls, here brown, or golden, and interspersed with the rich crimson of the faded maples, there verdant with the evergreen leaves of the pine and cedar--and the far azure summits of the most distant peaks, all steeped in the serene and glowing sunshine of an october morning. for hours we lay there, our little vessel floating as the occasional breath of a sudden breeze, curling the lake into sparkling wavelets, chose to direct our course, smoking our cigars, and chatting cozily, and now and then pulling up a great broad-backed yellow bass, whose flapping would for a time disturb the peaceful silence, which reigned over wood, and dale, and water, quite unbroken save by the chance clamor of a passing crow; yet not a sound betokening the approach of our drivers had reached our ears. suddenly, when the sun had long passed his meridian height, and was declining rapidly toward the horizon, the full round shot of a musket rang from the mountain top, followed immediately by a sharp yell, and in an instant the whole basin of the lake was filled with the harmonious discord of the hounds. i could distinguish on the moment the clear sharp challenge of harry's high-bred foxhounds, the deep bass voices of the southern dogs, and the untamable and cur-like yelping of the dogs which the teachmans had taken with them. ten minutes passed full of anxiety, almost of fear. we knew not as yet whither to turn our boat's head, for every second the course of the hounds seemed to vary, at one instant they would appear to be rushing directly down to us, and the next instant they would turn as though they were going up the hill again. meantime our beaters were not idle--their stirring shouts, serving alike to animate the hounds, and to force the deer to water, made rock and wood reply in cheery echoes; but, to my wonder, i caught not for a long time one note of harry's gladsome voice. at length, as i strained my eyes against the broad hill-side, gilt by the rays of the declining sun, i caught a glimpse of his form running at a tremendous pace, bounding over stock and stone, and plunging through dense thickets, on a portion of the declivity where the tall trees had a few years before been destroyed by accidental fire. at this moment the hounds were running, to judge from their tongues, parallel to the lake and to the line which he was running--the next minute, with a redoubled clamor, they turned directly down to him. i lost sight of him. but half a minute afterward, the sharp crack of his rifle again rang upon the air, followed by a triumphant "whoop! who-whoop!" and then, i knew, another stag had fallen. the beaters on the hill shouted again louder and louder than before--and the hounds still raved on. by heaven! but there must be a herd of them a-foot! and now the pack divides! the english hounds are bringing their game down--here--by the lord! just here--right in our very faces! the southrons have borne away over the shoulder of the hill, still running hot and hard in jolly tom's direction. "by heaven!" i cried, "look, teachman! garry, look! there! see you not that noble buck?--he leaped that sumac bush like a race-horse! and see! see! now he will take the water. bad luck on it! he sees us, and heads back!" again the fleet hounds rally in his rear, and chide till earth and air are vocal and harmonious. hark! hark! how archer's cheers ring on the wind! now he turns once again--he nears the edge--how glorious! with what a beautiful bold bound he leaped from that high bluff into the flashing wave! with what a majesty he tossed his antlered head above the spray! with how magnificent and brave a stroke he breasts the curling billows!" "give way! my men, give way!" how the frail bark creaks and groans as we ply the long oars in the rullocks--how the ash bends in our sturdy grasp--how the boat springs beneath their impulse. "together, boys! together! now--now we gain--now, garry, lay your oar aside--up with your musket--now you are near enough--give it to him, in heaven's name! a good shot, too! the bullet ricocheted from the lake scarcely six inches from his nose! give way again--it's my shot now!" and lifting my joe manton, each barrel loaded with a bullet carefully wadded with greased buckskin, i took a careful aim and fired. "that's it," cried garry; "well done, forester--right through the head, by george!" and, as he spoke, i fancied for a moment he was right. the noble buck plunged half his height out of the bright blue water, shaking his head as if in the death agony, but the next instant he stretched out again with vigor unimpaired, and i could see that my ball had only knocked a tine off his left antler. my second barrel still remained, and without lowering the gun, i drew my second trigger. again, a fierce plunge told that the ball had not erred widely; and this time, when he again sank into his wonted posture, the deep crimson dye that tinged the foam which curled about his graceful neck, as he still struggled, feebly fleet, before his unrelenting foes, gave token of a deadly wound. six more strokes of the bending oars--we shot alongside--a noose of rope was cast across his branching tines, the keen knife flashed across his throat, and all was over! we towed him to the shore, where harry and his comrades were awaiting us with another victim to his unerring aim. we took both bucks and all hands on board, pulled stoutly homeward, and found tom lamenting. two deer, a buck of the first head, and a doe, had taken water close beside him--he had missed his first shot, and in toiling over-hard to recover lost ground, had broken his oar, and been compelled inactively to witness their escape. three fat bucks made the total of the day's sport--not one of which had fallen to tom's boasted musket. it needed all that tim's best dinner, with lots of champagne and ferintosh, could do to restore the fat chap's equanimity; but he at last consoled himself, as we threw ourselves on the lowly beds of the log hut, by swearing that by the etarnal devil he'd bea us both at partridges to-morrow. day the sixth the sun rose broad and bright in a firmament of that most brilliant and transparent blue, which i have witnessed in no other country than america, so pure, so cloudless, so immeasurably distant as it seems from the beholder's eye! there was not a speck of cloud from east to west, from zenith to horizon; not a fleece of vapor on the mountain sides; not a breath of air to ruffle the calm basin of the greenwood lake. the rock-crowned, forest-mantled ridge, on the farther side of the narrow sheet, was visible almost as distinctly through the medium of the pure fresh atmosphere, as though it had been gazed at through a telescope--the hues of the innumerable maples, in their various stages of decay, purple, and crimson, and bright gorgeous scarlet, were contrasted with the rich chrome yellow of the birch and poplars, the sere red leaves of the gigantic oaks, and with the ever verdant plumage of the junipers, clustered in massy patches on every rocky promontory, and the tall spires of the dark pines and hemlock. over this mass of many-colored foliage, the pale thin yellow light of the new-risen sun was pouring down a flood of chaste illumination; while, exhaled from the waters by his first beams, a silvery gauze-like haze floated along the shores, not rising to the height of ten feet from the limped surface, which lay unbroken by the smallest ripple, undisturbed by the slightest splash of fish or insect, as still and tranquil to the eye as though it had been one huge plate of beaten burnished silver; with the tall cones of the gorgeous hills in all their rich variety, in all their clear minuteness, reflected, summit downward, palpable as their reality, in that most perfect mirror. such was the scene on which i gazed, as on the last day of our sojourn in the woodlands of fair orange, i issued from the little cabin, under the roof of which i had slept so dreamlessly and deep, after the fierce excitement of our deer hunt, that while i was yet slumbering, all save myself had risen, donned their accoutrements, and sallied forth, i knew not whither, leaving me certainly alone, although as certainly not so much to my glory. from the other cottage, as i stood upon the threshold, i might hear the voices of the females, busy at their culinary labors, the speedily approaching term of which was obviously denoted by the rich savory steams which tainted--not, i confess, unpleasantly--the fragrant morning air. as i looked out upon this lovely morning, i did not, i acknowledge it, regret the absence of my excellent though boisterous companions; for there was something which i cannot define in the deep stillness, in the sweet harmonious quiet of the whole scene before me, that disposed my spirit to meditation far more than to mirth; the very smoke which rose from the low chimneys of the teachmans' colony--not surging to and fro, obedient to the fickle winds--but soaring straight, tall, unbroken, upward, like corinthian columns, each with its curled capital--seemed to invite the soul of the spectator to mount with it toward the sunny heavens. by-and-by i strayed downward to the beach, a narrow strip of silvery sand and variegated pebbles, and stood there long, silently watching the unknown sports, the seemingly--to us at least--unmeaning movements, and strange groupings of the small fry, which darted to and fro in the clear shallows within two yards of my feet; or marking the brief circling ripples, wrought by the morning swallow's wing, and momently subsiding into the wonted rest of the calm lake. how long i stood there musing i know not, for i had fallen into a train of thought so deep that i was utterly unconscious of everything around me, when i was suddenly aroused from my reverie by the quick dash of oars, and by a volley of some seven barrels discharged in quick succession. as i looked up with an air, i presume somewhat bewildered, i heard the loud and bellowing laugh of tom and saw the whole of our stout company gliding up in two boats, the skiff and the canoe, toward the landing place, perhaps a hundred yards from the spot where i stood. "come here, darn you," were the first words i heard, from the mouth of what speaker it need not be said--"come here, you lazy, snortin, snoozin decker--lend a hand here right stret away, will you? we've got more perch than all of us can carry--and archer's got six wood-duck." hurrying down in obedience to this unceremonious mandate, i perceived that indeed their time had not been misemployed, for the whole bottom of the larger boat was heaped with fish--the small and delicate green perch, the cat-fish, hideous in its natural, but most delicious in its artificial shape, and, above all, the large and broad-backed yellow bass, from two to four pounds weight. while archer, who had gone forth with garry only in the canoe, had picked up half a dozen wood-duck, two or three of the large yellow-legs, a little bittern, known by a far less elegant appellative throughout the country, and thirteen english snipe. "by jove!" cried i, "but this is something like--where the deuce did you pick the snipe up, harry--and, above all, why the deuce did you let me lie wallowing in bed this lovely morning?" "one question at a time," responded he, "good master frank; one question at a time. for the snipe, i found them very unexpectedly, i tell you, in a bit of marshy meadow just at the outlet of the pond. garry was paddling me along at the top of his pace, after a wing-tipped wood-duck, when up jumped one of the long-billed rascals, and had the impudence to skim across the creek under my very nose--'skeap! skeap!' well, i dropped him, you may be sure, with a charge, too, of duck shot; and he fell some ten yards over on the meadow; so leaving garry to pursue the drake, i landed, loaded my gun with no. 9, and went to work--the result as you see; but i cleared the meadow--devil a bird is left there, except one i cut to pieces, and could not find for want of chase--two went away without a shot, over the hills and far away. as for letting you lie in bed, you must talk to tom about it; i bid him call you, and the fat rascal never did so, and never said a word about you, till we were ready for a start, and then no master frank was to the fore." "well, tom," cried i, "what have you got to say to this?" "now, cuss you, don't come foolin' about me," replied that worthy, aiming a blow at me, which, had it taken place, might well have felled goliah; but which, as i sprang aside, wasting its energies on the impassive air, had well nigh floored the striker. "don't you come foolin' about me--you knows right well i called you, and you knows, too, you almost cried, and told me to clear out, and let you git an hour's sleep; for by the lord you thought archer and i was made of steel!--you couldn't and you wouldn't--and now you wants to know the reason why you warn't along with us!" "never mind the old thief, frank," said archer, seeing that i was on the point of answering, "even his own aunt says he is the most notorious liar in all orange county--and heaven forbid we should gainsay that most respectable old lady!" into what violent asseveration our host would have plunged at this declaration, remains, like the tale of cambuscan bold, veiled in deep mystery; for as he started from the log on which he had been reposing while in the act of unsplicing his bamboo fishing pole, the elder of the teachmans thrust his head out of the cabin nearest to us--"come, boys, to breakfast! "--and at the first word of his welcome voice, tom made, as he would have himself defined it, stret tracks for the table. and a mighty different table it was from that to which we had sat down on the preceding morning. timothy--unscared by the wonder of the mountain nymphs, who deemed a being of the masculine gender as an intruder, scarce to be tolerated, on the mysteries of the culinary art--had exerted his whole skill, and brought forth all the contents of his canteen! we had a superb steak of the fattest venison, graced by cranberries stewed with cayenne pepper, and sliced lemons. a pot of excellent black tea, almost as strong as the cognac which flanked it; a dish of beautiful fried perch, with cream as thick as porridge, our own loaf sugar, and teachman's new laid eggs, hot wheaten cakes, and hissing rashers of right tender pork, furnished a breakfast forth that might have vied successfully with those which called forth, in the hebrides, such raptures from the lexicographer. breakfast despatched--for which, to say the truth, harry gave us but little time--we mustered our array and started; harry and tom and i making one party, with the spaniels--garry, the teachmans, and timothy, with the setters, which would hunt very willingly for him in archer's absence, forming a second. it was scarce eight o'clock when we went out, each on a separate beat, having arranged our routes so as to meet at one o'clock in the great swamp, said to abound, beyond all other places, in the ruffed grouse or partridge, to the pursuit of which especially we had devoted our last day. "now, frank," said harry, "you have done right well throughout the week; and if you can stand this day's tramp, i will say for you that you are a sportsman, aye, every inch of one. we have got seven miles right hard walking over the roughest hills you ever saw--the hardest moors of yorkshire are nothing to them--before we reach the swamp, and that you'll find a settler! tom, here, will keep along the bottoms, working his way as best he can; while we make good the uplands! are your flasks full?" "sartain, they are!" cried tom--"and i've got a rousin big black bottle, too--but not a drop of the old cider sperrits do you git this day, boys; not if your thirsty throats were cracking for it!" "well, well! we won't bother you--you'll need it all, old porpoise, before you get to the far end. here, take a hard boiled egg or two, frank, and some salt, and i'll pocket a few biscuits--we must depend on ourselves to-day." "ay, ay, sur," chuckled timothy, "there's naw tim matlock to mak looncheon ready for ye 'a the day. see thee, measter frank. ay'se gotten 't measter's single barrel; and gin i dunna ootshoot measter draa--whoy ay'se deny my coontry!" "most certainly you will deny it then, tim," answered i, "for mr. draw shoots excellently well, and you--" "and ay'se shot mony a hare by 't braw moon, doon i' bonny cawoods. ay'se beat, ay'se oophaud* [*oophaud, yorkshire. anglice, uphold] it!" so saying, he shouldered the long single barrel, and paddled off with the most extraordinary expedition after the teachmans, who had already started, leading the setters in a leash, till they were out of sight of archer. "they have the longest way to go," said harry, "by a mile at the least; so we have time for a cheroot before we three get under way." cigars were instantly produced and lighted, and we lounged about the little court for the best part of half an hour, till the report of a distant gunshot, ringing with almost innumerable reverberations along the woodland shores, announced to us that our companions had already got into their work. "here goes," cried harry, springing to his feet at once, and grasping his good gun; "here goes--they have got into the long hollow, tom, and by the time we've crossed the ridge, and got upon our ground, they'll be abreast of us." "hold on! hold on!" tom bellowed, "you are the darndest critter, when you do git goin--now hold on, do--i wants some rum, and forester here looks a kind of white about the gills, his what-d'ye-call, cheeroot, has made him sick, i reckon!" of course, with such an exhortation in our ears as this, it was impossible to do otherwise than wet our whistles with one drop of the old ferintosh; and then, tom having once again recovered his good humor, away we went, and "clombe the high hill," though we "swam not the deep river," as merrily as ever sportsman did, from the days of arbalast and longbow, down to these times of westley richards' caps and eley's wire cartridges. a tramp of fifteen minutes through some scrubby brushwood, brought us to the base of a steep stony ridge covered with tall and thrifty hickories and a few oaks and maples intermixed, rising so steeply from the shore that it was necessary not only to strain every nerve of the leg, but to swing our bodies up from tree to tree, by dint of hand. it was indeed a hard and heavy tug; and i had pretty tough work, what between the exertion of the ascent, and the incessant fits of laughter into which i was thrown by the grotesquely agile movements of fat tom; who, grunting, panting, sputtering, and launching forth from time to time the strangest and most blasphemously horrid oaths, contrived to make way to the summit faster than either of us--crashing through the dense underwood of juniper and sumac, uprooting the oak saplings as he swung from this to that, and spurning down huge stones upon us, as we followed at a cautious distance. when we at last crowned the ridge, we found him, just as harry had predicted, stretched in a half recumbent attitude, leaning against a huge gray stone, with his fur cap and double-barrel lying upon the withered leaves beside him, puffing, as archer told him, to his mighty indignation, like a great grampus in shoal water. after a little rest, however, falstaff revived, though not before he had imbibed about a pint of applejack, an occupation in which he could not persuade either of us, this time, to join him. descending from our elevated perch, we now got into a deep glen, with a small brooklet winding along the bottom, bordered on either hand by a stripe of marshy bog earth, bearing a low growth of alder bushes, mixed with stunted willows. on the side opposite to that by which we had descended, the hill rose long and lofty, covered with mighty timber-trees standing in open ranks and overshadowing a rugged and unequal surface, covered with whortleberry, wintergreen, and cranberries, the latter growing only along the courses of the little runnels, which channeled the whole slope. here, stony ledges and gray broken crags peered through the underwood, among the crevices of which the stunted cedars stood thick set, and matted with a thousand creeping vines and brambles; while there, from some small marshy basin, the giant rhododendron maximum rose almost to the height of a timber tree. "here, tom," said harry, "keep you along this run--you'll have a woodcock every here and there, and look sharp when you hear them fire over the ridge, for they can't shoot to speak of, and the ruffed grouse will cross--you know. you, master frank, stretch your long legs and get three parts of the way up this hill--over the second mound--there, do you see that great blue stone with a thunder-splintered tree beside it? just beyond that! then turn due west, and mark the trending of the valley, keeping a little way ahead of me, which you will find quite easy, for i shall have to beat across you both. go very slow, tom--now, hurrah!" exhorted thus, i bounded up the hill and soon reached my appointed station; but not before i heard the cheery voice of archer encouraging the eager spaniels--"hie cock! hie cock! pu-r-r-h!"--till the woods rang to the clear shout. scarce had i reached the top, before, as i looked down into the glen below me, a puff of white smoke, instantly succeeded by a second, and the loud full reports of both his barrels from among the green-leafed alders, showed me that tom had sprung game. the next second i heard the sharp questing of the spaniel dan, followed by harry's "charge!--down cha-arge, you little thief--down to cha-arge, will you!" but it was all in vain--for on he went furious and fast, and the next moment the thick whirring of a grouse reached my excited ears. carefully, eagerly, i gazed out to mark the wary bird; but the discharge of harry's piece assured me, as i thought, that further watch was needless; and stupidly enough i dropped the muzzle of my gun. just at the self-same point of time--"mark! mark, frank!" shouted archer, "mark! there are a brace of them!"--and as he spoke, gliding with speed scarcely inferior to a bullet's flight upon their balanced pinions, the noble birds swept past me, so close that i could have struck them with a riding whip. awfully fluttered was i--i confess--but by a species of involuntary and instinctive consideration i rallied instantly, and became cool. the grouse had seen me, and wheeled diverse; one darting to the right, through a small opening between a cedar bush and a tall hemlock--the other skimming through the open oak woods a little toward the left. at such a crisis thought comes in a second's space; and i have often fancied that in times of emergency or great surprise, a man deliberates more promptly, and more prudently withal, than when he has full time to let his second thought trench on his first and mar it. so was it in this case with me. at half a glance i saw, that if i meant to get both birds, the right-hand fugitive must be the first, and that with all due speed; for but a few yards further he would have gained a brake which would have laughed to scorn lord kennedy or harry t--r. pitching my gun up to my shoulder, both barrels loaded with eley's red wire cartridge no. 6, i gave him a snap shot, and had the satisfaction of seeing him keeled well over, not wing-tipped or leg-broken, but fairly riddled by the concentrated charge of something within thirty yards. turning as quick as light, i caught a fleet sight of the other, which by a rapid zig-zag was now flying full across my front, certainly over forty-five yards distant, among a growth of thick-set saplings--the hardest shot, in my opinion, that can be selected to test a quick and steady sportsman. i gave it him, and down he came too--killed dead--that i knew, for i had shot full half a yard before him. just as i dropped my butt to load, the hill began to echo with the vociferous yells of master dan, the quick redoubled cracks of harry's heavy dog-whip, and his incessant rating--"down, cha-arge! for sha-ame! dan! dan! down cha-arge! for sha-ame! "--broken at times by the impatient oaths of tom draw, in the gulley, who had, it seems, knocked down two woodcock, neither of which he could bag, owing to the depth and instability of the wet bog. "quit! quit! cuss you, quit there, leatherin that brute! quit, i say, or i'll send a shot at you! come here, archer--i say, come here!--there be the darndest lot of droppins here, i ever see--full twenty cock, i swon!" but still the scourge continued to resound, and still the raving of the spaniel excited tom's hot ire. "frank forester!" exclaimed he once again. "do see now--harry missed them partridge, and so he licks the poor dumb brute for it. i wish i were a spannel, and he'd try it on with me!" "i will, too," answered archer, with a laugh; "i will, too, if you go wish it, though you are not a spaniel, nor any thing else half so good. and why, pray, should i not scourge this wild little imp? he ran slap into the best pack of ruffed grouse i have seen this two years--fifteen or sixteen birds. i wonder they're not scattered--it's full late to find them packed!" "did you kill ere a one?" tom holloaed; "not one, either of you!" "i did," answered harry, "i nailed the old cock bird, and a rare dog he is!--two pounds, good weight, i warrant him," he added, weighing him as he spoke. "look at the crimson round his eye, frank, like a cock pheasant's, and his black ruff or tippet--by george! but he's a beauty! and what did you do?" he continued. "i bagged a brace--the only two that crossed me." "did you, though?" exclaimed archer, with no small expression of surprise; "did you, though?--that's prime work--it takes a thorough workmen to bag a double shot upon october grouse. but come, we must go down to tom; hark how the old hound keeps bawling." well, down we went. the spaniels quickly retrieved his dead birds, and flushed some fifteen more, of which we gave a clean account--harry making up for lost time by killing six cock, right and left, almost before they topped the bushes--seven more fell to me, but single birds all of them--and but one brace to tom, who now began to wax indignant; for archer, as i saw, for fun's sake, was making it a point to cut down every bird that rose to him, before he could get up his gun; and then laughed at him for being fat and slow. but the laugh was on tom's side before long--for while we were yet in the valley, the report of a gun came faintly down the wind from beyond the hill, and as we all looked out attentively, a grouse skimmed the brow, flying before the wind at a tremendous pace, and skated across the valley without stooping from his altitude. i stood the first, and fired, a yard at least ahead of him--on he went, unharmed and undaunted; bang went my second barrel--still on he went, the faster, as it seemed, for the weak insult. harry came next, and he too fired twice, and--tell it not in gath-missed twice! "now, fat-guts!" shouted archer, not altogether in his most amiable or pleasing tones; and sure enough up went the old man's piece--roundly it echoed with its mighty charge--a cloud of feathers drifted away in a long line from the slaughtered victim--which fell not direct, so rapid was its previous flight, but darted onward in a long declining tangent, and struck the rocky soil with a thud clearly audible where we stood, full a hundred yards from the spot where it fell. he bagged, amid tom's mighty exultation, forward again we went and in a short half hour got into the remainder of the pack which we had flushed before, in some low tangled thorn cover, among which they lay well, and we made havoc of them. and here the oddest accident i ever witnessed in the field took place--so odd, that i am half ashamed to write to it--but where's the odds, for it is true. a fine cock bird was flushed close at tom's feet, and went off to the left, harry and i both standing to the right; he blazed away, and at the shot the bird sprung up six or eight feet into the air, with a sharp staggering flutter. "killed dead!" cried i; "well done again, fat tom." but to my great surprise the grouse gathered wing, and flew on, feebly at first, and dizzily, but gaining strength more and more as he went on the farther. at the last, after a long flight, he treed in a tall leafless pine. "run after him, frank," archer called to me, "you are the lightest; and we'll beat up the swale till you return. you saw the tree he took?" "aye, aye!" said i preparing to make off. "well! he sits near the top--now mind me! no chivalry frank! give him no second chance--a ruffed grouse, darting downward from a tall pine tree, is a shot to balk the devil--it's full five to one that you shoot over and behind him--give him no mercy!" off i went, and after a brisk trot, five or six minutes long, reached my tree, saw my bird perched on a broken limb close to the time-blanched trunk, cocked my joe manton, and was in the very act of taking aim, when something so peculiar in the motion of the bird attracted me, that i paused. he was nodding like a sleepy man, and seemed with difficulty to retain his foot-hold. while i was gazing, he let go, pitched headlong, fluttered his wings in the death-struggle, yet in air, and struck the ground close at my feet, stone-dead. tom's first shot had cut off the whole crown of the head, with half the brain and the right eye; and after that the bird had power to fly five or six hundred yards, and then to cling upon its perch for at least ten minutes. rejoining my companions, we again went onward, slaying and bagging as we went, till when the sun was at meridian we sat down beside the brook to make our frugal meal--not to-day of grilled woodcock and champagne, but of hard eggs, salt, biscuit, and scotch whiskey--not so bad either--nor were we disinclined to profit by it. we were still smoking on the marge, when a shot right ahead told us that our out-skirting party was at hand. all in an instant were on the alert; in twenty minutes we joined forces, and compared results. we had twelve grouse, five rabbits, seventeen woodcock; they, six gray squirrels, seven grouse, and one solitary cock --tim, proud as lucifer at having led the field. but his joy now was at an end--for to his charge the setters were committed to be led in leash, while we shot on, over the spaniels. another dozen grouse, and eighteen rabbits, completed our last bag in the woodlands. late was it when we reached the teachmans' hut--and long and deep was the carouse that followed; and when the moon had sunk and we were turning in, tom draw swore with a mighty oath of deepest emphasis--that since we had passed a week with him, he'd take a seat down in the wagon, and see the beacon races. so we filled round once more, and clinked our glasses to bind the joyous contract, and turned in happy. day the seventh once more we were compelled to change our purpose. when we left tom draw's it had been, as we thought, finally decided that we were for this bout to visit that fair village no more, but when that worthy announced his own determination to accompany us on our homeward route, and when we had taken into consideration the fact, that, independent of tom's two hundred and fifty weight of solid flesh, we had two noble bucks, beside quail, ruffed grouse, woodcock, and rabbit almost innumerable to transport, in addition to our two selves and timothy, with the four dogs, and lots of luggage--when we, i say, considered all this, it became apparent that another vehicle must be provided for our return. so during the last jorum, it had been put to the vote and unanimously carried that we should start for tom's, by a retrograde movement, at four o'clock in the morning, breakfast with him, and rig up some drag or other wherein timothy might get the two deer and the dogs, as best he might, into the city. "as for us," said harry, "we will go down the other road, tom, over the back-bone of the mountain, dine with old colonel beams, stop at paterson, and take a taste at the holy father's poteen--you may look at the falls if you like it, frank, while we're looking at the innishowen-and so get home to supper. i'll give you both beds for one night--but not an hour longer--my little cellar would be broken, past all doubt, if old tom were to get two nights out of it!" "ay'se sure it would," responded timothy, who had been listening, all attention, mixing meanwhile some strange compound of eggs and rum and sugar. "whoy, measter draa did pratty nigh drink 't out yance--that noight 'at eight chaps, measter frank, drank oop two baskets o' champagne, and fifteen bottles o' 't breawn sherry--ay carried six on 'em to bed, ay'se warrant it--and yan o' them, young measter clark, he spoilt me a new suit o' liveries, wi' vomiting a top on me." "that'll do, timothy," interposed archer, unwilling, as i thought, that the secret mysteries of his establishment should be revealed any further to the profane ears which were gaping round about us--"that'll do for the present--give mr. draw that flip--he's looking at it very angrily, i see! and then turn in, or you'll be late in the morning; and, by george, we must be away by four o'clock at latest, for we have all of sixty miles to make to-morrow, and tom's fat carcase will try the springs most consumedly, down hill." matters thus settled, in we turned, and--as it seemed to me, within five minutes, i was awakened by harry archer, who stood beside my bed full dressed, with a candle in his hand. "get up," he whispered, "get up, frank, very quietly; slip on your great-coat and your slippers--we have a chance to serve tom out--he's not awake for once! and timothy will have the horses ready in five minutes!" up i jumped on the instant, hauled on a rough-frieze pea-jacket, thrust my unstockinged feet into their contrary slippers, and followed harry, on the tips of my toes, along a creaking passage, guided by the portentous ruckling snorts, which varied the ilk profundity of the fat man's slumbers. when i reached his door, there stood harry, laughing to himself, with a small quiet chuckle, perfectly inaudible at three feet distance, the intensity of which could, however, be judged by the manner in which it shook his whole person. two huge horse-buckets, filled to the brim, were set beside him; and he had cut a piece of an old broomstick so as to fit exactly to the width of the passage, across which he had fastened it, at about two feet from the ground, so that it must most indubitably trip up any person, who should attempt to run along that dark and narrow thoroughfare. "now, frank," said he, "see here! i'll set this bucket here behind the door--we'll heave the other slap into his face--there he lies, full on the broad of his fat back, with his mouth wide open--and when he jumps up full of fight, which he is sure to do, run you with the candle, which blow out the moment he appears, straight down the passage. i'll stand back here, and as he trips over that broomstick, which he is certain to do, i'll pitch the other bucket on his back--and if he does not think he's bewitched, i'll promise not to laugh. i owe him two or three practical jokes, and now i've got a chance, so i'll pay him all at once." well! we peeped in, aided by the glare of the streaming tallow candle, and there, sure enough, with all the clothes kicked off him, and his immense rotundity protected only from the cold by an exceeding scanty shirt of most ancient cotton, lay tom, flat on his back, like a stranded porpoise, with his mouth wide open, through which he was puffing and breathing like a broken-winded cab-horse, while through his expanded nostrils he was snoring loudly enough to have awaked the seven sleepers. neither of us could well stand up for laughing. one bucket was deposited behind the door, and back stood harry ready to slip behind it also at half a moment's warning--the candlestick was placed upon the floor, which i was to kick over in my flight. "stand by to heave!" whispered my trusty comrade--"heave!" and with the word--flash!--slush!--out went the whole contents of the full pail, two gallons at the least of ice-cold water, slap in the chaps, neck, breast, and stomach of the sound sleeper. with the most wondrous noise that ears of mine have ever witnessed--a mixture of sob, snort, and groan, concluding in the longest and most portentous howl that mouth of man ever uttered--tom started out of bed; but, at the very instant i discharged my bucket, i put my foot upon the light, flung down the empty pail, and bolted. poor devil!--as he got upon his feet the bucket rolled up with its iron handles full against his shins, the oath he swore at which encounter, while he dashed headlong after me, directed by the noise i made on purpose, is most unmentionable. well knowing where it was, i easily jumped over the stick which barred the passage. not so tom--for going at the very top of his pace, swearing like forty troopers all the time, he caught it with both legs just below the knees, and went down with a squelch that shook the whole hut to the rooftree, while at the self-same instant harry once again soused him with the contents of the second pail, and made his escape unobserved by the window of tom's own chamber. meanwhile i had reached my room, and flinging off my jacket, came running out with nothing but my shirt and a lighted candle, to tom's assistance, in which the next moment i was joined by harry, who rushed in from out of doors with the stable lanthorn. "what's the row now?" he said, with his face admirably cool and quiet. "what the devil's in the wind?" "oh! archer!" grunted poor tom, in most piteous accents--"them darned etarnal teachmans--they've murdered me right out! i'll never get over this--ugh! ugh! ugh! half drowned and smashed up the darndest! now aint it an etarnal shame! cuss them, if i doos n't sarve them out for it, my name's not thomas draw!" "well, it is not," rejoined harry, "who in the name of wonder ever called you thomas? christened you never were at all, that's evident enough, you barbarous old heathen--but you were certainly named tom." swearing, and vowing vengeance on jem lyn, and garry, and the teachmans --each one of whom, by the way, was sound asleep during this pleasant interlude--and shaking with the cold, and sputtering with uncontrollable fury, the fat man did at length get dressed, and after two or three libations of milk punch, recovered his temper somewhat, and his spirits altogether. although, however, harry and i told him very frankly that we were not merely the sole planners, but the sole executors, of the trick--it was in vain we spoke. tom would not have it. "no--he knew--he knew well enough; did we go for to think he was such an old etarnal fool as not to know jem's voice--a bloody decker--he would be the death of him." and direful, in good truth, i do believe, were the jokes practical, and to him no jokes at all, which poor jem had to undergo, in expiation of his fancied share in this our misdemeanor. scarce had the row subsided, before the horses were announced. harry and i, and tom and timothy, mounted the old green drag; and, with our cheroots lighted--the only lights, by the way, that were visible at all --off we went at a rattling trot, the horses in prime condition, full of fire, biting and snapping at each other, and making their bits clash and jingle every moment. up the long hill, and through the shadowy wood, they strained, at full ten miles an hour, without a touch of the whip, or even a word of harry's well-known voice. we reached the brow of the mountain, where there are four cleared fields--whereon i once saw snow lie five feet deep on the tenth day of april--and an old barn; and thence we looked back through the cold gray gloom of an autumnal morning, three hours at least before the rising of the sun, while the stars were waning in the dull sky, and the moon had long since set, toward the greenwood lake. never was there a stronger contrast, than between that lovely sheet of limpid water, as it lay now--cold, dun, and dismal, like a huge plate of pewter, without one glittering ripple, without one clear reflection, surrounded by the wooded hills which, swathed in a dim mist, hung grim and gloomy over its silent bosom--and its bright sunny aspect on the previous day. adieu! fair greenwood lake! adieu! many and blithe have been the hours which i have spent around, and in, and on you--and it may well be i shall never see you more--whether reflecting the full fresh greenery of summer; or the rich tints of cisatlantic autumn; or sheeted with the treacherous ice; but never, thou sweet lake, never will thy remembrance fade from my bosom, while one drop of life-blood warms it; so art thou intertwined with memories of happy careless days, that never can return --of friends, truer, perhaps, though rude and humble, than all of prouder seeming. farewell to thee, fair lake! long may it be before thy rugged hills be stripped of their green garniture, or thy bright waters marred by the unpicturesque improvements of man's avarice!--for truly thou, in this utilitarian age, and at brief distance from america's metropolis, art young, and innocent, and unpolluted, as when the red man drank of thy pure waters, long centuries ere he dreamed of the pale-faced oppressors, who have already rooted out his race from half its native continent.* [*marred it has been long ago. a huge dam has been drawn across its outlet, in order to supply a feeder to the morris canal--a gigantic piece of unprofitable improvement, made, i believe, merely as a basis on which for brokers, stock-jobbers--et id genus omne of men too utilitarian and ambitious to be content with earning money honestly--to exercise their prodigious 'cuteness. the effect of this has been to change the bold shores into pestilential submerged swamps, whereon the dead trees still stand, tall, gray and ghostly; to convert a number of acres of beautiful meadow-land into stagnant grassy shallows; to back up the waters at the lake's head, to the utter destruction of several fine farms; and, last not least, to create fever and ague in abundance, where no such thing had ever been heard tell of before. certainly! your well devised improvement is a great thing for a country!] another half hour brought us down at a rattling pace to the village, and once again we pulled up at tom's well-known dwelling, just as the day was breaking. a crowd of loiterers, as usual, was gathered even at that untimely season in the large bar-room; and when the clatter of our hoofs and wheels announced us, we found no lack of ready-handed and quick tongued assistants. "take out the horses, timothy," cried harry, "unharness them, and rub them down as quickly and as thoroughly as may be--let them have four quarts each, and mind that all is ready for a start before an hour. meantime, frank, we will overhaul the game, get breakfast, and hunt up a wagon for the deer and setters." "don't bother yourself about no wagon," interposed tom, "but come you in and liquor, else we shall have you gruntin half the day; and if old roan and my long pig-box wont carry down the deer, why i'll stand treat." a jorum was prepared, and discussed accordingly, fresh ice produced, the quail and woodcock carefully unpacked, and instantly re-stowed with clean straw, a measure which, however, seemed almost supererogatory, since so completely had the external air been excluded from the game-box, that we found not only the lumps of ice in the bottom unthawed, but the flannel which lay over it stiff frozen; the birds were of course perfectly fresh, cool, and in good condition. our last day's batch, which it was found impossible to get into the box, with all the ruffed grouse, fifty at least in number, were tied up by the feet, two brace and two brace, and hung in festoons round the inside rails of the front seat and body, while about thirty hares dangled by their hind legs, with their long ears flapping to and fro, from the back seat and baggage rack. the wagon looked, i scarce know how, something between an english stage-coach when the merry days of christmas are at hand, and a game-hunter's taxed cart. the business of re-packing had been scarce accomplished, and harry and myself had just retired to change our shooting-jackets and coarse fustians for habiliments more suitable for the day and our destination-new york, to-wit, and sunday--when forth came tom, bedizened from top to toe in his most new and knowing rig, and looking now, to do him justice, a most respectable and portly yeoman. a broad-brimmed, low-crowned, and long-napped white hat, set forth assuredly to the best advantage his rotund, rubicund, good-humored phiz; a clean white handkerchief circled his sturdy neck, on the voluminous folds of which reposed in placid dignity the mighty collops of his double chin. a bright canary waistcoat of imported kerseymere, with vast mother-of-pearl buttons, and a broad-skirted coat of bright blue cloth, with glittering brass buttons half the size of dollars, covered his upper man, while loose drab trousers of stout double-milled, and a pair of well-blacked boots, completed his attire; so that he looked as different an animal as possible, from the unwashed, uncombed, half-naked creature he presented, when lounging in his bar-room in his every-day apparel. "why, halloa, guts!" cried archer, as he entered, "you've broken out here in a new place altogether." "now quit, you, callin' of me guts," responded tom, more testily than i had ever heard him speak to harry, whose every whim and frolic he seemed religiously to venerate and humor; "a fellow doesn't want to have it 'guts' here, and 'guts' there, over half a county. why, now, it was but a week since, while 'lections was a goin' on, i got a letter from some d--d chaps to newburg--`rouse about now, old guts, you'll need it this election?'" "ha! ha! ha!" shouted harry and i almost simultaneously, delighted at tom's evident annoyance. "who wrote it, tom?" "that's what i'd jist give fifty dollars to know now," replied mine host, clinching his mighty paw. "why, what would you do," said i, "if you did know?" "lick him, by george! lick him, in the first place, till he was as nigh dead as i daared lick him--and then i'd make him eat up every darned line of it! but come, come--breakfast's ready; and while we're getting through with it, timothy and jem lyn will fix the pig-box, and make the deer all right and tight for traveling!" no sooner said than done--an ample meal was speedily despatched--and when that worthy came in to announce all ready, for the saving of time, master timothy was accommodated with a seat at a side-table, which he occupied with becoming dignity, abstaining, as it were, in consciousness of his honorable promotion, from any of the quaint and curious witticisms, in which he was wont to indulge; but manducating, with vast energy, the various good things which were set before him. it was a clear, bright sabbath morning, as ever shone down on a sinful world, on which we started homeward--and, though i fear there was not quite so much solemnity in our demeanor as might have best accorded with the notions of over strict professors, i can still answer that, with much mirth, much merriment, and much good feeling in our hearts, there was no touch of irreverence, or any taint of what could be called sinful thought. the sun had risen fairly, but the hour was still too early for the sweet peaceful music of the church-going bells to have made their echoes tunable through the rich valley. a merry cavalcade, indeed, we started--harry leading the way at his usual slap-dash pace, so that one, less a workman than himself, would have said he went up hill and down at the same break-neck pace, and would take all the grit out of his team before he had gone ten miles--while a more accurate observer would have seen, at a glance, that he varied his rate at almost every inequality of road, that he quartered every rut, avoided every jog or mud-hole, husbanded for the very best his horses' strength, never making them either pull or hold a moment longer than was absolutely necessary from the abruptness of the ground. at his left hand sat i, while tom, in honor of his superior bulk and weight, occupied with his magnificent and portly person the whole of the back seat, keeping his countenance as sanctified as possible, and nodding, with some quaint and characteristic observation, to each one of the scattered groups of country-people, which we encountered every quarter of a mile for the first hour of our route, wending their way toward the village church--but, when we reached the forest-mantled road which clombe the mountain, making the arched woods resound to many a jovial catch or merry hunting chorus. mounted sublime on an arm-chair lashed to the forepart of the pig-box, sat timothy in state--his legs well muffled in a noble scarlet-fringed buffalo skin, and his body encased in his livery top-coat--the setters and the spaniels crouching most meekly at his feet, and the two noble bucks--the fellow on whose steaks we had already made an inroad, having been left as fat tom's portion--securely corded down upon a pile of straw, with their sublime and antlered crests drooping all spiritless and humble over the backboard, toward the frozen soil which crashed and rattled under the ponderous hoofs of the magnificent roan horse--tom's special favorite--which, though full seventeen hands high, and heavy in proportion; yet showing a good strain of blood, trotted away with his huge load at full ten miles an hour. plunging into the deep recesses of the greenwoods, hill after hill we scaled, a toilsome length of stony steep ascents, almost precipitous, until we reached the back-bone of the mountain ridge--a rugged, bare, sharp edge of granite rock, without a particle of soil upon it, diving down at an angle not much less than forty-five degrees into a deep ravine, through which thundered and roared a flashing torrent. this fearful descent overpast, and that in perfect safety, we rolled merrily away down hill, till we reached colonel beam's tavern, a neat, low-browed, dutch, stone farmhouse, situate in an angle scooped out of a green hill-side, with half a dozen tall and shadowy elms before it--a bright crystal stream purling along into the horse-trough through a miniature aqueduct of hollowed logs, and a clear cold spring in front of it, with half a score of fat and lazy trout floating in its transparent waters. a hearty welcome, and a no less hearty meal having been here encountered and despatched, we rattled off again, through laden orchards and rich meadows; passed the confluence of the three bright rivers which issue from their three mountain gorges, to form, by their junction, the fairest of new jersey's rivers, the broad passaic; reached the small village noted for rum-drinking and quarter racing--high pompton--thence by the preakness mountain, and mose canouze's tavern--whereat, in honor of tom's friend, a worthy of the self-same kidney with himself, we paused awhile--to paterson, the filthiest town, situate on one of the loveliest rivers in the world, and famous only for the possession, in the person of its catholic priest, of the finest scholar and best fellow in america, whom we unluckily found not at home, and therefore tasted not, according to friend harry's promise, the splendid innishowen which graces at all times his hospitable board. eight o'clock brought us to hoboken, where, by good luck, the ferry boat lay ready--and nine o'clock had not struck when we three sat down once again about a neat small supper-table, before a bright coal fire, in archer's snuggery--tom glorying in the prospect of the races on the morrow, and i regretting that i had brought to its conclusion--my first week in the woodlands the warwick woodlands: on a second visit the wayside inn on a still evening in october, frank forester and harry archer were sitting at the open window of a neat country tavern, in a sequestered nook of rockland county, looking out upon as beautiful a view as ever gladdened the eyes of wandering amateur or artist. the house was a large old-fashioned stone mansion, certainly not of later date than the commencement of the revolution; and probably had been, in its better days, the manor-house of some considerable proprietor--the windows were of a form very unusual in the states, opening like doors, with heavy wooden mullions and small lattices, while the walls were so thick as to form a deep embrasure, provided with a cushioned windowseat; the parlor, in which the friends had taken up their temporary domicile, contained two of these pleasant lounges, the larger looking out due south upon the little garden, with the road before it, and, beyond the road, a prospect, of which more anon--the other commanding a space of smooth green turf in front of the stables, whereon our old acquaintance, timothy, was leading to and fro a pair of smoking horses. the dark green drag, with all its winter furniture of gaily decorated bearskins, stood half-seen beneath the low-arched wagon-shed. the walls of the room--the best room of the tavern--were paneled with the dark glossy wood of the black cherry, and a huge mantel-piece of the same material, took up at least one-half of the side opposite the larger window, while on the hearth below reposed a glowing bed of red-hot hickory ashes, a foot at least in depth, a huge log of that glorious fuel blazing upon the massive andirons. two large, deep gun-cases, a leathern magazine of shot, and sundry canisters of diamond gunpowder, brough's, were displayed on a long table under the end window--a four-horse whip, and two fly-rods in india-rubber cases, stood in the chimney-corner; while reveling in the luxurious warmth of the piled hearth lay basking on the rug, three exquisitely formed blenheim spaniels of the large breed--short-legged and bony, with ears that almost swept the ground as they stood upright, and coats as soft and lustrous as floss silk. on a round table, which should have occupied the centre of the parlor, now pulled up to the window-seat, whereon reclined the worthies, stood a large pitcher of iced water; a square case-bottle of cut crystal filled, as the flavor which pervaded the whole room sufficiently demonstrated, with superb old antigua shrub; several large rummers corresponding to the fashion of the bottle; a twisted taper of green wax, and a small silver plate with six or eight cheroots, real manillas. supper was evidently over, and the friends, amply feasted, were now luxuriating in the delicious indolence, half-dozing, half-daydreaming, of a calm sleepy smoke, modestly lubricated by an occasional sip of the cool beverage before them. if we except a pile of box-coats, capes, and mackintoshes of every cut and color--a traveling liquor-case which, standing open, displayed the tops of three more bottles similar to that on the table, and spaces lined with velvet for all the glass in use--and another little leathern box, which, like the liquor-case, showed its contents of several silver plates, knives, forks, spoons, flasks of sauce, and condiments of different kinds--the whole interior, as a painter would have called it, has been depicted with all accuracy. without, the view on which the windows opened was indeed most lovely. the day had been very bright and calm; there was not a single cloud in the pale transparent heaven, and the sun, which had shone cheerfully all day from his first rising in the east, till now when he was hanging like a ball of bloody fire in the thin filmy haze which curtained the horizon, was still shooting his long rays, and casting many a shadow over the slopes and hollows which diversified the scene. immediately across the road lay a rich velvet meadow, luxuriant still and green--for the preceding month had been rather wet, and frost had not set in to nip its verdure--sloping down southerly to a broad shallow trout-stream, which rippled all glittering and bright over a pebbly bed, although the margin on the hither side was somewhat swampy, with tufts of willows and bushes of dark alder fringing it here and there, and dipping their branches in its waters--the farther bank was skirted by a tall grove of maple, hickory, and oak, with a thick undergrowth of sumac arrayed in all the gorgeous garniture of autumn, purples and brilliant scarlets and chrome yellows, mixed up and harmonized with the dark copper foliage of a few sere beeches, and the gray trunks apparent here and there through the thin screen of the fast falling leaves. beyond this grove, the bank rose bold and rich in swelling curves, with a fine corn-field, topped already to admit every sunbeam to the ripening ears. a buckwheat stubble, conspicuous by its deep ruddy hue, and two or three brown pastures divided by high fences, along the lines of which flourished a copious growth of cat-briers and sumacs, with here and there a goodly tree waving above them, made up the centre of the picture. beyond this cultured knoll there seemed to be a deep pitch of the land clothed with a hanging wood of heavy timber; and, above this again, the soil surged upward into a huge and round-topped hill, with several golden stubbles, shining out from the frame-work of primeval forest, which, dark with many a mighty pine, covered the mountain to the top, except where at its western edge it showed a huge and rifted precipice of rock. to the right, looking down the stream, the hills closed in quite to the water's brink on the far side, rough and uncultivated, with many a blue and misty peak discovered through the gaps in their bold, broken outline, and a broad, lake-like sheet, as calm and brightly pictured as a mirror, reflecting their inverted beauties so wondrously distinct and vivid, that the amazed eye might not recognize the parting between reality and shadow. an old gray mill, deeply embosomed in a clump of weeping willows, still verdant, though the woods were sere and waxing leafless, explained the nature of that tranquil pool, while, beyond that, the hills swept down from the rear of the building, which contained the parlor whence the two sportsmen gazed, and seemed entirely to bar the valley, so suddenly, and in so short a curve, did it wind round their western shoulder. to the left hand, the view was closed by a thick belt of second growth, through which the sandy road and glittering stream wandered away together on their mazy path, and over which the summits of yet loftier and more rugged steeps towered heavenward. over this valley they had for some time gazed in silence, till now the broad sun sank behind the mountains, and the shrill whistle of the quail, which had been momently audible during the whole afternoon, ceased suddenly; four or five night-hawks might be seen wheeling high in pursuit of their insect prey through the thin atmosphere, and the sharp chirrup of a solitary katydid, the last of its summer tribe, was the only sound that interrupted the faint rush of the rapid stream, which came more clearly on the ear now that the louder noises of busy babbling daylight had yielded to the stillness of approaching night. before long a bright gleam shot through the tufted outline of a dark wooded hill, and shortly after, just when a gray and misty shadow had settled down upon the half-seen landscape, the broad full moon came soaring up above the tree-tops, pouring her soft and silver radiance over the lovely valley, and investing its rare beauties with something of romance--a sentiment which belongs not to the gay, gaudy sunshine. just at this moment, while neither of the friends felt much inclined to talk, the door opened suddenly, and timothy's black head was thrust in, with a query if "they didn't need t' waax candles?" "not yet, tim," answered archer, "not yet for an hour or so--but hold a minute--how have the horses fed?" "t' ould gray drayed off directly, and he's gane tull t' loike bricks-but t' bay's no but sillyish--he keeps a breaking oot again for iver-and sae ay'se give him a hot maash enow!" "that's right. i saw he wasn't quite up to the mark the last ten miles or so. if he don't dry off now, give him a cordial ball out of the tool-chest--one of the number 3--camphire and cardamums and ginger; a clove of garlic, and treacle quantum sic, hey, frank, that will set him to rights, i warrant it. now have you dined yourself, or supped, as the good people here insist on calling it?" "weel ay wot, have i, sur," responded timothy; "an hour agone and better." "exactly; then step out yourself into the kitchen, and make us a good cup of our own coffee, strong and hot, do you see? and when that's done, bring it in with the candles; and, hark you, run up to the bed-room and bring my netting needles down, and the ball of silk twist, and the front of that new game-bag, i began the other night. if you were not as lazy as possible, friend frank, you would bring your fly-book out, when the light comes, and tie some hackles." "perhaps i may, when the light comes," forester answered; "but i'm in no hurry for it; i like of all things to look out, and watch the changes of the night over a landscape even less beautiful than this. one-half the pleasures of field sports to me, is other than the mere excitement. if there were nothing but the eagerness of the pursuit, and the gratification of successful vanity, fond as i am of shooting, i should, i believe, have long since wearied of it; but there are so many other things connected with it--the wandering among the loveliest scenery--the full enjoyment of the sweetest weather--the learning the innumerable and all-wondrous attributes and instincts of animated nature--all these are what make up to me the rapture i derive from woodcraft! why, such a scene as this--a scene which how few, save the vagrant sportsman, or the countryman who but rarely appreciates the picturesque, have ever witnessed--is enough, with the pure and tranquil thoughts it calls up in the heart, to plead a trumpet-tongued apology, for all the vanity, and uselessness, and cruelty, and what not, so constantly alleged against our field sports." "oh! yes," cried harry; "yes, indeed, frank, i perfectly agree with you. but all that last is mere humbug--humbug, too, of the lowest and most foolish order--i never hear a man droning about the cruelty of field sports, but i set him down, on the spot, either as a hypocrite or a fool, and probably a glorious union of the two. when man can exist without killing myriads of animals with every breath of vital air he draws, with every draught of water he imbibes, with every footstep he prints upon the turf or gravel of his garden--when he abstains from every sort of animal food--and, above all, when he abstains from his great pursuit of torturing his fellow men--then let him prate, if he will, of sportsmen's cruelty. "for show me one trade, one profession, wherein one man's success is not based upon another's failure; all rivalry, all competition, triumph and rapture to the winner, disgrace and anguish to the loser! and then these fellows, fattened on widows' tears and orphans' misery, preach you pure homilies about the cruelty of taking life. but you are quite right about the combination of pleasures--the excitement, too, of quick motion through the fresh air--the sense of liberty amid wide plains, or tangled woods, or on the wild hill tops--this, surely, to the reflective sportsman--and who can be a true sportsman, and not reflective--is the great charm of his pursuit." "and do you not think that this pleasure exists in a higher degree here in america than in our own england?" "as how, frank?--i don't take." "why, in the greater, i will not say beauty--for i don't think there is greater natural beauty in the general landscape of the states--but novelty and wildness of the scenery! even the richest and most cultivated tracts of america, that i have seen, except the western part of new york, which is unquestionably the ugliest, and dullest, and most unpoetical region on earth, have a young untamed freshness about them, which you do not find in england. "in the middle of the high-tilled and fertile cornfield you come upon some sudden hollow, tangled with brake and bush, which hedge in some small pool where float the brilliant cups and smooth leaves of the water lily, and whence, on your approach, up springs the blue-winged teal or gorgeous wood-duck. then the long sweeping woodlands, embracing in themselves every variety of ground, deep marshy swamp, and fertile level thick-set with giant timber, and sandy barrens with their scrubby undergrowth, and difficult rocky steeps; and, above all, the seeming and comparative solitude--the dinner carried along with you and eaten under the shady tree, beside the bubbling basin of some spring--all this is vastly more exciting, than walking through trim stubbles and rich turnip fields, and lunching on bread and cheese and home-brewed, in a snug farmhouse. in short, field sports here have a richer range, are much more various, wilder--" "hold there, frank; hold hard there; i cannot concede the wilder, not the really wilder--seemingly they are wilder; for, as you say, the scenery is wilder--and all the game, with the exception of the english snipe, being wood-haunters, you are led into rougher districts. but oh! no, no!--the field sports are not really wilder--in the atlantic states at least--nor half so wild as those of england!" "i should like to hear you prove that, archer," answered frank, "for i am constantly beset with the superiority of american field sports to tame english preserve shooting!" "pooh! pooh! that is only by people who know nothing about either; by people who fancy that a preserve means a park full of tame birds, instead of a range, perhaps, of many thousand acres, of the very wildest, barest moorland, stocked with the wariest and shyest of the feathered race, the red grouse. but what i mean to say, is this, that every english game-bird--to use an american phrase--is warier and wilder than its compeer in the united states. who, for instance, ever saw in england, ireland, or scotland, eighteen or twenty snipe or woodcock, lying within a space of twelve yards square, two or three dogs pointing in the midst of them, and the birds rising one by one, the gunshots rattling over them, till ten or twelve are on the ground before there is time to bag one. "english partridge will, i grant, do this sometimes, on very warm days in september; but let a man go out with his heavy gun and steady dog late in december, or the month preceding it, let him see thirty or more covies--as on good ground he may--let him see every covey rise at a hundred yards, and fly a mile; let him be proud and glad to bag his three or four brace; and then tell me that there is any sport in these atlantic states so wild as english winter field-shooting. "of grouse shooting on the bare hills, which, by the way, are wilder, more solitary far, and more aloof from the abodes of men, than any thing between boston and the green bay, i do not of course speak; as it confessedly is the most wild and difficult kind of shooting. "still less of deer stalking--for scrope's book has been read largely even here; and no man, how prejudiced soever, can compare with the standing at a deer-path all day long waiting till a great timid beast is driven up within ten yards of your muzzle, with that extraordinary sport on bald and barren mountains, where nothing but vast and muscular exertion, the eye of the eagle, and the cunning of the serpent, can bring you within range of the wild cattle of the hills. "battue shooting, i grant, is tame work; but partridge shooting, after the middle of october, is infinitely wilder, requiring more exertion and more toil than quail shooting. even the pheasant--the tamest of our english game--is infinitely bolder on the wing than the ruffed grouse, or new york partridge; while about snipe and woodcock there exists no comparison--since by my own observation, confirmed by the opinion of old sportsmen, i am convinced that nine-tenths of the snipe and cock bagged in the states, are killed between fifteen and twenty paces; while i can safely say, i never saw a full snipe rise in england within that average distance. quail even, the hardest bird to kill, the swiftest and the boldest on the wing, are very rarely killed further than twenty-five to thirty, whereas you may shoot from daylight to sunset in england, after october, and not pick up a single partridge within the farthest, as a minimum distance." "well! that's all true, i grant," said forester, "yet even you allow that it is harder to kill game here than at home; and if i do not err, i have heard you admit that the best shot in all england could be beat easily by the crack shots on this side; how does all this agree!" "why very easily, i think," harry replied, "though to the last remark, i added in his first season here! now that american field sports are wilder in one sense, i grant readily; with the exception of snipe-shooting here, and grouse-shooting in scotland, the former being tamer, in all senses, than any english--the latter wilder in all senses than any american--field-sport. "american sporting, however, is certainly wilder, in so much as it is pursued on much wilder ground; in so much as we have a greater variety of game--and in so much as we have many more snap shots, and fewer fair dead points. "harder it is, i grant; for it is all, with scarcely an exception, followed in very thick and heavy covert--covert to which the thickest woods i ever saw in england are but as open ground. moreover, the woods are so very large that the gun must be close up with the dog; and consequently the shots must, half of them, be fired in attitudes most awkward, and in ground which would, i think, at home, be generally styled impracticable; thirdly, all the summer shooting here is made with the leaf on--with these thick tangled matted swamps clad in the thickest foliage. "your dogs must beat within twenty yards at farthest, and when they stand you are aware of the fact rather by ceasing to hear their motion, than by seeing them at point; i am satisfied that of six pointed shots in summer shooting, three at the least must be treated as snap shots! many birds must be shot at--and many are killed--which are never seen at all, till they are bagged; and many men here will kill three out of four summer woodcock, day in and day out, where an english sportsman, however crack a shot he might be, would give the thing up in despair in half an hour. "practice, however, soon brings this all to rights. the first season i shot here--i was a very fair, indeed a good, young shot, when i came out hither--not at all crack, but decidedly better than the common run!--the first day i shot was on 4th of july, 1832, the place seer's swamp, the open end of it; the witness old tom draw--and there i missed, in what we now call open covert, fourteen birds running; and left the place in despair--i could not, though i missed at home by shooting too quick--i could not, for the life of me, shoot quick enough. even you, frank, shoot three times as well as you did, when you began here; yet you began in autumn, which is decidedly a great advantage, and came on by degrees, so that the following summer you were not so much nonplussed, though i remember the first day or two, you bitched it badly." "well, i believe i must knock under, harry," forester answered; "and here comes timothy with the coffee, and so we will to bed, that taken, though i do want to argufy with you, on some of your other notions about dogs, scent, and so forth. but do you think the commodore will join us here to-morrow?" "no! i don't think so," harry said, "i know it! did not he arrive in new york last first of july, from a yachting tour at four o'clock in the afternoon; receive my note saying that i was off to tom's that morning; and start by the highlander at five that evening? did he not get a team at whited's and travel all night through, and find me just sitting down to breakfast, and change his toggery, and out, and walk all day--like a trump as he is? and did not we, by the same token, bag--besides twenty-five more killed that we could not find--one hundred and fifteen cock between ten o'clock and sunset; while you, you false deceiver, were kicking up your heels in buffalo? is not all this a true bill, and have you now the impudence to ask me whether i think the commodore will come? i only wish i was as sure of a day's sport tomorrow, as i am of his being to the fore at luncheon time!" "at luncheon time, hey? i did not know that you looked for him so early! will he be in time, then, for the afternoon's shooting?" "why, certainly he will," returned archer. "the wind has been fair up the river all day long, though it has been but light; and the ianthe will run up before it like a race-horse. i should not be much surprised if he were here to breakfast." "and that we may be up in time for him, if perchance he should let us to bed forthwith," said frank with a heavy yawn. "i am content," answered harry, finishing his cup of coffee, and flinging the stump of his cheroot into the fire. "good-night! timothy will call you in the morning." "goodnight, old fellow." and the friends parted merrily, in prospect of a pleasant day's sport on the morrow. the morning's sport it was not yet broad daylight when harry archer, who had, as was usual with him on his sporting tour, arisen with the lark, was sitting in the little parlor i have before described, close to the chimney corner, where a bright lively fire was already burning, and spreading a warm cheerful glow through the apartment. the large round table, drawn up close to the hearth, was covered with a clean though coarse white cloth, and laid for breakfast, with two cups and saucers, flanked by as many plates and egg-cups, although as yet no further preparations for the morning meal, except the presence of a huge home-made loaf and a large roll of rich golden-hued butter, had been made by the neat-handed phillis of the country inn. two candles were lighted, for though the day had broken, the sun was not yet high enough to cast his rays into that deep and rock-walled valley, and by their light archer was busy with the game-bag, the front of which he had finished netting on the previous night. frank forester had not as yet made his appearance; and still, while the gigantic copper kettle bubbled and steamed away upon the hearth, discoursing eloquent music, and servant after servant bustled in, one with a cold quail-pie, another with a quart jug of cream, and fresh eggs ready to be boiled by the fastidious epicures in person, he steadily worked on, housewife and saddler's silk, and wax and scissors ready to his hand; and when at last the door flew open, and the delinquent comrade entered, he flung his finished job upon the chair, and gathered up his implements, with: "now, frank, let's lose no time, but get our breakfasts. halloa! tim, bring the rockingham and the tea-chest; do you hear?" "well, harry, so you've done the game-bag," exclaimed the other, as he lifted it up and eyed it somewhat superciliously--"well, it is a good one certainly; but you are the queerest fellow i ever met, to give yourself unnecessary trouble. here you have been three days about this bag, hard all; and when it's done, it is not half as good a one as you can buy at cooper's for a dollar, with all this new-fangled machinery of loops and buttons, and i don't know what." "and you, master frank," retorted harry, nothing daunted, "to be a good shot and a good sportsman--which, with some few exceptions, i must confess you are--are the most culpably and wilfully careless about your appointments i ever met. i don't call a man half a sportsman, who has not every thing he wants at hand for an emergency, at half a minute's notice. now it so happens that you cannot get, in new york at all, anything like a decent game-bag--a little fancy-worked french or german jigmaree machine you can get anywhere, i grant, that will do well enough for a fellow to carry on his shoulders, who goes out robin-gunning, but nothing for your man to carry, wherein to keep your birds cool, fresh, and unmutilated. now, these loops and buttons, at which you laugh, will make the difference of a week at least in the bird's keeping, if every hour or so you empty your pockets--wherein i take it for granted you put your birds as fast as you bag them--smooth down their plumage gently, stretch their legs out, and hang them by the heads, running the button down close to the neck of each. in this way this bag, which is, as you see, half a yard long, by a quarter and a half a quarter deep, made double, one hag of fustian, with a net front, which makes two pockets-will carry fifty-one quail or woodcock, no one of them pressing upon, or interfering with, another, and it would carry sixty-eight if i had put another row of loops in the inner bag; which i did not, that i might have the bottom vacant to carry a few spare articles, such as a bag of westley richards' caps, and a couple of dozen of ely's cartridges." "oh! that's all very well," said frank, "but who the deuce can be at the bore of it?" "why be at the bore of shooting at all, for that matter?" replied harry --"i, for one, think that if a thing is worth doing at all, it is worth doing well--and i can't bear to kill a hundred or a hundred and fifty birds, as our party almost always do out here, and then be obliged to throw them away, just for want of a little care. why, i was shooting summer cock one july day two years ago--there had been heavy rain in the early morning, and the grass and bushes were very wet--jem blake was with me, and we had great sport, and he laughed at me like the deuce for taking my birds out of my pocket at the end of every hour's sport, and making timothy smooth them down carefully, and bag them all after my fashion. egad i had the laugh though, when we got home at night!" "how so," asked frank, "in what way had you the laugh?" "simply in this--a good many of the birds were very hard shot, as is always the case in summer shooting, and all of them got more or less wet, as did the pockets of jem's shooting jacket, wherein he persisted in carrying his birds all day--the end was, that when we got home at night, it having been a close, hot, steamy day, he had not one bird which was not more or less tainted--and, as you know of course, when taint has once begun, nothing can check it." "ay! ay! well that indeed's a reason; if you can't buy such a bag, especially!" "well, you cannot then, i can tell you! and i'm glad you're convinced for once; and here comes breakfast--so now let us to work, that we may get on our ground as early as may be. for quail you cannot be too early; for if you don't find them while they are rambling on their feeding ground, it is a great chance if you find them at all." "but, after all, you can only use up one or two bevies or so; and, that done, you must hunt for them in the basking time of day, after all's done and said," replied frank, who seemed to have got up somewhat paradoxically given that morning. "not at all, frank, not at all," answered harry--"that is if you know your ground; and know it to be well stocked; and have a good marker with you." "oh! this is something new of yours--some strange device fantastical-let's have it, pray." "certainly you shall; you shall have it now in precept, and in an hour or two in practice. you see those stubbles on the hill--in those seven or eight fields there are, or at least should be, some five bevies; there is good covert, good easy covert all about, and we can mark our birds down easily; now, when i find one bevy, i shall get as many barrels into it as i can, mark it down as correctly as possible, and then go and look for another." "what! and not follow it up? now, harry, that's mere stuff; wait till the scent's gone cold, and till the dogs can't find them? 'gad, that's clever, any way!" "exactly the reverse, friend frank; exactly the reverse. if you follow up a bevy, of quail mark you, on the instant, it's ten to one almost that you don't spring them. if, on the contrary, you wait for half an hour, you are sure of them. how it is, i cannot precisely tell you. i have sometimes thought that quail have the power of holding in their scent, whether purposely or naturally--from the effect of fear perhaps contracting the pores, and hindering the escape of the effluvia--i know not, but i am far from being convinced even now that it is not so. a very good sportsman, and true friend of mine, insists upon it that birds give out no scent except from the feet, and that, consequently, if they squat without running they cannot be found. i do not, however, believe the theory, and hold it to be disproved by the fact that dead birds do give out scent. i have generally observed that there is no difficulty in retrieving dead quail, but that, wounded, they are constantly lost. but, be that as it may, the birds pitch down, each into the best bit of covert he can find, and squat there like so many stones, leaving no trail or taint upon the grass or bushes, and being of course proportionally hard to find; in half an hour they will begin, if not disturbed, to call and travel, and you can hunt them up, without the slightest trouble. if you have a very large tract of country to beat, and birds are very scarce, of course it would not answer to pass on; nor ever, even if they are plentiful, in wild or windy weather, or in large open woods; but where you have a fair ground, lots of birds, and fine weather, i would always beat on in a circuit, for the reason i have given you. in the first place, every bevy you flush flies from its feeding to its basking ground, so that you get over all the first early, and know where to look afterward; instead of killing off one bevy, and then going blundering on, at blind guess work, and finding nothing. in the second place, you have a chance of driving two or three bevies into one brake, and of getting sport proportionate; and in the third place, as i have told you, you are much surer of finding marked birds after an hour's lapse, than on the moment." "i will do you the justice to say," forester replied, "that you always make a tolerably good fight in support of your opinions; and so you have done now, but i want to hear something more about this matter of holding scent--facts! facts! and let me judge for myself." "well, frank, give me a bit more of that pie in the mean time, and i will tell you the strongest case in point i ever witnessed. i was shooting near stamford, in connecticut, three years ago, with c--k---, and another friend; we had three as good dogs out, as ever had a trigger drawn over them. my little imported yellow and white setter, chase, after which this old rascal is called--which mike sandford considered the best-nosed dog he had ever broken--a capital young pointer dog of k---'s, which has since turned out, as i hear, superlative, and p---'s old and stanch setter count. it was the middle of a fine autumn day, and the scenting was very uncommonly good. one of our beaters flushed a bevy of quail very wide of us, and they came over our heads down a steep hillside, and all lighted in a small circular hollow, without a bit of underbrush or even grass, full of tall thrifty oak trees, of perhaps twenty-five years' growth. they were not much out of gun-shot, and we all three distinctly saw them light; and i observed them flap and fold their wings as they settled. we walked straight to the spot, and beat it five or six times over, not one of our dogs ever drawing, and not one bird rising. we could not make it out; my friends thought they had treed, and laughed at me when i expressed my belief that they were still before us, under our very noses. the ground was covered only by a deep bed of sere decaying oak leaves. well, we went on, and beat all round the neighborhood within a quarter of a mile, and did not find a bird, when lo! at the end of perhaps half an hour, we heard them calling-followed the cry back to that very hollow; the instant we entered it, all the three dogs made game, drawing upon three several birds, roaded them up, and pointed steady, and we had half an hour's good sport, and we were all convinced that the birds had been there all the time. i have seen many instances of the same kind, and more particularly with wing-tipped birds, but none i think so tangible as this!" "well, i am not a convert, harry; but, as the chancellor said, i doubt." "and that i consider not a little, from such a positive wretch as you are; but come, we have done breakfast, and it's broad daylight. come, timothy, on with the bag and belts; he breakfasted before we had got up, and gave the dogs a bite." "which dogs do you take, harry; and do you use cartridge?" "oh! the setters for the morning; they are the only fellows for the stubble; we should be all day with the cockers; even setters, as we must break them here for wood shooting, have not enough of speed or dash for the open. cartridges? yes! i shall use a loose charge in my right, and a blue cartridge in my left; later in the season i use a blue in my right and a red in my left. it just makes the difference between killing with both, or with one barrel. the blue kills all of twenty, and the red all of thirty-five yards further than loose shot; and they kill clean!" "yet many good sportsmen dislike them," frank replied; "they say they ball!" "they do not now, if you load with them properly; formerly they would do so at times, but that defect is now rectified--with the blue and red cartridges at least--the green, which are only fit for wild-fowl, or deer-shooting, will do so sometimes, but very rarely; and they will execute surprisingly. for a bad or uncertain rifle-shot, the green cartridge, with sg shot is the thing--twelve good-sized slugs, propelled with force enough to go through an inch plank, at eighty yards, within a compass of three feet--but no wad must be used, either upon the cartridge or between that and the powder; the small end must be inserted downward, and the cartridge must be chosen so that the wad at the top shall fit the gun, the case being two sizes less than the caliber. with these directions no man need make a mistake; and, if he can cover a bird fairly, and is cool enough not to fire within twenty yards, he will never complain of cartridges, after a single trial. remember, too, that vice versa to the rule of a loose charge, the heavier you load with powder, the closer will your cartridge carry. the men who do not like cartridges are--you may rely upon it--of the class which prefers scattering guns. i always use them, except in july shooting, and i shall even put a few red in my pockets, in case the wind should get up in the afternoon. besides which, i always take along two buckshot cartridges, in case of happening, as timothy would say, on some big varmint. i have four pockets in my shooting waistcoat, each stitched off into four compartments--each of which holds, erect, one cartridge--you cannot carry them loose in your pocket, as they are very apt to break. another advantage of this is, that in no way can you carry shot with so little inconvenience, as to weight; besides which, you load one-third quicker, and your gun never leads!" "well! i believe i will take some to-day--but don't you wait for the commodore?" "no! he drives up, as i told you, from nyack, where he lands from his yacht, and will be here at twelve o'clock to luncheon; if he had been coming for the morning shooting, he would have been here ere this. by that time we shall have bagged twenty-five or thirty quail, and a ruffed grouse or two; besides driving two or three bevies down into the meadows and the alder bushes by the stream, which are quite full of woodcock. after luncheon, with the commodore's aid, we will pick up these stragglers, and all the timber-doodles!" in another moment the setters were unchained, and came careering, at the top of their speed, into the breakfast room, where harry stood before the fire, loading his double gun, while timothy was buttoning on his left leggin. frank, meanwhile, had taken up his gun, and quietly sneaked out of the door, two flat irregular reports explaining, half a moment after, the purport of his absence. "well, now, frank, that is"--expostulated harry--"that is just the most snobbish thing i ever saw you do; aint you ashamed of yourself now, you genuine cockney!" "not a bit--my gun has not been used these three months, and something might have got into the chamber!" "something might not, if when you cleaned it last you had laid a wad in the centre of a bit of greased rag three inches square and rammed it about an inch down the barrel, leaving the ends of the linen hanging out. and by running your rod down you could have ascertained the fact, without unnecessarily fouling your piece. a gun has no right ever to miss fire now; and never does, if you use westley richards' caps, and diamond gunpowder--putting the caps on the last thing--which has the further advantage of being much the safer plan, and seeing that the powder is up to the cones before you do so. if it is not so, let your hammer down, and give a smart tap to the under side of the breech, holding it uppermost, and you will never need a picker; or at least almost never. remember, too, that the best picker in the world is a strong needle headed with sealing wax. and now that you have finished loading, and i lecturing, just jump over the fence to your right; and that footpath will bring us to the stepping-stones across the ramapo. by jove, but we shall have a lovely morning." he did so, and away they went, with the dogs following steadily at the heel, crossed the small river dry-shod, climbed up the wooded bank by dint of hand and foot, and reached the broad brown corn stubble. harry, however, did not wave his dogs to the right-hand and left, but calling them in, quietly plodded along the headland, and climbed another fence, and crossed a buckwheat stubble, still without beating or disturbing any ground, and then another field full of long bents and ragwort, an old deserted pasture, and frank began to grumble, but just then a pair of bars gave access to a wide fifty acre lot, which had been wheat, the stubble standing still knee deep, and yielding a rare covert. "now we are at the far end of our beat, and we have got the wind too in the dogs' noses, master frank--and so hold up good lads," said harry. and off the setters shot like lightning, crossing and quartering their ground superbly. "there! there! well done, old chase--a dead stiff point already, and shot backing him as steady as a rail. step up, frank, step up quietly, and let us keep the hill of them." they came up close, quite close to the stanch dog, and then, but not till then, he feathered and drew on, and shot came crawling up till his nose was but a few inches in the rear of chase's, whose point he never thought of taking from him. now they are both upon the game. see how they frown and slaver, the birds are close below their noses. whirr--r--r! "there they go--a glorious bevy!" exclaimed harry, as he cocked his right barrel and cut down the old cock bird, which had risen rather to his right hand, with his loose charge--"blaze away, frank!" bang--bang!--and two more birds came fluttering down, and then he pitched his gun up to his eye again, and sent the cartridge after the now distant bevy, and to frank's admiration a fourth bird was keeled over most beautifully, and clean killed, while crossing to the right, at forty-six yards, as they paced it afterward. "now mark! mark, timothy--mark, frank!" and shading their eyes from the level sunbeams, the three stood gazing steadily after the rapid bevy. they cross the pasture, skim very low over the brush fence of the cornfield--they disappear behind it they are down! no! no! not yet--they are just skirting the summit of the topped maize stalks--now they are down indeed, just by that old ruined hovel, where the cat-briers and sumac have overspread its cellar and foundation with thick underwood. and all the while the sturdy dogs are crouching at their feet unmoving. "will you not follow those, harry?" forester inquired--"there are at least sixteen of them!" "not i," said archer, "not i, indeed, till i have beat this field--i expect to put up another bevy among those little crags there in the corner, where the red cedars grow--and if we do, they will strike down the fence of the buckwheat stubble--that stubble we must make good, and the rye beside it, and drive, if possible, all that we find before us to the corn field. don't be impatient, and you'll see in time that i am in the right." no more words were now wasted; the four birds were bagged without trouble, and the sportsmen being in the open, were handed over on the spot to tim; who stroked their freckled breasts, and beautifully mottled wing-coverts and backs, with a caressing touch, as though he loved them; and finally, in true jack ketch style, tucked them up severally by the neck. archer was not mistaken in his prognostics--another bevy had run into the dwarf cedars from the stubble at the sound of the firing, and were roaded up in right good style, first one dog, and then the other, leading; but without any jealousy or haste. they had, however, run so far, that they had got wild, and as there was no bottom covert on the crags, had traversed them quite over to the open, on the far side--and, just as archer was in the act of warning forester to hurry softly round and head them, they flushed at thirty yards, and had flown some five more before they were in sight, the feathery evergreens for a while cutting off the view--the dogs stood dead at the sound of their wings. then, as they came in sight, harry discharged both barrels very quickly--the loose shot first, which evidently took effect, for one bird cowered and seemed about to fall, but gathered wing again, and went on for the present--the cartridge, which went next, although the bevy had flown ten yards further, did its work clean, and stopped its bird. frank fired but once, and killed, using his cartridge first, and thinking it in vain to fire the loose shot. the remaining birds skimmed down the hill, and lighted in the thick bushy hedge-row, as archer had foreseen. "so much for ely!" exclaimed harry--"had we both used two of them, we should have bagged four then. as it is, i have killed one which we shall not get; a thing that i most particularly hate." "that bird will rise again," said frank. "never!" replied the other, "he has one, if not two, shot in him, well forward--if i am not much mistaken, before the wing--he is dead now! but let us on. these we must follow, for they are on our line; you keep this side the fence, and i will cross it with the dogs--come with me, timothy." in a few minutes more there was a dead point at the hedge-row. "look to, frank!" "ay! ay! poke them out, tim;" then followed sundry bumps and threshings of the briers, and out with a noisy flutter burst two birds under forester's nose. bang! bang! "the first shot too quick, altogether," muttered archer; "ay, he has missed one; mark it, tim--there he goes down in the corn, by jingo-you've got that bird, frank! that's well! hold up, shot"--another point within five yards. "look out again, frank." but this time vainly did tim poke, and thrash, and peer into the bushes --yet still shot stood, stiff as a marble statue--then chase drew up and snuffed about, and pushed his head and forelegs into the matted briers, and thereupon a muzzling noise ensued, and forthwith out he came, mouthing a dead bird, warm still, and bleeding from the neck and breast. "frank, he has got my bird--and shot, just as i told you, through the neck and near the great wing joint--good dog! good dog!" "the devil!" "yes, the devil! but look out man, here is yet one more point;" and this time ten or twelve birds flushed upon archer's side; he slew, as usual, his brace, and as they crossed, at long distance, frank knocked down one more--the rest flew to the corn-field. in the middle of the buckwheat they flushed another, and, in the rye, another bevy, both of which crossed the stream, and settled down among the alders. they reached the corn-field, and picked up their birds there, quite as fast as frank himself desired--three ruffed grouse they had bagged, and four rabbits, in a small dingle full of thorns, before they reached the corn; and just as the tin horns were sounding for noon and dinner from many a neighboring farm, they bagged their thirty-fourth quail. at the same moment, the rattle of a distant wagon on the hard road, and a loud cheer replying to the last shot, announced the commodore; who pulled up at the tavern door just as they crossed the stepping-stones, having made a right good morning's work, with a dead certainty of better sport in the afternoon, since they had marked two untouched bevies, thirty-five birds at least, beside some ten or twelve more stragglers into the alder brakes, which harry knew to hold-moreover, thirty woodcock, as he said, at the fewest. "well! harry," exclaimed frank, as he set down his gun, and sat down to the table, "i must for once knock under--your practice has borne out your precepts." the woodcock luncheon was soon discussed, a noble cold quail pie and a spiced round of beef, which formed the most essential parts thereof, displaying in their rapidly diminished bulk ocular evidence of the extent of sportmen's appetites; a single glass of shrub and water followed, cheroots were lighted, and forth the comrades sallied, the commodore inquiring as they went what were the prospects of success. "you fellows," he concluded, "have, i suppose, swept the ground completely." "that you shall see directly," answered archer; "i shall make you no promises. but see how evidently grouse recollects those dogs of mine, though it is nearly a year since they have met; don't you think so, a---?" "to be sure i do," replied the commodore; "i saw it the first moment you came up--had they been strangers he would have tackled them upon the instant; and instead of that he began wagging his tail, and wriggling about, and playing with them. oh! depend upon it, dogs think, and remember, and reflect far more than we imagine--" "oh! run back, timothy--run back!" here archer interrupted him--"we don't want you this afternoon. harness the nags and pack the wagon, and put them to, at five--we shall be at home by then, for we intend to be at tom's to-night. now look out, frank, those three last quail we marked in from the hill dropped in the next field, where the ragwort stands so thick; and five to one, as there is a thin growth of brushwood all down this wall side, they will have run down hither. why, man alive! you've got no copper caps on!" "by george! no more i have--i took them off when i laid down my gun in the house, and forgot to replace them." "and a very dangerous thing you did in taking them off, permit me to assure you. any one but a fool, or a very young child, knows at once that a gun with caps on is loaded. you leave yours on the table without caps, and in comes some meddling chap or other, puts on one to try the locks, or to frighten his sweetheart, or for some other no less sapient purpose, and off it goes! and if it kill no one, it's god's mercy! never do that again, frank!" meanwhile they had arrived within ten yards of the low rickety stone wall, skirted by a thin fringe of saplings, in which archer expected to find game--grouse, never in what might be called exact command, had disappeared beyond it. "hold up, good dogs!" cried harry, and as he spoke away went shot and chase--the red dog, some three yards ahead, jumped on the wall, and, in the act of bounding over it, saw grouse at point beyond. rigid as stone he stood upon that tottering ridge, one hind foot drawn up in the act of pointing, for both the fore were occupied in clinging to some trivial inequalities of the rough coping, his feathery flag erect, his black eye fixed, and his lip slavering; for so hot was the scent that it reached his exquisitely fashioned organs, though grouse was many feet advanced between him and the game. shot backed at the wall-foot, seeing the red dog only, and utterly unconscious that the pointer had made the game beyond. "by jove! but that is beautiful!" exclaimed the commodore. "that is a perfect picture!--the very perfection of steadiness and breaking." they crossed the wall, and poor shot, in the rear, saw them no more; his instinct strongly, aye! naturally, tempted him to break in, but second nature, in the shape of discipline, prevailed; and, though he trembled with excitement, he moved not an inch. grouse was as firm as iron, his nose within six inches of a bunch of wintergreen, pointed directly downward, and his head cocked a little on one side--they stepped up to him, and still on the wall-top, chase held to his uneasy attitude. "now, then," said harry, "look out, till i kick him up." no sooner said than done--the toe of his thick shooting-boot crushed the slight evergreen, and out whirred, with his white chaps and speckled breast conspicuous, an old cock quail. he rose to forester, but ere that worthy had even cocked his gun--for he had now adopted archer's plan, and carried his piece always at half cock, till needed--flew to the right across the commodore; so frank released his hammer and brought down his manton, while a--deliberately covered, and handsomely cut down the bird at five-and-twenty yards. grouse made a movement to run in, but came back instantly when called. "just look back, if you please, one moment, before loading," said harry, "for that down-charge is well worth looking at." and so indeed it was--for there, upon the wall-top, where he had been balancing, chase had contrived to lie down at the gunshot--wagging his stern slightly to and fro, with his white forepaws hanging down, and his head couched between them, his haunches propped up on the coping stone, and his whole attitude apparently untenable for half a minute. "now, load away for pity's sake, as quickly as you can; that posture must be any thing but pleasant." this was soon done; inasmuch as the commodore is not exactly one to dally in such matters; and when his locks ticked, as he drew the hammers to half-cock, chase quietly dismounted from his perch, and shot's head and fore-paws appeared above the barrier; but not till archer's hand gave the expected signal did the stanch brutes move on. "come, shot, good dog--it is but fair you should have some part of the fun! seek dead! seek dead! that's it, sir! toho! steady! fetch him, good lad! well done!" in a few minutes' space, four or five more birds came to bag--they had run, at the near report, up the wall side among the bushes, and the dogs footed them along it, now one and now another taking the lead successively, but without any eagerness or raking looking round constantly, each to observe his comrades' or his master's movements, and pointing slightly, but not steadily, at every foot, till at the last all three, in different places, stood almost simultaneously--all three dead points. one bird jumped up to frank, which he knocked over. a double shot fell to the commodore, who held the centre of the line, and dropped both cleverly--the second, a long shot, wing-tipped only. harry flushed three and killed two dean, both within thirty paces, and then covered the third bird with his empty barrels--but, though no shot could follow from that quarter, he was not to escape scot free, for wheeling short to the left hand, and flying high, he crossed the commodore in easy distance, and afterward gave forester a chance. "try him, frank," halloaed archer--and "it's no use!" cried a---, almost together, just as he raised his gun, and levelled it a good two feet before the quail. but it was use, and harry's practiced eye had judged the distance more correctly than the short sight of the commodore permitted--the bird quailed instantly as the shot struck, but flew on notwithstanding, slanting down wind, however, towards the ground, and falling on the hill-side at a full hundred yards. "we shall not get him," forester exclaimed; "and i am sorry for it, since it was a good shot." "a right good shot," responded harry, "and we shall get him. he fell quite dead; i saw him bounce up, like a ball, when he struck the hard ground. but a---'s second bird is only wing-tipped, and i don't think we shall get him; for the ground where he fell is very tussockky and full of grass, and if he creeps in, as they mostly will do, into some hole in the bog-ground, it is ten to one against the best dog in america!" and so it came to pass, for they did bag forester's, and all the other quail except the commodore's which, though the dogs trailed him well, and worked like trojans, they could not for their lives make out. after this little rally they went down to the alders by the stream-side, and had enough to do, till it was growing rapidly too dark to shoot--for the woodcock were very plentiful--it was sweet ground, too, not for feeding only, but for lying, and that, as harry pointed out, is a great thing in the autumn. the grass was short and still rich under foot, although it froze hard every night; but all along the brook's marge there were many small oozy bubbling springlets, which it required a stinging night to congeal; and round these the ground was poached up by the cattle, and laid bare in spots of deep, soft, black loam; and the innumerable chalkings told the experienced eye at half a glance, that, where they laid up for the night soever, here was their feeding ground, and here it had been through the autumn. but this was not all, for at every ten or twenty paces was a dense tuft of willow bushes, growing for the most part upon the higher knolls where it was dry and sunny, their roots heaped round with drift wood, from the decay of which had shot up a dense tangled growth of cat-briers. in these the birds were lying, all but some five or six which had run out to feed, and were flushed, fat and large, and lazy, quite in the open meadow. "they stay here later," harry said, as they bagged the last bird, which, be it observed, was the twenty-seventh, "than any where i know. here i have killed them when there was ice thicker than a dollar on all the waters round about, and when you might see a thin and smoke-like mist boiling up from each springlet. kill them all off to-day, and you will find a dozen fresh birds here to-morrow, and so on for a fortnight--they come down from the high ground as it gets too cold for them to endure their high and rarified atmosphere, and congregate hither!" "and why not more in number at a time?" asked a---. "ay! there we are in the dark--we do not know sufficiently the habits of the bird to speak with certainty. i do not think they are pugnacious, and yet you never find more on a feeding ground than it will well accommodate for many days, nay weeks, together. one might imagine that their migrations would be made en masse, that all the birds upon these neighboring hills would crowd down to this spot together, and feed here till it was exhausted, and then on--but this is not so! i know fifty small spots like this, each a sure find in the summer for three or four broods, say from eight to twelve birds. during the summer, when you have killed the first lot, no more return--but the moment the frost begins, there you will find them--never exceeding the original eight or ten in number, but keeping up continually to that mark--and whether you kill none at all, or thirty birds a week, there you will always find about that number, and in no case any more. those that are killed off are supplied, within two days at farthest, by new comers; yet, so far as i can judge, the original birds, if not killed, hold their own, unmolested by intruders. whence the supplies come in--for they must be near neighbors by the rapidity of their succession--and why they abstain from their favorite grounds in worse locations, remains, and i fear we must remain, in the dark. all the habits of the woodcock are, indeed, very partially and slightly understood. they arrive here, and breed early in the spring--sometimes, indeed, before the snow is off the hills--get their young off in june, and with their young are most unmercifully, most unsportsmanly, thinned off, when they can hardly fly--such is the error, as i think it, of the law--but i could not convince my stanch friends, philo, and j. cypress, jr., of the fact, when they bestirred themselves in favor of the progeny of their especial favorites, perdix virginiana and tetrao umbellus, and did defer the times for slaying them legitimately to such a period, that it is in fact next to impossible to kill the latter bird at all. but vainly did i plead, and a false advocate was cypress after all, despite his nominal friendship, for that unhappy scolopax, who in july at least deserves his nickname minor, or the infant. for, setting joke apart, what a burning shame it is to murder the poor little half-fledged younglings in july, when they will scarcely weigh six ounces; when they will drop again within ten paces of the dog that flushes, or the gun that misses them; and when the heat will not allow you even to enjoy the consummation of their slaughter. look at these fellows now, with their gray foreheads, their plump ruddy breasts, their strong, well-feathered pinions, each one ten ounces at the least. think how these jolly old cocks tower away, with their shrill whistle, through the tree-tops, and twist and dodge with an agility of wing and thought-like speed, scarcely inferior to the snipe's or swallow's, and fly a half mile if you miss them; and laugh to scorn the efforts of any one to bag them, who is not an out-and-outer! no chance shot, no stray pellet speaks for these--it must be the charge, the whole charge, and nothing but the charge, which will cut down the grown bird of october! the law should have said woodcock thou shalt not kill until september; quail thou shalt not kill till october, the twenty-fifth if you please; partridge thou shalt kill in all places, and at all times, when thou canst! and that, as we know, frank, and a---, that is not everywhere or often." "but, seriously," said the commodore, "seriously, would you indeed abolish summer shooting?" "most seriously! most solemnly i would!" archer responded. "in the first place because, as i have said, it is a perfect sin to shoot cock in july; and secondly, because no one would, i am convinced, shoot for his own pleasure at that season, if it were not a question of now or never. between the intense heat, and the swarms of mosquitoes, and the unfitness of that season for the dogs, which can rarely scent their game half the proper distance, and the density of the leafy coverts; and lastly, the difficulty of keeping the game fresh till you can use it, render july shooting a toil, in my opinion, rather than a real pleasure; although we are such hunting creatures, that rather than not have our prey at all, we will pursue it in all times, and through all inconveniences. fancy, my dear fellows, only fancy what superb shooting we should have if not a bird were killed till they were all full grown, and fit to kill; fancy bagging a hundred and twenty-five fall woodcock in a single autumn day, as we did this very year on a summer's day!" "oh! i agree with you completely," said frank forester, "but i am afraid such a law will never be brought to bear in this country--the very day on which cock shooting does not really begin, but is supposed by nine tenths of the people to begin--the fourth of july is against it.* [*in the state of new york close time for woodcock expires on the last day of june--in new jersey on the fourth of july--leaving the bird lawful prey on the 1st and the 5th, respectively.] moreover, the amateur killers of game are so very few, in comparison with the amateur eaters thereof, that it is all but impossible to enforce the laws at all upon this subject. woodcock even now are eaten in june--nay, i have heard, and believe it to be true, that many hotels in new york serve them up even in march and april; quail, this autumn, have been sold openly in the markets, many days previous to the expiration of close time. and, in fact, sorry i am to say it, as far as eating-houses are in question, the game laws are nearly a dead letter. "in the country, also, i have universally found it to be the case, that although the penalty of a breach may be exacted from strangers, no farmer will differ with a neighbor, as they call it, for the sake of a bird. whether time, and a greater diffusion of sporting propensities, and sporting feelings, may alter this for the better or no, i leave to sager and more politic pates than mine. and now i say, harry, you surely do not intend to trundle us off to tom draw's to-night without a drink at starting? i see timothy has got the drag up to the door, and the horses harnessed, and all ready for a start." "yes! yes! all that's true," answered harry, "but take my word for it, the liquor case is not put in yet. well, timothy," he went on, as they reached the door, "that is right. have you got everything put up?" "all but t' gam' bag and t' liquor ca-ase, sur," tim replied, touching his hat gnostically as he spoke; "ay reckoned ple-ease sur, 'at you'd maybe want to fill t' yan oop, and empty t' oother!" "very well thought, indeed!" said archer, winking to forester the while. "let that boy stand a few minutes to the horses' heads, and come into the house yourself and pack the birds up, and fetch us some water." "t' watter is upon t' table, sur, and t' cigars, and a loight; but ay'se be in wi' you directly. coom hither, lad till ay shew thee hoo to guide 'em; thou munna tooch t' bits for the loife o' thee, but joost stan' there anent them--if they stir loike, joost speak to 'em--ayse hear thee!" and he left his charge and entered the small parlor, where the three friends were now assembled, with a cheroot apiece already lighted, and three tall brimming rummers on the table. "look sharp and put the birds up," said harry, pitching, as he spoke, the fine fat fellows right and left out of his wide game pockets, "and when that's done fill yourself out a drink, and help us on with our great coats." "what are you going to do with the guns?" inquired the commodore. "to carry them uncased and loaded; substituting in my own two buckshot cartridges for loose shot," replied archer. "the irish are playing the very devil through this part of the country--we are close to the line of the great erie railroad--and they are murdering, and robbing, and i know not what, for miles around. the last time i was at old tom's he told me that but ten days or a fortnight previously a poor irish woman, who lived in his village, started to pay a visit to her mother by the self same road we shall pass to-night; and was found the next morning with her person brutally abused, kneeling against a fence stone dead, strangled with her own cambric handkerchief. he says, too, that not a week passes but some of them are found dead in the meadows, or in the ditches, killed in some lawless fray; and no one ever dreams of taking any notice, or making any inquiry about the matter!" "is it possible? then keep the guns at hand by all means!" "yes! but this time we will violate my rule about the copper caps--there is no rule, you are aware, but what has some exception--and the exception to this of mine is, always take off your copper caps before getting into a wagon; the jar will occasionally explode them, an upset will undoubtedly. so uncap, messrs. forester and a---, and put the bright little exploders into your pockets, where they will be both safe and handy! and now, birds are in, drinks are in, dogs and guns are in, and now let us be off!" no more words were wasted; the landlord's bill was paid, frank forester and timothy got up behind, the commodore took the front seat, harry sprang, reins in hand, to the box, and off they bowled, with lamps and cigars burning merrily, for it was now quite dark, along the well-known mountain road, which archer boasted he could drive as safely in the most gloomy night of winter as in a summer noon. and so it proved this time, for though he piloted his horses with a cool head and delicate finger through every sort of difficulty that a road can offer, up long and toilsome hills without a rail between the narrow track and the deep precipice, down sharp and stony pitches, over loose clattering bridges, along wet marshy levels, he never seemed in doubt or trouble for a moment, but talked and laughed away, as if he were a mere spectator. after they had gone a few miles on their way--"you broke off short, archer," said the commodore, "in the middle of your dissertation on the natural history and habits of the woodcock, turning a propos des bottes to the cruelty of killing them in midsummer. in all which, by the way, i quite agree with you. but i don't want to lose the rest of your lucubrations on this most interesting topic. what do you think becomes of the birds in august, after the moult begins?" "verily, commodore, that is a positive poser. many good sportsmen believe that they remain where they were before; getting into the thickest and wettest brakes, refusing to rise before the dog, and giving out little or no scent!" "do you believe this?" "no; i believe there is a brief migration, but whither i cannot tell you with any certainty. some birds do stay, as they assert; and that a few do stay, and do give out enough scent to enable dogs to find them, is a proof to me that all do not. a good sportsman can always find a few birds even during the moult, and i do not think that birds killed at that time are at all worse eating than others. but i am satisfied that the great bulk shift their quarters, whither i have not yet fully ascertained; but i believe to the small runnels and deep swales which are found throughout all the mountain tracts of the middle states; and in these, as i believe, they remain dispersed and scattered in such small parties that they are not worth looking after, till the frost drives them down to their old haunts. a gentleman, whom i can depend on, told me once that he climbed bull hill one year late in september--bull hill is one of the loftiest peaks in the highlands of the hudson--merely to show the prospect to a friend, and he found all the brushwood on the summit full of fine autumn cock, not a bird having been seen for weeks in the low woodlands at the base. they had no guns with them at the time, and some days elapsed before he could again spare a few hours to hunt them up; in the meantime frost came, the birds returned to their accustomed swamps and levels, and, when he did again scale the rough mountain, not a bird rewarded his trouble. this, if true, which i do not doubt, would go far to prove my theory correct; but it is not easy to arrive at absolute certainty, for if i am right, during that period birds are to be found no where in abundance, and a man must be a downright audubon to be willing to go mountain-stalking--the hardest walking in the world, by the way--purely for the sake of learning the habits of friend scolopax, with no hope of getting a good bag after all." "how late have you ever killed a cock previous to their great southern flight?" "never myself beyond the fifteenth of november; but tom draw assures me, and his asseveration was accidentally corroborated by a man who walked along with him, that he killed thirty birds last year in hell-hole, which both of you fellows know, on the thirteenth of december. there had been a very severe frost indeed, and the ice on that very morning was quite thick, and the mud frozen hard enough to bear in places. but the day was warm, bright, and genial, and, as he says, it came into his head to see 'if cock was all gone,' and he went to what he knew to be the latest ground, and found the very heaviest and finest birds he ever saw!" "oh! that of course," said a---, "if he found any! did you ever hear of any other bird so late?" "yes! later--mike sandford, i think, but some jerseyman or other--killed a couple the day after christmas day, on a long southern slope covered with close dwarf cedars, and watered by some tepid springs, not far from pine brook; and i have been told that the rabbit shooters, who always go out in a party between christmas and new year's day, almost invariably flush a bird or two there in mid-winter. the same thing is told of a similar situation on the south-western slope of staten island; and i believe truly in both instances. these, however, must, i think, be looked upon not as cases of late emigration, but as rare instances of the bird wintering here to the northward; which i doubt not a few do annually. i should like much to know if there is any state of the union where the cock is perennial. i do not see why he should not be so in maryland or delaware, though i have never heard it stated so to be. the great heat of the extreme southern summer drives them north, as surely as our northern winter sends them south; and the great emigrations of the main flight are northward in february and march, and southward in november, varying by a few days only according to the variations of the seasons!" "well, i trust they have not emigrated hence yet--ha! ha! ha!" laughed the commodore, with his peculiar hearty, deep-toned merriment. "not they! not they! i warrant them," said archer; "but that to-morrow must bring forth." "come, harry," exclaimed forester, after a little pause, "spin us a shooting yarn, to kill the time, till we get to fat tom's." "a yarn! well, what shall it be?" "i don't know; oh! yes! yes! i do. you once told me something about a wolf-hunt, and then shut up your mouth all at once, and would give me no satisfaction." "a wolf-hunt?" cried the commodore, "were you ever at a wolf-hunt; and here in this country, harry?" "indeed was i, and--" "the story, then, the story; we must have it." "oh! as for story, there is not much--" "the story! the story!" shouted frank. "you may as well begin at once, for we will have it." "oh! very well. all is one to me, but you will be tired enough of it before i have got through, so here goes for: a wolf hunt on the warwick hills," said archer, and without more ado, spun his yarn as follows: "there are few wilder regions within the compass of the united states, much less in the vicinity of its most populous and cultivated districts, than that long line of rocky wood-crowned heights which--at times rising to an elevation and exhibiting a boldness of outline that justifies the application to them of the term 'mountains', while at others they would be more appropriately designated as hills or knolls--run all across the eastern and the midland states, from the white mountains westward to the alleghanies, between which mighty chains they form an intermediate and continuous link. "through this stern barrier, all the great rivers of the states, through which they run, have rent themselves a passage, exhibiting in every instance the most sublime and boldest scenery, while many of the minor, though still noble streams, come forth sparkling and bright and cold from the clear lakes and lonely springs embosomed in its dark recesses. "possessing, for the most part, a width of eight or ten miles, this chain of hills consists, at some points, of a single ridge, rude, forest-clad and lonely--at others, of two, three, or even four distinct and separate lines of heights, with valleys more or less highly cultured, long sheets of most translucent water, and wild mountain streams dividing them. "with these hills--known as the highlands--where the gigantic hudson has cloven, at some distant day, a devious path for his eternal and resistless waters, and by a hundred other names, the warwick hills, the greenwoods, and yet farther west, the blue ridge and the kittatinny mountains, as they trend southerly and west across new york and new jersey--with these hills i have now to do. "not as the temples meet for the lonely muse, fit habitations for the poet's rich imaginings! not as they are most glorious in their natural scenery--whether the youthful may is covering their rugged brows with the bright tender verdure of the tasseled larch, and the yet brighter green of maple, mountain ash and willow--or the full flush of summer has clothed their forests with impervious and shadowy foliage, while carpeting their sides with the unnumbered blossoms of calmia, rhododendron and azalea!--whether the gorgeous hues of autumn gleam like the banners of ten thousand victor armies along their rugged slopes, or the frozen winds of winter have roofed their headlands with inviolate white snow! not as their bowels teem with the wealth of mines which ages of man's avarice may vainly labor to exhaust! but as they are the loved abode of many a woodland denizen that has retreated, even from more remote and seemingly far wilder fastnesses, to these sequestered haunts. i love them, in that the graceful hind conceals her timid fawn among the ferns that wave on the lone banks of many a nameless rill, threading their hills, untrodden save by the miner, or the infrequent huntsman's foot--in that the noble stag frays oftentimes his antlers against their giant trees--in that the mighty bear lies hushed in grim repose amid their tangled swamps--in that their bushy dingles resound nightly to the long-drawn howl of the gaunt famished wolf--in that the lynx and wild-cat yet mark their prey from the pine branches--in that the ruffed grouse drums, the woodcock bleats, and the quail chirrups from every height or hollow--in that, more strange to tell, the noblest game of trans-atlantic fowl, the glorious turkey--although, like angels' visits, they be indeed but few and far between--yet spread their bronzed tails to the sun, and swell and gobble in their most secret wilds. "i love those hills of warwick--many a glorious day have i passed in their green recesses; many a wild tale have i heard of sylvan sport and forest warfare, and many, too, of patriot partisanship in the old revolutionary days--the days that tried men's souls--while sitting at my noontide meal by the secluded wellhead, under the canopy of some primeval oak, with implements of woodland sport, rifle or shot-gun by my side, and well-broke setter or stanch hound recumbent at my feet. and one of these tales will i now venture to record, though it will sound but weak and feeble from my lips, if compared to the rich, racy, quaint and humorous thing it was, when flowing from the nature-gifted tongue of our old friend tom draw." "hear! hear!" cried frank, "the chap is eloquent!" "it was the middle of the winter 1832--which was, as you will recollect, of most unusual severity--that i had gone up to tom draw's, with a view merely to quail shooting, though i had taken up, as usual, my rifle, hoping perhaps to get a chance shot at a deer. the very first night i arrived, the old bar-room was full of farmers, talking all very eagerly about the ravages which had been wrought among their flocks by a small pack of wolves, five or six, as they said, in number, headed by an old gaunt famished brute, which had for many years been known through the whole region, by the loss of one hind foot, which had been cut off in a steel trap. "more than a hundred sheep had been destroyed during the winter, and several calves beside; and what had stirred especially the bile of the good yeomen, was that, with more than customary boldness, they had the previous night made a descent into the precincts of the village, and carried off a fat wether of tom draw's. "a slight fall of snow had taken place the morning i arrived, and, this suggesting to tom's mind a possibility of hunting up the felons, a party had gone out and tracked them to a small swamp on the bellevale mountain, wherein they had undoubtedly made their head-quarters. arrangements had been made on all sides--forty or fifty stout and active men were mustered, well armed, though variously, with muskets, ducking-guns and rifles--some fifteen couple of strong hounds, of every height and color, were collected--some twenty horses saddled and bridled, and twice as many sleighs were ready; with provisions, ammunition, liquor and blankets, all prepared for a week's bivouac. the plan prescribed was in the first place to surround the swamp, as silently as possible, with all our forces, and then to force the pack out so as to face our volley. this, should the method be successful, would finish the whole hunt at once; but should the three-legged savage succeed in making his escape, we were to hunt him by relays, bivouacking upon the ground wherever night should find us, and taking up the chase again upon the following morning, until continual fatigue should wear out the fierce brute. i had two horses with me, and tim matlock; so i made up my mind at once, got a light one-horse sleigh up in the village, rigged it with all my bear-skins, good store of whiskey, eatables, and so forth, saddled the gray with my best somerset, holsters and surcingle attached, and made one of the party on the instant. "before daylight we started, a dozen mounted men leading the way, with the intent to get quite round the ridge, and cut off the retreat of these most wily beasts of prey, before the coming of the rear-guard should alarm them--and the remainder of the party, sleighing it merrily along, with all the hounds attached to them. the dawn was yet in its first gray dimness when we got into line along the little ridge which bounds that small dense brake on the northeastern side--upon the southern side the hill rose almost inaccessibly in a succession of short limestone ledges--westward the open woods, through which the hounds and footmen were approaching, sloped down in a long easy fall, into the deep secluded basin, filled with the densest and most thorny coverts, and in the summer time waist deep in water, and almost inaccessible, though now floored with a sheet of solid ice, firm as the rocks around it--due northward was an open field, dividing the wolf-dingle from the mountain road by which we always travel. "our plot had been well laid, and thus far had succeeded. i, with eleven horsemen, drawn up in easy pistol shot one of the other, had taken our ground in perfect silence; and, as we readily discovered, by the untrodden surface of the snow, our enemies were as yet undisturbed. my station was the extreme left of our line, as we faced westward, close to the first ridge of the southern hill; and there i sat in mute expectancy, my holsters thrown wide open, my kuchenreuters loaded and cocked, and my good ounce-ball rifle lying prepared within the hollow of my arm. "within a short half hour i saw the second party, captained by our friend garry, coming up one by one, and forming silently and promptly upon the hill side--and directly after i heard the crash and shout of our beaters, as they plunged into the thicket at its westward end. so far as i could perceive, all had gone well. two sides, my own eyes told me, were surrounded, and the continuous line in which the shouts ran all along the farther end, would have assured me, if assurance had been needful, for tom himself commanded in that quarter, that all was perfectly secure on that side. a jerseyman, a hunter of no small repute, had been detached with a fourth band to guard the open fields upon the north; due time had been allotted to him, and, as we judged, he was upon his ground. scarce had the first yell echoed through the forest before the pattering of many feet might be heard, mingled with the rustling of the matted boughs throughout the covert--and as the beaters came on, a whole host of rabbits, with no less than seven foxes, two of them gray, came scampering through our line in mortal terror; but on they went unharmed, for strict had been the orders that no shot should be fired, save at the lawful objects of the chase. just at this moment i saw garry, who stood a hundred feet above me on the hill, commanding the whole basin of the swamp, bring up his rifle. this was enough for me--my thumb was on the cock, the nail of my forefinger pressed closely on the trigger-guard. he lowered it again, as though he had lost sight of his object--raised it again with great rapidity, and fired. my eye was on the muzzle of his piece, and just as the bright stream of flame glanced from it, distinctly visible in the dim of morning twilight, before my ear had caught the sound of the report, a sharp long snarl rose from the thicket, announcing that a wolf was wounded. eagerly, keenly did i listen; but there came no further sound to tell me of his whereabouts. "'i hit him,' shouted garry, 'i hit him then, i swon; but i guess not so badly, but he can travel still. look out you, archer, he's squatted in the thick there, and won't stir 'till they get close a top on him.' "while he was speaking yet, a loud and startling shout arose from the open field, announcing to my ear upon the instant that one or more had broken covert at some unguarded spot, as it was evident from the absence of any firing. the leader of our squad was clearly of the same opinion; for, motioning to us to spread our line a little wider, he galloped off at a tremendous rate, spurning the snowballs high into the air, accompanied by three of his best men, to stop the gap which had been left through the misapprehension of the jerseyman. "this he accomplished; but not until the great wolf, wilier than his comrades, had got off unharmed. he had not moved five minutes before a small dark bitch-wolf broke away through our line, at the angle furthest from my station, and drew a scattering volley from more than half our men--too rapid and too random to be deadly--though several of the balls struck close about her, i thought she had got off scot free; but jem mcdaniel--whom you know--a cool, old steady hand, had held his fire, and taking a long quiet aim, lodged his ball fairly in the centre of her shoulders--over she went, and over, tearing the snow with tooth and claw in her death agony; while fancying, i suppose, that all our guns were emptied--for, by my life, i think the crafty brutes can almost reason-out popped two more! one between me and my right hand man--the other, a large dog, dragging a wounded leg behind him, under my horse's very feet. bob made a curious demi-volte, i do assure you, as the dark brindled villain darted between his fore legs with an angry snarl; but at a single word and slight admonition of the curb, stood motionless as though he had been carved in marble. quickly i brought my rifle up, though steadily enough, and--more, i fancy, by good luck than management--planted my bullet in the neck, just where the skull and spine unite, so that he bounced three feet at least above the frozen snow, and fell quite dead, within twelve paces of the covert. the other wolf, which had crept out to my right hand, was welcomed by the almost simultaneous fire of three pieces, one of which only lodged its bullet, a small one by the way--eighty or ninety only to the pound--too light entirely to tell a story, in the brute's loins. "he gave a savage yell enough as the shot told; and, for the first twenty or thirty yards, dragged his hind quarters heavily; but, as he went on, he recovered, gathering headway very rapidly over the little ridge, and through the open woodland, toward a clear field on the mountain's brow. just as this passed, a dozen shots were fired, in a quick running volley, from the thicket, just where an old cart-way divides it; followed, after a moment's pause, by one full, round report, which i knew instantly to be the voice of old tom's musket; nor did i err, for, while its echoes were yet vocal in the leafless forest, the owner's jovial shout was heard-"'wiped all your eyes, boys! all of them, by the etarnal!--who-whoop for our side!--and i'll bet horns for all on us, old leather-breeches has killed his'n.' "this passed so rapidly--in fact it was all nearly simultaneous--that the fourth wolf was yet in sight, when the last shot was fired. we all knew well enough that the main object of our chase had for the time escaped us!--the game was all afoot!--three of them slain already; nor was there any longer aught to be gained by sticking to our stations. so, more for deviltry than from entertaining any real hope of overtaking him, i chucked my rifle to the nearest of the farmers, touched old bob with the spur, and went away on a hard gallop after the wounded fugitive, who was now plodding onward at the usual long loping canter of his tribe. for about half a mile the wood was open, and sloped gently upward, until it joined the open country, where it was bounded by a high rugged fence, made in the usual snake fashion, with a huge heavy top-rail. this we soon reached; the wolf, which was more hurt than i had fancied, beginning to lag grievously, crept through it scarcely a hundred yards ahead of me, and, by good luck, at a spot where the top rail had been partially dislodged, so that bob swept over it, almost without an effort, in his gallop; though it presented an impenetrable rampart to some half dozen of the horsemen who had followed. i was now in a cleared lot of some ten acres, forming the summit of the hill, which, farther on, sunk steeply into a dark ravine full of thick brushwood, with a small verge of thinly growing coppice not more than twenty yards in width, on tolerably level ground, within the low stone-wall which parted it from the cultivated land. i felt that i was now upon my vantage ground; and you may be sure, frank, that i spared not the spurs; but the wolf, conscious probably of the vicinity of some place of safety, strained every nerve and ran, in fact, as if he had been almost unwounded; so that he was still twelve or fourteen paces from me when he jumped on the wall. "once over this, i well knew he was safe; for i was thoroughly acquainted with the ground, and was of course aware that no horse could descend the banks of the precipitous ravine. in this predicament, i thought i might as well take a chance at him with one of my good pistols, though of course with faint hopes of touching him. however, i pulled out the right hand nine-inch barrel, took a quick sight, and let drive at him; and, much to my delight, the sound was answered by the long snarling howl, which i had that day heard too often to doubt any more its meaning. over he jumped, however, and the wall covering him from my sight, i had no means of judging how badly he was hurt; so on i went, and charged the wall with a tight rein, and a steady pull; and lucky for me was it, that i had a steady pull; for under the lee of the wall there was a heap of rugged logs into which bob plunged gallantly, and, in spite of my hard hold on him, floundered a moment, and went over. had i been going at top speed, a very nasty fall must have been the immediate consequence--as it was, both of us rolled over; but with small violence, and on soft snow, so that no harm was done. "as i came off, however, i found myself in a most unpleasant neighborhood; for my good friend the wolf, hurt pretty badly by the last shot, had, as it seemed, ensconced himself among the logs, whence bob's assault and subsequent discomfiture had somewhat suddenly dislodged him; so that, as i rolled over on the snow, i found myself within six feet of my friend, seemingly very doubtful whether to fight or fly! but, by good luck, my bullet had struck him on the hip-bone, and being of a rather large calibre, had let his claret pretty freely loose, besides shattering the bone, so that he was but in poor fighting trim; and i had time to get back to the gray--who stood snorting and panting, up to his knees in snow and rubbish, but without offering to stir--to draw my second pistol, and to give isegrin--as the germans call him--the coup de grace, before he could attain the friendly shelter of the dingle, to which with all due speed he was retreating. by this time all our comrades had assembled. loud was the glee--boisterous the applause, which fell especially to me, who had performed with my own hand the glorious feat of slaying two wolves in one morning; and deep the cups of applejack, scotch whiskey, and jamaica spirits, which flowed in rich libations, according to the tastes of the compotators, over the slaughtered quarry. "breakfast was produced on the spot; cold salt pork, onions, and hard biscuit forming the principal dishes, washed down by nothing weaker than the pure ardent! not long, however, did fat tom permit us to enjoy our ease. "'come, boys," he shouted, "no lazin' here; no gormandizin'--the worst part of our work's afore us; the old lame devil is afoot, and five miles off by now. we must get back, and lay the hounds on, right stret off-and well if the scent an't cold now! he's tuk right off toward duckcedars'--for so tom ever calls truxedo pond--a lovely crescent-shaped lakelet deep in the bosom of the greenwoods--'so off with you, jem, down by the road, as hard as you can strick with ten of your boys in sleighs, and half the hounds; and if you find his tracks acrost the road, don't wait for us, but stick right arter him. you, garry, keep stret down the old road with ten dogs and all the plunder-we'll meet at night, i reckon.' "no sooner said than done! the parties were sent off with the relays. this was on monday morning--tom and i, and some thirteen others, with eight couple of the best dogs, stuck to his slot on foot. it was two hours at least, so long had he been gone, before a single hound spoke to it, and i had begun well nigh to despair; but tom's immense sagacity, which seemed almost to know instinctively the course of the wily savage, enabling us to cut off the angles of his course, at last brought us up somewhat nearer to him. at about noon, two or three of the hounds opened, but doubtfully and faintly. his slot, however, showed that they were right, and lustily we cheered them on! tom, marvelling the while that we heard not the cry of jem's relay. "'for i'll be darned,' he said, 'if he hasn't crossed the road long enough since; and that dumb nigger, jem's not had the sense to stick to him!' "for once, however, the fat man was wrong; for, as it appeared when we neared the road, the wolf had headed back, scared doubtless by some injudicious noise of our companions, and making a wide ring, had crossed three miles below the spot where jem was posted. this circuit we were forced to make, as at first sight we fancied he had headed altogether back, and it was four o'clock before we got upon his scent, hot, fresh, and breast-high; running toward the road, that is, due eastward from the covert whence he had bolted in the morning. nor were our friends inactive; for, guided by the clamors of our pack, making the forest musical, they now held down the road; and, as the felon crossed, caught a long view of him as he limped over it, and laid the fresh hounds on. "a brilliant rally followed--we calling off our wearied dogs, and hasting to the lower road, where we found garry with the sleighs, and dashing off in our turn through all sorts of by-paths and wood-roads to head them once again! this, with much labor, we effected; but the full winter-moon had risen, and the innumerable stars were sparkling in the frosty skies, when we flogged off the hounds--kindled our night fires-prepared our evening meal, feasted, and spread our blankets, and slept soundly under no warmer canopy than the blue firmament--secure that our lame friend would lie up for the night at no great distance. with the first peep of dawn we were again afoot, and, the snow still befriending us, we roused him from a cedar-brake at about nine o'clock, cut him off three times with fresh dogs and men, the second day, and passed the night, some sixteen miles from home, in the rude hovel of a charcoal burner. "greater excitement i cannot imagine, than that wild, independent chase!--sometimes on foot, cheering the hounds through swamp and dingle, over rough cliffs and ledges where foot of horse could avail nothing. sometimes on horseback, galloping merrily through the more open woodlands. sometimes careering in the flying sleigh, to the gay music of its bells, along the wild wood-paths! well did we fare, too--ay, sumptuously!--for our outskirters, though they reserved their rifles for the appropriate game, were not so sparing with the shot-gun; so that, night after night, our chaldron reeked with the mingled steam of rabbit, quail, and partridge, seethed up a la meg merrilies, with fat pork, onions, and potatoes--by the lord harry! frank, a glorious and unmatched consummee. "to make, however, a long tale short--for every day's work, although varied to the actors by thousands of minute but unnarratable particulars, would appear but as a repetition of the last, to the mere listener--to make a long tale short, on the third day he doubled back, took us directly over the same ground--and in the middle of the day, on saturday, was roused in view by the leading hounds, from the same little swamp in which the five had harbored during the early winter. no man was near the hounds when he broke covert. but fat tom, who had been detached from the party to bring up provisions from the village, was driving in his sleigh steadily along the road, when the sharp chorus of the hounds aroused him. a minute after, the lame scoundrel limped across the turnpike, scant thirty yards before him. alas! tom had but his double-barrel, one loaded with buck shot, the other merely prepared for partridge--he blazed away, however, but in vain! out came ten couple on his track, hard after him; and old tom, cursing his bad luck, stood to survey the chase across the open. "strange was the felon's fate! the first fence, after he had crossed the road, was full six feet in height, framed of huge split logs, piled so close together that, save between the two topmost rails, a small dog even could have found no passage. full at this opening the wolf dashed, as fresh, tom said, as though he had not run a yard; but as he struggled through it, his efforts shook the top rails from the yokes, and the huge piece of timber falling across his loins, pinned him completely! at a mile off i heard his howl myself, and the confused and savage hubbub, as the hounds front and rear, assailed him. "hampered although he was, he battled it out fiercely--ay, heroically-as six of our best hounds maimed for life, and one slain outright, testified. "heavens! how the fat man scrambled across the fence! he reached the spot, and, far too much excited to reload his piece and quietly blow out the fierce brute's brains, fell to belaboring him about the head with his gun-stock, shouting the while and yelling; so that the din of his tongue, mixed with the snarls and long howls of the mangled savage, and the fierce baying of the dogs, fairly alarmed me, as i said before, at a mile's distance. "as it chanced, timothy was on the road close by, with peacock; i caught sight of him, mounted, and spurred on fiercely to the rescue; but when i reached the hill's brow, all was over. tom, puffing and panting like a grampus in shoal water, covered--garments and face and hands--with lupine gore, had finished his huge enemy, after he had destroyed his gun, with what he called a stick, but what you and i, frank, should term a fair-sized tree; and with his foot upon the brindled monster's neck was quaffing copious rapture from the neck of a quart bottle--once full, but now well nigh exhausted--of his appropriate and cherished beverage.* [*the facts and incidents of the lame wolf's death are strictly true, although they were not witnessed by the writer.] thus fell the last wolf on the hills of warwick! "there, i have finished my yarn, and in good time," cried harry, "for here we are at the bridge, and in five minutes more we shall be at old tom's door." "a right good yarn!" said forester; "and right well spun, upon my word." "but is it a yarn?" asked a---, "or is it intended to be the truth?" "oh! the truth," laughed frank, "the truth, as much as archer can tell the truth; embellished, you understand, embellished!" "the truth, strictly," answered harry, quietly--"the truth not embellished. when i tell personal adventures, i am not in the habit of decorating them with falsehood." "i had no idea," responded the commodore, "that there had been any wolves here so recently." "there are wolves here now," said archer, "though they are scarce and wary. it was but last year that i rode down over the back-bone of the mountain, on the pompton road, in the nighttime, and that on the third of july, and one fellow followed me along the road till i got quite down into the cultivated country." "the devil he did!" "how did you know he was following you?" exclaimed frank and the commodore, almost in a breath. "did you see him?" "not i--but i heard him howl half a dozen times, and each time nearer than before. when i got out of the hills he was not six hundred yards behind me." "pleasant, that! were you armed? what did you do?" "it was not really so unpleasant, after all--for i knew that he would not attack me at that season of the year. i had my pistols in my holsters; and for the rest, i jogged steadily along, taking care to keep my nag in good wind for a spirt, if it should be needed. i knew that for three or four miles i could outrun him, if it should come to the worst, though in the end a wolf can run down the fastest horse; and, as every mile brought me nearer to the settlement, i did not care much about it. had it been winter, when the brutes are hard pressed for food, and the deep snows are against a horse's speed, it would be a very different thing. hurrah! here we are! hurrah! fat tom! ahoy! a-ho-oy!" the supper party blithe, loud and hearty was the welcome of fat tom, when by the clear view halloa with which harry drove up to the door at a spanking trot, the horses stopping willingly at the high well-known stoop, he learned who were these his nocturnal visitors. there was a slight tinge of frostiness in the evening air, and a bright blazing fire filled the whole bar-room with a cheerful merry light, and cast a long stream of red lustre from the tall windows, and half-open doorway, but in an instant all that escaped from the last mentioned aperture was totally obstructed, as if the door had been pushed to, by the huge body of mine host. "why, darn it," he exclaimed, "if that beant archer! and a hull grist of boys he's brought along with him, too, any how. how are you, harry, who've you got along? it's so etarnal thunderin' dark as i carnt see 'em no how!" "frank and the commodore, that's all," archer replied, "and how are you, old corporation?" "oh! oh! i'm most darned glad as you've brought a---; you might have left that other critter to home, though, jest as well--we doosn't want him blowin' out his little hide here; lazin' about, and doin' nothin' day nor night but eat and grumble; and drink, and drink, as if he'd got a meal-sack in his little guts. why, timothy, how be you?" he concluded, smiting him on the back a downright blow, that would have almost felled an ox, as he was getting out the baggage. "doant thee noo, measter draa," expostulated tim, "behaave thyself, man, or ay'se give thee soomat thou woant loike, i'm thinking. noo! send oot yan o' t' nagers, joost to stand till t' nags till ay lift oot t' boxes!" "a nigger, is it? darn their black skins! there was a dozen here jest now, a blockin' up the fire-side, and stinkin' so no white man could come nearst it, till i got an axe-handle, half an hour or so since, and cleared out the heap of them! niggers! they'll be here all of them torights, i warrant; where you sees archer, there's never no scarceness of dogs and niggers. but come, walk in boys! walk in, anyhow--jem'll be here to rights, and he's worth two niggers any day, though he's black-fleshed, i guess, if one was jest to skin the etarnal creatur." very few minutes passed before they were all drawn up round the fire, captain reade and two or three more making room for them, as they pulled up their chairs about the glowing hearth--having hung up their coats and capes against the wall. "you'll be here best, boys," said tom, "for a piece--the parlor fire's not been lit yet this fall, and it is quite cold nights now--but brower'll kindle it up agin supper, for you'll be wantin' to eat, all of you, i reckon, you're sich darned everlastin' gormandizers." "that most undoubtedly we shall," said frank, "for it's past eight now, and the deuce a mouthful have we put into our heads since twelve." "barrin' the liquor, frank! barrin' the liquor--now don't lie! don't lie, boy, so ridic'lous--as if i'd known you these six years, and then was a goin' to believe as you'd not drinked since noon!" "why, you old hogshead, you! who wants you to believe anything of the kind--we had one drink at tom's, your cousin's, when we started, but deuce the drop since." "that's just the reason why you're so snarlish, then, i reckon! your coppers is got bilin', leastwise if they beant all biled out--you'd best drink stret away, i guess, afore the bottom of the biler gits left bare --for if it does, and it's red hot now, boy, you'll be a blowin' up, like an old steamboat, when you pumps in fresh water." "well, tom," said archer, "i do not think it would be a bad move to take a drop of something, and a cracker; for i suppose we shall not get supper much short of two hours; and i'm so deuced hungry, that if i don't get something just to take off the edge, i shall not be able to eat when it does come!" "i'll make a pitcher of egg nog; a--drinks egg nog, i guess, although he's the poorest drinkin' man i ever did see. now, brower, look alive-the fire's lit, is it? well, then, jump now and feed them poor starvin' bags-a-bones, as archer calls dogs, and tell your mother to git supper. have you brought anything along to eat or drink, boys--i guess we haven't nothin' in the house!" "oh! you be hanged," said harry, "i've brought a round of cold spiced beef, but i'm not going to cut that up for supper; we shall want it to take along for luncheon--you must get something! oh! by the way, you may let the girls pick half a dozen quail, and broil them, if you choose!" "quail! do you say? and where'll i git quail, i'd be pleased to know?" "out of that gamebag," answered harry, deliberately, pointing to the well filled plump net which timothy had just brought in and hung up on the pegs beside the box-coats. without a word or syllable the old chap rushed to the wall, seized it, and scarcely pausing to sweep out of the way a large file of "the spirit," and several numbers of "the register," emptied it on the table. "where the plague, archer, did you kill them?" he asked, "you didn't kill all them to-day, i guess! one, two, three--why, there's twenty-seven cock, and forty-nine quail! by gin! here's another; just fifty quail, three partridge, and six rabbits; well that's a most all-fired nice mess, i swon; if you killed them today you done right well, i tell you--you won't get no such mess of birds here now--but you was two days killing these, i guess!" "not we, tom! frank and i drove up from york last night, and slept at young tom's, down the valley--we were out just as soon as it was light, and got the quail, all except fifteen or sixteen, the ruffed grouse and four hares, before twelve o'clock. at twelve the commodore came up from nyack, where he left his yacht, and joined us; we got some luncheon, went out again at one, and between that and five bagged all the cock, the balance, as you would call it, of the quail, and the other two bunnies." "well, then, you made good work of it, i tell you, and you won't do nothin' like that agin this winter--not in warwick; but i won't touch them quail--it's a sin to break that bunch--but you don't never care to take the rabbits home, and the old woman's got some beautiful fresh onions--she'll make a stew of them--a smother, as you call it, in a little less than no time, archer; and i've got half a dozen of them big gray snipe--english snipe--that i killed down by my little run'-side; you'll have them roasted with the guts in, i guess! and then there's a pork-steak and sassagers--and if you don't like that, you can jist go without. here, brower, take these to your mother, and tell her to git supper right stret off--and you tell emma jane to make some buckwheat cakes for a---! he can't sup no how without buckwheat cakes; and i sets a great store by a---! i does, by g--! and you needn't laugh, boys, for i doos a darned sight more than what i doos by you." "that's civil, at all events, and candid," replied frank; "and it's consolatory, too, for i can fancy no greater reproach to a man, than to be set store on by you. i do not comprehend at all, how a--bears up under it. but come, do make that egg-nog that you're chattering about." "how will i make it, harry--with beer, or milk, or cider?" "all three! now be off, and don't jaw any more!" answered archer-"asking such silly questions, as if you did not know better than any of us." in a few minutes the delicious compound was prepared, and, with a plate of toasted crackers and some right good orange county butter, was set on a small round stand before the fire; while from the neighboring kitchen rich fumes began to load the air, indicative of the approaching supper. in the mean time, the wagon was unloaded; timothy bustled to and fro; the parlor was arranged; the bed-rooms were selected by that worthy; and everything set out in its own place, so that they could not possibly have been more comfortable in their own houses. the horses had been duly cleaned, and clothed, and fed; the dogs provided with abundance of dry straw, and a hot mess of milk and meal; and now, in the far corner of the bar-room, the indefatigable varlet was cleaning the three double guns, as scientifically as though he had served his apprenticeship to a gunsmith. just at this moment a heavy foot was heard upon the stoop, succeeded by a whining and a great scratching at the door. "here comes that indian, jem," cried tom, and as he spoke the door flew open, and in rushed old whino, the tall black and tan foxhound, and bonnybelle, and blossom, and another large blue-mottled bitch, of the southern breed. it was a curious sight to observe by how sudden and intuitive an instinct the hounds rushed up to archer, and fawned upon him, jumping up with their forepaws upon his knees, and thrusting their bland smiling faces almost into his face; as he, nothing loath, nor repelling their caresses, discoursed most eloquent dog-language to them, until, excited beyond all measure, old whino seated himself deliberately on the floor, raised his nose toward the ceiling, and set up a long, protracted, and most melancholy howl, which, before it had attained, however, to its grand climax, was brought to a conclusion by being converted into a sharp and treble yell! a consummation brought about by a smart application of harry's double-thonged four-horse whip, wielded with all the power of tom's right arm, and accompanied by a "git out, now--the whole grist! kennel! now, kennel! out with them, jem, consarn you; out with them, and yourself, too! out of this, or i'll put the gad about you, you white deckerin' nigger you!" "come back, when you have put them up, jem; and mind you don't let them be where they can get at the setters, or they'll be fighting like the devil," interposed archer--"i want to have a chat with you. by-the-by, tom, where's dash--you'd better look out, or the commodore's dog, grouse, will eat him before morning--mine will not quarrel with him, but grouse will to a certainty." "then for a sartainty i'll shoot grouse, and wallop grouse's master, and that 'ill be two right things done one mornin'; the first would be a most darned right one, any how, and kind too! for then a--would be forced to git himself a good, nice setter dog, and not go shootin' over a great old fat bustin' pinter, as isn't worth so much as i be to hunt birds!" "ha! ha! ha!" shouted the commodore, whom nothing can, by any earthly means, put out of temper, "ha! ha! ha! i should like to see you shoot grouse, tom, for all the store you set by me, you'd get the worst of that game. you had better take archer's advice, i can tell you." "archer's advice, indeed! it's likely now that i'd have left my nice little dog to be spiled by your big brutes, now aint it? come, come, here's supper." "get something to drink, jem, along with timothy, and come in when we've got through supper." "yes, sir," replied the knight of the cut-throat; "i've got some news to tell you, too, tom, if you'll wait a bit." "cuss you, and your news too," responded tom, "you're sich a thunderin' liar, there's no knowin' when you do speak truth. we'll not be losin' our supper for no lies, i guess! leastways i won't! come archer." and with a right good appetite they walked into the parlor; every thing was in order; every article placed just as it had been when frank went up to spend his first week in the woodlands; the gun-case stood on the same chairs below the window; the table by the door was laid out with the same display of powder-flasks, shot-pouches, and accoutrements of all sizes. the liquor-stand was placed by harry's chair, open, containing the case-bottles, the rummers being duly ranged upon the board, which was well lighted by four tall wax candles, and being laid with harry's silver, made quite a smart display. the rabbits smoked at the head, smothered in a rich sauce of cream, and nicely shredded onions; the pork chops, thin and crisply broiled, exhaled rich odors at the bottom; the english snipe, roasted to half a turn, and reposing on their neat squares of toast, were balanced by a dish of well-fried sausages, reclining on a bed of mashed potatoes; champagne was on the table, unresined and unwired, awaiting only one touch of the knife to release the struggling spirit from its transparent prison. few words were spoken for some time, unless it were a challenge to champagne, the corks of which popped frequently and furious; or a request for another snipe, or another spoonful of the sauce; while all devoted themselves to the work in hand with a sincere and business-like earnestness of demeanor, that proved either the excellence of tom draw's cookery, or the efficacy of the spartan sauce which the sportsmen had brought to assist them at their meal. the last rich drops of the fourth flask were trickling into tom's wide-lipped rummer, when harry said: "come, we have done, i think, for one night; let's have the eatables removed, and we will have a pipe, and hear what jem has got to say; and you have told us nothing about birds, either, you old elephant; what do you mean by it? that's right, tim, now bring in my cigars, and mr. forester's cheroots, and cold iced water, and boiling-hot water, and sugar, out of my box, and lemons. the shrub is here, and the scotch whiskey; will you have another bottle of champagne, tom? no! well, then, look sharp, timothy, and send jem in." and thereupon jem entered, thumbing his hat assiduously, and sat down in the corner, by the window, where he was speedily accommodated with a supply of liquor, enough to temper any quantity of clay. "well, jem," said archer, "unbutton your bag now; what's the news?" "well, mr. aircher, it ben't no use to tell you on't, with tom, there, puttin' a body out, and swearin' it's a lie, and dammin' a chap up and down. it ben't no use to tell you, and yet i'd kind o' like to, but then you won't believe a fellow, not one on you!" "in course not," answered forester; and at the same instant tom struck in likewise-"it's a lie, afore you tell it; it's a lie, cuss you, and you knows it. i'd sooner take a nigger's word than yours, jem, any how, for the darned niggers will tell the truth when they can't git no good by lyin', but you, you will lie all times! when the truth would do the best, and you would tell it if you could, you can't help lyin'!" "shut up, you old thief; shut up instantly, and let the man speak, will you; i can see by his face that he has got something to tell; and as for lying, you beat him at it any day." tom was about to answer, when harry, who had been eagerly engaged in mixing a huge tumbler-full of strong cold shrub punch, thrust it under his nose, and he, unable to resist the soft seductive odor, seized it incontinently, and neither spoke nor breathed again until the bottom of the rummer was brought parallel to the ceiling; then, with a deep heart-felt sigh, he set it down; and, with a calm placid smile, exclaimed, "tell on, jem." whereupon that worthy launched into his full tide of narrative, as follows: "well, you sees, mr. aircher, i tuk up this mornin' clean up the old crick side, nigh to vernon, and then i turned in back of old squire vandergriff's, and druv the mountains clear down here till i reached rocky hill; i'd pretty good sport, too, i tell you; i shot a big gray fox on round top, and started a raal rouser of a red one down in the big swamp, in the bottom, and them sluts did keep the darndest ragin' you ever did hear tell on. well, they tuk him clean out across the open, past andy joneses, and they skeart up in his stubbles three bevies, i guess, got into one like! there was a drove of them, i tell you, and then they brought him back to the hills agin, and run him twice clean round the rocky hill, and when they came round the last time, the english sluts warn't half a rod from his tail no how, and so he tried his last chance, and he holed; but my! now, mr. aircher, by darn, you niver did see nothin' like the partridges; they kept a brushin' up and brushin' up, and treein' every little while; i guess if i seen one i seen a hundred; why, i killed seven on 'em with coarse shot up in the pines, and i daredn't shoot exceptin' at their heads. if you'd go up there now, to-morrow, and take the dogs along, i know as you'll git fifty." "well, if that's all your news, jem, i won't give you much for it; and, as for going into the mountains to look after partridges, you don't catch me at it, that's all!" said harry. "is that all?" "not by a great shot!" answered jem, grinning, "but the truth is, i know you won't believe me; but i can tell you what, you can kill a big fat buck, if you'll git up a little afore daylight!" "a buck, jem! a buck near here?" inquired forester and archer in a breath. "i told you, boys, the critter couldn't help it; he's stuck to truth just so long, and he was forced to lie, or else he would have busted!" "it's true, by thunder," answered jem; "i wish i mayn't eat nor drink nother, if there's one bit of lie in it; d--n the bit, tom! i'm in airnest, now, right down; and you knows as i wouldn't go to lie about it!" "well! well! where was't, jem?" "why, he lies, i guess, now, in that little thickest swamp of all, jist in the eend of the swale atween round top and rocky hill, right in the pines and laurels; leastways i druv him down there with the dogs, and i swon that he never crossed into the open meadow; and i went round, and made a circle like clean round about him, and darn the dog trailed on him no how; and bein' as he's hard hot, i guess he'll stay there since he harbored." "hard hit, is he! why, did you get a shot at him?" "a fair one," jem replied; "not three rod off from me; he jumped up out of the channel of stony brook, where, in a sort o' bend, there was a lot of bushes, sumac and winter-green, and ferns; he skeart me, that's a fact, or i'd a killed him. he warn't ten yards off when he bounced up first, but i pulled without cocking, and when i'd got my gun fixed, he'd got off a little piece, and i'd got nauthen but fox-shot, but i hot him jist in the side of the flank; the blood flew out like winkin', and the hounds arter him like mad, up and down, and round and back, and he a kind of weak like, and they'd overhauled him once and again, and tackled him, but there was only four on them, and so he beat them off like every time, and onned again! they couldn't hold him no how, till i got up to them, and i couldn't fix it no how, so as i'd git another shot at him; but it was growin' dark fast, and i flogged off the sluts arter a deal o' work, and viewed him down the old blind run-way into th' swale eend, where i telled you; and then i laid still quite a piece; and then i circled round, to see if he'd quit it, and not one dog tuk track on him, and so i feels right sartain as he's in that hole now, and will be in the mornin', if so be we goes there in time, afore the sun's up. "that we can do easily enough," said archer, "what do you say, tom? is it worth while?" "why," answered old draw instantly, "if so be only we could be sartain that the darned critter warn't lyin', there couldn't be no doubt about it; for if the buck did lay up there this night, why he'll be there to-morrow; and if so be he's there, why we can get him sure!" "well, jem, what have you got to say now," said the commodore; "is it the truth or no?" "why, darn it all," retorted jem, "harn't i just told you it was true; it's most blamed hard a fellow can't be believed now--why, mr. aircher, did i ever lie to you?" "oh! if you ask me that," said harry, "you know i must say 'yes!'--for you have, fifty times at the least computation. do you remember the day you towed me up the decker's run to look for woodcock?" "and you found nothing," interrupted tom, "but..." "oh shut up, do, tom," broke in forester, "and let us hear about this buck. if we agree to give you a five dollar bill, jem, in case we do find him where you say, what will you be willing to forfeit if we do not?" "you may shoot at me!" answered jem, "all on you--ivery one on you--at forty yards, with rifle or buckshot!" "it certainly is very likely that we should be willing to get hanged for the sake of shooting such a mangy hound as you jem," answered forester, "when one could shoot a good clean dog--tom's dash, for example--for nothing!" "could you though?" tom replied, "i'd like to catch you at it, my dear boy--i'd wax the little hide off of you. but come, let us be settling. is it a lie now, jem; speak out--is it a lie, consarn you? for if it be, you'd best jest say 't out now, and save your bones to-morrow. well, boys, the critter's sulky, so most like it is true--and i guess we'll be arter him. we'll be up bright and airly, and go a horseback, and if he be there, we can kill him in no time at all, and be right back to breakfast. i'll start jem and the captain here, and dave seers, with the dogs, an hour afore us! and let them come right down the swale, and drive him to the open--harry and forester, you two can ride your own nags, and i'll take old roan, and a--here shall have the colt." "very well! timothy, did they feed well to-night? if they did, give them their oats very early, and no water. i know it's too bad after their work to-day, but we shall not be out two hours!" "weel! it's no matter gin they were oot six," responded timothy, "they wadna be a pin the waur o't!" "take out my rifle, then--and pick some buckshot cartridges to fit the bore of all the double guns. frank's got his rifle; so you can take my heavy single gun--your gauge is 17, a---, quite too small for buckshot; mine is 11, and will do its work clean with ely's cartridge and pretty heavy powder, at eighty-five to ninety yards. tom's bore is twelve, and i've brought some to fit his old double, and some, too, for my own gun, though it is almost too small!" "what gauge is yours, harry?" "fourteen; which i consider the very best bore possible for general shooting. i think the gunsmiths are running headlong now into the opposite of their old error--when they found that fifteens and fourteens outshot vastly the old small calibres--fifty years since no guns were larger than eighteen, and few than twenty; they are now quite out-doing it. i have seen late-imported guns of seven pounds, and not above twenty-six inches long, with eleven and even ten gauge calibres! you might as well shoot with a blunderbus at once!" "they would tell at cock in close summer covert," answered a---. "for a man who can't cover his bird they might," replied harry; "but you may rely on it they lose three times as much in force as they gain in the space they cover; at forty yards you could not kill even a woodcock with them once in fifty times, and a quail, or english snipe, at that distance never!" "what do you think the right length and weight, then, for an eleven bore?" "certainly not less than nine pounds, and thirty inches; but i would prefer ten pounds and thirty-three inches; though, except for a fowl-gun to use in boat-shooting, such a piece would be quite too ponderous and clumsy. my single gun is eleven gauge, eight pounds and thirty-three inches; and even with loose shot executes superbly; but with ely's green cartridge i have put forty bb shot into a square of two and a half feet at one hundred and twenty-five yards; sharply enough, too, to imbed the shot so firmly in the fence against which i had fixed my mark, that it required a good strong knife to get them out. this i propose that you should use to-morrow, with a 1 1/2 oz. sg cartridge, which contains eighteen buck-shot, and which, if you get a shot any where within a hundred yards, will kill him as dead, i warrant it, as an ounce bullet." "which you intend to try, i fancy," added frank. "not quite! my rifle carries eighteen only to the pound; and yours, if i forget not, only thirty-two." "but mine is double." "never mind that; thirty-two will not execute with certainty above a hundred and fifty yards!" "and how far in the devil's name would you have it execute, as you calls it," asked old tom. "three hundred!" replied harry, coolly. "thunder!" replied draw, "don't tell me no sich thunderin' nonsense; i'll stand all day and be shot at, like a christmas turkey, at sixty rods, for six-pence a shot, any how." "i'll bet you all the liquor we can drink while we are here, tom," answered harry, "that i hit a four foot target at three hundred yards to-morrow!" "off hand?" inquired tom, with an attempt at a sneer. "yes, off hand! and no shot to do that either; i know men--lots of them --who would bet to hit a foot square at that distance!"* [*when this was written strong exception was taken to it by a southern writer in the spirit of the times. had that gentleman known what is the practice of the heavy tyrolese rifle he would not have written so confidently. but it is needless to go so far as to the tyrol. there is a well known rifle-shot in new york, who can perform the feat, any day, which the southern writer scoffed at as utterly impossible. scrope on deerstalking will show to any impartial reader's satisfaction, that stags in the highlands are rarely killed within 200 and generally beyond 300 yards' distance.] "well! you can't hit four, no how!" "will you bet?" "sartain!" "very well--done--twenty dollars i will stake against all the liquor we drink while we're here. is it a bet?" "yes! done!" cried tom--"at the first shot, you know; i gives no second chances." "very well, as you please!--i'm sure of it, that's all--lord, frank, how we will drink and treat--i shall invite all the town up here to-morrow-come!--one more round for luck, and then to bed!" "content!" cried a---; "but i mean mr. draw to have an argument to-morrow night about this point of setter vs. pointer! how do you say, harry?--which is best?" "oh! i'll be judge and jury,"--answered archer--"and you shall plead before me; and i'll make up my mind in the meantime!" "he's for me, any how,"--shouted tom--"darn it all, harry, you knows you wouldn't own a pinter--no, not if it was gin you!" "i believe you are about right there, old fellow, so far as this country goes at least!"--said archer--"different dogs for different soils and seasons--and, in my judgment, setters are far the best this side the atlantic--but it is late now, and i can't stand chattering here--good night--you shall have as much dog-talk as you like to-morrow." the outlying stag it was still pitch dark, although the skies were quite clear and cloudless, when harry, frank, and the commodore re-assembled on the following morning, in tom's best parlor, preparatory to the stag hunt which, as determined on the previous night, was to be their first sporting move in the valley. early, however, as it was, timothy had contrived to make a glorious fire upon the hearth, and to lay out a slight breakfast of biscuits, butter, and cold beef, flanked by a square case-bottle of jamaica, and a huge jorum of boiled milk. tom draw had not yet made his appearance, but the sound of his ponderous tramp, mixed with strange oaths and loud vociferations, showed that he was on foot, and ready for the field. "i'll tell you what, master a---," said archer as he stood with his back to the fire, mixing some rum with sugar and cold water, previous to pouring the hot milk into it--"you'll be so cold in that light jacket on the stand this morning, that you'll never be able to hold your gun true, if you get a shot. it froze quite hard last night, and there's some wind, too, this morning." "that's very true," replied the commodore, "but devil a thing have i got else to wear, unless i put on my great coat, and that's too much the other way--too big and clumsy altogether. i shall do well enough, i dare say; and after all, my drilling jacket is not much thinner than your fustian." "no," said harry, "but you don't fancy that i'm going out in this, do you? no! no! i'm too old a hand for that sort of thing--i know that to shoot well, a man must be comfortable, and i mean to be so. why, man, i shall put on my canadian hunting shirt over this,"--and with the word he slipped a loose frock, shaped much like a wagoner's smock, or a flemish blouse, over his head, with large full sleeves, reaching almost to his knees, and belted round his waist, by a broad worsted sash. this excellent garment was composed of a thick coarse homespun woollen, bottle-green in color, with a fringe and bindings of dingy red, to match the sash about his waist. from the sash was suspended an otter skin pouch, containing bullets and patches, nipple wrench and turn-screw, a bit of dry tow, an oiled rag, and all the indispensables for rifle cleaning; while into it were thrust two knives--one a broad two-edged implement, with a stout buck-horn haft, and a blade of at least twelve inches--the other a much smaller weapon, not being, hilt and all, half the length of the other's blade, but very strong, sharp as a razor, and of surpassing temper. while he was fitting all these in their proper places, and slinging under his left arm a small buffalo horn of powder, he continued talking: "now," he said, "if you take my advice, you'll go into my room, and there, hanging against the wall, you'll find my winter shooting jacket, i had it made last year when i went up to maine, of pilot cloth, lined throughout with flannel. it will fit you just as well as your own, for we're pretty much of a size. frank, there, will wear his old monkey jacket, the skirts of which he razeed last winter for the very purpose. ah, here is brower--just run up, brower, and bring down my shooting jacket off the wall from behind the door--look sharp, will you! now, then, i shall load, and i advise you both to do likewise; for it's bad work doing that same with cold fingers." thus saying, he walked to the corner, and brought out his rifle, a short heavy double barrel, with two grooves only, carrying a bitted ball of twelve to the pound, quite plain but exquisitely finished. before proceeding, however, to load, he tried the passage of the nipple with a fine needle--three or four of which, thrust into a cork, and headed with sealing wax, formed a portion of the contents of his pouch--brushed the cone, and the inside of the hammer, carefully, and wiped them, to conclude, with a small piece of clean white kid--then measuring his powder out exactly, into a little charger, screwed to the end of his ramrod, he inverted the piece, and introduced the rod upward till the cup reached the chamber; when, righting the gun, he withdrew it, leaving the powder all lodged safely at the breech, without the loss of a single grain in the groovings. next, he chose out a piece of leather, the finest grained kid, without a seam or wrinkle, slightly greased with the best watch-maker's oil--selected a ball perfectly round and true--laid the patch upon the muzzle, and placing the bullet exactly in the centre over the bore, buried it with a single rap of a small lignum vita mallet, which hung from his button-hole; and then, with but a trifling effort, drove it home by one steady thrust of the stout copper-headed charging rod. this done, he again inspected the cone, and seeing that the powder was forced quite up into sight, picked out, with the same anxious scrutiny that had marked all of his proceedings, a copper cap, which he pronounced sure to go, applied it to the nipple, crushed it down firmly, with the hammer, which he then drew back to half-cock, and bolted. then he set the piece down by the fireside, drained his hot jorum, and... "that fellow will do his work, and no mistake," said he. "now a--here is my single gun"--handing to him, as he spoke, one of the handsomest westley richards a sportsman ever handled--"thirty-three inches, nine pounds and eleven gauge. put in one-third above that charger, which is its usual load, and one of those green cartridges, and i'll be bound that it will execute at eighty paces; and that is more than master frank there can say for his manton rifle, at least if he loads it with bullets patched in that slovenly and most unsportsmanlike fashion." "i should like to know what the deuce you mean by slovenly and unsportsmanlike," said frank, pulling out of his breast pocket a couple of bullets, carefully sewed up in leather--"it is the best plan possible, and saves lots of time--you see i can just shove my balls in at once, without any bother of fitting patches." "yes," replied harry, "and five to one the seam, which, however neatly it is drawn, must leave a slight ridge, will cross the direction of the grooving, and give the ball a counter movement; either destroying altogether the rotatory motion communicated by the rifling, or causing it to take a direction quite out of the true line; accordingly as the counteraction is conveyed near the breech, or near the muzzle of the piece." "will so trifling a cause produce so powerful an effect?" inquired the commodore. "the least variation, whether of concavity or convexity in the bullet, will do so unquestionably--and i cannot see why the same thing in a covering superinduced to the ball should not have the same effect. even a hole in a pellet of shot, will cause it to leave the charge, and fly off at a tangent. i was once shooting in the fens of the isle of ely, and fired at a mallard sixty or sixty-five yards off, with double b shot, when to my great amazement a workman--digging peat at about the same distance from me with the bird, but at least ninety yards to the right of the mallard--roared out lustily that i had killed him. i saw that the drake was knocked over as dead as a stone, and consequently laughed at the fellow, and set it down as a cool trick to extort money, not uncommon among the fen men, as applied to members of the university. i had just finished loading, and my retriever had just brought in the dead bird, which was quite riddled, cut up evidently by the whole body of the charge--both the wings broken, one in three places, one leg almost dissevered, and several shots in the neck and body--when up came my friend, and sure enough he was hit--one pellet had struck him on the cheek bone, and was imbedded in the skin. half a crown, and a lotion of whiskey--not applied to the part, but taken inwardly--soon proved a sovereign medicine, and picking out the shot with the point of a needle, i found a hole in it big enough to admit a pin's head, and about the twentieth part of an inch in depth. this i should think is proof enough for you--but, besides this, i have seen bullets in pistol-shooting play strange vagaries, glancing off from the target at all sorts of queer angles." "well! well!" replied frank, "my rifle shoots true enough for me--true enough to kill generally--and who the deuce can be at the bother of your pragmatical preparations! i am sure it might be said of you, as it was of james the first, of most pacific and pedantic memory, that you are 'captain of arts and clerk of arms'--at least you are a very pedant in gunnery." "no! no!" said a---; "you're wrong there altogether, master forester; there is nothing on earth that makes so great a difference in sportsmanship as the observation of small things. i don't call him a sportsman who can walk stoutly, and kill well, unless he can give causes for effects--unless he knows the haunts and habits both of his game and his dogs--unless he can give a why for every wherefore!" "then devil a bit will you ever call me one,"--answered frank--"for i can't be at the trouble of thinking about it." "stuff--humbug--folly"--interrupted archer--"you know a great deal better than that--and so do we, too!--you're only cranky! a little cranky, frank, and given to defending any folly you commit without either rhyme or reason--as when you tried to persuade me that it is the safest thing in nature to pour gunpowder out of a canister into a pound flask, with a lighted cigar between your teeth; to demonstrate which you had scarcely screwed the top of the horn on, before the lighted ashes fell all over it--had they done so a moment sooner, we should all have been blown out of the room." by this time, the commodore had donned harry's winter jacket, and frank, grumbling and paradoxizing all the while, had loaded his rifle, and buttoned up his pea-jacket, when in stalked tom, swathed up to his chin in a stout dreadnought coat. "what are ye lazin' here about!" he shouted, "you're niver ready no how. jem's been agone these two hours, and we'll jest be too late, and miss gittin' a shot--if so be there be a buck--which i'll be sworn there arn't!" "ha! ha!" the commodore burst out; "ha! ha! ha! i should like to know which side the laziness has been on this morning, mister draw." "on little wax skin's there," answered the old man, as quick as lightning; "the little snoopin' critter carn't find his gloves now; though the nags is at the door, and we all ready. we'll drink, boys, while he's lookin' arter 'em--and then when he's found them, and's jest a gittin' on his horse, he'll find he's left his powder-horn or knife, or somethin' else, behind him; and then we'll drink agin, while he snoops back to fetch it." "you be hanged, you old rascal," replied forester, a little bothered by the huge shouts of laughter which followed this most strictly accurate account of his accustomed method of proceeding; an account which, by the way, was fully justified not twenty minutes afterward, by his galloping back, neck or nothing, to get his pocket handkerchief, which he had left "in course," as tom said, in his dressing-gown beside the fire. "come, bustle--bustle!" harry added, as he put on his hunting cap and pulled a huge pair of fen boots on, reaching to the midthigh, which timothy had garnished with a pair of bright english spurs. in another minute they were all on horseback, trotting away at a brisk pace toward the little glen, wherein, according to jem's last report, the stag was harbored. it was in vain that during their quick ride the old man was entreated to inform them where they were to take post, or what they were to do, as he would give them no reply, nor any information whatever. at last, however, when forester rejoined them, after his return to the village, he turned short off from the high road to the left, and as he passed a set of bars into a wild hill pasture, struck into a hard gallop. before them lay the high and ridgy head of round top, his flanks sloping toward them, in two broad pine-clad knobs, with a wild streamlet brawling down between them, and a thick tangled swamp of small extent, but full of tall dense thornbushes, matted with vines and cat-briers, and carpeted with a rich undergrowth of fern and wintergreen, and whortleberries. to the right and left of the two knobs or spurs just mentioned, were two other deep gorges, or dry channels, bare of brushwood, and stony--rockwalled, with steep precipitous ledges toward the mountain, but sloping easily up to the lower ridges. as they reached the first of these, tom motioned forester to stop. "stand here," he whispered, "close in here, jest behind this here crag-and look out hereaways toward the village. if he comes down this runway, kill him, but mind you doosn't show a hair out of this corner; for archer, he'll stand next, and if so be he crosses from the swamp hole hereaways, you'll chance to get a bullet. be still, now, as a mouse, and tie your horse here in the cove!--now, lads" and off he set again, rounded the knob, and making one slight motion toward the nook, wherein he wished that harry should keep guard, wheeled back in utter silence, and very slowly--for they were close to the spot wherein, as they supposed, the object of their chase was laid up; and as yet but two of his paths were guarded toward the plain; jem and his comrades having long since got with the hounds into his rear, and waiting only for the rising of the sun to lay them on, and push along the channel of the brook. this would compel him to break covert, either directly from the swamp, or by one of the dry gorges mentioned. now, therefore, was the crisis of the whole matter; for if--before the other passes were made good--the stag should take alarm, he might steal off without affording a chance of a shot, and get into the mountains to the right, where they might hunt him for a week in vain. no marble statue could stand more silently or still than harry and his favorite gray, who, with erected ears and watchful eye, trembling a little with excitement, seemed to know what he was about, and to enjoy it no less keenly than his rider. tom and the commodore, quickening their pace as they got out of ear-shot, retraced their steps quite back to the turnpike road, along which harry saw them gallop furiously, in a few minutes, and turn up, half a mile off, toward the further gulley--he saw no more, however; though he felt certain that the commodore was, scarce ten minutes after he lost sight of them, standing within twelve paces of him, at the further angle of the swamp--tom having warily determined that the two single guns should take post together, while the two doubles should be placed where the wild quarry could get off encountering but a single sportsman. it was a period of intense excitement before the sun rose though it was of short duration--but scarcely had his first rays touched the open meadow, casting a huge gray shadow from the rounded hill which covered half the valley, while all the farther slope was laughing in broad light, the mist wreaths curling up, thinner and thinner every moment, from the broad streamlet in the bottom, which here and there flashed out exultingly from its wood-covered margins--scarcely had his first rays topped the hill, before a distant shout came swelling on the air, down the ravine, announcing jem's approach. no hound gave tongue, however, nor did a rustle in the brake, or any sound of life, give token of the presence of the game--louder and nearer drew the shouts--and now harry himself began to doubt if there were any truth in jem's relation, when suddenly the sharp, quick crack of forester's rifle gave token that the game was afoot--a loud yell from that worthy followed. "look out! mark--back--mark back!" and keenly archer did look out, and warily did he listen--once he detected, or fancied he detected, a rustling of the under-wood, and the crack of a dry stick, and dropping his reins on the horse's neck, he cocked his rifle--but the sound was not repeated, nor did any thing come into sight--so he let down the hammer once again, and resumed his silent watch, saying to himself... "frank fired too quick, and he has headed up the brook to jem. if he is forward enough now, we shall have him back instantly, with the hounds at his heels; but if he has loitered and hung back, `over the hills and far away' is the word for this time." but jem was in his place, and in another moment a long whoop came ringing down the glen, and the shrill yelping rally of the hounds as they all opened on a view together! fiercer and wilder grew the hubbub! and now the eager watcher might hear the brushwood torn in all directions by the impetuous passage of the wild deer and his inveterate pursuers. "now, then, it is old tom's chance, or ours," he thought, "for he will not try forester again, i warrant him, and we are all down wind of him-so he can't judge of our whereabouts." in another second the bushes crashed to his left hand, and behind him, while the dogs were raving scarcely a pistol-shot off, in the tangled swamp. yet he well knew that if the stag should break there it would be a---'s shot, and, though anxious, he kept his eye fixed steadily on his own point, holding his good piece cocked and ready. "mark! harry, mark him!"--a loud yell from the commodore. the stag had broken midway between them, in full sight of a---, and seeing him, had wheeled off to the right. he was now sweeping onward across the open field with high graceful bounds, tossing his antlered head aloft, as if already safe, and little hurt, if anything, by jem lyn's boasted shot of the last evening. the gray stood motionless, trembling, however, palpably, in every limb, with eagerness--his ears laid flat upon his neck, and cowering a little, as if he feared the shot, which it would seem his instinct told him to expect. harry had dropped his reins once more, and leveled his unerring rifle--yet for a moment's space he paused, waiting for a--to fire; there was no hurry for himself, nay a few seconds more would give him a yet fairer shot, for the buck now was running partially toward him, so that a moment more would place him broadside on, and within twenty paces. "bang!" came the full and round report of a---'s large shotgun, fired before the beast was fifteen yards away from him. he had aimed at the head, as he was forced to do, lest he should spoil the haunches, for he was running now directly from him--and had the buck been fifty paces off he would have killed him dead, lodging his whole charge, or the best part of it, in the junction of the neck and skull--but as it was, the cartridge--the green cartridge--had not yet spread at all; nor had one buckshot left the case! whistling like a single ball, as it passed harry's front eight or nine yards off, it drove, as his quick eye discovered, clean through the stag's right ear, almost dissevering it, and making the animal bound six feet off the green sward. just as he touched the earth again, alighting from his mighty spring, with an aim sure and steady, and a cool practiced finger, the marksman drew his trigger, and, quick, as light, the piece--well loaded, as its dry crack announced--discharged its ponderous missile! but, bad luck on it, even at that very instant, just in the point of time wherein the charge was ignited, eighteen or twenty quail, flushed by the hubbub of the hounds, rose with a loud and startling whirr, on every side of the gray horse, under his belly and about his ears, so close as almost to brush him with their wings--he bolted and reared up--yet even at that disadvantage the practiced rifleman missed not his aim entirely, though he erred somewhat, and the wound in consequence was not quite deadly. the ball, which he had meant for the heart, his sight being taken under the fore-shoulder, was raised and thrown forward by the motion of the horse, and passed clean through the neck close to the blade bone. another leap, wilder and loftier than the last! yet still the stag dashed onward, with the blood gushing out in streams from the wide wound, though as yet neither speed nor strength appeared to be impaired, so fleetly did he scour the meadow. "he will cross, frank yet!" cried archer. "mark! mark him, forester!" but, as he spoke, he set his rifle down against the fence, and halloaed to the hounds, which instantly, obedient to his well known and cheery whoop, broke covert in a body, and settled, heads up and sterns down, to the blazing scent. at the same moment a--came trotting out from his post, gun in hand; while at a thundering gallop, blaspheming awfully as he came on, and rating them for "know-nothins, and blunderin' etarnal spoil-sports," tom rounded the farther hill, and spurred across the level. by this time they were all in sight of forester, who stood on foot, close to his horse, in the mouth of the last gorge, the buck running across him sixty yards off, and quartering a little from him toward the road; the hounds were, however, all midway between him and the quarry, and as the ground sloped steeply from the marksman, he was afraid of firing low--but took a long, and, as it seemed, sure aim at the head. the rifle flashed--a tine flew, splintered by the bullet, from the brow antler, not an inch above the eye. "give him the other!" shouted archer. "give him the other barrel!" but frank shook his head spitefully, and dropped the muzzle of his piece. "by thunder! then, he's forgot his bullets--and hadn't nothen to load up agen, when he missed the first time!" "ha! ha! ha!" roared once again the commodore--"ha! ha! hah!--ha! ha!" till rock and mountain rang again. "by the etarnal" exclaimed draw, perfectly frantic with passion and excitement--"by thunder! a---, i guess you'd laugh if your best friends was all a dyin' at your feet. you would for sartain! but look, look! what the plague's harry goin' at?" for when he saw that forester had now, for some reason or other, no farther means of stopping the stag's career, archer had set spurs to his horse, and dashed away at a hard furious gallop after the wounded buck. the hounds, which had lost sight of it as it leaped a high stone wall with much brush round the base of it, were running fast and furious on the scent--but still, though flagging somewhat in his speed, the stag was leaving them. he had turned, as the last shot struck his horns, down hill, as if to cross the valley; but immediately, as if perceiving that he had passed the last of his enemies, turned up again toward the mountain, describing an arc, almost, in fact, a semi-circle, from the point where he had broken covert to that--another gully, at perhaps a short mile's distance--from which he was now aiming. across the chord, then, of this arc, harry was driving furiously, with the intent, as it would seem, to cut him off from the gully--the stone wall crossed his line, but not a second did he pause for it, but gave his horse both spurs, and lifting him a little, landed him safely at the other side. frank mounted rapidly, dashed after him, and soon passed a---, who was less aptly mounted for a chase--he likewise topped the wall, and disappeared beyond it, though the stones flew, where the bay struck the coping with his heels. all pluck to the back-bone, the commodore craned not nor hesitated, but dashed the colt, for the first time in his life, at the high barrier--he tried to stop, but could not, so powerfully did his rider cram him-leaped short, and tumbled head over heels, carrying half the wall away with him, and leaving a gap as if a wagon had passed through it--to tom's astonishment and agony--for he supposed the colt destroyed forever. scarcely, however, had a--gained his feet, before a sight met his eyes, which made him leave the colt, and run as fast as his legs could carry him toward the scene of action. the stag, seeing his human enemy so near, had strained every nerve to escape, and harry, desperately rash and daring, seeing he could not turn or head him, actually spurred upon him counter to broadside, in hope to ride him down; foiled once again, in this--his last hope, as it seemed-he drew his longest knife, and as--a quarter of a second too late only-he crossed behind the buck, he swung himself half out of his saddle, and striking a full blow, succeeded in hamstringing him; while the gray, missing the support of the master-hand, stumbled and fell upon his head. horse, stag, and man, all rolled upon the ground within the compass of ten yards--the terrified and wounded deer striking out furiously in all directions--so that it seemed impossible that archer could escape some deadly injury--while, to increase the fury and the peril of the scene, the hounds came up, and added their fresh fierceness to the fierce confusion. before, however, a--came up, harry had gained his feet, drawn his small knife--the larger having luckily flown many yards as he fell--and running in behind the struggling quarry, had seized the brow antler, and at one strong and skilful blow, severed the weasand and the jugular. one gush of dark red gore--one plunging effort, and the superb and stately beast lay motionless forever--while the loud death halloo rang over the broad valley--all fears, all perils, utterly forgotton in the strong rapture of that thrilling moment. snipe on the upland "now then, boys, we've no time to loose," said archer, as he replaced his knives, which he had been employed in wiping with great care, in their respective scabbards, "it's getting toward eight o'clock, and i feel tolerably peckish, the milk punch and biscuits notwithstanding; we shall not be in the field before ten o'clock, do our best for it. now, jem," he continued, as that worthy, followed by david seers and the captain made their appearance, hot and breathless, but in high spirits at the glorious termination of the morning's sport--"now, jem, you and the captain must look out a good strong pole, and tie that fellow's legs, and carry him between you as far as blain's house--you can come up with the wagon this afternoon and bring him down to the village. what the deuce are you pottering at that colt about, tom? he's not hurt a pin's value, on the contrary--" "better for 't, i suppose, you'll be a tellin' me torights; better for that all-fired etarnal tumble, aint he?" responded the fat chap, with a lamentable attempt at an ironical smile, put on to hide his real chagrin. "in course he is," replied frank, who had recovered his wonted equanimity, and who, having been most unmercifully rallied by the whole party for leaving his bullets at home, was glad of an opportunity to carry the war into the enemy's country, "in course he is a great deal better--if a thing can be said to be better which, under all circumstances, is so infernally bad, as that brute. i should think he was better for it. why, by the time he's had half a dozen more such purls, he'll leap a six foot fence without shaking a loose rail. in fact, i'll bet a dollar i carry him back over that same wall without touching a stone." and, as he spoke, he set his foot into the stirrup, as if he were about to put his threat into immediate execution. "quit, forester--quit, i say--quit, now--consarn the hide on you"-shouted the fat man, now in great tribulation, and apprehending a second edition of the tumble--"quit foolin', or by h--l i'll put a grist of shot, or one of they green cartridges into you stret away--i will, by the etarnal!" and as he spoke he dropped the muzzle of his gun, and put his thumb upon the cock. "i say quit foolin', too," cried harry, "both of you quit it; you old fool, tom, do you really suppose he is mad enough to ride that brute of yours again at the wall?" "mad enough!--yes, i swon he be," responded tom; "both of you be as mad as the hull asylum down to york. if frank arn't mad, then there aint such a word as mad!" but as he spoke he replaced his gun under his arm, and walked off to his horse, which he mounted, without farther words, his example being followed by the whole party, who set off on the spur, and reached the village in less than half an hour. breakfast was on the table when they got there--black tea, produced from harry's magazine of stores, rich cream, hot bread, and goshen butter-eggs in abundance, boiled, roasted, fried with ham--an omelet au fines herbes, no inconsiderable token of tim's culinary skill--a cold round of spiced beef, and last, not least, a dish of wood-duck hot from the gridiron. "by george," said harry, "here's a feast for an epicure, and i can find the appetite." "find it"--said forester, grinning, who, pretending to eat nothing, or next to nothing, and not to care what was set before him, was really the greatest gourmet and heaviest feeder of the party--"find it, harry? it's quite new to me that you ever lost it. when was it, hey?" "arter he'd eat a hull roast pig, i reckon--leastwise that might make harry lose his'n; but i'll be darned if two would be a sarcumstance to set before you, frank, no how. here's a---, too, he don't never eat." "these wood-duck are delicious," answered the commodore, who was very busily employed in stowing away his provant, "what a capital bird it is, harry." "indeed, is it," said he, "and this is, me judice, the very best way to eat it, red hot from the gridiron, cooked very quick, and brown on the outside, and full of gravy when you cut; with a squeeze of a lemon and a dash of cayenne it is sublime. what say you, forester?" "oh, you wont ketch him sayin' nauthen, leastwise not this half hour-but the way he'll keep a feedin' wont be slow, i tell you--that's the way to judge how forester likes his grub--jest see how he takes hold on 't." "are there many wood-duck about this season, tom?" asked forester, affecting to be perfectly careless and indifferent to all that had passed. "did you kill these yourself?" "there was a sight on them a piece back, but they're gittin' scase-pretty scase now, i tell you. yes, i shot these down by aunt sally's big spring-hole a friday. i'd been a lookin' round, you see, to find where the quail kept afore you came up here--for i'd a been expectin' you a week and better--and i'd got in quite late, toward sundown, with an outsidin' bevy, down by the cedar swamp, and druv them off into the big bog meadows, below sugarloaf, and i'd killed quite a bunch on them-sixteen, i reckon, archer; and there wasn't but eighteen when i lit on 'em--and it was gittin' pretty well dark when i came to the big spring, and little dash was worn dead out, and i was tired, and hot, and thunderin' thirsty, so i sets down aside the outlet where the spring water comes in good and cool, and i was mixin' up a nice long drink in the big glass we hid last summer down in the mudhole, with some great cider sperrits--when what should i hear all at once but whistle, whistlin' over head, the wings of a whole drove on 'em, so up i buckled the old gun; but they'd plumped down into the crick fifteen rod off or better, down by the big pin oak, and there they sot, seven ducks and two big purple-headed drakes--beauties, i tell you. well, boys, i upped gun and tuck sight stret away, but just as i was drawin', i kind o' thought i'd got two little charges of number eight, and that to shoot at ducks at fifteen rod wasn't nauthen. well, then, i fell a thinkin', and then i sairched my pockets, and arter a piece found two green cartridges of number three, as archer gave me in the spring, so i drawed out the small shot, and inned with these, and put fresh caps on to be sarten. but jest when i'd got ready, the ducks had floated down with the stream, and dropped behind the pint--so i downed on my knees, and crawled, and dash along side on me, for all the world as if the darned dog knowed; well, i crawled quite a piece, till i'd got under a bit of alder bush, and then i seen them--all in a lump like, except two--six ducks and a big drake-feedin', and stickin' down their heads into the weeds, and flutterin' up their hinder eends, and chatterin' and jokin'--i could have covered them all with a handkercher, exceptin' two, as i said afore, one duck and the little drake, and they was off a rod or better from the rest, at the two different sides of the stream--the big bunch warn't over ten rods off me, nor so far; so i tuck sight right at the big drake's neck. the water was quite clear and still, and seemed to have caught all the little light as was left by the sun, for the skies had got pretty dark, i tell you; and i could see his head quite clear agin the water--well, i draw'd trigger, and the hull charge ripped into 'em--and there was a scrabblin' and a squatterin' in the water now, i tell you--but not one on 'em riz-not the darned one of the hull bunch; but up jumped both the others, and i drawed on the drake--more by the whistlin' of his wings, than that i seen him--but i drawed stret, archer, any ways; and arter i'd pulled half a moment i hard him plump down into the creek with a splash, and the water sparkled up like a fountain where he fell. so then i didn't wait to load, but ran along the bank as hard as i could strick it, and when i'd got down to the spot, i tell you, little dash had got two on 'em out afore i came, and was in with a third. well, sich a cuttin' and a splashin' as there was you niver did see, none on you--i guess, for sartin--leastwise i niver did. i'd killed, you see, the drake and two ducks, dead at the first fire, but three was only wounded, wing-tipped, and leg-broken, and i can't tell you what all. it was all of nine o'clock at night, and dark as all out doors, afore i gathered them three ducks, but i did gather 'em; lord, boys, why i'd stay till mornin, but i'd a got them, sarten. well, the drake i killed flyin' i couldn't find him that night, no how, for the stream swept him down, and i hadn't got no guide to go by, so i let him go then, but i was up next mornin' bright and airly, and started up the stream clean from the bridge here, up through garry's backside, and my boghole, and so on along the meadows to aunt sally's run--and looked in every willow bush that dammed the waters back, like, and every bunch of weeds, and brier-brake, all the way, and sure enough i found him, he'd been killed dead, and floated down the crick, and then the stream had washed him up into a heap of broken sticks and briers, and when the waters fell, for there had been a little freshet, they left him there breast uppermost--and i was glad to find him--for i think, archer, as that shot was the nicest, prettiest, etarnal, darndest, long good shot, i iver did make, anyhow; and it was so dark i couldn't see him." "a sweet shot, tom," responded forester, "a sweet pretty shot, if there had only been one word of truth in it, which there is not--don't answer me, you old thief--shut up instantly, and get your traps; for we've done feeding, and you've done lying for the present, at least i hope so--and now we'll out, and see whether you've poached up all the game in the country." "well, it be gettin' late for sartain," answered tom, "and that'll save your little wax skin for the time; but see, jest see, boy, if i doesn't sarve you out, now, afore sundown!" "which way shall we beat, tom," asked harry, as he changed his riding boots for heavy shooting shoes and leggins; "which course to-day?" "why, timothy's gittin' out the wagon, and we'll drive up the old road round the ridge, and so strike in by minthorne's, and take them ridges down, and so across the hill--there's some big stubbles there, and nice thick brush holes along the fence sides, and the boys does tell us there be one or two big bevies--but, cuss them, they will lie!--and over back of gin'ral bertolf's barns, and so acrost the road, and round the upper eend of the big pond, and down the long swamp into hell hole, and tim can meet us with the wagon at five o'clock, under bill wisner's white oak--does that suit you?" "excellently well, tom," replied harry, "i could not have cut a better day's work out myself, if i had tried. well, all the traps are in, and the dogs, timothy, is it not so?" "ey! ey! sur," shouted that worthy from without, "all in, this half-hour, and all roight!" "light your cigars then, quick, and let us start--hurrah!" within two minutes, they were all seated, fat tom in the post of honor by harry's side upon the driving box, the commodore and frank, with timothy, on the back seat, and off they rattled--ten miles an hour without the whip, up hill and down dale all alike, for they had but three miles to go, and that was gone in double quick time. "what mun ay do wi' t' horses, sur?" asked tim, touching his castor as he spoke. "take them home, to be sure," replied harry, "and meet us with them under the oak tree, close to mr. wisner's house, at five o'clock this evening." "nay! nay! sur!" answered tim, with a broad grin, eager to see the sport, and hating to be sent so unceremoniously home, "that winna do, i'm thinking--who'll hug t' gam bag, and carry t' bottles, and make t' loonchun ready; that winna do, sur niver. if you ple-ease, sur, ay'll pit oop t' horses i' measter minthorne's barn here, and shak' doon a bite o' hay tull 'em, and so gang on wi' you, and carry t' bag whaile four o' t' clock, and then awa back and hitch oop, and draive doon to t' aik tree!" "i understand, tim," said his master, laughing; "i understand right well! you want to see the sport." "ayse oophaud it!" grinned timothy, seeing at once that he should gain his point. "well! well! i don't care about it; will minthorne let us put up the beasts in his barn, tom?" "let us! let us!" exclaimed the fat man; "by gad i'd like to see joe minthorne, or any other of his breed, a tellin' me i should'nt put my cattle where i pleased; jest let me ketch him at it!" "very well; have it your own way, tim, take care of the beasts, and overtake us as quick as you can!" and as he spoke, he let down the bars which parted a fine wheat stubble from the road, and entered the field with the dogs at heel. "we must part company to beat these little woods, must we not, tom?" "i guess so--i'll go on with a---; his grouse and my dash will work well enough, and you and frank keep down the valley hereaways; we'll beat that little swamp-hole, and then the open woods to the brook side, and so along the meadows to the big bottom; you keep the hill-side coverts, and look the little pond-holes well on minthorne's ridge, you'll find a cock or two there anyhow; and beat the bushes by the wall; i guess you'll have a bevy jumpin' up; and try, boys, do, to git 'em down the hill into the boggy bottom, for we can use them, i tell you!" and so they parted. archer and forester, with shot and chase at heel, entered the little thicket indicated, and beat it carefully, but blank; although the dogs worked hard, and seemed as if about to make game more than once. they crossed the road, and came into another little wood, thicker and wetter than the first, with several springy pools, although it was almost upon the summit of the hill. here harry took the left or lower hand, bidding frank keep near the outside at top, and full ten yards ahead of him. "and mind, if you hear tom shoot, or cry 'mark,' jump over into the open field, and be all eyes, for that's their line of country into the swamp, where we would have them. hold up, good dogs, hold up!" and off they went, crashing and rattling through the dry matted briers, crossing each other evenly, and quartering the ground with rare accuracy. scarcely, however, had they beat ten paces, before shot flushed a cock as he was in the very act of turning at the end of his beat, having run in on him down wind, without crossing the line of scent. flip--flip--flap rose the bird, but as the dog had turned, and was now running from him, he perceived no cause for alarm, fluttered a yard or two onward, and alighted. the dog, who had neither scented nor seen the bird, caught the sound of his wing, and stood stiff on the instant, though his stern was waved doubtfully, and though he turned his sagacious knowing phiz over his shoulder, as if to look out for the pinion, the flap of which had arrested his quick ear. the bird had settled ere he turned, but shot's eye fell upon his master, as with his finger on the trigger-guard, and thumb on the hammer, he was stepping softly up in a direct line, with eye intently fixed, toward the place where the woodcock had dropped; he knew as well as though he had been blessed with human intellect, that game was in the wind, and remained still and steady. flip--flap again up jumped the bird. "mark cock," cried forester, from the other side of the wood, not having seen any thing, but hearing the sound of the timber doodle's wing somewhere or other; and at the self-same moment bang! boomed the full report of harry's right hand barrel, the feathers drifting off down wind toward frank, told him the work was done, and he asked no question; but ere the cock had struck the ground, which he did within half a second, completely doubled up--whirr, whirr-r-r! the loud and startling hubbub of ruffed grouse taking wing at the report of harry's gun, succeeded-and instantly, before that worthy had got his eye about from marking the killed woodcock, bang! bang! from forester. archer dropped butt, and loaded as fast as it was possible, and bagged his dead bird quietly, but scarcely had he done so before frank hailed him. "bring up the dogs, old fellow; i knocked down two, and i've bagged one, but i'm afraid the other's run!" "stand still, then--stand still, till i join you. he-here, he-here good dogs," cried harry, striding away through the brush like a good one. in a moment he stood by frank, who was just pocketing his first, a fine hen grouse. "the other was the cock," said frank, "and a very large one, too; he was a long shot, but he's very hard hit; he flew against this tree before he fell, and bounded off it here; look at the feathers!" "ay! we'll have him in a moment; seek dead, shot; seek, good dogs; ha! now they wind him; there! chase has him--no! he draws again--now shot is standing; hold up, hold up, lads, he's running like the mischief, and won't stop till he reaches some thick covert." bang! bang! "mark--ma-ark!" bang! bang! "mark, harry archer, mark," came down the wind in quick succession from the other party, who were beating some thick briers by the brook side, at three or four fields' distance. "quick, forester, quick!" shouted archer; "over the wall, lad, and mark them! those are quail; i'm man enough to get this fellow by myself. steady, lads! steady-y-y!" as they were roading on at the top of their pace. "toho! toho-o-o, chase; fie, for shame--don't you see, sir, shot's got him dead there under his very nose in those cat-briers. ha! dead! good lads--good lads; dead! dead! fetch him, good dog; by george but he is a fine bird. i've got him, forester; have you marked down the quail?" "ay! ay! in the bog bottom!" "how many?" "twenty-three!" "then we'll have sport, by jove!" and, as he spoke, they entered a wide rushy pasture, across which, at some two or three hundred yards, a--and fat tom were seen advancing toward them. they had not made three steps before both dogs stood stiff as stones in the short grass, where there was not a particle of covert. "why, what the deuce is this, harry?" "devil a know know i," responded he; "but step up to the red dog, frank --i'll go to the other--they've got game, and no mistake!" "skeap--ske-eap!" up sprang a couple of english snipe before shot's nose, and harry cut them down, a splendid double shot, before they had flown twenty yards, just as frank dropped the one which rose to him at the same moment. at the sound of the guns a dozen more rose hard by, and fluttering on in rapid zig-zags, dropped once again within a hundred yards--the meadow was alive with them. "did you ever see snipe here before, tom? asked harry, as he loaded. "never in all my life--but it's full now--load up! load up! for heaven's sake!" "no hurry, tom! tom--steady! the birds are tame and lie like stones. we can get thirty or forty here, i know, if you'll be steady only--but if we go in with these four dogs, we shall lose all. here comes tim with the couples, and we'll take up all but two!" "that's right," said a---; "take up grouse and tom's dog, for they won't hunt with yours--and yours are the steadiest, and fetch--that's it, tim, couple them, and carry them away. what have you killed, archer?" he added, while his injunctions were complied with. "one woodcock and a brace of ruffed grouse! and frank has marked down three-and-twenty quail into that rushy bottom yonder, where we can get every bird of them. we are going to have great sport to-day!" "i think so. tom and i each killed a double shot out of that bevy!" "that was well! now, then, walk slowly and far apart--we must beat this three or four times, at least--the dogs will get them up!" it was not a moment before the first bird rose, but it was quite two hours, and all the dinner horns had long blown for noon, before the last was bagged--the four guns having scored, in that one meadow, forty-nine english snipe--fifteen for harry archer--thirteen for tom draw--twelve for the commodore, and only nine for forester, who never killed snipe quite so well as he did cock or quail. "and now, boys," exclaimed tom, as he flung his huge carcase on the ground, with a thud that shook it many a rod around--"there's a cold roast fowl, and some nice salt pork and crackers, in that 'ar game bag-and i'm a whale now, i tell you, for a drink!" "which will you take to drink, tom?" inquired forester, very gravely-"fowl, pork, or crackers? here they are, all of them! i prefer whiskey and water, myself!" qualifying, as he spoke, a moderate cup with some of the ice-cold water which welled out in a crystal stream from a small basin under the wreathed roots of the sycamore which overshadowed them. "none of your nonsense, forester--hand us the liquor, lad--i'm dry, i tell you!" "i wish you'd tell me something i don't know, then, if you feel communicative; for i know that you're dry--now and always! well! don't be mad, old fellow, here's the bottle--don't empty it--that's all!" "well! now i've drinked," said tom, after a vast potation, "now i've drinked good--we'll have a bite and rest awhile, and smoke a pipe; and then we'll use them quail, and we'll have time to pick up twenty cock in hell-hole arterwards, and that won't be a slow day's work, i reckon." the quail "certainly this is a very lovely country," exclaimed the commodore suddenly, as he gazed with a quiet eye, puffing his cigar the while, over the beautiful vale, with the clear expanse of wickham's pond in the middle foreground, and the wild hoary mountains framing the rich landscape in the distance. "truly, you may say that," replied harry; "i have traveled over a large part of the world, and for its own peculiar style of loveliness, i must say that i never have seen any thing to match with the vale of warwick. i would give much, very much, to own a few acres, and a snug cottage here, in which i might pass the rest of my days, far aloof from the fumum et opes strepitumque romae." "then, why the h--l don't you own a few acres?" put in ancient tom; "i'd be right glad to know, and gladder yit to have you up here, archer." "i would indeed, tom," answered harry; "i'm not joking at all; but there are never any small places to be bought hereabout; and, as for large ones, your land is so confounded good, that a fellow must be a nabob to think of buying." "well, how would jem burt's place suit you, archer?" asked the fat man. "you knows it--just a mile and a half 'tother side warwick, by the crick side? i guess it will have to be sold anyhow next april; leastways the old man's dead, and the heirs want the estate settled up like." "suit me!" cried harry, "by george! it's just the thing, if i recollect it rightly. but how much land is there?" "twenty acres, i guess--not over twenty-five, no how." "and the house?" "well, that wants fixin' some; and the bridge over the crick's putty bad, too, it will want putty nigh a new one. why, the house is a story and a half like; and it's jist an entry stret through the middle, and a parlor on one side on't, and a kitchen on the t'other; and a chamber behind both on 'em." "what can it be bought for, tom?" "i guess three thousand dollars; twenty-five hundred, maybe. it will go cheap, i reckon; i don't hear tell o' no one lookin' at it. "what will it cost me more to fix it, think you?" "well, you see, archer, the land's ben most darned badly done by, this last three years, since old 'squire's ben so low; and the bridge, that'll take a smart sum; and the fences is putty much gone to rack; i guess it'll take hard on to a thousand more to fix it up right, like you'd like to have it, without doin' nothin' at the house." "and fifteen hundred more for that and the stables. i wish to heaven i had known this yesterday; or rather before i came up hither," said harry. "why so?" asked the commodore. "why, as the deuce would have it, i told my broker to invest six thousand, that i have got loose, in a good mortgage, if he could find one, for five years; and i have got no stocks that i can sell out; all that i have but this, is on good bond and mortgage, in boston, and little enough of it, too." "well, if that's all," said forester, "we can run down tomorrow, and you will be in time to stop him." "that's true, too," answered harry, pondering. "are you sure it can be bought, tom?" "i guess so," was the response. "that means, i suppose, that you're perfectly certain of it. why the devil can't you speak english?" "english!" exclaimed frank; "good lord! why don't you ask him why he can't speak greek? english! lord! lord! lord! tom draw and english!" "i'll jist tell archer what he warnts to know, and then see you, my dear little critter, if i doosn't english you some!" replied the old man, waxing wroth. "well, archer, to tell heaven's truth, now, i doos know it; but it's an etarnal all-fired shame of me to be tellin' it, bein' as how i knows it in the way of business like. it's got to be selled by vandoo in april*. [*vendue. why the french word for a public auction has been adopted throughout the northern and eastern states, as applied to a sheriff's sale, deponent saith not.] "then, by jove! i will buy it," said harry; "and down i'll go to-morrow. but that need not take you away, boys; you can stay and finish out the week here, and go home in the ianthe; tom will send you down to nyack." "sartain," responded tom; "but now i'm most darned glad i told you that, archer. i meant to a told you on't afore, but it clean slipped out of my head; but all's right, now. hark! hark! don't you hear, boys? the quails hasn't all got together yit--better luck! hush, a--and you'll hear them callin'--whew-wheet! whew-wheet! whe-whe-whe;" and the old turk began to call most scientifically; and in ten minutes the birds were answering him from all quarters, through the circular space of bog-meadow, and through the thorny brake beyond it, and some from a large ragwort field further yet. "how is this, frank--did they scatter so much when they dropped?" asked harry. "yes; part of them 'lighted in the little bank on this edge, by the spring, you know; and some, a dozen or so, right in the middle of the bog, by the single hickory; and five or six went into the swamp, and a few over it." "that's it! that's it! and they've been running to try to get together," said the commodore. "but was too skeart to call, till we'd quit shootin'!" said tom. "but come, boys, let's be stirrin', else they'll git together like; they keeps drawin', drawin', into one place now, i can hear." no sooner said than done; we were all on foot in an instant, and ten minutes brought us to the edge of the first thicket; and here was the truth of harry's precepts tested by practice in a moment; for they had not yet entered the thin bushes, on which now the red leaves hung few and sere, before old shot threw his nose high into the air, straightened his neck and his stern, and struck out at a high trot; the other setter evidently knowing what he meant, though as yet he had not caught the wind of them. in a moment they both stood steady; and, almost at the same instant, tom draw's dash, and a---'s grouse come to the point, all on different birds, in a bit of very open ground, covered with wintergreen about knee deep, and interspersed with only a few scattered bushes. whir-r-r-r--up they got all at once! what a jostle--what a hubbub! bang! bang! crack! bang! crack! bang! four barrels exploded in an instant, almost simultaneously; and two sharp unmeaning cracks announced that, by some means or other, frank forester's gun had missed fire with both barrels. "what the deuce is the matter, boys" cried harry, laughing, as he threw up his gun, after the hubbub had subsided, and dropped two birds--the only two that fell, for all that waste of shot and powder. "what the deuce ails you?" he repeated, no one replying, and all hands looking bashful and crest-fallen. "are you all drunk? or what is the matter? i asked merely for information." "upon my life! i believe i am!" said frank forester. "for i have not loaded my gun at all, since i killed those two last snipe. and, when we got up from luncheon, i put on the caps just as if all was right--but all is right now," he added, for he had repaired his fault, and loaded, before a--or fat tom had done staring, each in the other's face, in blank astonishment. "step up to grouse, then," said archer, who had never taken his eye off the old brown pointer, while he was loading as fast as he could. "he has got a bird, close under his nose; and it will get up, and steal away directly. that's a trick they will play very often." "he haint got no bird," said tom, sulkily. and frank paused doubtful. "step up, i tell you, frank," said harry, "the old turk's savage; that's all." and frank did step up, close to the dog's nose; and sent his foot through the grass close under it. still the dog stood perfectly stiff; but no bird rose. "i telled you there warn't no quails there;" growled tom. "and i tell you there are!" answered archer, more sharply than he often spoke to his old ally; for, in truth, he was annoyed at his obstinate pertinacity. "what do you say, commodore? is grouse lying? kick that tussock--kick it hard, frank." "not he," replied a---; "i'll bet fifty to one, there's a bird there." "it's devilish odd, then, that he won't get up!" said frank. whack! whack! and he gave the hard tussock two kicks with his heavy boot, that fairly made it shake. nothing stirred. grouse still kept his point, but seemed half inclined to dash in. whack! a third kick that absolutely loosened the tough hassock from the ground, and then, whirr-r, from within six inches of the spot where all three blows had been delivered, up got the bird, in a desperate hurry; and in quite as desperate a hurry forester covered it--covered it before it was six yards off! his finger was on the trigger, when harry quietly said, "steady, frank!" and the word acted like magic. he took the gun quite down from his shoulder, nodded to his friend, brought it up again, and turned the bird over very handsomely, at twenty yards, or a little further. "beautifully done, indeed, frank," said harry. "so much for coolness!" "what do you say to that, tom?" said the commodore, laughing. but there was no laugh in tom; he only muttered a savage growl, and an awful imprecation; and harry's quick glance warned a--not to plague the old trojan further. all this passed in a moment; and then was seen one of those singular things that will at times happen; but with regard to quail only, so far as i have ever seen or heard tell. for as forester was putting down the card upon the powder in the barrel which he had just fired, a second bird rose, almost from the identical spot whence the first had been so difficultly flushed, and went off in the same direction. but not in the least was frank flurried now. he dropped his ramrod quietly upon the grass, brought up his piece deliberately to his eye, and killed his bird again. "excellent--excellent! frank," said harry again. "i never saw two prettier shots in all my life. nor did i ever see birds lie harder." during all this time, amidst all the kicking of tussocks, threshing of bog-grass, and banging of guns, and, worst of all, bouncing up of fresh birds, from the instant when they dropped at the first shot, neither one of harry's dogs, nor tom's little dash, had budged from their down charge. now, however, they got up quickly, and soon retrieved all the dead birds. "now, then, we will divide into two parties," said harry. "frank, you go with tom; and you come with me, commodore. it will never do to have you two jealous fellows together, you wont kill a bird all day," he added, in a lower voice. "that is the worst of old tom, when he gets jealous he's the very devil. frank is the only fellow that can get along with him at all. he puts me out of temper, and if we both got angry, it would be very disagreeable. for, though he is the very best fellow in the world, when he is in a rage he is untamable. i cannot think what has put him out, now; for he has shot very well to-day. it is only when he gets behindhand, that he is usually jealous in his shooting; but he has got the deuce into him now." by this time the two parties were perhaps forty yards apart, when dash came to a point again. up got a single bird, the old cock, and flew directly away from tom, across frank's face; but not for that did the old chap pause. up went his cannon to his shoulder, there was a flash and a roar, and the quail, which was literally not twelve feet from him, disappeared as if it had been resolved into thin air. the whole of tom's concentrated charge had struck the bird endwise, as it flew from him; and except the extreme tips of his wings and one foot, no part of him could be found. "the devil!" cried harry, "that is too bad!" "never mind," said the commodore, "frank will manage him." as he spoke a second bird got up, and crossed forester in the same manner, draw doing precisely as he had done before; but, this time, missing the quail clear, which forester turned over. "load quick! and step up to that fellow. he will run, i think!" said archer. "ay! ay!" responded frank, and, having rammed down his charge like lightning, moved forward, before he had put the cap on the barrel he had fired. just as he took the cap out of his pocket between his finger and thumb, a second quail rose. as cool and self-possessed as it is possible to conceive, frank cocked the left hand barrel with his little finger, still holding the cap between his forefinger and thumb, and actually contrived to bring up the gun, some how or other, and to kill the bird, pulling the trigger with his middle finger. at the report a third quail sprang, close under his feet; and, still unshaken, he capped the right hand barrel, fired, and the bird towered! "mark! mark! tom--ma-ark timothy!" shouted harry and a--in a breath. "that bird is as dead as hannibal now!" added archer, as, having spun up three hundred feet into the air, and flown twice as many hundred yards, it turned over, and fell plumb, like a stone, through the clear atmosphere. "ayse gotten that chap marked doon roight, ayse warrant un!" shouted timothy from the hill side, where with some trouble, he was holding in the obstreperous spaniels. "he's doon in a roight laine atwixt 't gray stean and yon hoigh ashen tree." "did you ever see such admirable shooting, though?" asked a---, in a low voice. "i did not know forester shot like that." "some times he does. when he's cool. he is not certain; that is his only fault. one day he is the coolest man i ever saw in a field, and the next the most impetuous; but when he is cool, he shoots splendidly. as you say, a---, i never saw anything better done in my life. it was the perfection of coolness and quickness combined." "i cannot conceive how it was done at all. how he brought up and fired that first barrel with a cap between his thumb and forefinger! why, i could not fire a gun so, in cold blood!" "nor could he, probably. deliberate promptitude is the thing! well, tom, what do you think of that? wasn't that pretty shooting?" "it was so, pretty shootin'," responded the fat man, quite delighted out of his crusty mood. "i guess the darned little critter's got three barrels to his gun somehow; leastwise it seems to me, i swon, 'at he fired her off three times without loadin' i guess i'll quit tryin' to shoot agin frank, to-day." "i told you so!" said harry to the commodore, with a low laugh, and then added aloud--"i think you may as well, tom--for i don't believe the fellow will miss another bird to-day." and in truth, strange to say, it fell out, in reality, nearly as archer had spoken in jest. the whole party shot exceedingly well. the four birds, which tom and the commodore had missed at the first start, were found again in an old ragwort field, and brought to bag; and of the twenty-three quail which forester had marked down into the bog meadow, not one bird escaped, and of that bevy not one bird did frank miss, killing twelve, all of them double shots, to his own share, and beating archer in a canter. but that sterling sportsman cared not a stiver; too many times by far had he had the field, too sure was he of doing the same many a time again, to dislike being beaten once. besides this, he was always the least jealous shot in the world, for a very quick one; and, in this instance, he was perhaps better pleased to see his friend "go in and win," than he would have been to do the like himself. exactly at two o'clock, by a---'s repeater, the last bird was bagged; making twenty-seven quail, forty-nine snipe, two ruffed grouse, and one woodcock, bagged in about five hours. "so far, this is the very best day's sport i ever saw," said archer; "and two things i have seen which i never saw before; a whole bevy of quail killed without the escape of one bird, and a whole bevy killed entirely by double shots, except the odd bird. you, a---, have killed three double shots--i have killed three--tom draw one double shot, and the odd bird; and master frank there, confound him, six double shots running--the cleverest thing i ever heard of, and, in forester's case, the best shooting possible. i have missed one bird, you two, and tom three." "but tom beant a goin' to miss no more birds, i can tell you, boy. tom's drinked agin, and feels kind o' righter than he did--kind o' first best! you'd best all drink, boys--the spring's handy, close by here; and after we gits down acrost the road into the big swamp, and hell-hole, there arn't a drop o' water fit to drink, till we gits way down to aunt sally's big spring-hole, jest to home." "i second the motion," said harry; "and then let us be quick, for the day is wearing away, and we have got a long beat yet before us. i wish it were a sure one. but it is not. once in three or four years we get a grand day's sport in the big swamp; but for one good day we have ten bad ones. however, we are sure to find a dozen birds or so in hell-hole; and a bevy of quail in the captain's swamp, shan't we, tom?" "yes, if we gits so far; but somehow or other i rather guess we'll find quite a smart chance o' cock. captain reed was down there a' satterday, and he saw heaps on 'em." "that's no sure sign. they move very quickly now. here today and there to-morrow," said archer. "in the large woods especially. in the small places there are plenty of sure finds." "there harn't been nothing of frosts yet keen enough to stir them," said tom. "i guess we'll find them. and there harn't been a gun shot off this three weeks there. hoel's wife's ben down sick all the fall, and halbert's gun busted in the critter's hand." "ah! did it hurt him?" "hurt him some--skeart him considerable, though. i guess he's quit shootin' pretty much. but come--here we be, boys. i'll keep along the outside, where the walkin's good. you git next me, and archer next with the dogs, and a--inside of all. keep right close to the cedars, a---; all the birds 'at you flushes will come stret out this aways. they never flies into the cedar swamp. archer, how does the ground look?" "i never saw it look so well, tom. there is not near so much water as usual, and yet the bottom is all quite moist and soft." "then we'll get cock for sartain." "by george!" cried a--"the ground is like a honey-comb, with their borings; and as white in places with their droppings, as if there had been a snow fall!" "are they fresh droppings, a---?" "mark! ah! grouse! grouse! for shame. there he is down. do you see him, harry?" "ay! ay! did grouse flush him?" "deliberately, at fifty yards off. i must lick him." "pray do; and that mercifully." "and that soundly," suggested frank, as an improvement. "soundly is mercifully," said harry, "because one good flogging settles the business; whereas twenty slight ones only harass a dog, and do nothing in the way of correction or prevention." "true, oh king" said frank, laughing. "now let us go on; for, as the bellowing of that brute is over, i suppose 'chastisement has hidden her head.'" and on they did go; and sweet shooting they had of it; all the way down to the thick deep spot, known by the pleasing sobriquet of hell-hole. the birds were scattered everywhere throughout the swamp, so excellent was the condition of the ground; scattered so much, that, in no instance did two rise at once; but one kept flapping up after another, large and lazy, at every few paces; and the sportsmen scored them fast, although scarcely aware how fast they were killing them. at length, when they reached the old creek-side, and the deep black mud-holes, and the tangled vines and leafy alders, dogs were thrown into it, frank was sent forward to the extreme point, and the commodore out into the open field, on the opposite side from that occupied by fat tom. on the signal of a whistle, from each of the party, harry drove into the brake with the spaniels, the setters being now consigned to the care of timothy; and in a moment, his loud "hie cock! hie cock! pur-r-r--hie cock! good dogs!" was succeeded by the shrill yelping of the cockers, the flap of the fast rising birds, and the continuous rattling of shots. in twenty minutes the work was done; and it was well that it was done; for, within a quarter of an hour afterwards, it was too dark to shoot at all. in that last twenty minutes twenty-two cock were actually brought to bag, by the eight barrels; twenty-eight had been picked up, one by one, as they came down the long swamp, and one harry had killed in the morning. when timothy met them, with the horses, at the big oak tree, half an hour afterward--for he had gone off across the fields, as hard as he could foot it to the farm, as soon as he had received the setters --it was quite dark; and the friends had counted their game out regularly, and hung it up secundum artem in the loops of the new game bag. it was a huge day's sport--a day's sport to talk about for years afterward--tom draw does talk about it now! fifty-one woodcock, forty-nine english snipe, twenty-seven quail, and a brace of ruffed grouse. a hundred and twenty-nine head in all, on unpreserved ground, and in very wild walking. it is to be feared it will never be done any more in the vale of warwick. for this, alas! was ten years ago. when they reached tom's it was decided that they should all return home on the morrow; that harry should attend to the procuring his purchase money; and tom to the cheapening of the purchase. in addition to this, the old boy swore, by all his patron saints, that he would come down in spring, and have a touch at the snipe he had heerd archer tell on at pine brook. a capital supper followed; and of course lots of good liquor, and the toast, to which the last cup was quaffed, was long life to harry archer, and luck to his shooting box, to which frank forester added: "i wish he may get it." and so that party ended; all of its members hoping to enjoy many more like it, and that very speedily. generously made available by internet archive (https://archive.org) note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see 45617-h.htm or 45617-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/45617/45617-h/45617-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/45617/45617-h.zip) images of the original pages are available through internet archive. see https://archive.org/details/redskincowboytal00hent transcriber's note: text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). text enclosed by equal signs is in bold face (=bold=). three inline graphics have been replaced with text, a circle in a triangle--[brand circle triangle], an "e" in a circle [brand e], and an x--[brand x]. redskin and cow-boy [illustration: the meeting in the inn garden at el paso.] redskin and cow-boy a tale of the western plains by g. a. henty author of "held fast for england;" "the dash for khartoum;" "by right of conquest;" "true to the old flag;" "in freedom's cause;" &c. with twelve page illustrations by alfred pearse new york charles scribner's sons 1896 copyright, 1891, by charles scribner's sons. preface. my dear lads, there are but few words of preface needed to a story that is not historical. the principal part of the tale is laid among the cow-boys of the western states of america, a body of men unrivalled in point of hardihood and devotion to work, as well as in reckless courage and wild daring. texas, which twenty-five years ago was the great ranching state, is no longer the home of the typical cow-boy, but he still exists and flourishes in new mexico and the northern states and territories. the picture i have given of their life can be relied upon, and its adventures and dangers are in no degree coloured, as i have taken them from the lips of a near relative of my own who was for some years working as a cow-boy in new mexico. he was an actor in many of the scenes described, and so far from my having heightened or embellished them, i may say that i have given but a small proportion of the perilous adventures through which he went, for had i given them in full it would, i am sure, have seemed to you that the story was too improbable to be true. in treating of cow-boy life, indeed, it may well be said that truth is stranger than fiction. yours sincerely, g. a. henty. contents. chap. page i. an advertisement, 11 ii. terrible news, 29 iii. the wanderer's return 50 iv. an explosion, 67 v. across the sea, 83 vi. a horse deal, 100 vii. among the cow-boys, 119 viii. a rattlesnake diet, 136 ix. a round-up, 156 x. a race, 172 xi. a fire on the plains, 189 xii. an indian raid, 206 xiii. rescued, 224 xiv. surrounded by redskins, 242 xv. with the waggon teams, 260 xvi. a mining expedition, 284 xvii. carried off, 303 xviii. the brigands' haunt, 321 xix. a fight and a rescue, 339 xx. the avenger, 359 illustrations. page the meeting in the inn garden at el paso, _frontis. 290_ symonds and bill tunstall have a talk, 39 hugh practises shooting with his revolver, 72 "hugh, seizing a poker, sprang at his uncle," 81 when the cow-boy fired, hugh dropped on one knee, 98 "the next jump threw him fairly over the horse's head," 130 branding the calves at the "round-up", 167 "a couple of kicks sent out the planks, and then we bolted," 195 "all safe, father," cried rosie, 230 the cow-boys charged down upon the indians, 262 discovering the body of the bloodhound, 313 besieged by brigands, 346 [illustration] redskin and cow-boy. chapter i. an advertisement. cedar gulch was, in 1851, a flourishing camp. there had been some good finds by the first prospectors, and a rush had of course followed. in many cases first discoveries proved illusive, but it was not so at cedar gulch. the ground turned out well, and although no extraordinary finds were made, the average was good all over the bottom, and there were few who were not doing fairly well. the scene was a busy one. several hundreds of men were hard at work on the flat, which in winter was the bed of a wide stream, but which in summer was a mere thread of water among the rocks, scarce enough for washing purposes. everywhere were piles of stones and rubbish that had been brought up from the shafts; men toiled at windlasses; others emptied the buckets as they came up into swinging troughs or cradles; others again kept these supplied with water, and swung or rocked them, taking off the large stones that the motion brought to the surface, while the slush and mud ran out at the lower end. new-comers moved about watching the work with eager eyes, wishing that they had had the luck to get there among the early arrivals, and to take up a claim, for every foot of ground far down the valley had already been occupied, and there was now no getting into a claim except by purchasing a share or altogether buying out the present holders. one of the claims that was doing best was held by three men who had worked in partnership for the last two years, and who had been among the first to arrive at cedar gulch. they were known among the others as english bill, sim howlett, and limping frank. sim howlett was perhaps the leader of the party. he had been one of the earliest gold-diggers, and was a square, powerfully built man. he was a man of few words, but the words when spoken were forcible. he was by no means quarrelsome, but was one whom few cared to quarrel with, even in a place where serious quarrels were of constant occurrence, and where revolvers cracked so often that the sound of a fray excited but little attention. english bill was a tall wiry man, hot of temper, but a general favourite. generous with his money, always ready to lend a helping hand to anyone who was down on his luck, he also was a capital worker, and had, in spite of his rough clothes and the use of language as rough as that of his companions, a certain air which told that, like many others in the diggings, he was a gentleman by birth. why these two men should have taken up with limping frank as a comrade was a matter of surprise to those who knew them. they were both men in the prime of life, while he was at least ten years their senior. his hair was already white; his face was that of a student rather than a miner, with a gentle and almost womanly expression. his frame was slight, and looked altogether incapable of hard work, and he walked with a distinct limp, the result of a bullet wound in the hip. and yet there were men in the gulch who, having known the trio at other diggings, declared that they would rather quarrel either with english bill or sim howlett than with limping frank, and as some of them were desperate fellows, and noted pistol shots, their report was quite sufficient to secure respect for a man who otherwise would have been regarded with pity or contempt. very little of the hard work of the partnership fell upon frank. he cooked, looked after the shanty, did what washing and mending to the clothes was necessary, and occasionally came down and assisted to work the cradle and sort the stuff. they generally addressed him as doctor. not that he made any profession of medical knowledge; but he was always ready to give his services in case of sickness, and many a miner had he pulled through fevers which, had it not been for his nursing and care, would have proved fatal. "i can't make out what yer mean by saying i had best not quarrel with that little old atomy you call limping frank," a big, powerful fellow who had recently arrived at the camp said to one who had been talking over with him the characteristics of several of the miners. "i ain't very pertiklar who i quarrels with; but what on arth there can be in that little chap to make one keep clear of him beats me. can he shoot?" "you bet," the other replied. "he could put a bullet plumb between your eyes ten times following, the length of the long saloon up there. there ain't no better shot nor quicker anywhere on the slopes." "but he don't look as if he could speak up for himself," the other said. "no; and he doesn't speak up for himself, though his mates would be ready enough to speak up for him if anyone said anything to him. there is nothing quarrelsome about him. he is always for peace and order. he is a sort of judge lynch all to himself. he has cleared out one or two camps i have been at. when a chap gets too bad for anything, and takes to shooting over and above what is usual and right, 'specially if he draws on quiet sort of chaps and becomes a terror, then limping frank comes out. i was down at dead man's gulch when there was a gang of three or four men who were a terror to the place. they had stretched out seven or eight between them, and texan jack, as the worst of them was called, one day shot down a young fellow who had just come into camp, for no reason at all, as far as any one knew. "i happened to be in the saloon five minutes afterwards, when limping frank came in. texan jack was standing drinking there with two of his mates, laughing and jawing. you would scarcely have known that little chap if you had seen him then! he had been nursing a mate of mine only the night before, and as i had been sitting near him i thought what a gentle sort of face he had--more like a woman's than a man's. but now his eyes were wide open and his lips closed, and there was just a set look in his face that i knew meant mischief--for i had seen him once before when his dander was up--and i put my hand into my back pocket for my pistol, for i knew there was going to be a muss. he stopped in the middle of the room, and he said in a loud, clear voice that made every one look sharp round, 'texan jack, murderer and villain, we have borne with you too long. if you are a man, draw.' texan jack stared with astonishment. "'are you mad, you little fool?' he said. "'draw, or i will shoot you down as you stand,' limping frank said, and the texan saw that he meant mischief. frank had no weapon in his hand, for he was not one to take an advantage. the texan carried his weapon up his sleeve, but quick as he was with it, frank was as quick, and the two pistols cracked pretty well at the same moment. frank got a ball in the shoulder, but the texan fell dead with a bullet in the centre of his forehead. his two mates drew in a moment, but frank's revolver cracked twice as quick as you could count them, and there were just three bodies lying dead in a heap. then he put up his pistol, and said in his ordinary quiet voice, 'i don't like these things, but we must have peace and order. will some of you tell the others that they had better git.' and you bet they did git. limping frank never said another word about it, but got his arm in a sling, and half an hour afterwards i saw him quietly cooking his mates' dinner while they were both standing by blowing him up for starting out without them to back him." "what did he say?" the new-comer asked. "i heard him say, 'it is no use your going on like that, mates. if you had gone down he would have got his friends, and then there would have been a general fight, and several would have got hurt. when you have murderers like these you don't want a fight--you want an execution; and having a sort of natural knack with the pistol, i took it upon myself to be executioner.' "there was another case, although it didn't happen at the camp i was at, in which a woman was murdered by a half-breed mexican. i did not hear the circumstances, but it was a shocking bad case. she left a child behind her, and her husband, a little german, went clean off his head. "next morning limping frank was missing. all that was known was that he had bought a horse of a man who had come in late the night before, and was gone. his two mates looked high and low for him, but said at last they guessed he would turn up again. it was well-nigh two months before he came back. he brought back with him a watch and some trinkets that had been stolen from the murdered woman, and it seems that he had followed the fellow right down into new mexico, and had shot him there. the man who told me said he never made any talk about it, but was at work as usual the morning after he came back. i tell you i would rather quarrel with sim howlett and english bill together than i would get that little man's dander up. he is a peacemaker too, he is, and many a quarrel he has smoothed down. at one camp we were in we made him a sort of judge, and whenever there was a dispute about claims, or tools, or anything else, we went to him and he decided, and no judge could have gone into the case fairer or given a better judgment; and though, in course, those he decided against were not pleased, they had to put up with it. in the first place, the camp was with him; and in the second, there ain't much use disputing with a judge who can shoot as straight as he can, and is ready to do it if necessary." the three partners had finished their day's work, and sat down to a meal of tea, steak, and corn-cakes that limping frank had prepared for them. "we shall have to be moving from here soon," the englishman said. "another week and our claim will be worked out. we have not done badly, on the whole. the question is, had we better buy up somebody else's claim and go on working here, or make a start for some fresh field?" "i vote for a move," sim howlett said. "i don't say the claim hasn't panned out well, but there is no excitement about it. the gold lies regular right through the gravel, and it is almost as bad as working for wages. you can always tell within an ounce or so what there will be when you come to clean up the cradle. i like a bit of excitement. nothing one day and eight or ten ounces the next." "it comes to the same thing in the long run," the englishman said. "we don't get very much forwarder. grub costs a lot of money, and then what there is over and above slips through our fingers somehow. the gambling-tables take a large share of mine; and your weakness for champagne, sim, when you break out about once a month, makes a hole in yours; and as to frank's, he spends half his in getting meat for soups and wines and medicines for his patients." "what is one to do?" frank said apologetically. "one cannot see people die for want of ordinary necessaries. besides, bill, you give away a lot too." "only my money is not so well spent as yours, doctor." "well, no, i don't think it is." "i suppose it comes to the same thing in the end. i don't want to lay by money. what should i do with it if i had it?" "you don't want to lay by money because you are strong, and can go on earning it for years yet; and you both know very well that if you had a hundred thousand dollars you would chuck it all away in six months." sim howlett laughed aloud. "perhaps you are right, doctor," english bill said. "but if your argument means anything, it means that we are fools for working as hard as we do." "not at all," the doctor said gently. "you don't earn more than you want, as is shown by the fact that you lay by so little, and that we haven't more than enough dust in our sack to keep us for a month or two if we don't happen to strike it in the next claim we take up. no; i think we earn just enough. if you earned three times as much you would go three times as often to that cursed gambling-table, and it would be bad for your temper. if sim earned three times as much he would go on the spree three times as often, and it would be bad for his health. if i were to earn three times as much, i should have three times as many patients to attend to, and i couldn't stand such a strain; so you see we are just right as we are," and he nodded pleasantly to his two comrades. "you are the most perplexing beggar i ever came across, doctor," the englishman said, "and i have seen some rum specimens during the twenty years i have been knocking about in the states." the little man nodded as if it had been a compliment. "i know, bill. that is what i think myself sometimes; there is a tile just a little loose somewhere." "not at all, not at all," bill said hotly; while sim howlett growled that he would like to hear any one else say so. "not off, you know," frank said, "but just a little loose. i know, dear boys. you see my machine gets muddled up. it may work right enough sometimes, but the chances are that a cog has got bent, or that there is a little twist in a crank, and the thing never works quite even. it just catches, you know--rattles now and then. you may look it all over as much as you like, but you cannot spot where it is. you say it wants grease, but you may pour bucketfuls over it and it makes no difference. there"--and he broke off--"they are at it again up in that saloon." two or three pistol-shots rang out in the evening air. "things are not going on as they ought to," he went on quietly. "that is another machine that wants regulating. there are more bad men in this camp than there ought to be." "don't you worry yourself," bill said hastily. "you cannot expect a mining camp to be a sort of paradise, doctor, and all the bad men kept outside. things have been going on pretty smooth of late. it has been quite a peaceful camp." "i don't like the ways of that man symonds the gambler," the doctor said meditatively, with his head a little on one side. "he is a bad lot," sim howlett agreed; "but he is going. i heard tell yesterday that he said he was going down to frisco at the end of the week; and if he doesn't go, bill and i will get a dozen other fellows to go with us and tell him that he had better git, or the air of this camp is likely to be unhealthy for him." "well, if that is so we need not think any more about it," the doctor said. "i dreamt last night i saw him with a bullet mark in the centre of his forehead; but perhaps that was a mistake, or the mark will not come at present. it will come sooner or later," he added musingly, "but perhaps not for a good time yet." "well, well," sim howlett broke in, "we are wandering about like green hands lost in a sage-bush. we started by talking about whether, when we have worked up our claim, we shall stop here or foot it." "if we foot it, where do you propose to go, sim?" "i heard this morning that they are doing well in that new place they call gold run. then, again, you know we have always had a fancy for a month's prospecting up at the head of the yuba. the gold must come from somewhere, though nobody has ever hit the spot yet." "i am ready to go where you like, sim," the doctor said; "but as i have often told you before, you miners are altogether wrong in your notions, as any one can see with half an eye by the fact, that whether you are down here in the bottom of a gulch, or whether you are up on those flats, 2000 feet above us, you always find gravel. now those flats were once the bed of a great river, that was when the mountains round were tens of thousands of feet higher than they are now; they must have been all that or there would never be water enough for such a river as that must have been. that river must have rolled on for thousands of years, for the gravel, which you can see in some places is 500 feet thick, is all water-worn; whether it is big boulders or little stones, it has all been rolled about. "well, in time these mountains were all worn away. there wasn't water then for the big river, and the water from the hills, as you see them now, began to cut fresh channels, and this yuba, which is one of them, lies a thousand feet below the old gravel bed. in some places it has crossed the old bed, and the gold that came down from the former mountains into the gravel has been washed down into these valleys. you will never find, as you all dream of doing, a quartz vein stuck full of gold. there may have been veins like that in the old mountains, but the quartz veins that you find now, and lots of them have been assayed, are all very poor; they have got gold in them, but scarce enough to pay for working even when they get the best machinery. i fancy gold goes off with depth, though why it should i cannot say, and that these quartz veins which near the surface had big nuggets, and were choke-full of small stuff, just pettered away to nothing as they went deeper. that is why i think, sim, that you will find no quartz reefs worth working anywhere now, and why you are less likely to find much pay dirt in the upper gorges, because the water there has not gone through the old gravel fields as it has in its windings lower down." "but according to that, doctor, we should find it richest of all if we were to sink in the bed of the river down by the plains." "not at all, not at all, bill. from the point where the yuba's course leaves the old gravel bed of the big river and makes its own way through hills down to the plains it has picked up no more gold. as you know the big nuggets are generally found pretty high up, as was natural they should be, for as soon as the new river washed them out of the old bed they would sink down in some convenient hole; and as in the course of ages the yuba cut down deeper and deeper, they would go down too. their weight would prevent their rolling far; the light stuff would wash down, moving onwards with the sands and gravel. and so, as you search lower down, you get better surface washings, but find less coarse gold." "i dare say you are right, doctor," sim howlett said yawning, "so we won't go prospecting up in the hills, though some nice little finds have been made up there in spite of what you say. i vote we leave it open until we have cleared up, and then look round. a new rush may be started before a week is over, and if we are ready to move at once we may manage to take up claims in the thick of it; if one isn't pretty early at a new place, one may just as well stay away altogether. there is the horn. the mail is late to-night. i will go out and see if i can get hold of a sacramento paper--one sees all about the new places there. not that one need swallow all they say, for the lies about what is being got are tremendous. one fellow strikes it rich, and then they put it in that every fellow in the camp is making from four to ten ounces a day. i believe most of these lies come from the store-keepers. of course, it is to their interest to get up a rush to places where they have set up their stores, and if a newspaper man comes along they lay it on thick. well, here goes;" and throwing on his wide-awake, sim howlett sauntered off. in a quarter of an hour he returned with a newspaper. "here you are, bill, you may as well do the reading. i am out of practice, and the doctor is not to be depended upon, and will miss the very bits we want to know." taking the paper the englishman read the columns devoted to reports from the mining camps. a stranger would have thought from the perusal that every miner on the pacific slope must have been making a fortune, so brilliant were the accounts of the gold that was being obtained in every mining camp. "_john wilkins and party obtained at their week's clear-up 304 ounces of gold, including many fine nuggets. many others have met with almost equal good fortune; the sand on the shoulder is panning out very rich._" such was a sample of the descriptions. the three men were unmoved by them. they knew too well how untrustworthy were the reports. many were, as has been said, the work of the store-keepers; others were the invention of miners desirous of disposing of their claims to new-comers, and shifting to more promising regions. little was said of the fabulous prices of provisions, of the fever that decimated some of the camps, of the total abandonment of others; and yet even the miners, although knowing by frequent experience that no dependence could be placed on these reports, were prone to cling to the hope that this time they were correct, and the roads were thronged by parties who, having failed at one camp, were making their way to a distant location of which they had heard brilliant reports, and who were met, perhaps, on their way by parties coming from that very camp to the one they had just quitted. "it sounds well," the doctor said with a quiet smile when the reading was concluded. "sounds be blowed!" sim growled. "they are thundering lies. what do they say of this camp?--read it again, bill." "_it is difficult to get at the exact state of things at cedar gulch. men who are doing well are always reticent as to their earnings; but there is little doubt that all are doing well, and that while those working in companies are obtaining very large results, the average through the camp is not less than from two to three ounces a day._" "the camp is not doing badly," sim remarked. "there are mighty few here who ain't earning their grub. i don't believe there is one who is making from three to four ounces a day, not regular. of course if he comes on a pocket, or strikes the bed rock, he may earn a good bit over that, ten times as much perhaps in a day; but take it all round, an ounce, or at most an ounce and a quarter, would be the outside." english bill nodded. "i should say an ounce at the outside. there are scores who ain't earning half an ounce regular, and there are a few who have to run into debt for their grub. well, there is nothing very tempting in that lot of notices. we have tried a good many of them in the last two years, and at any rate we have got another week before we need make up our minds. i expect it will come again, bill, to what it has come to half a dozen times before. write all the names on a piece of paper, put them into a bag, let the doctor draw one, and go for it. it is as good a plan as another, and the doctor's luck has always pulled us through." sim and the englishman stretched themselves upon their blankets and lay there smoking, while limping frank squatted down by the side of the solitary candle and began to look at the small portion of the paper devoted to general news. this was soon finished, and then he ran his eye over the advertisements. these principally related to articles in demand by miners--patent rockers and cradles, picks and shovels, revolvers and bowie-knives, iron houses for stores, tents, clothing, waterproof boots, and flannel shirts. then there was a column of town lots in sacramento, notices of steamers starting for san francisco, notices of stolen horses, offers of rewards for the capture of notorious criminals, and advertisements for missing friends. "bill," he said presently. "hello!" said the englishman with a start. he had just laid his pipe down and was already dozing. "didn't you once say your name was tunstall?" "yes, that's it, though i have pretty well forgotten it. what is it?" "well, there is an advertisement here that may relate to you." "what is it, say? i haven't been running off with a horse, or shooting a sheriff, so i don't know why they are advertising for me." "_five hundred dollars reward. the above sum will be paid by james campbell, attorney, san francisco, to any one who will give him information as to the whereabouts of william tunstall, who was last heard of four years ago in california. the said william tunstall is entitled to property in england under the will of his brother, the late edgar tunstall of byrneside, cumberland._" "that's me," the englishman said, sitting upright and staring at the doctor. "well, well, so edgar has gone, poor lad! well, i am sorry." sim howlett had also roused himself at the news. "well, bill, i was going to congratulate you," he said; "but that doesn't seem the light you take the news in." "no, i am not thinking of money," the other said. "i could have had that long ago if i had chosen to take it. i was thinking of my brother. it is twenty years since i saw him, and i don't suppose i should have ever seen him again any way; but it is a shock to know that he has gone. it never was his fault, and i am sorry now i held off so. i never thought of this. it has come to me sometimes that when i got old and past work i might go back to the old place and end my days there; but i never thought that he would go before me. i am sorry, mates, more sorry than i can say." "how was it, bill?" the doctor asked. "don't tell us if you don't like; it is no business of ours. here in the diggings there are few men who talk of old times. their eyes are all on the future, and what they will do with their wealth when they gain it; but no one asks another as to his past history. the answer might sometimes be a pistol-shot. here we three have been living together for more than two years and not one of us has wanted to know what the others were before we met. it is quite an accident that i know your name. you gave it when you gave evidence as to the murder of that old german that we hung red hugh for. it struck me it was an odd name then, but i never thought of it again until i saw it in the paper. and you said once--it was christmas day, i remember--you said there was a home for you in england if you liked to go to it." "i will tell you the story," the englishman said. "i would have told it to you long ago, only there was nothing in it to tell you. it was just what has happened ten thousand times, and will happen as often again. my father was one of the largest land-owners in cumberland. i was his eldest son. we never got on well together. he was cold and haughty, a hard landlord, and a despot at home. we should have quarrelled earlier than we did; but i was sent to rugby, and often did not even come home for the holidays, for i had a good many friends in those days. i went back when i was eighteen, and was to have gone to college a month or two later. i made a fool of myself, as boys do, and fancied i was in love with one of our tenants' daughters. "some meddling busybody--i always thought it was the parson's wife, for she drove along one evening just as i was saying good-bye to the girl at the stile--told my father about it, and there was a frightful row. for once he got in a passion, and i lost my temper too. it was really a harmless flirtation, i think, and would have died out when i went off to college. however, when my father swore that if i ever spoke to her again he would turn me out of the house, i said he might do as he liked, and that i would marry her when i came of age. he ordered me to leave the house and never see his face again; said that i was no longer his son, and might go to the devil, or words to that effect. so, being just as obstinate in my way as he was in his, i went, and never did see him again. of course, i went first to see the girl. she was frightened out of her life when she heard of what had happened, said that her father would be turned out of his house, and all sorts of things, and at any rate she would have nothing more to say to me. "so i walked to liverpool, and took my berth in the first sailing ship to the states. my brother edgar, who was two years younger than i, was away at the time. we had always been capital friends. ten years later, when my father died, he advertised for me, and, the name being an uncommon one, someone pointed it out to me, and i answered. he wrote most affectionately, and lamented that our father had died without forgiving me, and had not only cut me entirely out of his will, but had, knowing his affection for me, inserted a clause that should he endeavour to alter the purport of the will, or to hand over by deed or otherwise any part or share of the estates to me, the property should revert at once to a distant relative. edgar said, however, that he had consulted his lawyers, and they were of opinion that this clause in no way affected his power to dispose of his income drawn from the estate, and that he proposed to share this equally with me. "i wrote back that while i was obliged to him for his offer i should not accept it, for, as the property was not entailed, our father had a perfect right to leave it as he liked. he had left it to him, and there was an end of it. we exchanged several letters, but i was just as obstinate as my father had been. i was too busy or too lazy for letter-writing. somehow no one writes here, and then one is constantly on the move. anyhow, i had one or two letters from him which i never answered. the last was three or four years ago. and now he is dead, and i suppose has left me some of the property i would not take during his lifetime. of course i was a fool, and an obstinate fool, all along, but one never acknowledges this until it is too late." the others made no remark for some time. "well, anyhow, bill, you ought to go down to frisco and see this lawyer." "i will think it over," the other said as, after relighting his pipe, he lay back on the blankets again; "there is no hurry for a day or two." no further mention was made of the matter until the claim was cleared up, but that evening bill returned to the subject. "i have thought it over, and i suppose i had better go down to frisco. i don't think i shall take this money. i should be like a fish out of water in england, and should be miserable there. if i take anything it will be a thousand pounds or so. i should sink that in buying a snug little place on the foothills, and i should put somebody on to work it and plant it up with fruit-trees or vines, or that sort of thing, and then some day when i get too old for knocking about i shall settle down there; and i needn't say that my home will also be yours, mates. i sha'n't be much more than a week away. i shall come back here, and if you hear of anything before i return leave a line with the store-keeper telling me where you are off to. i have my kit packed, and if i start in half an hour i shall catch the night coach as it comes along past the top of the gulch." sim howlett made no comment, but simply observed, "i expect you will find us here." but just as bill was starting the doctor put his hand on his arm and said, "don't do anything hasty, mate. you see you made rather a mess of your life by putting your foot down before when it seems there was no occasion for it. there is never any good comes of making up your mind in a hurry when there is no need for it. when you see a man slipping his hand round towards his back trouser-pocket, i allow that is not the time for thinking. you have got to act, and to act mighty sharp too, or you will get a bullet in you before you have drawn; but in a thing of this sort it makes no difference whether you decide now or six months hence. you need only write and say that you are found, and ask for particulars and so on, and when you have got them you can take your time about giving an answer. many men before now have refused a good thing and been sorry for it afterwards. your brother, according to your own account, has acted kindly and well towards you. why should you refuse what he wished you to have, merely because you think that it ought to have come to you in the first place? that is all i have to say, bill;" and he walked slowly back to the tent, while bill started at a steady pace up the long steep hill from the gulch to the plateau above, along which ran one of the principal roads from sacramento through the mining district. "we shall miss him, sim," limping frank said as he and his mate lighted their pipes after their meal that evening. "it seems kinder lonely without him after sitting down regularly for two years now." "he ain't gone yet," sim growled, "and i don't think as he is going. what bill said he will stick to, you bet." "oh, yes! he means what he says, sim. bill has gone away from here with the fixed idea of going down there, writing a letter or two, coming back here, waiting for his money to come over, investing it in a farm, and going on working with us just as before; but, bless you, it is one thing to make up your mind and another to carry it out." "what is to prevent his carrying it out, doctor?" "lots of things, sim. when a man once gets mixed up in a will, or in any kind of law business, he ceases to be a free agent." "ceases to be what, doctor?" "well, he ceases to be his own master. bill thinks he has only got to go into a lawyer's office, and say,--'here i am. i am the chap mentioned in that advertisement. i dare say my brother has left me a good lot, but i don't want it. just write and tell them to send me on five thousand dollars, that's all i want out of it. i am going back to sacramento to-morrow. when the money comes pay it into the bank there for me.' then he thinks that he will have a day's spree at frisco, and come back by steamer next day." "and why shouldn't he? what is to hinder him?" "well, it won't be like that, sim, at all. when he goes in and says 'i am william tunstall,' the lawyer will say, 'i am heartily glad to see you, sir. allow me to congratulate you;' and he will shake bill by the hand, and bill will say to himself, 'this is just as it should be. five minutes will do this job. i will go out and look up two or three friends who are in from the mines, and we will have a bottle of champagne a-piece over this business.' just as he has thought that over the lawyer will say to him, 'of course you are in a position to prove that you are the mr. tunstall advertised for.' bill will say, 'oh, yes! here are my brother's letters.' then the lawyer will smile and nod and say, 'most satisfactory,' and then he will add, 'of course, you are in a position to prove that you are the person to whom these letters were sent? of course, i don't doubt it for a moment, but letters do get lost, you know, and fall into other people's hands. in a matter of this kind we must proceed in a legal and business way.' then bill will say, 'of course, i can prove that. there is sim howlett and frank bennett, my mates. they know i am bill tunstall.' 'they knew you before you came out here, i suppose?' 'oh, no! but they have known me for two years.' 'known you as william tunstall?' 'yes, of course,' bill will say, beginning to get riled. then the lawyer will point out to him that we can only say that he called himself will tunstall, and that as the last of these letters he has got is dated earlier than that it comes to the fact that there is only his word to go upon, and that the law requires very much stronger proofs of identity than this. then bill will get mad, and will say the money can go to the deuce, and that he sha'n't trouble any more about it." "what then, doctor?" sim howlett asked as his companion stopped. "ah! well, that i cannot say. he may come straight off without doing anything more, or the lawyer may get him to talk it over. as to that i cannot say; but you may be quite sure that if bill is to touch a penny of the money left to him he will have to go back to england to prove who he is, and it is like enough he may not succeed when he gets there. by what he says he was only at home just occasionally during his school holidays. he was little more than a boy when he left, and after twenty years' knocking about on the plains and here it is like enough he may not be able to find a soul to recognize him." [illustration] chapter ii. terrible news. william tunstall returned to cedar gulch the very day upon which his mates began to expect him. having finished up the work in their claim on the previous day they strolled up the hill to meet the coach on the chance of his coming. "well, mate, how goes it?" sim howlett asked. "well, it doesn't go at all, sim." "how is that?" "well, the lawyer was civil, and all that, but if i had let him he would have made me believe that i was not will tunstall at all. i showed him my brother's letters, which ought to have satisfied anyone, and he hinted that these might have come into my possession anyhow, that tunstall might be dead, or that his kit, with these letters in it, might have been stolen." "that is the very thing the doctor said he would be after," sim howlett exclaimed in great admiration at the latter's perspicacity. "i suppose he didn't say he thought so, bill?" the doctor asked. "no, he knew better than that, doctor. he kept on saying that he was quite satisfied, but that other people wouldn't be satisfied. then he asked about references, who could i refer to? could i refer to anyone who had known me as william tunstall before the date of these letters? i said that i had been knocking about on the plains and doing trapping and indian fighting for years, and that i was known as english bill, and that i did not suppose there were half a dozen fellows ever did know my name, and that, for aught i knew, they had all been scalped, shot, or hung long ago. he said, in that case i should have to go to england to prove my claim. i said i would see the claim at the bottom of the sea first, and then i left him. "i met some fellows, and made a night of it, but in the morning the lawyer turned up at the hotel just as i had finished breakfast. i had told him the hotel where i was staying. he said it was no use being hasty. i said i wasn't hasty, and we were near having a row again. then he said that he had only had instructions to find me, and did not know how much was left me under the will, or anything about it, except what he had put in the advertisement. at any rate he would write to the people who had instructed him in england and tell them that a gentleman representing himself to be william tunstall had called, and that he possessed letters from the late mr. edgar tunstall. that in the present state of affairs i declined to make the voyage to england for the purpose of proving my identity, but that he had my address, and could communicate further with me upon receiving instructions from them. "i told him to say that i didn't want the money, and was not going to put myself out one way or the other about it. he listened, and shook his head, just the way the doctor does when he don't agree with you. then he remarked that he would not do anything rash if he were in my place. i told him it was no odds to me whether he would or would not, and as i had just time to catch the steamer i wasn't going to waste any more time jawing over it, so off i came, and here i am. well, what is doing here? has there been any fresh rush?" "nary one. the doctor and i think we cannot do better than stay here. i was talking with halkett and his partners this afternoon. they don't get on well together. halkett said they would sell out if they could get a fair price. they are getting out about six ounces a day. no great thing, but they are only half-way down at present. it is in four shares, for two of the gang are on day wages. of course, i said that it wasn't much of a thing to buy, as they were only getting an ounce a piece, and besides, the shaft is badly timbered. still, if they would say what they wanted for it we would talk it over with you when you got back. halkett was evidently anxious to sell, and said they would take a hundred ounces for it right out. of course i said that was too much, but i think it is a bargain, so does the doctor. they have got through the worst half, and there is the best behind. it don't always turn out rich on the bed-rock here; it didn't with us. still, there is the chance of it; and if it only keeps as it is now, and we take on a couple of men to work with us, we should, after paying them and keeping ourselves, be making three ounces a day anyhow, and it will take us a couple of months to get to the bottom, and perhaps more." "how do we stand after the clear-up, doctor?" for frank was the treasurer of the party. "we got twenty ounces at the last clear-up, and we had eighty-nine before, so if we give him his price we should have nine ounces left." "it will take fifty or sixty dollars," sim howlett said, "to make that shaft safe. halkett is the only one of the lot that knows anything about that, and it has been done in a very slovenly style. i shouldn't like to work down there until we have strengthened it all the way down. i told halkett the other day that if he didn't mind it would be caving in. i think that is partly why they are selling." "well, i think we couldn't do better than take it, sim; but you must get them to knock a few ounces off, otherwise we shan't have enough to repair the shaft, and from what you say we must do that before we go to work in the bottom. let us go and make a bargain at once." "that will never do, bill," sim howlett said; "that would look as if we had made up our mind to take it, and they wouldn't come down an ounce. no, no, we will have our meal, and wait an hour or two, then i will stroll round to halkett's tent and say that as we calculate it would cost a heap of money to make the shaft safe we do not see our way to it, though we might otherwise have taken to the job. then you will see to-morrow morning, when they knock off for breakfast, halkett will come round here and make some proposal." so indeed it turned out. soon after breakfast halkett came to the tent door. "look here, boys," he said, "i want to get out of this lot. the men i am working with ain't worth shucks. the three of them don't do a fair man's work, and i am sick of it. but i have been talking to them, and they won't take less than twenty-five ounces a share, and they have been talking to some men who have pretty well made up their minds to give it. if i had the dust i would buy the others out, but i haven't. if you will buy the other three out at their terms i will keep my share and work partners with you. i have got enough dust to pay my share of retimbering the shaft. what do you say?" the doctor had gone off to take some broth to two of his patients. the other two looked at each other, and then sim howlett said: "well, this is how it stands, halkett. my mate here and i would have no objection to work with you; but it is this way: we and the doctor have chummed together, and have never taken anyone else in with us, partly because we are quite content as it is, and partly because the doctor can't do his share of the work--he hasn't got it in him. we don't want to go away from here now, and we have dust enough to buy your three partners out. i suppose we should want to work four at that shaft. i don't know what you have been working six for, except that three of your lot are of no use." "that is about it," halkett said. "so you see we should have to take on a man to do the doctor's work." "well, you would have to do that if you worked it yourselves." "so we should," sim howlett assented. "what do you say, bill?" "halkett's proposal seems a fair one, sim; it seems to me we can't do better than accept it. we must consult the doctor, halkett. he is sure to agree, but we should not like to do it without speaking to him; that would not be fair. but you may consider it a bargain." "very well, i will go back and tell them i have made the agreement with you. then i will come back and bring you fifteen ounces of dust, which is all i have got; i don't want them to know that i am going to stop in it. if i do, like enough they will cut up rusty, so i want you to make it up and hand the hundred ounces over clear; then they will hand me my share, and i can give you the other ten ounces. they will leave the camp as soon as they get their money. somebody has been blowing to them about a find he has made prospecting among the hills, and i fancy they mean going off with him, and it would be no use letting on that i am going to stop in the partnership until they have gone. they are just the sort of fellows to think that i had been somehow besting them, and if they said so there would be trouble, and i don't want to do any of them harm." the doctor on his return fell in, as a matter of course, with his mates' arrangement. at dinner-time halkett and his partners came in, and the dust was weighed out and handed over to them. sim howlett and tunstall spent the afternoon in making a careful examination of the shaft, and in deciding upon the best plan for strengthening it. halkett's former partners left a couple of hours after they got the money, and on the following morning the new proprietors of the claim set to work. the first step was to make an arrangement with a man who had horses, to haul timber from a little saw-mill that had been erected two miles away, and as soon as this began to arrive, the work of strengthening the shaft was set about. it took the three men, and another whom they had taken on at daily pay, a week, and at the end of that time it was pronounced safe against any pressure it was likely to have to bear. the advertisement in the sacramento paper had been noticed by others than by those for whom it was intended, and there happened to be among the miners who had worked at various times in the same diggings with william tunstall another who had been on the jury when he had mentioned his name. he did not, however, notice the advertisement until a day or two after the newspaper had arrived in camp. "there," he said to some mates who were sitting round the fire, "that is just like my luck; there is five hundred dollars slipped clean through my fingers because i did not happen to see this here paper before." "how is that, jones?" "why, here is five hundred dollars offered for information as to the whereabouts of william tunstall." "and who is william tunstall? i never heard of him." "why, english bill; that is his name sure enough; he gave it on a jury we served on together. i told him then i had never heard the name before. that is how i came to remember it." "well, why are you too late? why don't you write off at once and say he is here, and claim the money?" "because he is gone, mate. sim howlett asked black johnson yesterday, when i was standing by, if he knew of a good man he could take on for a week's work, as he was single-handed, for of course limping frank don't count in the way of work. i asked him if english bill was laid up, and he said, no; he had gone the night before down to frisco. i wondered then at his starting just before they had cleaned up their claim. now it is clear enough, he had seen this advertisement." "bolted?" one of the other men asked. "bolted! no," jones said in a tone of contemptuous disgust. "you don't suppose english bill has been cutting anyone's throat, do you? or robbing some digger of his swag? no, he has gone down to frisco to see the chap that put this into the paper. why, look here," and he read the advertisement aloud; "he has come into a fortune, i expect. they would never have taken the trouble to advertise for him if it hadn't been a big sum. you bet english bill has struck it rich; like enough it is a thundering big ranche, with two or three hundred thousand head of cattle." "they don't have estates like that in england," another digger put in. "i was chatting with an englishman at holly creek. he said land was worth a heap there, but it was all cultivated and hedged in, and he didn't suppose as there was a man in the whole country who had got as much as five thousand head of cattle. however, cattle or not, i expect it is a big thing english bill has come in for, and we shan't see him in here again." the news spread quickly through the camp. it was discussed by the men as they worked the rockers, by the gamblers up at the saloon, and in the tents when the work was done. sim howlett was soon questioned, but was surly, and little could be got from him. limping frank was no more communicative. he was accosted frequently, as he went from the tents with his soups and medicines, with "well, frank, so i hear your mate has come in for a big thing, and gone down to frisco. jack jones saw the advertisement for him in the paper." "if jack jones saw it, of course it was there," the doctor said with his quiet smile; "couldn't have seen it otherwise, could he? yes, bill has gone off. i am glad to hear that it is a big thing; hadn't heard it before. it will be a surprise to him, for he didn't expect it would be a big thing. didn't think it would be worth troubling about, you see. however, i daresay he will be back in a week or two, and then no doubt he will tell you all about it." cedar gulch was greatly disappointed when english bill reappeared in his ordinary red shirt, high boots, and miner's hat, and went to work on the following afternoon as if nothing had happened. there had been a general idea that if he came back he would appear in store-clothes and a high hat, and perhaps come in a carriage with four horses all to himself, and that he would stand champagne to the whole camp, and that there would be generally a good time. he himself, when questioned on the subject, turned the matter off by saying he had not thought the thing worth bothering about; that he could not get what there was without going to england to fetch it, and that it might go to the bottom of the sea before he took that trouble. the only person to whom he said more was the man who ran the gambling-table. things had been lately going on more quietly there, and the gambler had postponed his departure to san francisco. bill tunstall spent, as the doctor said, no inconsiderable portion of his earnings at the gambling-tables, and had struck up an acquaintance with symonds. the latter was, like many of his class, a man of quiet and pleasant manners. for his profession a nerve of iron was required, for pistols were frequently drawn by disappointed miners, flushed with drink and furious at their losses, and the professional gambler had his life constantly in his hands. the accusation, "you cheated me!" was the sure signal for one or two pistol shots to ring out in sharp succession, then a body would be carried out, and play resumed. symonds bore no worse reputation than others of the class. it was assumed, of course, that he would cheat if he had the chance; but with a dozen men looking on and watching every movement of the fingers, even the cleverest gambler generally played fair. these men were generally, by birth and education, far above those with whom they played. they had fallen from the position they had once occupied; had, perhaps, in the first place been victims of gamblers, just as they now victimized others; had been cast out from society as detected cheats or convicted swindlers; but now, thanks to nerve, recklessness of life, and sleight of hand, they reaped a fortune, until the bullet of a ruined miner, or the rope of judge lynch, cut short their career. symonds was not unpopular among the miners. he was liberal with his money, had many times spared men who, according to the code of the diggings, had forfeited their lives by an insult or by a shot that had missed its aim. he had often set men on their legs again who had lost their all to him; and if there was a subscription raised for some man down with fever, or for a woman whose husband had been killed in a shaft, symonds would head the list with a handsome sum. and yet there were few men more feared. magnanimous on some occasions, he was ruthless on others. he was a dead shot, and handled his pistol with a lightning speed, that in nine cases out of ten enabled him to fire first; and while he would contemptuously spare a man who was simply maddened by ruin and drink, the notorious bully, the terror of a camp, a man who deliberately forced a quarrel upon him, relying upon his strength or skill, would be shot down without hesitation. thus in nine cases out of ten the feeling of the communities among whom he plied his vocation was in his favour. while he himself was a dangerous man, he rid the camp of others who were still more obnoxious, and the verdict after most of these saloon frays was, "served him right;" but as a rule men avoided discussing symonds or his affairs. it was dangerous to do so, for somehow he seemed always to learn what was said of him, and sooner or later the words were paid for. will tunstall knew that he was a dangerous man, and had no doubt that he was an utterly unscrupulous one, but he himself never drank while he played, and was never out of temper when he lost, therefore he had no reason whatever to fear the man, and symonds had always been civil and pleasant with him, recognizing that there was something in him that placed him somewhat apart from the rough crowd. he met him one afternoon soon after his return. "is it true all this they are saying about you, bill?" symonds asked. "well, it is true enough that i was advertised for, and went down to frisco to see a man there about it. of course it is all nonsense as to what they are saying about the value of it. it is some family property that might have come to me long ago if i hadn't kicked over the traces; but i am not going to trouble about it. i shall have all the bother and expense of going to england to prove who i am, and i wouldn't do it if it were ten times as much." "come and have a glass of cham, bill. my own story is a good deal like yours. i daresay i might be master of a good estate in the old country now, if i hadn't gone a mucker." "it is too early to drink," will said; "if i did drink it would be just a cocktail. the champagne you get is poison." "just as you like. by the way, if i can be of any use to you let me know. it is an expensive run home to england from here, and if you have need for a thousand dollars, i could let you have them. i have had a good run of luck this last six months. it would be a business transaction, you know, and you could pay me a couple of hundred for the use of it. it is of no use losing a good thing for the want of funds." "thank you, symonds. i have enough to take me home if i have to go; but i am very much obliged for the offer all the same." "it is business," the other said carelessly, "and there are no thanks due. if you change your mind let me know; mind i owe you a cocktail next time we meet in the saloon." the gambler went on. will tunstall looked after him with a little wonder at the offer he had made. "it is a good-natured thing to offer, for, of course, if i went to england he could not make anything out of me beyond the interest of the money, and he would get more than that putting it on house property in frisco. he is a queer card, and would look more at home in new york than in cedar gulch!" [illustration: symonds and bill tunstall have a talk.] the gambler's dress, indeed, was out of place with the surroundings. like most of his class he dressed with scrupulous neatness; his clothes were well made, and fitted him; he wore a white shirt, the only one in the camp, and abstained from the diamond studs and rings, and heavy gold watch-chain that was generally affected by professional gamblers. he was tall, as tall as tunstall himself, though not so broad or so strongly built; but his figure was well knit, there was in his walk and action an air of lightness and activity, and he had more than once shown that he possessed an altogether unusual amount of muscular strength. "it is a pity that the fellow is what he is," will tunstall said when he turned away; "what a soldier he would have made, with his strength, and pluck, and wonderful coolness!" this little conversation was followed by several others. somehow or other they met more frequently than they had done before, and one evening, when there was no play in the saloon, symonds asked him to come in and have a chat with him in his private room at the hotel. for some time they chatted on different subjects. symonds had brought out a box of superb cigars, and a bottle of such claret as will tunstall had not drunk for years, saying carelessly as he did so, "i always carry my own tipple about with me. it would ruin my nerves to drink the poison they keep at these places." after a time he brought the subject round to the legacy. "i have been thinking over what you said about not going back, and i think you are wrong, if you don't mind my saying so. what have you got to look forward to here? toil and slave year after year, without ever getting a step further, living all the time a life harder than that of the poorest labourer at home. it is well enough now, i suppose. you are seven or eight and thirty, just about my own age; in another ten years you will be sorry you let the chance slip. of course it is different with me. as far as money goes, i could give it up now, but i cannot go back again. men don't take to my sort of life," he said with some bitterness, "unless they have got a pretty bad record behind them; but i shall give it up before very long, unless i am wiped out first. then i'll go and settle in south america, or some place of that sort, buy an estate, and set up as a rich and virtuous englishman whose own climate doesn't agree with him." then he carelessly changed the subject again, but it was reverted to once or twice in the course of the evening, and before will left he had said enough to enable his companion to gather a fair estimate of the value of the property, and the share he was likely to have of it. the new claim turned out fairly well, improving somewhat in depth, and yielding a good though not an extraordinary profit to the partners. some four months after will tunstall had been down to san francisco, he received a bulky letter from the attorney there. it contained an abstract of his brother's will. this left him half the property, with a statement saying that he considered it to be his brother's by right, and inclosed with it was a copy of a letter written a few days before his death. it ran as follows:- "my dear will,--you have wandered about long enough. it is high time for you to come back to the old place that you ought never to have left. i shall not see you again, for i have long been suffering from heart-disease, and the doctors tell me the end may come any day. i have had the opinion of some of the best authorities, and they all say that, thanks to some peculiar wording in the will, which i don't understand in the slightest, the prohibition to divide with you is only binding during my lifetime, and that nothing is said that restricts my right to leave it as i please. i don't suppose the contingency of your surviving me ever entered into our father's mind, and probably he thought that you would never be heard of again. however, you see it has turned out otherwise. you have wandered and roughed it, and gone through dangers of all sorts, and are still, you tell me, strong and healthy. i have lived quietly and comfortably with every luxury, and without a day's trouble, save my terrible grief when my wife died, and the ever-constant regret that you were not here beside me; yet i am dying, but that enables me at last to redress to some extent the cruel wrong you have suffered. "i have left you half the estate, and it makes me happy to think that you will come back again to it. i have appointed you sole guardian of my boy. he is only twelve years old, and i want you to be a father to him. the estate is large enough for you both, and i hope that you may, on your return, marry, and be happy here; if not, i suppose it will all go to him at your death. in any case, i pray you to come home, for the boy's sake, and for your own. it is my last request, and i hope and believe that you will grant it. you were always good to me when we were boys together, and i feel sure that you will well supply my place to hugh. god bless you, old fellow! your affectionate brother, edgar." with these documents was a letter from the solicitors to the family saying that they had heard from their agents at san francisco that he had presented himself in answer to their advertisement, and had shown them the letters of the late mr. edgar tunstall. they therefore forwarded him copies of the will, and of mr. tunstall's letter, and begged him to return home without delay, as his presence was urgently required. they assumed, of course, that they were writing to mr. william tunstall, and that when he arrived he would have no difficulty whatever in proving his identity. "i think i must go, boys," he said as, after reading his brother's letter three or four times, he folded the papers up, and put them in his pocket. "my brother has made me guardian of his boy, and puts it so strongly that i think i must go over for a bit. i don't suppose i shall have to stop; although the lawyers say that i am urgently required there; but, mind, i mean to do just what i said. i shall take a thousand pounds or so, and renounce the rest. a nice figure i should make setting up at home as a big land-owner. i should be perfectly miserable there. no, you take my word for it, i shall be back here in six months at the outside. i shall get a joint guardian appointed to the boy; the clergyman of the place, or some one who is better fitted to see after his education and bringing up than i am. when he gets to seventeen or eighteen, and a staunch friend who knows the world pretty well may be really of use to him, i shall go over and take him on his travels for two or three years. bring him out here a bit, perhaps. however, that is in the distance. i am going now for a few months; then you will see me back here. i wish i wasn't going; it is a horrible nuisance, but i don't see that i can get out of it." "certainly you cannot, bill; it is your plain duty. we don't go by duty much in these diggings, and it will be pleasant to see somebody do a thing that he doesn't like because it is right. we shall miss you, of course--miss you badly. but we all lose friends, and nowhere so much as here; for what with drink and fever and bullets the percentage wiped out is large. you are going because, in fact, you can't help yourself. we shall be glad when you come back; but if you don't come back, we shall know that it was because you couldn't. yes, i know you have quite made up your mind about that; but circumstances are too strong for men, and it may be that, however much you may wish it, you won't be able to come. well, we shall be clearing up the claim in another two or three days, so it could not come at a better time if it had to come." the work was continued to the end of the week, and then, the last pan of dirt having been washed, the partners divided the result. each week's take had been sent down by the weekly convoy to the bank at sacramento, for robberies were not uncommon, and prudent men only retained enough gold-dust by them for their immediate wants. but adding the dust and nuggets acquired during the last and best week's work to the amount for which they had the bank's receipt, the four partners found that they had, after paying all their expenses, two hundred and fifty ounces of gold. "sixty-two ounces and a half each," the doctor said. "it might have been better, it might have been worse. we put in twenty-five each four months ago, so we have got thirty-seven ounces each for our work, after paying expenses, and each drawing half an ounce a day to spend as he liked. this we have, of course, all of us laid by." there was a general laugh, for not one of them had above an ounce or two remaining. "well, it isn't bad anyhow, doctor," william tunstall said. "sixty-two ounces apiece will make roughly â£250, which is as much as we have ever had before on winding up a job. my share will be enough to lake me to england and back." "yes, provided you don't drop it all in some gambling saloon at sacramento or san francisco," the doctor said. "i shan't do that, doctor. i have lost big sums before now in a night's play, i confess; but i knew i could set to work and earn more. now i have got an object before me." that afternoon english bill went round the camp saying good-bye to his acquaintances, and although it was very seldom that he drank too much, the standing treat and being treated in turn was too much for his head, and it was with a very unsteady step indeed that he returned late in the evening to his tent. sim howlett, who had started with him, had succumbed hours before, and had been carried down from the saloon by a party who were scarcely able to keep on their own legs. when will tunstall woke in the morning he had but a vague idea of the events of the latter part of the evening. he remembered hazily that there had been many quarrels and rows, but what they had been about he knew not, though he felt sure that there had been no shooting. he had a dim recollection that he had gone into symonds' room at the hotel, where he had some champagne, and a talk about his trip to england and about the people there. "what the deuce could have set me talking about them?" he wondered in his mind. he was roused from these thoughts by the doctor. "if you are going to catch this morning's coach, bill, you must pull yourself together." "all right!" he said, getting on to his feet. "i shall be myself when i have put my head in a bucket of water. i'm afraid i was very drunk last night." "well, you were drunk, bill. i have never seen you drunk but once before since we were partners; but i suppose no one ever did get out of a mining camp where he had been working for some time, and had fairly good luck, without getting pretty well bowled over after going the rounds to say good-bye. now, then, sim, wake up! bill will be off in a quarter of an hour. i have got breakfast ready." sim howlett needed no second call. it was no very unusual thing for him to be drunk overnight and at work by daybreak the following morning. so after stretching himself and yawning, and following will's example of having a wash, he was ready to sit down to breakfast with an excellent appetite. will, however, did poor justice to the doctor's efforts, and ten minutes later the trio started off to meet the coach. there were many shouts of "good-bye, mate! good luck to yer!" from the men going down to the diggings, but they were soon beyond the camp. few words were said as they went up the hill, for the three men were much attached to each other, and all felt the parting. fortunately they had but two or three minutes to wait before the coach came in sight. "just you look out for me in about six months' time, mates; but i'll write directly i get home, and tell you all about things. i shall direct here, and you can get someone to ask for your letters and send them after you if you have moved to a new camp." with a last grasp of the hand, tunstall climbed up to the top of the coach, his bundle was thrown up to him, the coachman cracked his whip, the horses started again at a gallop, and sim howlett and his mate went down to cedar gulch without another word being spoken between them. three days later, as they were breakfasting in their tent, for they had not yet made up their minds what they should do, a miner entered. "hello, dick! back from your spree? how did you get on at frisco?" "yes, i have just got off the coach. i have got some bad news to tell you, mates." "bad news! why, what is that, dick?" sim howlett asked. "well, i know it will hit you pretty hard, mates, for i know you thought a heap of him. well, lads, it is no use making a long story of it, but your mate, english bill, has been murdered." the two men started to their feet--sim howlett with a terrible imprecation, the doctor with a cry like the scream of a woman. "it is true, mates, for i saw the body. i should have been up yesterday, but i had to wait for the inquest to say who he was. i was going to the coach in the morning when i saw half a dozen men gathered round a body on the footway of a small street. there was nothing unusual in that at sacramento. i don't know what made me turn off to have a look at the body. directly i saw it i knew who it was. it was english bill, so i put off coming, and stopped to the inquest. he hadn't been killed fair, he had been shot down from behind with a bullet in the back of his head. no one had heard the shot particular. no one thinks anything of a shot in sacramento. no one seemed to know anything about him, and the inquest didn't take five minutes. of course they found a verdict of wilful murder against some person unknown." sim howlett listened to the narration with his hands clenched as if grasping a weapon, his eyes blazing with fury, and muttering ejaculations of rage and horror. the doctor hardly seemed to hear what was said. he was moving about the tent in a seemingly aimless way, blinded with tears. presently he came upon his revolver, which he thrust into his belt, then he dropped his bag of gold-dust inside his shirt, and he then picked up his hat. "come along, sim," he said in hurried tones, touching his companion on the arm. "come along!" sim repeated. "where are you going?" "to sacramento, of course. we will hunt him down, whoever did it. i will find him and kill him if it takes years to do it." "i am with you," sim said; "but there is no coach until to-night." "there is a coach that passes through alta at twelve o'clock. it is fifteen miles to walk, but we shall be there in time, and it will take us into sacramento by midnight." sim howlett snatched up his revolver, secured his bag of gold-dust, and said to the man who had brought the news, "fasten up the tent, dick, and keep an eye on it and the traps. the best thing will be for you to fix yourself here until we come back." "that will suit me, sim. i got rid of all my swag before i left. you will find it all right when you return." they had but four hours to do the distance across a very broken and hilly country, but they were at alta a quarter of an hour before the coach was due. it taxed sim howlett's powers to the utmost, and even in his rage and grief he could not help looking with astonishment at his companion, who seemed to keep up with him without difficulty. they ran down the steep hills and toiled up the formidable ascents. the doctor's breath came quick and short, but he seemed almost unconscious of the exertions he was making. his eyes were fixed in front of him, his face was deadly pale, his white hair damp with perspiration. not a word had been spoken since the start, except that, towards the end of the journey, howlett had glanced at his watch and said they were in good time and could take it easy. his companion paid no attention, but kept on at the top of his speed. when the coach arrived it was full, but the doctor cried out, "it is a matter of life and death; we must go! we will give five ounces apiece to any one who will give us up their places and go on by the next coach." two men gladly availed themselves of the offer, and at midnight the two companions arrived at sacramento. the doctor's strength had given way when the necessity for exertion was over, and he had collapsed. "perhaps someone has got a flask with him?" sim howlett suggested. "my mate and i have just heard of the murder of an old chum of ours at sacramento, and we are on our way down to find out who did it and to wipe him out. we have had a hard push for it, and, as you see, it has been too much for my mate, who is not over strong." half a dozen bottles were instantly produced, and some whiskey poured down the doctor's throat. it was not long before he opened his eyes, but remained for some time leaning upon sim howlett's shoulder. "take it easy, doctor, take it easy," the latter said as he felt the doctor straightening himself up. "you have got to save yourself. you know we may have a long job before us." there was nothing to do when they entered the town but to find a lodging for the night. in the morning they commenced their search. it was easy to find the under-sheriff who had conducted the inquest. he had but little to tell. the body had been found as they had already heard. there were no signs of a struggle. the pockets were all turned inside out. the sheriff supposed that the man had probably been in a gambling-house, had won money there, and had been followed and murdered. their first care was to find where will tunstall was buried, and then to order a stone to be erected at his head. then they spent a week visiting every gambling-den in sacramento, but nowhere could they find that anyone at all answering to their mate's description had been gambling there on the night before he was killed. they then found the hotel where he had put up on the arrival of the coach. he had gone out after breakfast and had returned alone to dinner, and had then gone out again. he had not returned; it was supposed that he had gone away suddenly, and as the value of the clothes he had left behind was sufficient to cover his bill, no inquiries had been made. at the bank they learned that in the course of the afternoon he had drawn his portion of the joint fund on the order signed by them all. at another hotel they learned that a man certainly answering to his description had come in one evening a week or so before with a gentleman staying at the house. they did not know who the gentleman was; he was a stranger, but he was well dressed, and they thought he must have come from frisco. he had left the next day. they had not noticed him particularly, but he was tall and dark, and so was the man who came in with him. the latter was in regular miner's dress. they had not sat in the saloon, but had gone up to the stranger's bed-room, and a bottle of spirits had been taken up there. they did not notice what time the miner left, or whether the other went out with him. the house was full, and they did not bother themselves as to who went in or out. it was from a german waiter they learned all this, after having made inquiries in vain two or three times previously at this hotel. as soon as they left the place the doctor seized sim's arm. "we have got a clew at last, sim." "not much of a clue, doctor; still there is something to go upon. we have got to hunt out this man." "do you mind going back to the camp to-night, sim?" "no, i don't mind; but what for, doctor?" "you go and see whether symonds is still there, and if not, find out what day and hour he left." "good heavens! you don't suspect him?" "i feel sure, sim, just as sure as if i had seen it. the description fits him exactly. who else could bill have known dressed like a gentleman that he would have gone up to drink with when he had â£250 about him. you know he had got rather thick with that villain before he left the camp, and likely enough the fellow may have got out of him that he was going to draw his money from the bank, and thought that it was a good bit more than it was. at any rate go and see." two days later sim howlett returned with the news that symonds had left two or three hours after tunstall had done so. he had said that he had a letter that rendered it necessary that he should go to frisco, and had hired a vehicle, driven to alta, and caught the coach there. he had not returned to the camp. "that settles it, sim. when i find symonds the gambler, i find the murderer of bill tunstall. i have been thinking it over. it may be months before i catch him. he may have gone east into colorado or south into mexico, but i am going to find him and kill him. i don't think it is any use for us both to hunt; it may take months and years." "perhaps he thinks he is safe, and hasn't gone far. he may think that poor bill will be picked up and buried, and that no one will be any the wiser. we would have thought that he had gone off to england; and so it would have been if dick hadn't happened to come along and turn off to look at the body. like enough he will turn up at cedar gulch again." "he may," the doctor said thoughtfully, "and that is the more reason why you should stop about here. you would hear of his coming back to any of the mining camps on the slopes. but i don't think he will. he will feel safe, and yet he won't feel quite safe. besides, you know, i dreamt that i should kill him. however, if he does come back anywhere here i leave him to you, sim. shoot him at sight as if he were a mad dog. you don't want any fair play with a fellow like that. when you tell the boys the story they will all say you did right. i will write to you from time to time to let you know where i am. if you have killed him let me know. i shall come back to you as soon as i have found him." and so it was settled; for, eager as sim howlett was for vengeance, he did not care for the thought of years spent in a vain search, and believed that his chance of meeting symonds again was as good among the mining camps as elsewhere. [illustration] [illustration] chapter iii. the wanderer's return. had the circumstances of william tunstall's leaving his home been more recent, or had the son of edgar tunstall been older, the news that william tunstall had returned and had taken up his residence at byrneside as master of the portion of the estate left him by his brother, and as guardian to the young heir to the remainder, would have caused a good deal of interest and excitement in the county. the twenty years, however, that had elapsed since will tunstall had left home, and the fact that when he went away he was but a lad quite unknown personally to his father's acquaintances, deprived the matter of any personal interest. it had generally been thought that it was hard that he should have been entirely cut out of his father's will, and the clause forbidding his brother to make any division of the property was considered particularly so, especially as it was known that edgar was attached to his brother, and would have gladly shared the property with him. but william had been away twenty years, and no one had a personal interest in him. ten years had elapsed since he had been finally disinherited by his father's will. beyond a feeling of satisfaction that justice had been done, and that there would not be a long minority at byrneside, the news that the eldest son had returned created no excitement. messrs. randolph & son of carlisle, who were business agents for half the estates in the county, reported well of the new-comer. they had never seen him as a boy, but they expressed themselves as agreeably surprised that the long period he had passed knocking about among rough people in the states had in no way affected him unfavourably. his manners were particularly good, his appearance was altogether in his favour, he was a true cumberland man, tall and powerful like his father and brother, though somewhat slighter in build. he was accompanied by his wife. yes, they had seen her. they had both dined with them. they had not been previously aware that mr. tunstall was married. their client, mr. edgar tunstall, had not mentioned the fact to them. they were not prepared to give any decided opinion as to mrs. tunstall. she had spoken but little, and struck them as being nervous; probably the position was a novel one for her. there were, they understood, no children. messrs. randolph, father and son, old-fashioned practitioners, had from the first considered the scruples of their agents in san francisco to be absurd. mr. tunstall had presented himself as soon as they had advertised. he had produced the letters of his brother as proof of his identity, and had offered to bring forward witnesses who had known him for years as william tunstall. what on earth would they have had more than that? mr. tunstall had had reason already for resentment, and it was not surprising that he had refused to set out at once for england when he found his identity so absurdly questioned. so they had immediately sent off the abstract of the will and a copy of edgar tunstall's letter, and were much gratified when in due time mr. tunstall had presented himself at their office, and had personally announced his arrival. it was indeed a relief to them; for, had he not arrived, various difficulties would have arisen as to his moiety of the estate, there being no provision in the will as to what was to be done should he refuse to accept it. moreover, application must have been made to the court for the appointment of fresh guardians for the boy. altogether they were glad that a business that might have been troublesome was satisfactorily settled. mr. tunstall, after introducing himself, had produced the letters he had received from his brother, with the abstract of the will and copy of the letter they had sent him. he had said smilingly, "i don't know whether this is sufficient, gentlemen, for i am not up in english law. if it is necessary i can, of course, get a dozen witnesses from the states to prove that i have been always known as william tunstall; though i generally passed, as is the custom there, under a variety of nicknames, such as english bill, stiff bill, and a whole lot of others. it will naturally take some little time and great expense to get witnesses over, especially as men are earning pretty high wages in california at present; but, of course, it can be managed if necessary." "i do not see that there is any necessity for it," mr. randolph said. "besides, no doubt we shall find plenty of people here to identify you." "i don't know that, mr. randolph. you see i was little more than a boy when i went away. i had been at rugby for years, and often did not come home for the holidays. twenty years have completely changed me in appearance, and i own that i have but a very faint recollection of byrneside. of course i remember the house itself, and the stables and grounds; but as to the neighbours, i don't recollect any of them. neither my brother nor myself dined in the parlour when my father had dinner parties; but it seems to me that, after all, the best proof of my identity is my correspondence with my brother. certainly, he would not have been deceived by any stranger, and the fact that we exchanged letters occasionally for some years seems to me definite proof that he recognized me as his brother." "undoubtedly so," mr. randolph said. "that in itself is the strongest proof that can be brought. we mentioned that in our letter to mr. campbell in san francisco. his doubts appeared to us, i may say, to be absurd." "not altogether absurd, mr. randolph. california has been turned pretty well topsy-turvy during the last four or five years, and he was not to be blamed for being suspicious. may i ask you if you have come across my letters to my brother among his papers?" "no, we have not done so. in fact, your brother told us that he had not preserved them, for as you were wandering about constantly the addresses you gave were no benefit, and that beyond the fact that you were in california he had no idea where you could be found. that is why it became necessary to advertise for you." "it is unfortunate that he did not keep them, mr. randolph, for in that case, of course, i could have told you most of their contents, and that would have been an additional proof of my identity." "there is not the least occasion for it, mr. tunstall. we are perfectly and entirely satisfied. mr. edgar's recognition of you as his brother, your possession of his letters, the fact that you answered at once to the advertisement in california, your knowledge of your early life at rugby, and so on, all tend to one plain conclusion; in fact, no shadow of doubt was entertained by my son or myself from the first. i congratulate you very heartily on your return, because to some extent the very hard treatment which was dealt to you by your father, mr. philip tunstall, has now been atoned for. of course you only received a short abstract of your brother's will; the various properties which fall to you are detailed in full in it. byrneside itself goes to his son; but against that may be set off a sum invested in good securities, and equal to the value of the house and home park, so that you can either build or purchase a mansion as good as byrneside. we may tell you also that the estates were added to in your father's time, and that other properties have been bought by your brother, who, owing to the death of his wife and the state of his health, has for some years led a very secluded life, investing the greater part of his savings in land. so that, in fact, your moiety of the estates will be quite as large as the elder son's portion you might have expected to receive in the ordinary course of events." "what sort of boy is my nephew, mr. randolph?" "i have seen him two or three times when i have been over at byrneside. of course i did not notice him particularly, but he is a bright lad, and promises to grow into a very fine young man. i fancy from something his father let drop that his disposition resembles yours. he is very fond of outdoor exercises, knows every foot of the hills round byrneside, and though but eleven or twelve years old he is perfectly at home on horseback, and he is a good shot. he has, in fact, run a little wild. his father spoke of him as being warmhearted and of excellent impulses, but lamented that, like you, he was somewhat quick-tempered and headstrong." "edgar ought not to have selected me for his guardian, mr. randolph." "i said almost as much, mr. tunstall, when i drew out the will; but mr. edgar remarked that you had doubtless got over all that long ago, and would be able to make more allowance for him and to manage him far better than anyone else could do." "i shall try and merit edgar's confidence, mr. randolph. i have suffered enough from my headstrong temper, and have certainly learnt to control it. i shall not be hard upon him, never fear." "are you going over to byrneside at once, mr. tunstall?" "no; i shall go up to london to-morrow morning. i want a regular outfit before i present myself there for inspection. besides, i would rather that you should give notice to them at byrneside that i have returned. it is unpleasant to arrive at a place unannounced, and to have to explain who you are." "perhaps you would like to see the will, and go through the schedule?" "not at all, mr. randolph. there will be plenty of time for that after my return." "you will excuse my asking if you want any money for present use, mr. tunstall?" "no, thank you; i am amply provided. i was doing very well at the diggings when your letters called me away, and i have plenty of cash for present purposes." "you will, i hope, dine with us to-day, mr. tunstall." "i thank you. i should have been very happy, but i have my wife with me. i have left her at the 'bull.'" "oh, indeed! i was not aware--" "that i was married? yes, i have been married for some years. i did not think it necessary to mention it to edgar, as he would only have used it as an additional argument why i should accept his generous offers." "we shall be very glad, mrs. randolph and myself, if you will bring mrs. tunstall with you." and so mrs. tunstall came. she was a dark woman, and, as mr. randolph and his wife agreed, was probably of mexican or spanish blood, and spoke english with a strange accent. she had evidently at one time been strikingly pretty, though now faded. she had rather a worn, hard expression on her face, and impressed mr. randolph, his wife, son, and daughter-in-law less favourably than the lawyer had thought it right to say to those who made inquiries about her; but she had, as they said, spoken but little, and had seemed somewhat nervous and ill at ease. mr. tunstall did not appear for some time at byrneside. he went down to rugby to see his nephew, who had, in accordance with his father's wish, been placed there a month or two after his death. the holidays were to begin a week later, and hugh was delighted when his uncle told him that he and his aunt were thinking of going to the continent for a few months before settling down at byrneside, and would take him with them. hugh was very much pleased with his new relative. "he is a splendid fellow," he told his school-boy friends. "awful jolly to talk to, and has been doing all sorts of things--fighting indians, and hunting buffalo, and working in the gold diggings. of course he didn't tell me much about them; there wasn't time for that. he tipped me a couple of sovs. i am sure we shall get on first-rate together." and so during the summer holidays hugh travelled with his uncle and aunt in switzerland and italy. he did not very much like his aunt. she seemed to try to be kind to him, and yet he thought she did not like him. his uncle had taken him about everywhere, and had told him lots of splendid yarns. at christmas they would be all together at byrneside. his uncle had been very much interested in the place, and was never tired of his talk about his rambles there. he remembered the pool where his father had told him they both used to fish as boys, and about harry gowan the fisherman who used to go out in his boat, and who was with them when that storm suddenly broke when the boat was wrecked on the island and they were all nearly drowned. he was very glad to hear that gowan was still alive; and that james wilson, who was then under stableman and used to look after their ponies, was now coachman; and that sam, the gardener's boy who used to show them where the birds' nests were, was now head-gardener; and that mr. holbeach the vicar was still alive, and so was his sister miss elizabeth; and that, in fact, he remembered quite well all the people who had been there when he was a boy. altogether it had been a glorious holiday. his uncle and aunt returned with him when it was over, the former saying he had had enough of travelling for the present, and instead of being away, as he had intended, for another couple of months he should go down home at once. they went with him as far as rugby, dropped him there, and then journeyed north. on their arrival at byrneside, where they had not been expected, mr. tunstall soon made himself extremely popular. scarcely had they entered the house when he sent out for james the coachman, and greeted him with the greatest heartiness. "i should not have known you, james," he said, "and i don't suppose you would have known me?" "no, sir; i cannot say as i should. you were only a slip of a lad then, though you didn't think yourself so. no, i should not have known you a bit." "twenty years makes a lot of difference, jim. ah, we had good fun in those days! don't you remember that day's ratting we had when the big stack was pulled down, and how one of them bit you in the ear, and how you holloaed?" "i remember that, sir. mr. edgar has often laughed with me about it." "and you remember how my poor brother and i dressed up in sheets once, and nearly scared you out of your life, jim?" "ay, ay; i mind that too, sir. that wasn't a fair joke, that wasn't." "no, that wasn't fair, jim. ah! well, i am past such pranks now. well, i am very glad to see you again after all these years, and to find you well. i hear that sam is still about the old place, and is now head-gardener. you may as well come out and help me find him while mrs. tunstall is taking off her things." sam was soon found, and was as delighted as james at mr. tunstall's recollection of some of their bird-nesting exploits. after a long chat with him, mr. tunstall returned to the house, where a meal was already prepared. "you need not wait," he said, after the butler had handed the dishes. "i have not been accustomed to have a man-servant behind my chair for the last twenty years, and can do without it now." he laid down his knife and fork with an air of relief as the door closed behind the servant. "well, lola," he said in spanish, "everything has gone off well." "yes," she said, "i suppose it has," in the same language. "it is all very oppressive. i wish we were back in california again." "you used to be always grumbling there," he said savagely. "i was always away from you, and altogether you were the most ill-used woman in the world. now you have got everything a woman could want. a grand house, and carriages, and horses; the garden and park. what can you want more?" she shrugged her shoulders. "i shall get accustomed to it in time," she said, "but so far i do not like it. it is all stiff and cold. i would rather have a little hacienda down on the del norte, with a hammock to swing in, and a cigarette between my lips, and a horse to take a scamper on if i am disposed, and you with me, than live in this dreary palace." "baby! you will get accustomed to it in time, and you can have a hammock here if you like, though it is not often that it is warm enough to use it. and you can smoke cigarettes all day. it would shock them if you were an englishwoman, but in a mexican they will think it right and proper enough. and you have got your guitar with you, so you can have most of your pleasures; and as for the heat, there is sure to be some big glass houses where they grow fruit and flowers, and you can have one of them fitted up with mexican plants, and hang your hammock there; and it won't need a very long stretch of imagination to fancy that you are at your hacienda on the del norte." "if you can manage that it will be nice," the woman said. "anything can be managed in this country when we have got money to pay for it." "at any rate it will be a comfort to know that there is no fear of your being shot here. every time you went away from me, if it was only for a week or two, i knew i might never see you again, and that you might get shot by some of those drunken miners. well, i shall be free of all that now, and i own that i was wrong to grumble. i shall be happy here with you, and i see that it was indeed fortunate that you found those papers on the body of the man you came across dead in the woods." she looked closely at him as she spoke. "well, that is a subject that there is no use talking about, lola. it was a slice of luck; but there is an english proverb, that walls have ears, and it is much better that you should try and forget the past. remember only that i am william tunstall, who has come back here after being away twenty years." she nodded. "i shall not forget it. you know, you always said i was a splendid actress, and many a fool with more dollars than wit have i lured on, and got to play with you in the old days at santa fã©." "there, there, drop it, lola," he said; "the less we have of old memories the better. now we will have the servants in, or they will begin to think we have gone to sleep over our meal." and he struck the bell which the butler, when he went out, had placed on the table beside him. "have you been over the house?" he asked when they were alone again. "not over it all. the old woman--she called herself the housekeeper--showed me a great room which she said was the drawing-room, and a pretty little room which had been her mistress's boudoir, and another room full of books, and a gallery with a lot of ugly pictures in it, and the bed-room that is to be ours, and a lot of others opening out of it." "well, i will go over them now with you, lola. of course i am supposed to know them all. ah! this is the boudoir. well, i am sure you can be comfortable here, lola. those chairs are as soft and easy as a hammock. this will be your sanctum, and you can lounge and smoke, and play your guitar to your heart's content. yes, this is a fine drawing-room, but it is a deal too large for two of us; though in summer, with the windows all open, i daresay it is pleasant enough." having made a tour of the rooms that had been shown lola, they came down to the hall again. "now let us stroll out into the garden," he said. "you will like that." he lit a cigar, and lola a cigarette. the latter was unfeignedly delighted with the masses of flowers and the beautifully kept lawns, and the views from the terrace, with a stretch of fair country, and the sea sparkling in the sunshine two miles away. "here comes the head-gardener, lola, my old friend. this is sam, lola," he said, as the gardener came up and touched his hat. "you know you have heard me speak of him. my wife is delighted with the garden, sam. she has never seen an english garden before." "it is past its best now, sir. you should have seen it two months ago." "i don't think it could be more beautiful," lola said; "there is nothing like this in my country. we have gardens with many flowers, but not grass like this, so smooth and so level. does it grow no higher?" "oh, it grows fast enough, and a good deal too fast to please us, and has to be cut twice a week." "i see you are looking surprised at my wife smoking," william tunstall said with a smile. "in her country all ladies smoke. show her the green-houses; i think they will surprise her even more than the garden." the long ranges of green-houses were visited, and sam was gratified at his new mistress's delight at the flowers, many of which she recognized, and still more at the fruit--the grapes covering the roofs with black and yellow bunches; the peaches and nectarines nestling against the walls. "the early sorts are all over," sam said; "but i made a shift to keep these back, though i did not think there was much chance of any but the grapes being here when you got back, as we heard that you would not be home much before christmas." "we changed our mind, you see, sam, and i am glad we did, for if we had come then, mrs. tunstall would have been frightened at the cold and bleakness. i'll tell you what i want done, sam. i want this conservatory next the house filled as much as possible with mexican and south american plants. of course, you can put palms and other things that will stand heat along with them. i want the stages cleared away, and the place made to look as much like a room as possible. mrs. tunstall will use it as a sitting-room." "i think we shall have to put another row of pipes in, mr. william. those plants will want more heat than we have got here." "then we must put them in. my wife will not care how hot it is, but of course we don't want tropical heat. i should put some rockery down the side here to hide the pipes, and in the centre we will have a fountain with water plants, a foot or two below the level of the floor, and a low bank of ferns round. that is the only change, as far as i can see, that we shall want in the house. i shall be going over to carlisle in a day or two, and i'll arrange with somebody there to make the alterations." "very well, mr. william, if you will get some masons to do the rockery and fountain, i can answer for the rest; but i think i shall need a good many fresh plants. we are not very strong in hot subjects. mr. edgar never cared for them much." "if you will make out a list of what you want, and tell me who is the best man to send to, sam, i will order them as soon as you are ready to put them in." and so, when hugh returned at christmas for the holidays, he was astonished at finding his aunt swinging in a hammock, smoking a cigarette, slung near a sparkling little fountain, and surrounded by semi-tropical plants. the smoking did not surprise him, for he had often seen her with a cigarette during their trip together; but the transformation of the conservatory astonished him. "well, hugh, what do you think of it?" she asked, smiling at his surprise. "it is beautiful!" he said; "it isn't like a green-house. it is just like a bit out of a foreign country." "that is what we tried to make it, hugh. you see, on the side next to the house where there is a wall, we have had a mexican view painted with a blue sky, such as we have there, and mountains, and a village at the foot of the hills. as i lie here i can fancy myself back again, if i don't look up at the sashes overhead. oh, how i wish one could do without them, and that it could be covered with one great sheet of glass!" "it would be better," hugh admitted, "but it is stunning as it is. uncle told me, as he drove me over from carlisle, that he had been altering the conservatory, and making it a sort of sitting-room for you, but i never thought that it would be like this. what are those plants growing on the rocks?" "those are american aloes, they are one of our most useful plants, hugh. they have strong fibres which we use for string, and they make a drink out of the juice fermented; it is called pulque, and is our national drink, though of late years people drink spirits too, which are bad for them, and make them quarrelsome." during the holidays hugh got over his former dislike for his aunt, and came to like her more than his uncle. she was always kind and pleasant with him, while he found that, although his uncle at times was very friendly, his temper was uncertain. the want of some regular occupation, and the absence of anything like excitement, told heavily upon a man accustomed to both. at first there was the interest in playing his part: of meeting people who had known him in his boyhood, of receiving and returning the visits of the few resident gentry within a circuit of ten miles, of avoiding mistakes and evading dangers; but all this was so easy that he soon tired of it. he had tried to make lola contented, and yet her lazy contentment with her surroundings irritated him. she had created a good impression upon the ladies who had called. the expression of her face had softened since her first visit to carlisle, and the nervous expression that had struck mr. randolph then had disappeared. her slight accent, and the foreign style of her dress, were interesting novelties to her visitors, and after the first dinner-party given in their honour, at which she appeared in a dress of dull gold with a profusion of rich black lace, she was pronounced charming. her husband, too, was considered to be an acquisition to the county. everyone had expected that he would have returned, after so long an absence, rough and unpolished, whereas his manners were quiet and courteous. he was perhaps less popular among the sturdy cumberland squires than with their wives. he did not hunt; he did not shoot. "i should have thought," one of his neighbours said to him, "that everyone who had been living a rough life in the states would have been a good shot." "a good many of us are good shots, perhaps most of us, but it is with the pistol and rifle. shot-guns are not of much use when you have a party of red-skins yelling and shooting round you, and it is not a handy weapon to go and fetch when a man draws a revolver on you. as to shooting little birds, it may be done by men who live on their farms and like an occasional change from the bacon and tinned meat that they live on from year's end to year's end. out there a hunter is a man who shoots game--i mean deer and buffalo and bear and other animals--for the sake of their skins, although, of course, he does use the meat of such as are eatable. with us a good shot means a man who can put a ball into a red-skin's body at five hundred yards certain, and who with a pistol can knock a pipe out of a man's mouth ten yards away, twenty times following; and it isn't only straightness of shooting, but quickness of handling, that is necessary. a man has to draw, and cock, and fire, in an instant. the twinkling of an eye makes the difference of life or death. "oh, yes! i am a good shot, but not in your way. i went away from here too young to get to care about tramping over the country all day to shoot a dozen or two of birds, and i have never been in the way of learning to like it since. i wish i had, for it seems an important part of country life here, and i know i shall never be considered as a credit to the county unless i spend half my time in winter riding after foxes or tramping after birds; but i am afraid i am too old now ever to take to those sports. i heartily wish i could, for i find it dull having no pursuit. when a man has been earning his living by hunting, or gold digging, or prospecting for mines all his life, he finds it hard to get up in the morning and know that there is nothing for him to do but just to look round the garden or to go out for a drive merely for the sake of driving." when summer came mr. tunstall found some amusements to his taste. if there was a wrestling match anywhere in the county or in westmoreland he would be present, and he became a regular attendant at all the race-courses in the north of england. he did not bet. as he said to a sporting neighbour, who always had a ten-pound note on the principal races, "i like to bet when the chances are even, or when i can match my skill against another man's; but in this horse-racing you are risking your money against those who know more than you do. unless you are up to all the tricks and dodges, you have no more chance of winning than a man has who gambles with a cheat who plays with marked cards. i like to go because it is an excitement; besides, at most of the large meetings there is a little gambling in the evening. in mexico and california everyone gambles more or less. it is one of the few ways of spending money, and i like a game occasionally." the result was that mr. tunstall was seldom at home during the summer. when hugh came home his aunt said: "i have been talking to your uncle about you, and he does not care about going away this year. he has taken to have an interest in horse-racing. of course it is a dull life for him here after leading an active one for so many years, and i am very glad he has found something to interest him." "i should think that it is very dull for you, aunt." "i am accustomed to be alone, hugh. in countries where every man has to earn his living, women cannot expect to have their husbands always with them. they may be away a month at a time up in the mountains, or at the mines, or hunting in the plains. i am quite accustomed to that. but i was going to talk about you. i should like a change, and you and i will go away where we like. not, of course, to travel about as we did last year, but to any seaside place you would like to go to. we need not stop all the time at one, but can go to three or four of them. i have been getting some books about them lately, and i think it would be most pleasant to go down to devonshire. there seem to be lots of pretty watering-places there, and the climate is warmer than in the towns on the east coast." "i should like it very much, aunt; but i should like a fortnight here first, if you don't mind. my pony wants exercise terribly, jim says. he has been out at grass for months now; besides, i shall forget how to ride if i don't have some practice." so for the next fortnight hugh was out from morning until night either riding or sailing with gowan, and then he went south with his aunt and spent the rest of his holidays in devonshire and cornwall. he had a delightful time of it, his aunt allowing him to do just as he liked in the way of sailing and going out excursions. she always took rooms overlooking the sea, and was well content to sit all day at the open window; seldom moving until towards evening, when she would go out for a stroll with hugh. occasionally she would take long drives with him in a pony-carriage; but she seldom proposed these expeditions. as hugh several times met with schoolfellows, and always struck up an acquaintance a few hours after arriving at a place with some of the boatmen and fishermen, he never found it dull. at first he was disposed to pity his aunt and to urge her to go out with him; but she assured him that she was quite contented to be alone, and to enjoy the sight of the sea and to breathe the balmy air. "i have not enjoyed myself so much, hugh," she said when the holidays were drawing to a close, "since i was a girl." "i am awfully glad of that, aunt. i have enjoyed myself tremendously; but it always seems to me that it must be dull for you." "you english never seem to be happy unless you are exerting yourselves, hugh; but that is not our idea of happiness. people in warm climates find their pleasure in sitting still, in going out after the heat of the day is over for a promenade, and in listening to the music, just as we have been doing here. besides it has been a pleasure to me to see that you have been happy." when the summer holidays had passed away, hugh returned to rugby, and lola went back to cumberland. [illustration] chapter iv. an explosion. at christmas hugh found that things were not so pleasant at home. there was nothing now to take his uncle away from byrneside, and the dullness of the place told upon him. his outbursts of ill-temper were therefore more frequent than they had been the last holidays hugh had spent at home. he sat much longer in the dining-room over his wine, after his wife and hugh had left him, than he did before, and was sometimes moody, sometimes bad-tempered when he joined them. hugh's own temper occasionally broke out at this, and there were several quarrels between him and his uncle; but there was a savage fierceness in the latter's manner that cowed the boy, and whatever he felt he learned to hold his tongue; but he came more and more to dislike his uncle, especially as he saw that when angry he would turn upon his aunt and speak violently to her in her own language. sometimes she would blaze out in return, but generally she continued to smoke her cigarette tranquilly as if utterly unconscious that she was spoken to. so for the next two years matters went on. during the summer holidays hugh seldom saw his uncle, who was more and more away from home, being now a constant attendant at all the principal race-courses in the country. even in winter he was often away in london, to hugh's great satisfaction, for when he was at home there were frequent quarrels between them, and hugh could see that his uncle habitually drank a great deal more wine than was good for him. indeed it was always in the evening that these scenes occurred. at other times his uncle seemed to make an effort to be pleasant with him. in summer hugh went away with his aunt for a time, but he spent a part of his holidays at byrneside, for of all exercises he best loved riding. his pony had been given up, but there were plenty of horses in the stables, for although william tunstall did not care for hunting, he rode a good deal, and was an excellent horseman. "what have you got in the stable, james?" hugh asked one day on his return from the school. "i have got a set of the worst-tempered devils in the country, master hugh. except them two ponies that i drives your aunt out with, there isn't a horse in the stables fit for a christian to ride. they are all good horses, first-rate horses, putting aside their tempers; but your uncle seems to delight in buying creatures that no one else will ride. of course he gets them cheap. he doesn't care how wicked they are, and he seems to enjoy it when they begin their pranks with him. i thought at first he would get his brains dashed out to a certainty, but i never saw a man keep his seat as he does. he told me once, that when a man had been breaking bronchos--that is what he called them, which means, he said, wild horses that had never been backed--he could sit anything, and that english horses were like sheep in comparison. "of course, it is no use saying no to you, master hugh; but if you want to go out, you must stick to that big meadow. you must mount there, and you must promise me not to go beyond it. i have been letting the hedges grow there on purpose for the last two years, and no horse will try to take them. the ground is pretty soft and you will fall light. you have been getting on with your riding the last three years, and have had some pretty rough mounts, but none as bad as what we have got in the stables now. i shall always go out with you myself with one of the men in case of accident, and i can put you up to some of their tricks before you mount." hugh was more than fifteen now, and was very tall and strong for his age. he had ridden a great deal when he had been at home during the summer, and in the winter when the weather was open, and had learned to sit on nasty-tempered animals, for these had gradually taken the place of his father's steady hunters; but this year he found that the coachman's opinion of those now under his charge was by no means exaggerated. in spite of doing his best to keep his seat, he had many heavy falls, being once or twice stunned; but he stuck to it, and by the end of the holidays flattered himself that he could ride the worst-tempered animal in the stable. he did not go away this year, begging his aunt to remain at home. "it is a splendid chance of learning to ride well, aunt," he said. "if i stick at it right through these two months every day i shall really have got a good seat, and you know it is a lot better my getting chucked off now than if i was older. you see boys' bones ain't set, and they hardly ever break them, and if they do they mend up in no time." his aunt had at first very strongly opposed his riding any of the animals in the stable, and he had been obliged to bring in james to assure her that some of them were not much worse than those he had ridden before, and that a fall on the soft ground of the meadow was not likely to be very serious, but it was only on his giving her his solemn promise that he would not on any account go beyond the meadow that she finally consented. on his return at christmas he found his uncle at home, and apparently in an unusually pleasant humour. a frost had set in that seemed likely to be a long one, and the ground was as hard as iron. "i hear, hugh," his uncle said the second morning at breakfast, "that you are becoming a first-rate rider. i am glad to hear it. out in the western states every man is a good rider. you may say that he lives on horseback, and it comes natural even to boys to be able to sit bare-backed on the first horse that comes to hand. of course it is not so important here, still a man who is a really good rider has many advantages. in the first place, all gentlemen here hunt, and a man who can go across any country, and can keep his place in the front rank, has much honour among his neighbours; in the second place, he is enabled to get his horses cheap. a horse that will fetch two hundred if he is free from vice can be often picked up for twenty if he gets the reputation of being bad-tempered. there is another accomplishment we all have in the west, and that is to be good pistol-shots. as we cannot ride, and there is nothing else to do, i will teach you, if you like." hugh accepted the offer with lively satisfaction, heedless of an exclamation of dissent from his aunt. when he had left the room william tunstall turned savagely upon his wife. "what did you want to interfere for? just attend to your own business or it will be the worse for you." "it is my own business," she said fearlessly. "i like that boy, and i am not going to see him hurt. ever since you told me, soon after we first came here, that by his father's will the whole property came to you if hugh died before he came of age, i have been anxious for him. i don't want to interfere with your way of going on. lead your own life, squander your share of the property if you like, it is nothing to me; when it is spent i am ready to go back to our old life, but i won't have the boy hurt. i have always accepted your story as to how you became possessed of the papers without question. i know you have killed a score of men in what you call fair fight, but i did not know that you were a murderer in cold blood. anyhow the boy sha'n't be hurt. i believe you bought those horses knowing that he would try them, and believing they would break his neck. they haven't, but no thanks to you. now you have offered to teach him pistol-shooting. it is so easy for an accident to take place, isn't it? but i warn you that if anything happens to him, i will go straight to the nearest magistrate and tell him who you really are, and that i am certain there was no accident, but a murder." the man was white with fury, and advanced a step towards her. "have you gone mad?" he asked between his teeth. "by heavens!--" "no, you won't," she interrupted. "don't make the threat, because i might not forgive you if you did. do you think i am afraid of you? you are not in california or mexico now. people cannot be shot here without inquiry. i know what you are thinking of; an accident might happen to me too. i know that any love you ever had for me has died out long ago, but i hold to my life. i have placed in safe hands--never mind where i have placed it--a paper telling all the truth. it is to be opened if i die suddenly and without sending for it. in it i say that if my death is said to have been caused by an accident, it would be no accident, but murder; and that if i die suddenly, without visible cause, that i shall have been poisoned. do you think i don't know you, and that knowing you i would trust my life altogether in your hands? there, that is enough, we need not threaten each other. i know you, and now you know me. we will both go our own way." and she walked out of the room leaving her husband speechless with fury at this open and unexpected revolt. half an hour later his dog-cart was at the door and he left for london. hugh was astonished when, on his return from a walk down to gowan's cottage, he found that his uncle had gone up to town. "why, i thought, aunt, he was going to be at home all the holidays, and he said that he was going to teach me pistol-shooting." "your uncle often changes his mind suddenly. i will teach you pistol-shooting, hugh. most mexican women can use a pistol in case of need. i cannot shoot as he does, but i can teach you to shoot fairly, and after that it is merely a matter of incessant practice. if you ever travel i daresay you will find it very useful to be able to use a pistol cleverly. there are two or three revolvers upstairs and plenty of ammunition, so if you like we will practise in the conservatory; it is too cold to go out. you had better go and ask james to give you some thick planks, five or six of them, to set up as targets. if he has got such a thing as an iron plate it will be better still. i don't want to spoil my picture. the place is forty feet long, which will be a long enough range to begin with." half an hour later the sharp cracks of a revolver rang out in the conservatory, and from that time to the end of the holidays hugh practised for two or three hours a day, the carrier bringing over fresh supplies of ammunition twice a week. he found at first that the sharp recoil of the revolver rendered it very difficult for him to shoot straight, but in time he became accustomed to this, and at the end of a fortnight could put every shot in or close to the spot he had marked as a bull's-eye. after the first day his aunt laid aside her pistol, and betook herself to her favourite hammock, where, sometimes touching her guitar, sometimes glancing at a book, she watched his progress. at the end of the fortnight she said: "you begin to shoot fairly straight. keep on, hugh, and with constant practice, you will be able to hit a half-crown every time. in the west it is a common thing for a man to hold a copper coin between his finger and thumb for another to shoot at. i have seen it done scores of times, but it will take you some time to get to that. you must remember that there is very seldom time to take a steady deliberate aim as you do. when a man shoots he has got to shoot quickly. now, practise standing with your face the other way, and then turn and fire the instant your eye catches the mark. after that you must practise firing from your hip. sometimes there is no time to raise the arm. out in the west a man has got to do one of two things, either not to carry a revolver at all, or else he must be able to shoot as quickly as a flash of lightning." "i don't suppose i am ever going to the west, aunt; still i should like to be able to shoot like that, for if one does a thing at all one likes to do it well." [illustration: hugh practices shooting with his revolver.] and so to the end of the holidays the revolver practice went on steadily every morning, hugh generally firing seventy or eighty cartridges. he could not do this at first, for the wrench of the recoil strained his wrist, but this gained strength as he went on. before he went back to school he himself thought that he was becoming a very fair shot, although his aunt assured him that he had hardly begun to shoot according to western notions. mrs. tunstall had one day, a year before this, driven over to carlisle, and, somewhat to the surprise of mr. randolph, had called upon him at his office. "mr. randolph," she began, "i do not know anything about english law. i want to ask you a question." "certainly, my dear madam." "if a married woman was to leave a sealed letter in the hands of a lawyer, could he retain possession of it for her, even if her husband called upon him to give it up?" "it is a nice question, mrs. tunstall. if the lawyer was acting as the fiduciary agent of a lady he would at any rate see that her wishes were complied with; whether he could absolutely hold the paper against the husband's claim is a point upon which i am not prepared at present to give an answer. but anyhow there are ways of evading the law; for instance, he could pass it on to a third party, and then, unless the husband had been absolutely informed by his wife that she had handed over this document to him, the husband would be powerless, the lawyer would simply declare that he had no such document. are you asking for your own sake, mrs. tunstall, or in the interest of a friend?" "in my own interest, mr. randolph. i have a written paper here. i have not signed it yet, because i believe it is necessary to sign papers in the presence of witnesses." "it depends upon the nature of the paper, mrs. tunstall; but in all cases it is a prudent step, for then no question as to the authenticity can arise." "and it is not necessary for the witnesses of the signature to read the contents of the document?" "by no means; they simply witness the signature." "well, mr. randolph, this is the document i want to leave in safe hands, so that it can be opened after my death, unless i previously request, not by letter, but by word of mouth, that it should be returned to me. i know of no one else to whom i could commit the paper, which is, in my opinion, a very important one; the only question is whether, as you are mr. tunstall's solicitor, you would like to take it." "frankly, without knowing the nature of the contents, mrs. tunstall, i should certainly prefer not to undertake such a charge. should it remain in my hands, or rather in the hands of our firm--for we may sincerely trust that there would be no occasion for opening it until very many years after my death--it might be found to contain instructions which could hardly be carried out by a firm situated as we are with regard to mr. tunstall." "i see that, mr. randolph." there was a pause, and then the lawyer said: "will you be going up to town shortly, mrs. tunstall?" "yes, in the course of a month or so i shall be passing through london with hugh." "will the matter keep until then?" "certainly, there is no great hurry about it; but i wish the packet placed in safe hands, where it would be opened in the event of my death, unless i recall it before that." "in that case, mrs. tunstall, i will give you the address of the firm who do my london business. they are an old established firm of the highest respectability, and the document will be perfectly safe in their hands until you demand it back, or until they hear of your demise. i will give you a letter of introduction to them." accordingly when mrs. tunstall went up to town the next time with hugh she called upon the firm of solicitors, whose place of business was in essex street, and upon reading mr. randolph's letter, which stated that she was the wife of one of his clients, a gentleman of means, she was courteously received, and they at once agreed to take charge of any document she might place in their hands, upon the understanding that if she did not write or call for it, it should be opened when they heard of her death, and its contents, whatever they might be, acted upon. "you will stand in the position of our client, mrs. tunstall, and we will do all in our power to carry out your wishes as expressed in this document, whatever it may be. it is no unusual matter for a will to be left with us under precisely similar circumstances." "if the packet should be opened under the conditions i name," mrs. tunstall said, "you will probably not regret having undertaken its charge, for i can assure you that it may put a considerable amount of business in your hands. but how will you know of my death?" "mr. randolph or his successor would inform us. of course we shall request him to do so." "and as soon as he knows of the event," mrs. tunstall added, "it is of the utmost importance that the paper should be opened as soon as possible after my death." "we will request mr. randolph to inform us by telegraph immediately he receives the news. but, pardon me, you look well and healthy, and are young to be making such careful provisions for an event that may be far distant." "that may or may not be far distant," she said, "but for certain important reasons i wish to be prepared for it at all points. i will now sign it in your presence, mr. curtice. i have not yet put my signature to it." "very well, mrs. tunstall. two of my clerks shall witness your signature. it may be many years before any question as to the authenticity of the signature may arise; so i shall be a witness also." the document was a lengthy one, written on sixteen pages of foolscap. two of the clerks were called in. "now if you will turn that last page down, mrs. tunstall, so that its contents cannot be seen, you can sign your name and we will witness it." this was done. "now, mrs. tunstall, if you will put a sheet of brown paper over the other sheets, and place your initials on the margin at the bottom, we will put ours, so that no question can arise as to the whole of them forming part of the document signed by you. now, madam, if you will fold it up and place it in this envelope i will attach my seal. i presume you do not carry a seal?" "no, sir." "i think it would be more satisfactory that you should affix a seal of some sort, no matter how common a thing it may be. mr. carter, will you go up into the strand with this lady, and take her to some shop where she can purchase a seal? it does not matter what it is, mrs. tunstall; any common thing, with a bird or a motto or anything else upon it. these things are not cut in duplicate, therefore if you seal the envelope in two or three places with it and take the seal away with you, it will be a guarantee to you, should you ever require it to be returned, that it has not been opened. in the meantime i will get a small strong-box similar to those you see round the room, and have your name painted on it. when it is completed i shall put the envelope in it, lock it up, and place it in our strong-room downstairs." the seal was purchased and fixed, and mrs. tunstall took her departure, satisfied that she had left the document in safe hands. mr. curtice talked the matter over with his partner. the latter laughed. "women love a little mystery, curtice. i suppose she has got a little property in her own right, and does not mean to leave it to her husband, and is afraid he may get hold of her will and find out how she has left it." "i don't think it is that," mr. curtice said, "although, of course, it may be. i should say she was a foreigner--a spaniard or italian; she spoke with a slight accent. besides, the thing extends over sixteen pages of foolscap." "that is likely enough if she made the will herself, curtice. she may have gone into a whole history as to why she has not left her money to her husband." "possibly, but i don't think so. you mark my words, harris, if that packet ever comes to be opened there will be some rum disclosures in it. that woman was no fool, and there is no doubt about her being thoroughly in earnest. she said it was likely to give us some work when it was opened, and i believe her. i will write a letter to randolph and ask him to give us a few particulars about this client he has introduced to us." when he received mr. randolph's reply, stating briefly the history of mr. william tunstall, the husband of the lady he had introduced to them, mr. curtice was more convinced than before that the delivery of this packet into his charge was not a mere freak, and offered to bet his partner a new hat that the document was not merely a will, but that it would turn out something altogether unusual. mr. randolph congratulated himself on his forethought, when, a year after mrs. tunstall's visit, mr. tunstall came into the office. "i am just on my way up to town," he said. "i wish you would let me have a couple of hundred in advance on the next rents." "certainly, mr. tunstall. you have already had â£200 on them, you know." "yes, i know; but i have been a little unlucky lately, and have got an account i want to settle. by the way," he said carelessly, as he placed the bank-notes in his pocket-book, "mrs. tunstall asked me to get from you the letter or packet she left in your charge." "a letter, mr. tunstall? i think there must be some mistake. mrs. tunstall has certainly left nothing whatever in my charge." "oh! i suppose i misunderstood her. i only made up my mind to start a short time before i came off, and did not pay much attention to what she was saying; but it was something about a letter, and she mentioned your name; there were half a dozen commissions she wanted me to execute for her in london, and i suppose they all got mixed up together. i daresay it is of no consequence one way or the other. well, thanks for the money--now i am off." "i am very much afraid that william tunstall is a liar," mr. randolph said to himself thoughtfully after his client had left. "he has found out that his wife has intrusted some document or other to someone, and he guessed naturally enough that she had most likely come to me with it, and he played a bold stroke to get it. i do not like the way he has fallen into of spending all his time going about the country to race-courses. i don't believe he has been at home two months this year. besides, he sounded me last time he was here about raising a few thousands on a mortgage. he is not turning out well. i thought when he first came back that his wanderings had done him no harm. no doubt i had been prepossessed in his favour by his refusal to accept edgar's offers to divide the rents with him, but i was too hasty. i am afraid there will be trouble at byrneside. it is very fortunate edgar put my name in as trustee for his son, so that his share of the property is safe whatever happens to the other; but i hate to see a man of a good old family like the tunstalls going wrong. i wonder what this mysterious document his wife wanted to leave with me is? it must be something of great importance, or he would never have come to me and lied in order to get it into his hands. it is a queer business." hugh did not see his uncle when he was at home for the summer holidays. his aunt seemed to take his absence as a matter of course. "don't you expect uncle home soon?" he asked her one day. "i never expect him," she said quietly. "i think it a shame he stays away so, leaving you all by yourself, aunt!" hugh said indignantly. "i am accustomed to it by this time, hugh; and, upon the whole, i think perhaps he is better away than here while you are at home. you see you do not get on very well together." "well, aunt, i am sure i don't want any rows." "i don't say you do, hugh; but still there are rows. you see he is passionate, and you are passionate, and it is very much better you should be apart. as for me, i have always been accustomed to his being away from me a good deal ever since we married, and it does not trouble me at all. i would much rather have you all to myself. your being here makes it a very pleasant time for me; we ride together, drive together, and practise shooting together. it is all a change to me, for except when you are here i seldom stir beyond the gardens." hugh had indeed no doubt that his aunt was more comfortable when his uncle was away, for he heard from wilson that when mr. tunstall was at home there were constant quarrels between him and his wife. "he ain't like your father, mr. hugh. ah! he was a gentleman of the right sort! not that your uncle is a bad master. he is hasty if everything is not quite right, but in general he is pleasant spoken and easy to get on with. he is popular with the gentry, though of late they have held off a bit. i hear it said they don't hold to a gentleman spending all his life on the race-courses and leaving his wife by herself. your aunt is well liked, and would be better liked if she would only go abroad and visit; but she never drives out unless when you are here, and people have given up calling. it is a bad job; but i hope when you come of age, mr. hugh, we shall have the old times back again, when the tunstalls were one of the first families in the county, and took the lead of pretty nigh everything." "well, they have five years to wait for that, wilson. i am just sixteen now, and i mean when i do come of age and am my own master to travel about for a bit before i settle down into a country squire." "well, i suppose that is natural enough, mr. hugh, though why people want to be running off to foreign parts is more than i can make out. anyhow, sir, i hope you won't be bringing a foreign wife back with you." "there is no fear of that"--hugh laughed--"at least according to my present ideas. but i suppose that is a thing no one can settle about until their time comes. at any rate aunt is a foreigner, and i am sure no one could be kinder or nicer than she is." "that she is, mr. hugh. i am sure everyone says that. still, you see, there is drawbacks. her ways are different from the ways of the ladies about here, and that keeps her apart from them. she don't drive about, and call, and make herself sociable like, nor see to the charities down in the village. it ain't as she doesn't give money, because i know that whenever the rector says there is a case wants help she is ready enough with her purse; but she don't go among them or know anything about them herself. no, mr. hugh; your aunt is a wonderful nice lady, but you take my advice and bring home an english wife as mistress of the hall." when he came home for the christmas holidays hugh found his uncle again at home. for a time matters went on smoothly. mr. tunstall made an evident endeavour to be friendly with him, talked to him about his life at school, asked whether he wished to go to the university when he left; and when hugh said that he didn't see any use in spending three years of his life there when he did not intend entering any of the professions, and that he would much rather travel and see something of foreign countries, he warmly encouraged the idea. "quite right, hugh! there is nothing opens a man's mind like foreign travel. but don't stick in the great towns. of course you will want a year to do europe; after that strike out a line of your own. if i had my time over again i would go into central asia or africa, or some place where there was credit to be gained and some spice of adventure and danger." "that is just what i should like, uncle," hugh said eagerly; and looking at his aunt for confirmation, he was surprised to see her watching her husband intently beneath her half-closed eyelids. "don't you think so, aunt?" [illustration: hugh, seizing a poker, sprang at his uncle.] "i don't know, hugh," she said quietly. "there is a good deal to be said both ways. but i don't think we need settle it now; you have another year and a half at school yet, you know." hugh went out skating that afternoon, for it was a sharp frost. as he was passing through the hall on his return he heard his uncle's voice raised in anger in the drawing-room. he paused for a moment. he could not catch the words, for they were spoken in mexican. there was silence for a moment, and he imagined that his aunt was answering. then he heard a loud exclamation in mexican, then a slight cry and a heavy fall. he rushed into the room. his aunt lay upon the hearthrug, his uncle was standing over her with clenched hand. "you coward, you brutal coward!" hugh exclaimed, rushing forward, and, throwing himself upon his uncle, he tried to force him back from the hearth-rug. for a moment the fury of his assault forced his uncle back, but the latter's greatly superior strength then enabled him to shake off his grasp, and the moment he was free he struck the lad a savage blow across the face, that sent him reeling backwards. mad with passion, hugh rushed to the fender, and seizing a poker, sprang at his uncle. william tunstall's hand went behind him, and as hugh struck, he levelled a pistol. but he was too late. the blow came down heavily, and the pistol exploded in the air; as the man fell back his head came with terrible force against the edge of a cabinet, and he lay immovable. hugh's passion was stilled in an instant. he dropped the poker, and leaned over his uncle. the blood was flowing down his forehead from the blow he had given him, but it was the injury to the back of the head that most alarmed the lad. he lifted an arm, and it fell heavily again. he knelt down and listened, but could hear no sound of breathing. he rose to his feet, and looked down, white and trembling, at the body. "i have killed him," he said. "well, he brought it on himself, and i didn't mean it. it was the cabinet that did it. perhaps he is only stunned. if he is, he will charge me with trying to murder him. well, it is no use my staying here; they will be here in a moment," and he glanced at the door. but the servants at byrneside were so accustomed to the sound of pistol shots that they paid no attention to it. hugh picked up the weapon that had dropped from his uncle's hand and put it in his pocket; then glanced at his aunt and hesitated. "she will come round in time," he muttered, "and i can do nothing for her." then he walked out of the room, turned the key in the door, and took it with him. he went out to the stable, and ordered his horse to be saddled, keeping in the stable while it was being done, so that his white face should not attract notice. as soon as the horse was brought out he leapt into the saddle and galloped off. [illustration] [illustration] chapter v. across the sea. mr. randolph was at dinner when the servant came in and said that young mr. tunstall wished to speak to him; he was in the library, and begged the lawyer to give him two minutes' conversation. hugh was walking up and down the little room when he entered. the old lawyer saw at once that something was wrong. "what is it, hugh, what is the matter, lad?" "a good deal is the matter, mr. randolph; but i don't want you to ask me. i am sure you will be glad afterwards that you didn't know. you were a friend of my father's, sir. you have been always very kind to me. will you give me fifty pounds without asking why i want it?" "certainly i will, lad; but in heaven's name don't do anything rash." "anything that was to be done is done, mr. randolph; please let me have the money at once. you don't know how important it is. you will know soon enough." mr. randolph unlocked his desk without a word, and handed him ten five-pound notes. then he said: "by the way, i have gold, if you would rather have it. there were some rents paid in this afternoon." "i would much rather have gold." mr. randolph put the notes in the desk, and then unlocked the safe. "would you rather have a hundred?" "yes, sir, if you will let me have them." the lawyer handed him a small canvas bag. "god bless you, sir!" the lad said; "remember, please, whatever you hear, it was done in self-defence." then without another word he opened the door and was gone. "why, what is the matter, my dear?" mrs. randolph exclaimed, as her husband returned to the dining-room. "why, you are as pale as death." "i don't know what is the matter exactly," he said. "hugh has borrowed a hundred pounds of me, and has gone." "gone! where has he gone to?" "i don't know, my dear. i hope, i sincerely hope he is going out of the country, and can get away before they lay hands on him." "why, what has happened?" "i don't know what has happened. i know things haven't been going on well for some time at byrneside. i am afraid there has been a terrible quarrel. he begged me to ask him no questions, and i was glad not to do so. the less one knows, the better; but i am afraid there has been a scuffle. all he said was, just as he went out: 'whatever you hear, remember i did it in self-defence.'" "but, goodness gracious, thomas, you don't mean to say that he has killed his uncle?" "i don't mean anything," the lawyer said. "those were his words. i am afraid it won't be long before we hear what he meant. if they come to ask me questions, fortunately i know nothing. i shall say no word except before a magistrate, and then my story is simple enough. he came and asked me to let me have â£100, and as i was his trustee, and have the rents of his estate for the past five years in my hands, i let him have it as a matter of course. i did not ask him why he wanted it. i saw that he was agitated, and from his manner, and from my knowledge that he and his uncle did not get on very well together, i judged there had been a quarrel, and that he intended to leave home for a while. it was only when he was leaving the room that i gathered there had been any personal fracas, and then from his words, 'it was done in self-defence,' i judged that his uncle had struck him, and that he had probably struck him in return. i hope that is all, my dear. i pray heaven that it may be all." hugh had dismounted just outside the town, opened a gate leading into a field, taken off his horse's bridle, and turned the horse in and closed the gate behind it. then he had turned up the collar of his coat, pulled his hat down over his eyes, and made his way to the lawyer's. he had cooled down now, but still felt no regret for what had passed. "he would have killed me," he said to himself, "and i had no thought of killing him when i knocked him down; anyhow, he brought it on himself. if he is dead, and i am pretty sure he is, i have no one to prove that it was done in self-defence; but if he is not dead, he will give his own version of it when he recovers. i know he is a liar, and in his quiet manner he would be able to make everyone believe that i had attacked him without the least provocation. he might even say that i fired the pistol, that he knocked it out of my hand, and that then i sprang on him and struck him down with his head against that cabinet. either way i shall get years of imprisonment if i am caught; but i don't mean to be caught if i can help it." on leaving mr. randolph's he proceeded to the railway-station, consulted the time-tables, and then took a third-class ticket to glasgow. he bought a bradshaw, and sitting down on a bench under a light, turned to the advertisements of the sailing of steamers. by the time he had done that the train came in. it was a slow one, stopping at every station. he got out at the first station and paid the fare from carlisle, then walked back to the town, and took a second-class ticket by the night mail for london. arriving at euston, he walked across to the docks, whence he had found that a steamer started for hamburg at eight o'clock, and he would catch a trans-atlantic steamer that started the next day. on his arrival at hamburg he went to the steam-boat office and took a second-class ticket to new york. having done this, he bought at a shop near the wharves a supply of clothes for the voyage, placed them in a cheap german trunk, and walked on board the steamer. he was now, he thought, fairly safe from pursuit. the hour at which he would arrive at the station at carlisle would be known, and as the northern train was nearly due, and someone answering to his description had taken a ticket to glasgow, it would be at once suspected that he intended to sail by a steamer from that port. no pursuit could be set on foot before the morning. indeed, it was probable that before the police took the matter fairly in hand it would be late in the afternoon. it might then be another day before they picked up the clue that he had gone to glasgow, and followed him there. if a steamer had happened to start that morning or the day before, it would be supposed that he had gone by it, and they might telegraph across, and search the ship for him when it arrived at new york. if no steamer had started, and they could obtain no clue to him in glasgow, they would think that he had gone back to liverpool, and would make search there, watching all the steamers sailing. they would in any case hardly suspect that he could have gone up to london, across to hamburg, and caught the steamer sailing from there. indeed, it would not have been possible for him to do so had he first gone up to glasgow as they would believe he had done. as soon as the vessel was fairly under way hugh looked round. on deck there was no distinction made between second-class emigrants and steerage, but it was easy to distinguish the two classes. the second-class kept somewhat together near the companion leading to their portion of the ship, while the steerage passengers were well forward. the number of the latter was not very large, for the emigrant traffic across the atlantic was still carried principally in sailing ships. the second-class were composed chiefly of substantial-looking germans, for the most part farmers going out with a small amount of capital to settle in the west. there were two or three other young englishmen, and with one of these, named luscombe, hugh struck up an acquaintance before he had been many hours on board. he was a young man of about twenty, and hugh soon learned from him that he was the son of a large landed proprietor in norfolk. he had for a few months been in a crack regiment of hussars, but had gone, as he expressed it, a fearful mucker. his father had paid the greater portion of his debts, but had refused to settle some that he considered debts of honour. luscombe, therefore, sold out, and was now, as he expressed it, going over to knock about for a bit in the states, till his father took a "sensible view of things." "it was rough on him," he said, "for i had run him up a pretty heavy bill twice before. however, i think it is all for the best. i should never have got out of that line if i had stopped in the regiment. two or three years knocking about, and hard work, won't do me any harm; and by that time the governor will be prepared to receive the prodigal son with open arms." hugh was slower in giving his confidence. but before the voyage was over he had told luscombe why he had left england. "well, you did quite right, of course," luscombe said, "in knocking that brute of a fellow down, and if you did split his skull and make your aunt a widow you have nothing to reproach yourself with. still, i agree with you that it will be more pleasant for you if he gets round, as i daresay he will, or else it will be a long while before you can show up at home. well, you will know by the time we have been in new york a few days. if the papers the next mail brings out don't say anything about it you may be sure he has got over it. 'a gentleman killed by his nephew' would be a startling heading, and if it is not there, you may go about your work with a light heart." the voyage was marked by no incident whatever. on arriving at new york luscombe and hugh put up at a good hotel for a few days before making a start west. they had agreed to keep together, at any rate for a time. luscombe was several years older than hugh, but he saw that the lad had plenty of good sense and a fund of resolution, and knew that he himself was more likely to stick to work in such companionship than he should be by himself. luscombe's light-hearted carelessness amused hugh, and though he did not think that his companion was likely to stick very long to anything he took up, he was very glad to have his companionship for a time. hugh was thankful indeed when the next mail brought a batch of papers of a date a week later than that of his leaving cumberland, and when a careful examination of the file disclosed no allusion whatever to the event at byrneside. "well, i congratulate you, hugh," luscombe said when he told him. "i expected it would be all right. if he had been a good old man you would have killed him, no doubt, but bad men have always wonderfully thick skulls. well, now you are ready, i suppose, to make our start to-morrow." "quite ready, luscombe. we are only throwing away our money here." they had already made many inquiries, and had settled that they would in the first place go down to texas, and would there take the first job of any kind that offered itself, keeping it until they had time to look round and see what would suit them best. luscombe, however, said frankly that he thought it probable that sooner or later he should enlist in the cavalry out west. "i know i shall never stick to hard work very long, hugh. i have not got my fortune to make, and i only want to pass away the time for a year or two until the old lady and the girls get the governor into a charitable state of mind again. he is a first-rate fellow, and i am not surprised that he cut up rough at last. i expect a few months will bring him round, but i should not know what to do if i went back. i will give myself three years anyhow." "i am very much in the same position, luscombe. i sha'n't go back until i come of age. then i can snap my fingers at my uncle. i have got a very good trustee, who will look after the estate. i will write to him to-night and let him know that i am all right and very glad to find that uncle has not been killed, and that he may expect me when i come of age, but not before." on the following morning they took their places in the train, and travelled west, and proceeded to what was then the nearest terminus to their destination--northern texas. travelling sometimes by stage-waggons, sometimes on foot, they arrived at m'kinney, which they had been told was a young place, but growing fast. "well, here we are at last," luscombe said as they alighted at a one-storied building, on which was a board roughly painted, "the empire hotel." "at any rate the scenery is better than it has been for the last two or three hundred miles. there are some good-sized hills. some of those across the country ahead might almost claim to be mountains, and that is a relief to the eyes after those dreary flats. well, let us go in and have a meal first, then we will look round. the place has certainly not an imposing aspect." the meals here, as at the other places where they had stopped, consisted of fried steak, which, although tough, was eatable, and abundance of potatoes and cabbages, followed by stewed fruit. they had arrived just at the dinner-hour, and seven or eight men in their shirt-sleeves came in and sat down with them. the tea was somewhat better than that they had hitherto obtained, and there was, in addition, the luxury of milk. scarcely a word was spoken during the meal. it was evidently considered a serious business, and the chief duty of each man was to eat as much as possible in the shortest possible time. after the meal was over, and the other diners had gone out, the landlord, who had taken his seat at the top of the table, opened the conversation. "are you thinking of making a stay here, gentlemen?" "yes, if we can get any work to suit us," luscombe said. "it is a rising place," the landlord said as he lit his pipe. "there are two stores and eight houses being built now. this town has a great future before it." luscombe and hugh had some difficulty in preserving their gravity. "it is the chief town of the county," the landlord went on. "they are going to set about the court-house in a month or two. our sheriff is a pretty spry man, and doesn't stand nonsense. we have an orderly population, sir. we had only two men shot here last week." "that is satisfactory," luscombe said dryly. "we are peaceable characters ourselves. and is two about your average?" "well, i can't say that," the landlord said; "that would be too much to expect. the week before last buck harris with three of his gang came in and set up the town." "what do you mean by set up?" luscombe asked. the landlord looked surprised at the question. "oh, to set up a town is to ride into it, and to clear out the saloons, and to shoot at anyone seen outside their doors, and to ride about and fire through the windows. they had done it three or four times before, and as four or five men had been killed the citizens became annoyed." "i am not surprised at that," hugh put in. "the sheriff got a few men together, and the citizens began to shoot out of their windows. buck harris and two of his gang were killed and four of the citizens. since then we have had quiet. and what sort of work do you want, gentlemen? perhaps i could put you in the way of getting it." "well, we wanted to get work among horses," luscombe said. the landlord shook his head. "you want to go further south among the big ranches for that. this is not much of a horse country. if you had been carpenters now there would have been no difficulty. a good workman can get his four dollars a-day. then there is james pawson's woodyard. i reckon you might get a job there. one of his hands got shot in that affair with buck harris, and another broke his leg last week. i should say there was room for you there. madden, that's the man who was shot, used to board here." "what is your charge for boarding, landlord?" "seventy-five cents a-day for three square meals; a dollar a-day if you lodge as well. but i could not lodge you at present. i must keep a couple of rooms for travellers, and the others are full. but you will have no difficulty in getting lodgings in the town. you can get a room for about a dollar a-week." "well, let us try the woodyard, luscombe." "all right!" luscombe said. "there is a certain sense of novelty about a woodyard. well, landlord, if we agree with this mr. pawson, we will arrange to board with you, at any rate for the present." they went down the straggling street until they came to a lot on which was piled a quantity of sawn timber of various dimensions. the name pawson was painted in large letters on the fence. a man and a boy were moving planks. "here goes!" luscombe said, and entered the gate. "want a job?" the man asked, looking up as they approached him. "yes. we are on the look-out for a job, and heard there might be a chance here." "i am james pawson," the man said, "and i want hands. what wages do you want?" "as much as we can get," luscombe replied. pawson looked them up and down. "not much accustomed to hard work, i reckon?" "not much," luscombe said. "but we are both pretty strong, and ready to do our best." "well, i tell you what," the man said. "i will give you a dollar and a half a-day for a week, and at the end of that time, if you get through your work well, i will raise it to two dollars." luscombe looked at hugh, who nodded. "all right!" he said; "we will try." pawson gave a sigh of relief, for hands were scarce. "take off your coats then," he said, "and set to work right here. there is a lot to be done." luscombe and hugh took off their coats, and were soon hard at work moving and piling planks. before they had been half an hour at it there was a shout, and a waggon heavily laden with planks entered the yard. james pawson himself jumped up on to the wagon, and assisted the teamster to throw down the planks, while the other two carried them away and stacked them. both of them had rolled up their sleeves to have a freer use of their arms. the sun blazed hotly down, and they were soon bathed in perspiration. they stuck to their work until six o'clock, but by that time their backs were so stiff with stooping that they could scarcely stand upright, and their hands were blistered with the rough wood. pawson was well satisfied with their work. "well," he said, "you move about pretty spry, you two do, and handle the wood quicker'n most. i see you will suit me if i shall suit you; so i will make it two dollars a-day at once. i ain't a man that stints half a dollar when i see hands work willing." "well, that is not a bad beginning, luscombe," hugh said as they went to put on their coats. "we have earned a dollar, hugh," luscombe said, "and we have broken our backs and blistered our hands, to say nothing of losing three or four pounds of solid flesh." "we did wrong to turn up our sleeves," hugh said. "i had no idea that the sun was so strong. why, my arms are a mass of blisters." "so are mine," luscombe said ruefully, "and they are beginning to smart furiously. they will be in a nice state to-morrow." "let us stay at the hotel tonight, hugh. i feel so tired that i am sure i could never set out to look for lodgings after supper." the next morning their arms were literally raw. before starting to work they got some oil from the landlord and rubbed them. "it will be some time before i turn up my sleeves to work again," luscombe said. "i have had my arms pretty bad sometimes after the first long day's row in summer, but i have never had them like this." they worked until dinner-time, and then luscombe went up to pawson and pulled up his sleeve. "i think," he said, "you must let us both knock off for the day. we are really not fit to work. we daren't turn up our sleeves, and yet the flannel rubbing on them makes them smart so that we can hardly work. besides, as you said yesterday, we are not accustomed to work. we are so stiff that we are not doing justice either to ourselves or you. if you have any particular job you want done, of course we will come after dinner and do it, but if not we would rather be off altogether." "your arms are bad," pawson said. "i thought yesterday when you were working that, being new-comers, you would feel it a bit. certainly you can knock off. you ain't fit for it as you are. take it easy, boys, for a few days till you get accustomed to it. we ain't slave-drivers out here, and i don't expect nothing beyond what is reasonable. i should get my arms well rubbed with oil at once; then to-night wash the oil off and give them a chance to harden, and in the morning powder them well with flour." as soon as they had had their dinner they went out and found a room with two beds in it, and moved their small kits across there. then they took a stroll round the town, of which they had seen little, and then lay down in the shade of a thick cactus hedge and dozed all the afternoon. the next morning they felt all the better for their rest. the inflammation of their arms had greatly abated, and they were able to work briskly. "what do you want with that revolver of an evening, hugh, when you do not wear it during the day?" luscombe asked as he saw hugh put his revolver in his pocket when they went to their lodgings for a wash, after work was over for the day. "i take off my coat during the day, luscombe, and whatever may be the custom here i think it ridiculous to see a man at work in a woodyard with a revolver stuck into his pocket at the back of his trousers. at night it is different; the pistol is not noticed under the coat, and i don't suppose there is a man here without one." "i think one is just as safe without a pistol," luscombe said. "even these rowdies would hardly shoot down an unarmed man." "they might not if they were sober," hugh agreed; "but most of this shooting is done when men are pretty nearly if not quite tipsy. i heard my uncle say once 'a man may not often want to have a revolver on him; when he does want a revolver he wants it pretty badly.'" a few days later they heard at supper that three notorious ruffians had just ridden into the place. "i believe one of them is a mate of buck harris, who was shot here three weeks ago. i hear he has been in the bar swaggering about, and swearing that he means to wipe out every man in the place who had a hand in that business. the sheriff is away. he went out yesterday with two men to search for a fellow who murdered a man and his wife somewhere down south, and who has been seen down in the swamps of the east fork. he may be away two or three days, worse luck. there is the under-sheriff, but he isn't much good by himself. he can fight, gilbert can, but he never likes going into a row on his own account. he will back up the sheriff in anything he does, but he has got no head to take a thing up by himself." "but surely," hugh said, "people are not going to let three men terrorize the whole place and shoot and carry on just as they like." "well, mate, i don't suppose we like these things more than anyone else; but i can tell you that when one of the three men is dutch sam, and another is wild harvey, and the third is black jake, it is not the sort of business as anyone takes to kindly, seeing that if there is one thing more tarnal sartin than another, it is that each of them is good to lay out five or six men before he goes under. when things are like that one puts up with a goodish lot before one kicks. they are three as ugly men as there are anywhere along this part of texas. any one of them is game to set up a town by himself, and when it comes to three of them together i tell you it would be a game in which i certainly should not like to take a hand. you are new to these parts, mate, or you wouldn't talk about it so lightly. when you have been out here for a few months you will see that it is small blame to men if they get out of the way when two or three fellows like this are on the war-path." at this moment there was a sound of shouting and yelling with a clatter of horses' hoofs outside. then came the rapid discharge of firearms, and the three upper panes of glass in the window were pierced almost simultaneously with small round holes in the very centres. every one bent down over their plates. the next shot might come through the second line of window panes, in which case they would have taken effect among those sitting at the table. then there was a yell of laughter, and the horses were heard to gallop furiously away. "that is only their fun at present," one of the men said. "it will be more serious later on when they have drunk enough to be savage." "i don't see much fun in firing through the windows of a house," luscombe said. "oh, that is nothing!" another put in. "i have seen a score of cow-boys come into a place, and half an hour afterwards there wasn't a window-pane that hadn't a round hole in its middle. they will shoot the hats off a score of men; that is one of their favourite amusements. in the first place it shows their skill with the pistol, and in the next it scares people pretty nigh to death, and i have seen the cow-boys laugh until they have nearly tumbled off their horses to see a fellow jump and make a straight line into a house. nobody minds the cow-boys; they are a good sort. they are reckless enough when they are on a spree, but they don't really mean to do harm. they spend their money freely, and they hate ruffians like those three fellows outside. if it wasn't for cow-boys, the bad men, as we call them, would be pretty well masters of texas. but the cow-boys hunt them down like vermin, and i have known them hang or shoot over a dozen murderers and gamblers in one afternoon. they fight among themselves sometimes pretty hard. perhaps the men on two ranches will quarrel, and then if it happens that a party from one ranch meets a party from the other down in a town, there is sure to be trouble. i remember one battle in which there were over twenty cow-boys killed, besides six or eight citizens who happened to get in the way of their bullets." just as they had finished the meal a man ran in. "have you heard the news? dutch sam and his party have broken open the door of the under-sheriff's house, pulled him out, and put a dozen bullets into him." there was an exclamation of indignation. "there," hugh said, "if the under-sheriff had done his duty and called upon every one to help him to capture or shoot these fellows as soon as they came into the town he wouldn't have lost his life, and i suppose it will have to be done after all." "the best thing we can do," one of the men said, "is to go round from house to house and agree that every man shall take his rifle and pistol, and take his stand at a window, then we will shoot them down as they ride past." "but that wouldn't be giving them a fair show," another objected. "a fair show!" the other repeated scornfully. "did they give the under-sheriff a fair show? do you think they give notice to a man before they shoot him, and ask him to draw and be fairly 'heeled' before they draw a trigger? not a bit of it; and i say we ought to clear them out." there was a general expression of approval, and after one of the party had opened the door and looked out cautiously to see if the coast was clear, and reported that none of the desperadoes were in sight, the party at once scattered. luscombe and hugh stopped for half an hour chatting with the landlord. the latter did not believe that the people would attack the ruffians. "if the sheriff had been here to take the lead," he said, "they might have acted; but as he is away, i don't think it likely that anyone will draw a bead upon them. you see, no one is sure of anyone else, and he knows that if he were to kill or wound one of them the others would both be upon him. if we had a regular street here with a row of houses running along each side, so that a volley could be poured into them, it would be a different thing; but you see the houses are separated, some stand back from the road, some stand forward; they are all scattered like, and i don't expect anyone will begin. they will be in here presently," he said, "and they will drink my bar pretty well dry, and i don't expect i shall get a dime for the liquor they drink; and that is not the worst of it, they are like enough to begin popping at the bottles, and smashing more than they drink." "well, it seems to me a disgraceful thing," hugh said, "that a place with something like a hundred men in it should be kept down by three." "it sounds bad if you put it that way," the landlord agreed; "but you must remember that each of these three men could hit every pip on a card twenty yards away; they each carry two revolvers, that is to say, they have got twelve men's lives in their belt, and they are so quick with their weapons that they could fire the twelve shots before an ordinary man could get out his revolver and cock it." "why not shut up your place for the night?" luscombe asked. "then they couldn't come in and drink your spirits and wreck your bar." "they couldn't, eh? why, they would blow the door open with their pistols, and if it was so barred they couldn't get in that way, they would like enough burn the house about my ears. i have known such things done many a time." "well, let us get home, hugh," luscombe said. "it seems to me the sooner we are quietly in bed the better. as our room is at the back of the house they may fire away as much as they like without a chance of our being hit." hugh put on his hat, and the two started down the street. they had gone but a short distance when the sound of a horse's hoofs was heard. "here is one of them!" a voice shouted from an upper window. "run round to the back of the house, the door is open there. i have heard two or three pistol shots, and he will shoot you down to a certainty." "come on, hugh," luscombe said. "you go round, luscombe, you are unarmed. i am not going to run away from anyone," hugh said doggedly. "go on, man, it is no use your staying here, you have no pistol." "i sha'n't leave you by yourself," luscombe said quietly; "besides, here he comes." hugh's hand had already slipped round to his back, and he now had his pistol in his hand in the pocket of his coat. the horseman threw up his arm as he came along, and hugh saw the glitter of the moonlight on a pistol barrel. another instant the pistol cracked; but hugh, the moment he saw it bear on him, dropped on to one knee, and the ball struck the wall just above his head. he lifted his arm and fired, while two other shots rang out from the window. the man threw up his hands and fell back over the crupper of his horse to the ground, and the well-trained animal stopped instantaneously in his gallop, and turning stood still by his side. "come on, luscombe," hugh said; "the sooner we are out of this the better." before, however, they had gone twenty yards they heard the sound of two horses coming up behind them. "let us get round the corner of that house, luscombe. i don't suppose they will pass those men at the windows; if they do, they will be thinking of their own safety as they gallop past and won't notice us." [illustration: "when the cowboy fired, hugh dropped on one knee."] they had scarcely got round the corner when there was a discharge of firearms, and the reports of the rifles were followed by the quick sharp cracks of revolvers. then a man dashed past them at a gallop. one of his arms hung by his side, and the reins were loose on the horse's neck. "i suppose they have killed the other," hugh said, "and this fellow is evidently hit. well, let us go on to bed." luscombe did not speak until they reached their room. hugh struck a match and lighted a candle. "well, you are a nice lad, hugh," luscombe said. "i thought you were always against quarrels, and wanted nothing but to go on with your work peaceably, and here you are throwing yourself into this and standing the chance of being shot, as if you had been fighting ruffians all your life." "it was he attacked me," hugh said. "i didn't fire first. i gave him no provocation, and was not going to run away when i was armed. it is you ought to be blamed, stopping there to be shot at when you had no weapon. i call it the act of a madman. well, there is nothing more to say about it, so let us get into bed." [illustration] [illustration] chapter vi. a horse deal. after having been at work for a week hugh and luscombe found it come comparatively easy to them. their hands had hardened, and their back and legs no longer ached with the exertion of stooping and lifting planks and beams. they had now got the yard into order: the various lengths and thicknesses of planks piled together, and also the various sized timber for the framework of the houses. their work was now more varied. the dray had, of course, to be unloaded on its arrival from the mills and its contents stowed away, and as soon as james pawson found that his new hands could be trusted to see after things he left them pretty much to themselves, going up himself to the mill, of which he was part owner. it now fell to them to keep an account of the out-goings, to see that the planks they handed over to purchasers were of the right lengths and thicknesses, and also to saw the wood-work of the frames for the houses into their required lengths. all this afforded a change, and gave them an interest in their work, and they came to know a good many, not only of those living in the town, but men who were taking up ground in the neighbourhood, and who came in with their teams for planks and shingles to construct the rough houses which were to shelter them until, at any rate, they got their land under cultivation and things began to prosper. three months after their arrival luscombe began to show signs of getting wearied of the work. hugh was quick to notice it. "i can see you are getting tired of it," he said one sunday as they started for a walk to a small ranche three miles away, whose owner had been buying wood for a cow-house, and had asked them to come over for dinner. "you didn't mean me to see it, but i know that it is so." "i don't know that i am tired, hugh; but i feel a restless sort of feeling." "well, my dear luscombe, i don't want you to feel that you are in any way bound here on my account. we agreed that from the first, you know. it was a great thing our being together at first; but now the ice is broken we have fallen into the groove, and can either of us shoulder our kits and go where we like in search of a job. we are no longer fresh from the other side of the atlantic." "i shall carry out my idea of enlisting," luscombe said. "there is a military post at fort m'kayett. i can strike down by road to meridian. i can get waggons as far as that, pick up a horse for a few dollars there, and then make my way down until i strike the colorado river, and, crossing that, bear west, stopping at cattle ranches until i get to the fort. i shall be happier as a trooper than at any other work. of course the pay is not high, but that does not matter a rap to me; it goes further here than it does at home, and there is not much use for money out on the plains. they say the indians are very troublesome, and there will be some excitement in the life, while here there is none. i don't like leaving you, hugh. that is the only drawback." "don't let that stop you," hugh said. "of course i shall be very sorry when you go; but as you have your plans and i have none, it would come at any rate before long; and, as i have said, now that i have got over the feeling of strangeness, i don't suppose that i shall stay here long after you have left." the following day luscombe told his employer that he should leave at the end of the week. "i am sorry you are going," he said; "but i expected that you would be on the move before long. that is the worst of it out here--nobody sticks to a job. however, i cannot blame you; you have stopped a good bit longer than they generally do. and are you going too?" he asked, turning to hugh. "not just yet," hugh replied; "but i do think of going in another week or two. you see, boss, one is not learning anything here." "that's so. say, would you like to go up to the mill for a bit? that is different sort of work, and, as you say, you would be learning something. one of the men jammed his hand on saturday, and won't be fit for that kind of work for some time, so as your mate is going off at the end of the week you can go up there if you like." hugh gladly accepted the offer. he would have felt it very dull without luscombe, but by going to a different sort of work he would feel his companion's departure less hardly. he would have much to learn, and be among new companions, and have much to attend to. so at the end of the week luscombe set out upon his long journey to fort m'kayett, and on monday morning hugh started for the saw-mill at daybreak in a waggon that had come in on saturday afternoon with timber. james pawson had told him that he had spoken to the foreman about him, and the latter would know what to do with him. the team consisted of two fine mules in the shafts and two horses ahead. "climb up," the driver said. "we shall go a goodish pace till we get to the hills. that is right--hold on!" as he cracked his whip the animals started at a trot, and presently broke into a gallop. the road was nothing but a track across the country, and hugh held on to the seat, expecting every moment to be jerked off. the track was as hard as iron, but the passages of the waggons in wet weather had worn deep holes and ruts in it, and hugh thought it was a miracle that the waggon did not upset and smash to pieces, as the wheels went down first on one side and then on the other, and the whole framework creaked and quivered with the shock. at the end of about three miles the animals slackened their pace, to hugh's intense relief. "that's just their little play," the driver said. "they know they won't get a chance again to-day, and they generally lay themselves down for a gallop where it is good going." "do you call that good going?" hugh asked in astonishment. "sartin. why, it is level ground, and not a water-course to go over! you don't expect a railway track, graded and levelled, do yer?" hugh hastened to say that he entertained no such extravagant ideas. "this road ain't nowhere, so to speak, real bad," the driver went on; "that is, not for a hill road. i don't say as there ain't some baddish places, but nothing to what i have driven teams over." the animals had now dropped down into a walk, although, so far as hugh could see, the track was no worse than that which they had been hitherto following. "the critters are just getting their breath," the driver said as he proceeded to light his pipe. "they have had their fling, and now they are settling down to the day's work. they know as well as i do what they have got before them. don't you, pete?" the mule addressed lifted one of its long ears and partly turned his head round. "they are fine mules," hugh remarked. "you will see bigger than them. them's mexicans, and they have wonderful big mules in northern mexico. i have seen them standing a hand higher than these. but pete and bob are good mules. they would be better if they were a bit heavier when it comes to a dead pull, but except for that i would as lief have them as the biggest." "are they better than horses?" "better'n horses? you bet! why, i would rather have a pair of mules than three pair of horses. why, for steady work and for stay and for strength there ain't no comparison between a mule and a horse. why, that pair of mules is worth twice as much as the best pair of horses you could find in texas, except, of course, picked horses for riding. if you pay a hundred dollars for a horse you have paid a long price in this country, but that pair of mules wouldn't be dear at eight hundred for the two of them. there is no trouble with mules: they won't stray far when you turn them out; they won't stampede--not if they are properly trained. why, there is as much sense in a mule as there is in a score of horses, and the horses know it themselves. if there is a mule turned out among a troop of horses he takes the lead natural, and they will follow him wherever he goes, knowing right well that he has got more sense than they have. besides, mules seem to get fond of each other, and you don't see horses do that. in a round-up the team horses will just mix up with the others. you don't see two of them keep together or have any sort of friendship; but if there are a pair of mules among the lot you will see them keep together." "i had an idea that mules were obstinate beasts." "i won't deny as they have their tempers sometimes, but in most cases it comes from their getting into bad hands. but treat a mule well and he will, in general, do his best. when they once find they have got a job beyond them they ain't going to break their hearts by trying to do it; and if they are treated bad when there is no call for it then they puts up their backs and won't stir another foot, and when they makes up their minds to that you may kill them and they won't do it then; but treat a mule fair and kind and there is no better beast in the world. you know all about it, pete, don't you?" and he gave the animal a slight flick on the neck with his whip, to which it replied by throwing up its hind-quarters and giving a playful kick, which caused hugh, whose legs were hanging down over the front of the waggon, to withdraw them hastily. "you are a rascal, pete," the driver said. "come, now, you have all got your winds. just sharpen up a bit till you get among the hills." as if they understood what he said, the mules threw their weight on the traces, broke into a slow trot, and the crack of the driver's whip woke the leaders into activity. this pace was not kept up long, for the ground had now begun to rise. they presently entered a valley between two spurs of the hills, and soon began to mount by a rough road. this became steeper and steeper, and hugh was glad to get off and walk in front. at times the track they had to cross was bare rock, so smooth and slippery that the animals could scarcely keep their feet and drag up the waggon. then they wound along on the side of a hill, the ground on one side being so much higher than on the other that it seemed to hugh that a loaded waggon would infallibly topple over and go rolling down into the valley below. sometimes they descended sharply into some lateral ravine cut by a stream, and climbed up the other side. the hills now were covered with a growth of small trees and brushwood--the larger timber had already been felled. at last the waggon turned up the bed of a stream running through a rocky gorge. "here we are," the driver said; and fifty yards further they came upon the saw-mill--a roughly-built structure, with a water-wheel. a low log-hut stood beside it. beyond, the valley opened out. at the upper end its sides far up the hills were covered with trees, but the woodman's axe had already stripped the lower part of the valley of all its timber trees. a dam had been built across the stream and a leat cut to the water-wheel, which was sunk five or six feet below the level of the ground around it, and the tail-race continued nearly down to the mouth of the gorge, where the water fell again into the old bed of the stream. the wheel was revolving, and the sound of the machinery inside the mill deadened that of the mules and waggon, but a shrill whistle from the driver brought a man to the door. he nodded to hugh. "you are the new hand the boss spoke of, i suppose? well, clarkson, have you brought the things we wanted?" "yes, i think the list is complete. i gave it to the old man, and he had all the things on board the first thing this morning. here they are: six pounds of tea, a barrel of pork, sack of flour, keg of molasses, twenty pounds of sugar. here is a box of dried apples, and the two cross-cut saws. he will see about a grindstone. he thinks you might make that one last a bit longer." "it was pretty well worn out when it was put up," the foreman grumbled. "it ain't fit to grind axes on. i told the boss the other day that it had cost him ten times its vally already, because the men couldn't keep a sharp edge on their tools with it." "well, you know, ben, grindstones don't grow down in m'kinney, and he has got to get them sent out from missouri." "if he had to get them from china he might have had one here by this time," the foreman grumbled. "have you got that bag of iron dogs i wanted?" "no. there warn't one to be had in m'kinney. the old man told me to tell you he wrote off on saturday to little rock and told them to express them on." a negro now came out from the hut and began to carry the provisions in, and hugh followed the foreman into the mill. there was another man there. one side of the mill was open to a yard behind, in which lay the logs as brought down by the team. these were placed on rollers, and so run into the mill. one end of the log was then lifted by a screw-jack until level with the saw-bench. here it was packed up, and the jack then taken to the other end. the machinery consisted solely of one large circular saw and of another of smaller size. the water-power would not have been sufficient to drive frame-saws, and the whole work had to be done with the circular saws. the mill was not large, but it sufficed for the wants of m'kinney and the neighbourhood, and two waggon-loads of planks were sent down daily. three axemen, who felled and squared the trees, and a teamster with four horses to drag the balks down to the mill completed the establishment. hugh soon found that the work was far more interesting than it had been in the woodyard. it needed a good deal of skill to handle the heavy pieces of timber and get them upon the saw-bench, although they were cross-cut by the woodmen into lengths suitable for planks. then the great saw cut the balks into planks three inches wide. these were taken to the smaller saw, which ran them down into half, three-quarter, or inch planks, as required. the benches were of a primitive description, the balks being laid on fixed rollers, and the necessary movement given to them by a rope passed through blocks and taken round a shaft, which, as it revolved, wound up the rope and brought the logs forward against the saw. the noise at first of the saws and of the water-wheel and its machinery almost deafened hugh, but he soon ceased to notice it. he found that his duties were of a general kind. he assisted in raising the logs to their place and in getting them properly placed on the rollers, and then he helped to fix the blocks and pulleys, to remove the planks as they were cut off, and to work the log back to its place in readiness for another plank to be cut from it. the small saw required one man's constant attention, as the three-inch planks were simply pushed forward by hand against it, being kept in their true position by guides. "you have got to be careful when you get near the end," the foreman said to him, "or you will find yourself without a finger or two in no time. when you get to within a foot of the end you must not push the plank any further, but go to the other end of the saw and pull it to you. it is a pretty rough business altogether, but it will only last another few months. there are not enough trees to supply it longer than that. pawson has bought up another place a bit further among the hills, and he has ordered a better plant than this, and reckons it will be up and ready to run by the time we are done here. this place ain't fit for carrying on much trade. when it was put up two years ago there were but few people about on the plain, and a waggon-load a week was about the outside pawson could get rid of. i have been here from the first. in those days we used to work with our rifles handy, for there was always a chance of an attack by indians, but the country has grown so much since then that the indians moved further north, and don't bother us. ah! there is joe's dinner-bell." hugh, following the example of the others, went down to the mill-stream and gave his hands a rinse, dried them on a towel hanging from a nail on the door of a hut, and then went in. in five minutes the whole party were assembled, and took their seats on benches beside a long narrow table. the negro cook brought in bowls of pea-soup. this was followed by boiled pork and potatoes, and then came a great dish of dried apples, boiled, with molasses poured over them. "we get our board up here," the foreman, who had placed hugh beside him, said. "i suppose the boss told you?" "yes, he said i should get forty dollars a month, and my grub." "that's it. it is better pay than you can get on a farm below, but it is harder work, and lonesome; besides, unless you are careful, you run a pretty good risk of an accident. there have been eight or ten fellows hurt here since we began. it is healthy among the hills, and we don't get fevers, and it is cool enough to sleep comfortably at night even in summer, but in winter it is cold, i can tell you. the old man feeds us pretty well, i must say that for him, and he is as good a boss as there is about here." hugh liked the life, the keen mountain air braced him up, and every day he found it more and more easy to do his share of the work of moving the heavy balks. the men as a whole were pleasant fellows, and of an evening hugh listened with great interest to the stories they told as they smoked their pipes. it was wonderful how many occupations most of them had followed. two of them had been mining in california before they came down to texas; one of them had been working with teams across the santa fã© route; another, named bill royce, had been a sailor, had deserted his ship at galveston, had enlisted and served for three years at a cavalry post west, had deserted again, had worked for two years as a cow-boy on one of the texan ranches, had gone down into mexico and worked at a ranche there, had come up by sea to galveston, working his passage, had served as a farm hand for a few months, and then, after various experiences, had come to m'kinney when there were only three or four houses there. another of the men had also worked as a cow-boy, but his experience had been but a short one. "i stopped just a week at it," he said, "and what with being thrown off a horse twenty times a day, and what with the work, and what with the goings-on of the boys, i had enough of it by that time. i had been in one or two indian fights, and i didn't feel scared then, but those cow-boys scared me pretty nigh to death. the way they let off their pistols was a caution. four or five times, when i was sitting quiet, smoking, bang! and a revolver bullet would knock my pipe into chips, and then they laughed fit to kill themselves when i got up and swore. then without the least reason, someone, as we were all sitting round the fire, would take it into his head to hit a little bit of flaming wood, then half a dozen others would go at it, and the bits of fire would be sent flying in all directions, and how it was that none of them got killed was more than i could make out. i stood it for the week, and then i weakened. i had got that nervous that i would jump if a fellow moved suddenly, and i concluded that i was not made the same way as the cow-boys, and had better quit and take to some other job." "i reckon you were about right there," bill royce said. "anyone as is thinking of going for a cow-boy, had best know how to ride, how to throw a rope, and how to draw his pistol as quick as lightning, before he begins." the next day hugh asked the teamster to bring him up from the town a rope, such as the cow-herders used. "this will do," bill royce said, as he examined it. "the cow-boys and mexicans both use ropes sometimes, but they chiefly make them themselves from strips of raw hide, which they work and grease until they run almost as easy as if they were made of silk. yes, this is the right length, forty feet. some men will use fifty, and i have known mexicans who would throw a sixty-foot length with certainty; but that is quite out of the way; forty feet is the right length. i will splice one end into an eye for you, the other goes through it, and makes a running noose. when you throw it, the loop is three or four feet across. of course, the better you can throw, the smaller you can have the loop, and the smaller it is the better, for the jerk comes all the quicker before the horse or steer is prepared for it. now, you see that stump of a young tree sticking up two feet above the ground. well, you form your loop, and you gather the rest in coils in your hand like this, and you stand, to begin with, twenty feet away, and you cast the loop over the stump--so." of an evening, when supper was over, hugh went out and practised with the rope, and at the end of a month found that he could throw it at a distance of thirty feet with a fair certainty of dropping the loop over the stump. he also took royce's advice as to the pistol. he had laid it by since arriving at m'kinney; but he now got a belt similar to those worn by the cow-boys, and took to carrying the pistol in it, but unloaded, and at odd moments practised drawing from the belt, levelling it, and pulling the trigger with the greatest possible speed. the action seemed simple enough, but he was surprised to find how, with practice, the time taken in doing it diminished, and his fingers came to close upon the handle in exactly the right position almost instantaneously, and as his hand shot out, his thumb drew back the hammer, and his forefinger closed on the trigger. all this he had practised before, more or less, when he had learned to use the weapon in the conservatory at byrneside, but at that time it had not appeared probable the accomplishment would be of any use. now he knew that his life might depend upon it, and he came in time to be able to perform it, with, as royce had said, something of the sleight of hand of a conjurer. he devoted the whole of his spare time to practising with the pistol and rope, and by the time that summer had gone hugh was able to throw the rope with certainty over any fixed object within reach, and to draw his revolver with a quickness that astounded bill royce. "i have seen a lot of pistol shooting," the latter said, "since i came out west--cow-boys and mexicans, and horse-thieves and such like, but i have never seen one draw as quick as you do, and there are many as draws quick. you shoot fair, but nothing out of the way. there's many a cow-boy kin shoot a sight straighter, but for quick drawing you are wonderful, and that is the great thing. when one fellow gets his pistol out, the other has got to cave in." the valley was now pretty well cleared of its trees, and the party prepared to go down to m'kinney for the winter. the wood-cutters were to move at once to the new location, and to begin to fell trees, and as soon as the snow fell deep the teams would go up and drag them down to the new saw-mill, for the timber is hauled down much more easily over the snow than over the rough ground in summer. thus there would be a big stock in readiness when the thaw came, and the mill began to work in the spring. hugh was not sorry when the work of the mill came to an end. he had determined to remain until the season closed, and he was glad he had done so. the time had been by no means lost. he had learned a good deal as to the ways and character of the men with whom he should have to associate. he had from one or other of them picked up a great deal of knowledge about the country, and knew the best places for making a start, the towns from which most of the teams started, and the localities that were best to make for in order to gain the heart of the cattle country. he had learned to throw a rope with enough dexterity to aid him materially in any work he might undertake among cattle or horses, and his constant practice with his revolver gave him a confidence in himself, and in his ability to hold his own in the wild life of the plains and mountains. in the nine months which had elapsed since he left england he had gained strength, had become manly and self-reliant, and felt that his apprenticeship had been of great value to him. the first thing to do after he came down to m'kinney, was to look out for a horse. he had been put up to a useful wrinkle in this respect by bill royce. "you be careful about any horse trade you make. bet your boots that any horse that is offered to you here is stolen, and you would get into one of the awkwardest of scrapes if you chanced to go into a district where that horse is known. they don't trouble themselves to ask many questions over a stolen horse. if you buy a horse, the best thing to do is to go before a justice, or the sheriff will do: pay your money before him, and get him to sign his name as a witness to the bargain. his fee will be one or two dollars, and you could not lay out the money better. men ain't altogether unreasonable even where a horse is concerned, and a paper issued from a sheriff's office certifying that you had bought the horse, and paid a fair price for it, might save your neck from a noose. you may ride a stolen horse all your life, and never happen to light on the place he was taken from; but if you do happen to light on it, you may find yourself in a tight corner." hugh put up at the hotel, and having told the landlord that he was on the look-out for a horse, the latter told him one evening, when he returned from a visit to some friends at a farm, that two men had come in an hour before, and had said they had a good horse to dispose of. bill royce was sitting in the saloon when hugh went in. "i dropped in to see you, hugh. i saw two fellows come in an hour ago on two likely-looking horses and they were leading two others, one of which seemed to me as good a bit of horse flesh as i have seen fur a long time. i expect they are on for a trade. the horse is a mustang; i don't expect they come by it honest, but that ain't your business, and you will get it cheaper than if they had. go slow in bargaining; don't you let out you really want him." presently two men came in. they were dressed in broad hats, red shirts, over which they wore jackets with silver buttons, breeches made of a soft leather, and high boots. they wore bright-coloured sashes round the waist. "they look pretty hard," bill royce said quietly; "they may be anything. they are not regular cow-boys, but they may have been working on a ranche; they may have been prospecting; they may be horse-thieves; they may be regular border ruffians; anyhow, they have got a horse to sell. maybe they have stole it from a ranche; maybe they have got it from the indians; maybe they have wiped out its owner. you will be able to tell pretty well by the price they want for it. he would be cheap at two hundred dollars if he is anything like as good as he looks. if they will take anything under that it is because they daren't keep him." after standing at the bar and talking for some time to the landlord, one of the men came across to hugh. "i hear you are looking for a horse." "yes, i am wanting to buy one if i find one to suit me at my price." "i have a horse to trade that would suit anyone, and as to its price, i am ready to let him go a bargain." "i should like to have a look at him," hugh said. "well, he is in the stable now." "yes; but i should want to see him by daylight, get on his back, and try him." "look here," the man said. "me and my mate are pressed for time. perhaps we have got an appointment with the president, perhaps we haven't; anyhow, we want to go on. we have got two spare horses, and we don't wish to bother with them no further." "well, i will look at the horse now," hugh said, and, accompanied by bill royce, he followed the man to the stables. two horses were standing, ready saddled and bridled, hitched to hooks outside the shed. inside were two others. one was an ordinary-looking horse, bony and angular. a pack-saddle hung on a beam close by. he had evidently been used for carrying baggage. the other was a handsome roan, which snorted angrily as they approached with lanterns. "that is something like a horse," the man said. "five years old, strong, and up to anything, clean-limbed, full of courage, and fast." "he has got a temper," hugh said as the horse laid back his ears and made a sudden and vicious snap at the man's hand. "he is a bit playful," the man said. "well, i don't like buying him without trying him," hugh said. "he may be up to all sorts of tricks, and may kick his saddle over his head. what do you want for him?" "i tell you what," the man said. "that horse would be dirt cheap at two hundred and fifty dollars, but as i have told you we want to be moving on, and i will sell him for a hundred and fifty. i would rather put a bullet through his head than let him go for less than that." "well, let us go back into the saloon and talk it over," hugh said. "it is a rum way to buy a horse, but i like his looks." the other man was still standing at the bar when they entered. hugh, knowing that it would be an unheard-of thing to buy a horse without the ceremony of taking drinks being performed, went to the bar and ordered them for the four. "if i buy that horse," he said, "it will be on one condition. you see i don't know where he has come from. the man you got him from may have stolen him, and i might happen to come across the former owner, and i haven't any fancy for being strung up as a horse-thief." "you don't mean, stranger, to say as we have stolen him?" one of the men said angrily. "not at all. it may have gone through half a dozen hands before it came into yours, and yet it may have been stolen. of course, if you know anyone here who can guarantee that you raised the horse, or have owned him for a couple of years, i shall be quite content; but if you don't, you can hardly expect me to take your word any more than i should expect them to take my word if a party were to ride up to me and accuse me of stealing it. that is right enough, isn't it, landlord?" "i don't see as there is anything to be said against that," the landlord said. "it is a mighty unpleasant thing in this country to be found riding on the back of a horse that has mayhap been stolen." "what i propose is this," hugh went on. "seeing that these gentlemen are strangers here, i propose that i should call in the sheriff and james pawson, who is a justice, and that they should witness the sale and give me a signed paper saying that they know me as a resident here, and that i have in their presence bought this horse. i don't think there is anything unreasonable in that. if at any time i am held up for stealing it i can show this paper, and if they doubt it they can write to the sheriff here, and find that it is genuine." the two men exchanged a few words together in a low voice, and then the one who had shown the horse said, "well, i reckon that is a fair enough offer. we know we came by the horse honestly, but as we are strangers it is right enough you should be cautious. bring your sheriff along, and let's be done with it." "i will fetch the sheriff across," royce said, "if you go over to pawson's, hugh." in five minutes they returned with the two men. the sheriff looked sharply at the two horse-dealers. they were unknown to him. "will you give me my belt, landlord?" hugh said. the landlord went out, and returned with hugh's belt, which had been locked up in his chest since hugh arrived in the town. the latter counted out 150 dollars in gold. "wait a moment," the sheriff said. "i must see the horse first, and see what brand is on him. i cannot describe the horse unless i see him." again taking lanterns the party went out to the stable. the horse had been branded with a circle in which was the letter e. there was no other mark on him. the sheriff brought across with him some official paper, and returning to the bar wrote: "i bear witness to the purchase by"--and he paused--"hugh tunstall," hugh put in,--"who is well known to me as having been working for six months in and near the town, of a roan horse branded [brand e] of"--"of jake wittingham," the man said--"and to the passing of payment for the same." the sheriff then added his name, writing under it, "sheriff of m'kinney county," and james pawson added his signature with the word "judge." "that is right and square," the sheriff said. "now, hand over the money and the trade is done." "i will throw in the other horse for twenty dollars." "i will take it," hugh said; and adding this sum to that he had counted out, handed it over to the men. "if you will just step over with me, hugh," the sheriff said, "i will put my official seal to that paper. i have not a doubt," he went on as they left the saloon, "that those two fellows have stolen that horse. they would never have sold him for that money had they come by him honestly. i should have been glad to buy him myself for anything like that price. i don't know the men, and i reckon i know most of the rogues for a hundred miles round here; so that, if it has been stolen, it has probably been brought a good distance. i shouldn't be surprised if there has been murder as well as robbery. if i knew the men i would seize them and have them searched; but as i have never seen them before, and know nothing against them, i cannot do that. i think it is a very good idea of yours getting me in to witness the sale. that horse might get you into serious trouble if you could not prove that you came by it honestly." he had now reached his house, and proceeded to stamp the document with the official seal. "you may as well put your signature to this," he said, "and i will witness it. then if there is any question about your being hugh tunstall you would only have to sign your name and they would see that you are the man mentioned. that is right; my fee is two dollars." hugh gladly paid the money, and putting the document in his pocket returned to the hotel. "those fellows have just ridden off," royce said when he entered. "pretty hard couple that. i wonder where they got that horse. nowhere about here, or the sheriff would have known it; a horse like that would be sure to catch the eye." the next morning hugh got up early to inspect his purchase. the horse again made hostile demonstrations when he approached it; but, talking to it quietly, hugh went into the stall, patted and soothed it. when it had quieted down he took the head-rope and led it out into the yard. "you are a beauty," he said; "there is no mistake about that," and, tying it up to a post, he walked round it. "well put together, plenty of muscle, fine bone, and splendid quarters. what a hunter you would make if i had you at home!" the landlord came out as he was admiring the animal. "a mustang," he said; "bigger than they usually run a good bit, and a beauty all over; he is worth double what you gave for him. this is not much of a horse country; if you had him down south you could get three hundred for him any day. i expect those fellows were afraid to take him down there; too well known, i reckon. look here, i will give you a paper too; and if i were you i would get another from pawson, saying that you have been working for him at his sawmill, and that he recommends you as a good hand at that work. you can't have too many certificates as to who you are when you are riding on an animal like that in this country. if you want a saddle and bridle, jim hoskings has got one to sell; he was speaking to me about it a fortnight ago." half an hour later hugh became the owner of a saddle and bridle. the former was made in the texan fashion, which closely resembles the mexican, being very heavy, and with high peak and cantle. "i hardly see how a man can be thrown off a horse with such a saddle as this," hugh said as he examined it; "one would be boxed in before and behind." "wait till you get on a bad bucking horse," the man said with a smile. "you won't wonder about it then." carrying it back to the hotel hugh saddled his horse and mounted. he felt strange and uncomfortable at first, for the stirrup-leathers were placed much further back than those to which he was accustomed. the stirrups were very large and broad, and the position of the stirrup-leathers rendered it necessary for him to ride almost with a straight leg, so that his grip was with his thighs instead of his knees. "i shall get accustomed to him in time," he said to himself, "but at present i feel as if i was riding barebacked. well, i had plenty of practice at that, so i ought to be able to stick on." he rode at a quiet pace down the street, and then shook the reins, and the horse at once started at a hand-gallop. hugh was delighted with his pace, which was wonderfully smooth and easy, and returned in an hour fully satisfied with his purchase. [illustration] [illustration] chapter vii. among the cow-boys. "well, now you have got your horses and outfit, hugh, what air you going to do next?" bill royce said, after the rest of the party had got up from breakfast and gone out. "i don't quite know, bill," hugh laughed; "i thought of going teaming, but i am afraid my horse has spoilt me for that." "well, so i should say." "i should like to be my own master for a bit," hugh went on, "and do some shooting and hunting on the plains, work across to sante fã©, and then take anything that turns up. i have got three hundred dollars in cash; that will last me for a long time. but i don't like striking out for myself, i know nothing of the country or the life. what do you say to going with me, bill?" "that is just what i have been turning over in my mind," bill said. "i know the plains powerful well, and have been hunting and shooting there for months. i was saying to myself, as like enough you would be thinking of striking out for a bit afore you settled down again to anything, and you would be wanting some one with you as could put you up to the ropes. i have got pretty sick of working here, but i have spent my money as fast as i have got it, and cannot afford to get an outfit; so i said to myself, if hugh likes to start me with an outfit i think it would be about square, seeing as he knows nothing of the country, and i could put him straight there. we have worked together for a bit, and i reckon we would get on first-rate. so if that would suit you it would just suit me." "it suits me capitally, bill; nothing could be better; it is just what i wanted. i don't suppose i should ever have gone by myself, but with you it would be the very thing to suit me. there's my hand on it." in another three days their preparations were made. bill knew of a horse that could be picked up for forty dollars; two rifles were bought, a saddle and bridle for bill, and saddle-bags for the spare horse. a large stock of ammunition was laid in; fifty pounds of flour, a few pounds of tea and sugar, four blankets, and a few odds and ends, completed the outfit. royce had already a revolver, and on the morning of the fourth day they started from m'kinney, striking nearly due south, so as to work round the range of hills. for the first few days they passed occasional settlements, and then struck out across an open country. "now we may begin to look out for game," royce said. "you can shoot, i suppose, hugh?" "i have had no practice whatever with the rifle, but i am a pretty good shot with a shot-gun." "you will soon pick it up, anyhow," royce said; "anyone who can shoot as you do with a colt, is sure to shoot pretty straight with a rifle." for the next four months hugh and his companion wandered over the plains, and hugh enjoyed the life immensely. they had directed their course toward the south-west, for winter was setting in when they started, and as the cold is sometimes severe in northern texas, they made down towards the mexican frontier, and there enjoyed delightful weather. they found an abundance of game, and could have shot any number of deer, but they were useless to them, except for food. herds of wild horses were sometimes seen, and occasionally, in quiet valleys, they came across half-wild cattle, which had strayed away from far-distant ranches. it was strange to hugh to travel thus at will, to wander freely in whichever direction fancy led them; sometimes passing a week or two without seeing any other human being; sometimes stopping for a night at the camp-fire of a party of cow-boys; sometimes bivouacking with a wandering hunter like themselves, or with a ranchman in search of stray animals. during this time their expenses had been next to nothing, their sole outlay being for flour, tea, and sugar, and even these they generally obtained in exchange for venison or other game. hugh had learned to use his rope with considerable skill on horseback, for as soon as he got fairly away on the plains he had begun to practise. the first time he tried it upon his companion he would have given him a very heavy fall, had not bill reined in his horse on to its haunches as soon as the rope fell over his shoulders; for prince, as hugh called his horse, was thoroughly up in his work. the instant the rope had been thrown he stopped and braced himself, with his fore-legs extended, to meet the shock, and had it not been for bill's quickness he would in an instant have been torn from the saddle. "thunder!" the latter exclaimed. "do you want to break my neck, hugh?" "i had nothing to do with it!" hugh protested. "prince nearly sent me over his head. i had not the least idea of pulling him in, and was perfectly taken aback by his playing me that trick." "we ought to have thought of it," bill said. "it was dead sure he would be trained to the work. the idea flashed across me just as the rope came down, and lucky it was so. well, you will find plenty of other things to practise on as we go along. there are cattle enough running about here without owners, and if you come across a bunch of wild horses you can give chase and rope some of the young ones; and there are coyotes, they will give you plenty of sport that way." hugh had used all these opportunities, and had come to throw the noose over the head of a flying animal as well as bill royce himself could do, but as yet he was unable to throw the rope round their legs with any certainty. as the spring approached hugh proposed that instead of carrying out their plan of going to santa fã© they should for a time take service on a ranche. "i enjoy this life immensely, bill, and i should like to become thoroughly up to all the work. at present i am what you call a tender-foot, and i should certainly like to have a few months among the cow-boys." "just as well do that as anything else," bill said. "it is always handy to know that you can hold your own in a round-up and know the ways of cattle, and i tell you that there is plenty to learn. but, mind you, it ain't going to be like this time we've been having. there's no fooling about a cow-boy's life: it is just about the hardest life there is. however, it won't be as hard for you as it is for most fellows. you can ride, though there ain't much merit in sitting on that horse of yours. still i see you know your way among horses, and you have taught him to come to you when you whistle, and to do pretty nigh everything you want him to; but you will find it a mighty different thing when you get on the back of a broncho. however, it is worth learning to ride a horse that has never been backed. anyhow, i am with you. i have had a spell at it, and don't mind having another; and there is one thing--you can quit when you like." "but how about this horse? i should not like to give up prince." "well, you could do as you like about that. each cow-boy has six or eight horses--sometimes he has as many as a dozen--and he just ropes one out of the crowd and rides him as he has a fancy; so you could let prince run with the rest and use him when you liked, or you could leave him at the headquarters station." "what do they want such a lot of horses for?" hugh asked. "they want them to do the work," bill said. "a man can go on pretty nigh for ever, but a horse can't. you will find that you can use up six horses in the twenty-four hours, and they want a day to rest before they are fit for work again. well, they will be starting on their round-up soon, so we may as well head in their direction so as to get taken on before they are full. i was working in the o triangle ranche two years ago; their station ain't above a hundred and fifty miles from where we are. the boss wasn't a bad sort. we may as well go there as to another." "what do you mean by the o triangle, bill?" "that is their brand--a circle in a triangle. we call them always by their brands. they have all sorts of names of their own, but they are never known by them. there is the o triangle, and the double a, and the cross t's, and the diamond square, and the half-circles, and a dozen others. well, we will head that way to-morrow morning. i don't know that i shall be sorry to be in a crowd again for a bit. it gets lonesome when there are only two of you after a while." hugh was beginning to feel this also. their subjects of conversation had long been exhausted, and after the events of the day's hunting had been discussed there was little for them to talk about as they sat by their fire. on the evening of the third day they arrived at the headquarters station of the ranche. it consisted of a long, low building, which formed the storehouse and general room. near it was the manager's house, and behind the barracks for the men. a short distance away was a fence which inclosed fifty or sixty acres of ground. here were some of the more valuable of the animals: some handsome bulls and a couple of dozen good horses. three or four waggons stood near the huts, and a number of horses were grazing about over the country. the huts themselves lay in a hollow, down which a small belt of trees extended. a score of men were standing or sitting near the huts, and as many more came out as the new-comers rode up. one or two of these recognized bill royce. "hello, bill!" one of them said; "back again! i thought you had got rubbed out. where have you been all this time?" "been down in mexico, and then back among the settlements, got tired of it, and here i am. been hunting last. this is my mate, gentlemen. he is a good sort, a britisher, and his name is hugh. now, you are properly introduced!" "glad to see you!" the man said, holding out his hand to hugh. "come to pay us a visit?" "no. i have come to work, if i can get work," hugh said. "oh, there's plenty of work. well, get off your horse. he is a good un, he is!" such was evidently the opinion of the rest of the cow-boys, for they gathered round and made remarks on prince's points. "he is too good for this sort of work altogether, leastways for most of it, though he would do well enough for scouting round and hunting for cattle among the foot-hills. where did you get him?" "i bought him at m'kinney," hugh said. "two fellows came along with him and wanted to sell bad, so i got him a bargain." "i expect he didn't cost them much," the man said. "well, it is all right as long as you don't fall across the chap he was stolen from. if you do, there will be a good many questions asked, i can tell you. i guess he came from some mexican ranche down south. you don't often see such a bit of horseflesh about here." "here is the boss, hugh," bill said; "we may as well speak to him at once;" and they walked together to a man who had just come out from the manager's house. "have you got room for two hands?" bill asked. "i was here a couple of years back; my mate is new at this work, but he can ride and shoot and throw a rope." "oh, it's you, bill, is it? yes, i can put you both on; i am not quite full yet. forty dollars a month for you; thirty for your mate till he learns his business." "that will suit," bill said. "he won't be long before he gets up to the forty." "he will find it hard work at first," the manager said; "but he doesn't look as if that would hurt him." bill and his companion now rejoined the group of cow-boys, while the manager went into the store. hugh looked with interest at the men who were to be his associates for some time. their dress was similar to that of all the cow-boys he had met while hunting. they wore hats with a very wide, straight brim, and made of a stiff felt almost as hard as a board. most of them wore a cord of gold or silver mixed with colour round it. all wore flannel shirts, with a handkerchief--which in the majority of cases was of silk--round their throats. round the waist they wore a mexican sash of bright colour. their trousers were either of thick material, or of very soft tanned leather, and over these were chaperajos or mexican overalls, with a coloured fringe down the outside seam. a few had jackets on, and these had also tufts of coloured fringe on the seams of the arms. they were most of them spare, active men, without an ounce of superfluous flesh. they were quiet in manner, with little of the reckless jollity of the ordinary frontiersman. hugh was particularly struck with the keen, watchful expression of their eyes, the result of long nights of watching and of days spent on horseback in search of stray animals, and of danger from indians. all carried a revolver on the hip or hind pocket, had a long knife stuck in their sash, and wore high boots cut away behind at the bend of the knee, but coming several inches higher in front. following bill's example, hugh unsaddled his horse. "go off, old boy!" he said, giving him a pat; and prince walked leisurely away accompanied by his two companions, who always kept near to him. "we cannot offer you a drink," one of the cow-boys said to hugh. "no liquor is allowed on the ranche. it comes rather hard at first, but it is best for us all." "i have touched nothing for the last four months but tea," hugh said, "and don't care for spirits anyway." "it would be a good thing if none of us did," the other said; "but one must do something when one goes down to a town." just at this moment a bell began to ring. "there is supper," the man said. there was a general movement into the large hut. here long tables were laid out, and dishes piled up with meat, and great platters of potatoes, were ranged along at short intervals. hugh was gifted with an excellent appetite, but he was astonished at the way in which the food disappeared. the meal was accompanied by a supply of very fair bread fresh from the oven, and tea with milk. "ewart keeps a few cows down here," the man next to hugh said in answer to his remark about his not having seen milk for three months. "of course we don't get it at the out-stations." "who is ewart?" hugh asked. "oh, he is boss; we don't have any misters out here--one man is as good as another. you have just arrived here at the right time. we have been driving in the horses from the ranche for the last three days, and to-morrow we are going to begin breaking them. of course a good many of them were ridden last year, but there are a lot of bronchos among them. we have got a broncho-breaker out here." a broncho, hugh knew, was a horse that had never been ridden. "how do you do about horses?" he said. "well, three or four of those that have been ridden before are told off to each man. then, if anyone fancies a broncho, he can take him and break him for himself. then men can swop with each other. you see some men ride better than others. some men like quiet mounts; others don't mind what they sit on; and you see the best horses are very often the most full of tricks. you ride your horses as you like, but everyone keeps his quietest for night watches. you must have a quiet horse for that, for if your horse was to begin to play tricks he would stampede the cattle, sure." "i suppose after they have been ridden one season they are quiet enough?" hugh said. "not a bit of it," the man replied. "some of them seem to get wickeder and wickeder. they get a bit better towards the end of the season, but six months' running wild does away with all that. i would just as soon take my chance with a fresh broken broncho as with one that has been ridden before. they are wilder, you know, but not so cunning. an old horse seems to spend most of his time in thinking what game he shall be up to next, and when you see one walking along as if he had never done anything but walk along all his time, just look out, or you will find yourself six feet up in the air." supper over, pipes were lighted, and hugh listened with great interest to the talk going on around him. some of the men had been on the ranche all the winter; others had been away, some back in the settlements, others in new mexico, where they had been either loitering away their time in the towns or working on mexican ranches. hugh was struck with the quiet way in which they talked, the absence of argument, and the air of attention with which each speaker was listened to. he thought he had never been among a more quiet set of men, and wondered if these could be really the cow-boys of whose wild doings he had heard such tales. gradually one by one they lounged off to the hut behind, and he and bill soon went off also. it consisted of one room about sixty feet long. a stove with a huge fire burned in the middle, for the nights were cold. down both sides and along the ends extended a double row of bunks. in the great majority of these lay blankets, showing that they were occupied. choosing two empty ones, they placed the blankets and other articles they had taken from their saddles in them, put their belongings under their heads, rolled themselves in their blankets, and were soon sound asleep. the first thing next morning they handed over to the storekeeper the remainder of their flour, tea, and sugar. the value of these was credited to them, and they took out the amount in a couple of pairs of chaperajos, two cow-boy hats and two pairs of high boots, paying the balance in cash; they then joined the cow-boys. these were gathered in an inclosure with a very strong fence adjoining the fenced-in ground. several cow-boys rode off as they entered, and in a quarter of an hour a mob of horses was seen approaching, the men riding behind cracking their whips and yelling at the top of their voices. the gates were opened, and a couple of minutes later the horses rushed in. there were some forty or fifty of them, and of these about two-thirds were branded. in the first place the others were speedily roped both by the head and hind legs. four cow-boys hung on to the ropes while another approached with a heated brand and applied it to the animals' hind quarters, the horses kicking and struggling wildly. as soon as the operation, which lasted but a second or two, was completed the ropes were loosed, and the frightened animals rejoined their companions, who were huddled in a corner of the inclosure. "now, each man of no. 1 and no. 2 outfit take one of the horses," the manager said. hugh and bill had the night before been told that they were to form part of no. 2 outfit. like the others they had their ropes in their hands, and had brought their saddles inside the inclosure. hugh picked out a horse that struck him as being a good one, and threw his lasso round its neck. one of the cow-boys belonging to the other outfit, who was standing by, said: "that is a pretty bad horse, mate. i would take a quieter one if i were you." "i have got to learn to sit them," hugh replied; "so i may as well begin with a bad one as a good one." "all right," the other said, taking hold of the rope, and helping hugh haul upon it. the animal resisted violently, but the pressure of the rope half-choked him, and he was forced to leave the group and come up to them. "i will hold him," hugh's assistant said. "get your saddle and bridle." there was some difficulty in putting these on, for the animal kicked, plunged, and reared furiously, and it was only when another cow-boy threw a rope, and, catching one of its hind legs, pulled it out stiffly behind, that hugh succeeded in saddling it. "now, up you go!" the man said. gathering up the reins hugh sprang into the saddle, and the two men, as soon as they saw him seated, slipped off the ropes. for a moment the horse stood perfectly still. "keep his head up," one of the men shouted; but before hugh could draw in the reins the horse dropped its head to its knees. then it seemed to hugh that it doubled itself up, and before he knew what had happened he felt himself flying through the air, and came down to the ground with a crash. there was a shout of laughter from the cow-boys, but two or three of them helped hugh, who for a moment was almost stunned, to his feet. "that is bucking, i suppose," he said as soon as he could get breath. "that's bucking, sure enough," one of those who had helped him said. "well, i will try again in a minute," hugh said. "take it quietly," the man said good-naturedly. "you fell pretty heavy, and you are shaken up a bit. you'd better hitch him on to the fence, and look about you for a few minutes before you try again." hugh thought the advice good, and after fastening up the horse stood watching the man they called the broncho-breaker, who was fighting one of the most vicious of the last year's horses. had he not seen it, hugh would not have believed it possible that a horse could go through such performances. he had ridden many vicious brutes at home, and had thought that he knew something of horses, but this was a new experience for him. in the rearing, kicking, and plunging there was nothing novel, and as the horses were much smaller than the english hunters to which he had been accustomed he felt that if this had been all he should have no difficulty in keeping his seat, but the bucking was new to him. to perform it, it was necessary that the horse should be able to get its head down. the moment this was done it sprang straight into the air, at the same moment rounding its back, and this with such a sharp, sudden jerk that it fairly threw the rider into the air. on coming down the animal kept its legs stiff, so that the jerk to the rider was scarcely less than that of the upward spring, and before he had time to settle himself in the slightest the horse repeated the performance, varying it occasionally by springing sideways, backwards, or forwards. the breaker, or as they were generally called the broncho-buster, kept his figure perfectly upright, with a tremendous grip upon the saddle with his thighs, but depending, as hugh could see, rather upon balance than upon his hold. the exertion was evidently great. the man's hat had been jerked off, the perspiration stood upon his bronzed forehead. from time to time he dug his spurs into the animal's flanks, and excited it to continue its desperate efforts, until at last the horse was utterly exhausted and stood with its head drooping unable to make another effort. there was a shout of applause from the cow-boys looking on. "bully for you, jake! he is a brute, that is, and no mistake." "i will give him a turn every day for a week," jake said. "he is worth taking trouble with. i will take him for a gallop to-morrow." "do they buck when they are galloping?" hugh asked the cow-boy next to him. the latter nodded. "not when they are going at their best pace. they haven't time to do it then, but when they are going at hand-gallop they will do it. they wait until you are off your guard, and then up they go in the air and come down perhaps three yards sideways, and it's fifty to one against your being on their back when they do come down." "i see how it is done now, though i don't see how i can do it," hugh said. "but i will try again." [illustration: "the next jump threw him fairly over the horse's head."] the horse was led out, and hugh again mounted. this time he was prepared for what was to come, but in spite of the grip with his legs the blow lifted him far above the saddle. it seemed to him that the next buck came before he had fairly descended, for it struck him with the force and suddenness of an electric shock. again and again he was thrown up, until he felt his balance going, and the next jump threw him fairly over the horse's head, but as he was prepared for the fall it was much less heavy than the first time. "well done! well done!" several of the cow-boys said as he rose to his feet. "you will do, you will, and make a good rider before long. that will do for to-day; i would not try any more." "i am going to try it until i can sit him," hugh said. "i have got to do it, and i may as well go on now before i get stiff." the broncho-breaker came up to him as, after waiting a minute or two to get his breath, he again prepared to mount. "don't keep your back so stiff, young fellow. just let your back go as if there was no bones in it. i have known a man's spine broke before now by a bucker. sit easy and lissom. keep your head, that is the principal thing. it ain't easy when you are being pitched up and down like a ball, but it all turns upon that. let your legs close on him tight each time you come down, if only for a moment, that saves you from being thrown clean away from him." hugh sprang on to the horse, and the struggle again began. it ended like the last, but hugh had kept his seat somewhat longer than before. again and again he tried, each time with more success. the fifth time he felt that the horse's action was less sudden and violent, and that it was becoming fatigued with its tremendous exertions. "now, you brute," he muttered, "it is my turn;" and he dug his spurs into the horse. a spring more violent than any he had yet felt followed the application, and for a minute or two he was almost bewildered by the force and rapidity of the animal's springs; but he was now confident that he was gaining the mastery, and the moment he found that its efforts were decreasing, he again applied the spurs. the response was less vigorous than before, and in five minutes the animal stood exhausted and subdued. a cheer broke from the cow-boys who were standing round looking on at the struggle. "well done, young fellow! you are the toughest tender-foot i have ever seen," one of them said, shaking him by the hand. "i don't believe there are ten men in the camp who would have sat that horse as you have, and you say that it is the very first time you have been on a bucker." "i have beaten him," hugh said, "but he has pretty well beaten me. you must help me off my saddle, for i feel as if my back was broken, and that i could not lift my leg over the saddle if my life depended on it." two cow-boys lifted him from his seat. "that is a hard tussle, mate," the broncho-breaker said, coming up to him, "and you have stuck to it well. you are clear grit, you are. the best thing you can do is to walk about for the next hour; just keep yourself moving, then go and wrap yourself up in two or three blankets and lie down in your bunk for a bit, have a thorough good sweat, and then strip and rub yourself down. get your mate to rub your back well, and then dress and move about. the great thing is not to get stiff; but you will feel it for a day or two." hugh followed the advice, but he found it hard work to do so. he was bruised all over with his falls; he scarce seemed able to put one leg before another, and at every movement a sharp pain shot through the loins, and he felt as if his spine had been dislocated. still, for an hour he walked about, and at the end of that time felt that his movements were more easy; then he went to the hut, wrapped himself in bill's blankets and his own, and presently dozed off to sleep. a couple of hours later he woke and saw bill standing beside him. "now, hugh, you had better turn out and let me give you a rub. just take off that shirt. i have got a lump of hog's grease here." hugh got out of the bunk with some difficulty and took off his shirt. "now, you lean your hands on that bunk and arch your back; that's it. now here goes." for a good half-hour bill worked at his back, kneading it with his knuckles down both sides of the spine and across the loins. "now, you will do," he said at last. "put on a dry shirt and come out." hugh strolled down to the stock-yard. he felt wonderfully better after the rubbing, and was able to walk with far greater ease than before. the scene in the yard was unchanged. fresh groups of horses had been driven in as fast as the others had been saddled and mounted, and by nightfall each of the cow-boys had been provided with three horses. hugh was greatly amused at the scene, for the spills were numerous, and the shouting and laughter incessant. the next day the work of breaking in the bronchos commenced. one after another they were roped and dragged out of the drove. the bridle was slipped on, and they were then blindfolded while the saddle was put on and fastened. then jake mounted. the cloth was drawn off the animal's head, and the struggle commenced. the horses tried every means to unseat their rider, but in vain. some submitted after comparatively short struggles. others fought long and desperately. as soon as the first victory was won bars were let down, and the horse was taken for a long gallop across the country, returning home subdued and trembling. then the process was repeated with a fresh animal. "how long does he take to break them?" hugh asked a cow-boy. "three days generally; sometimes he will ride them four or five times, but three is generally enough. then they are handed over to us to finish." "it must take a lot out of them," hugh said. "it would be better to do it more gradually. you see they are scared nearly to death before they are begun with." "he cannot afford the time," the man said. "he gets two dollars a horse for breaking them. he will be here for a fortnight, and in that time he will do pretty well a hundred. then he will go off somewhere else." "it must be tremendous work for him," hugh said. "it is that, you bet. a broncho-buster seldom lasts above two years. they get shaken all to pieces and clean broke up by the end of that time." as fast as the horses were broken in they were handed over to the cow-boys, and hugh, who had been unable to do any work for two days, then began to break in the lot that were to be his particular property. but he was fond of horses, and could not bring himself to use such violent measures as those which he saw adopted by his companions. the first lesson they taught them was to stand still the moment a rope fell over their necks. the animal was led up to the stump of a tree and then loosed; it at once went off at full speed, but as it did so its owner threw the noose of his rope over its head, and then gave the other end a turn round the stump. the shock was tremendous, the horses being frequently jerked right over on to their backs. two or three experiences of this sort was sufficient, and the animal thenceforth learned to stand, not only when a rope was thrown round its neck, but even when the reins were dropped upon it, so that when its master dismounted it remained perfectly quiet until he again mounted and took the reins in his hand, even if he was absent a considerable time. as the teams were to start in a few days on the round-up, hugh felt that it would be useless for him to attempt to break the horses in by english methods, and he was therefore obliged to adopt those in use by his companions. he mollified them, however, to some extent by getting another rope and tying it to his own. he then took only half a turn round the stump, and let the rope run out, at first fast, but checking it gradually until its pressure upon the neck brought the animal half suffocated to a stop. it took him longer to accomplish his object, but he found that by the end of a week the seven horses had all learned their lessons; each having been ridden for an hour every day. he had had several severe battles with the animal he had first mounted, which was by far the most vicious of them; but the struggle each day had become less severe, as the horse recognized the futility of endeavouring to unseat its master. hugh had many falls during the schooling, but he was upon the whole well satisfied with the result. several of the cow-boys had advised him to use the methods they adopted for securing them in their seats upon specially vicious horses. one of these methods was the fastening of a loop of leather to the high pommel. holding this in the hand, it was well-nigh impossible to be bucked from the saddle, but there was the disadvantage that if the strap broke, nothing could save a rider from a fall far more violent and heavy than that which came from being pitched from the saddle in the ordinary way. another method was to fasten a strap passed under the horse's belly tightly below each knee; but this, although it held the riders in their saddles, had the serious disadvantage, that in the event of the horse rearing and falling back, or of its falling headlong from putting its foot in a hole, the rider could not free himself, and was almost certain to be crushed under the horse. others, again, fastened themselves by bringing their feet together, and crossing their spurs, under the horse's belly, a safer measure than the last, but objectionable inasmuch as the spurs when the animal bucked struck him in the belly, and so increased the violence of his action. of course the best riders refrained from using any of these methods, trusting only to their leg grip and to balance; and hugh determined to ride in this way, even if it did cost him a few more falls. he was on excellent terms with the rest of the cow-boys. the tender-foot, as a new-comer is called, is always the subject of endless pranks and annoyances if he evinces the least timidity or nervousness; but if, on the other hand, he shows that he has pluck, determination to succeed, and good temper, he is treated with kindness and cordiality. hugh's exhibition, therefore, of courage and horsemanship on the occasion of his first attempt at once won their liking and admiration, and all were ready to lend him a hand when necessary, and to give him hints and advice, and he was free from any of the annoyances to which new hands are often exposed. there were several other tender-feet among the party. two or three of these got on fairly and soon ceased to be butts; but the rest, before a week was up, found the work altogether too trying, and one after another went off in search of some less dangerous occupation. [illustration] chapter viii. a rattlesnake diet. everything was now ready, and one morning four waggons started. the [brand circle triangle] was one of the most northern of the ranches, and the four outfits would therefore travel south, searching the whole width of country as they went along. those from the other ranches would come up from the south, or in from the east, all moving towards a general meeting-place. the range of country which served as common pasturage to some eight or ten ranches was about two hundred miles from north to south, and nearly as much from east to west. the eastern portion of this great tract consisted of plain, sometimes flat and level, but more often undulating. the western portion was broken up into valleys and gorges by the spurs of the great ranges included under the name of the rocky mountains. the cattle of each ranche were as far as possible kept in that portion of the territory nearest their own stations, but during the winter they scattered to great distances in search of better grazing ground or shelter. in the more northern ranges, when snow-storms with violent wind swept down from the north-west, the cattle would drift before it, always keeping their heads from the wind, and feeding as they travelled. sometimes great herds would thus travel hundreds of miles, until brought up by some obstacle. at this time such things as fences were absolutely unknown on the plains, and when, years after, they came to a certain extent into use, they were, in the regions exposed to snow-storms, causes of terrible disaster; for when a herd drifting before a snow-storm came to one of them, it would be checked, and many thousands of cattle would, when the snow cleared, be found frozen or starved to death in a mass. two of the outfits of the [brand circle triangle] ranche were to proceed due west, and then to search the ranges among the hills, while the other two were to work the plains. nos. 1 and 2 were chosen for the former work, and were to keep within twenty or thirty miles of each other, so as to be able to draw together for support should the indians prove troublesome. it was not until the afternoon that the cow-boys mounted, and the men of each outfit, collecting their own horses into a bunch, started for the spot where their waggon was to halt for the night. it had brought up near a stream, and the cook had already lighted his fires and put on his cooking pots when they arrived. each outfit consisted of ten cow-boys and a man who acted as waggon-driver and cook. the duties of the cook of an outfit were by no means a sinecure, as he had to prepare two meals a day, breakfast and supper, at all times, and dinner for the men whose work allowed them to ride in to it. he had to bake bread, to wash up pots, pans, and dishes, and to cut wood for the fire. in the latter task he was always assisted by the first arrivals at the camping place. the bread was baked in iron pans. the dough was made of flour and water with a mixture of saleratus, which took the place of yeast, and caused the dough to rise. the pans were placed in the wood embers, a quantity of which were piled upon the flat iron lid, so that the bread was baked equally on all sides. meat was cut into steaks and fried, those of the men who preferred it cutting off chunks of the meat and grilling or roasting them on sticks over the fire. once or twice a week there was duff or plum-pudding. the cook was up long before daybreak preparing breakfast, and the men started as soon as it was light. directly the meal was over, plates, pots, and pans were washed and packed in the waggon, the horses or mules harnessed, and he started for the spot named as the evening camping ground, where he had his fires lighted and the meal well on its way by the time the cow-boys arrived. a good deal more meat than was required was cooked at breakfast, and each man before he started on his day's work, cut off a chunk of bread and meat for his mid-day meal. hugh had ridden prince, who had been having a very easy time of it for the last three weeks. the horse had for the first few days kept somewhat apart, and had resented any advances on the part of the strangers. he had now, however, fallen into their ways, and as soon as the saddle was taken off he, like those ridden by the other cow-boys, went off at a trot to join the bunch of horses a short distance out on the plain. "well, hugh, how do you think you shall like cattle work?" one of the men, known as long tom, asked him, as they sat round the fire after supper was over. "so far i like it immensely," hugh replied; "but, of course, i have only seen the smooth side of it. i have not been on night cattle-guard yet." "yes, that is the worse part of the work," the man said, "especially when you are short-handed, for then there is only one relief. of course on a fine night, if the cattle are quiet, there is no hardship about it; but on a dark night, when you cannot see your horse's ears, and the wind is blowing and the rain coming down, and the cattle are restless, it is no joke. i have been a sailor in my time, and i tell you that keeping watch on a wild night at sea isn't a circumstance to it. you know that if the cattle break, you have got to ride and head them off somehow; and i tell you, when you cannot see your horse's ears, and are going at a wild gallop, and know that if he puts his foot in a hole there is no saying how far you may be chucked, and you have got the herd thundering along beside you, you begin to feel that a cow-boy's life is not all meat and molasses. there is one comfort, when you do have to ride like that, you have no time to funk. your blood just boils up with excitement, and the one thing that you think of is to head the herd." "shall we place a horse-guard to-night?" "yes, there is always a horse-guard when we are away from the station. the horses are more inclined to wander at first than they are afterwards, and ours are a pretty wild lot at present; but i don't think we shall have trouble with them, for we have brought that white jackass along, and the horses are sure to keep round him. there is nothing like a jack for keeping horses quiet. they seem to know that he has more sense than they have. as long as he takes things quietly there is not much fear of their moving." "do you think a donkey has more sense than a horse?" hugh asked in surprise. "ever so much," the man replied; "and so have mules, haven't they, mates?" there was a general chorus of assent. "i had no idea of that," hugh said. "i should have thought that horses would look down upon a donkey." "that is where you are wrong," a cow-boy called broncho harry said. "trust to a jack to find out the best forage and the nearest water. he would manage to pick up a living where a horse would starve. he doesn't get scared and lose his head about nothing as a horse does. if there is a noise, he just cocks one ear forward and makes up his mind what it is about, and then goes on eating, while a horse fidgets and sweats, and is ready to bolt from his own shadow; besides, the horses know that the jack is their master." "why, you don't mean to say that a donkey can kick harder than a horse?" "i don't say he can kick harder, though a mule can, and twice as quick; but a jack does not fight that way, he fights with his teeth. i have seen several fights between stallions and jacks, and the jack has always got the best of it. i remember down at the red springs there was a big black stallion with a bunch of mares came down the valley where we camped, and he went at the horses and stampeded them all down the valley. well, we had a jack with us; he did not seem to pay much attention to what was going on until the stallion came rushing at him, thinking no doubt that he was going to knock his brains straight out with a blow of his fore-foot, but the jack went at him with open mouth, dodged a blow of his hoofs, and made a spring and caught him by the neck. he held on like a bull-dog. the stallion reared and plunged, and lifted the jack off his feet time after time, but each time he came down with his legs stiff and well apart. "the stallion struck at him with his fore-legs, and cut the skin off his shoulders. once or twice they fell, but the jack never let go his hold, and he would have killed the stallion, sure, if it had not torn itself away, leaving a big bit of skin and flesh in the jack's mouth. the stallion went up the valley again like a flash, and the jack turned off and went on grazing as if nothing had happened. jacks don't have a chance in towns; but give them a free hand out on the plains, and i tell you they are just choke-full of sense. but it is getting dark, and i am first on guard, so i must be off." the other three men who had been told off for guard had each brought in a horse and fastened the ends of their ropes to picket pins driven into the ground, so that they could graze a little and yet be near at hand when the time came to relieve the guard. "how do you know when to wake?" "it is habit," broncho harry said. "one gets to wake up just at the right time, and if you ain't there within a quarter of an hour of the time you ought to be, you are likely to hear of it. one of the guards will ride in, and talk pretty straight to you, or like enough he will drop his rope round your foot or arm, and give you a jerk that will send you ten yards. when you have been woke up once or twice like that, there ain't much fear of your over-sleeping yourself. ah! there is black sam's accordion." black sam was the cook, a merry good-tempered negro, and the outfit which secured sam with the waggon considered itself in luck. cow-boys are very fond of music, and sam's accordion helped to while away the evening. for the next two hours there was singing and choruses, and then the men rolled themselves in their blankets with their feet to the fire, and the camp was soon asleep. the next morning at daybreak the cow-boys started in pairs; two of them accompanied the waggon in charge of the spare horses, the rest went in various directions to hunt up cattle. before nightfall they had collected fifty or sixty cattle, mostly in bunches of threes and fours. at least a third of the number were calves by their mother's side. some of them were only captured after a long chase, as they ran with a swiftness far beyond anything of which hugh could have supposed cattle to be capable. the cows and steers were for the most part branded, but a few were found without marks. these were, hugh learned, called mavericks. they were animals that had escaped search at the previous round-up, and it was consequently impossible to tell to what herd they belonged. when the day's work was done these were roped, thrown down, and branded with the [brand circle triangle], and became the property of the ranche whose cow-boys discovered them. "there is many a man has become rich by branding mavericks," one of the cow-boys said. "it was a regular business at one time. of course no one could tell whose cattle they were, and when a man had put his brand on them he became the owner; but it was carried on so that the ranche owners all came to an agreement, and any man caught branding cattle with his own brand, except at the regular round-up, got shot. of course the calves belonged to one or other of the ranches round, and as each ranche sends out a number of outfits to the round-up in proportion to the numbers of its cattle, the present rule is fair enough." when night fell the cattle were bunched down by the stream by which the party had camped. six of them were told off on night guard, while three others, of whom hugh was one, were to look after the horses. hugh was to take the first watch, and as soon as he had eaten his supper he received his instructions from john colley, the overseer of the outfit. "you will have little enough to do," he said. "you have merely got to keep near them, and you needn't even keep on your horse unless you like. as long as they graze quietly leave them alone. if you see two or three wandering away from the rest ride quickly and head them in." hugh mounted one of the quietest of his horses and rode out to the bunch a few hundred yards from camp. at his whistle prince at once trotted out from the rest and came up to him and took from his hand the piece of bread hugh had put in his pocket for him. "go back to the others, prince," he said with a wave of his hand; "your business is to eat at present." the horses were all quiet, and hugh, when darkness had fairly fallen, was struck with the quiet of the plain. above, the stars shone through the clear, dry air. near him were the dark bunch of horses, and he was surprised at the loudness of the sound of their cropping the grass, broken only by that of an occasional stamp of a hoof. he could easily hear the accordion and the singing away back at the camp. when this ceased there came occasionally the crack of a breaking twig as the herd of cattle forced their way through the bushes by the stream on his left, and the songs of the cow-boys on watch as they rode in circles around them. the time did not seem long, and he was quite surprised when bill royce cantered up and told him his watch was over. the next day's work was similar to the first, except that, soon after starting, on ascending a slope they saw a small herd of deer some eighty yards away. before hugh had time to think, broncho harry, who was his companion, had drawn his revolver, and, as the deer bounded off, fired. one of them leaped high in the air, ran fifty yards, and then dropped, while the others made off at the top of their speed. "that was a good shot," hugh said. "i should hardly have thought of firing at an object so far distant." "oh, these colts carry a long way," the cow-boy said carelessly. "they will carry four hundred yards, though you can't depend upon their shooting much over a hundred. i have seen a man killed, though, at over three hundred; but i look upon that as a chance shot. up to a hundred a man ain't much of a shot who cannot bring down a deer four times out of five. i don't mean hitting. of course you ought to hit him every time, but hit him so as to stop him. i don't mean to say as the shot would be sure if you were galloping over rough ground, but in a steady saddle you ought not to miss." on riding up to the deer broncho harry dismounted, lifted it on the horse, and lashed it to the back of the saddle. "i am not particularly partial to deer-meat," he said, "but it makes a change to beef." "i own i prefer beef," hugh said, "especially after living on venison, as i have been doing, for the last three months." "i consider bear-meat to be about as good as anything you get in these parts," the cow-boy said. "i don't say as it isn't tough, but it has got flavour. i don't want to put my teeth into anything better than a good bear ham. if we have any luck we shall get some up among the hills. most things are eatable. i lived on rattlers once for a month at a time. i tell you a rattler ain't bad eating." "are there many of them out on the plains?" "a good many," the cow-boy said; "but you get them most among the foot-hills. they like to lie on the rocks in the sun, and i have seen them by dozens on a sunny ledge." "do many people get killed by them?" "bless you, no. the natives are afraid of them, 'cause, you see, they often go barefoot; but they cannot bite through our thick boots. the only danger is when you lie down, or something of that sort. they are fond of warmth, and if you camp near where they are thick they will crawl down to the fire, and sometimes get into your blanket." "i suppose their bite is fatal if they do bite." "not once in fifty times if you take them right. i have known mexicans killed by them, but, then, a mexican gives himself away directly and makes no fight for it. now if we are bitten we just whip out a knife and cut the part out straight, clap a poultice of fresh dung on it, and tie a string round tight above it. of course, if you have got spirits handy, you pour some in directly you cut it out, and drink as much as you can; but then, you see, we don't often have spirits out here. i was bit once. there." and he pointed to a scar on his right hand, between the little finger and the wrist. "a rattler bit me just on the fleshy part there. i blew his head off with my revolver, and then whipped out my knife and cut the bit out. there wasn't any dung handy, and i had no spirits, so i broke up a revolver cartridge and poured the powder in, and clapped a match to it. it hurt a bit, of course, because it was bleeding and the powder didn't all flash off at once; but i was all right afterwards. my arm felt numbed for an hour or two, and there was an end of it. cattle and horses get bit sometimes on the head when they are grazing, and it swells up to pretty well twice its proper size, but they generally get over it in a day or two. no, there is no great danger about rattlers, but if you are in the neighbourhood where they are thick it is just as well to look round before you sit down." "but how was it you came to live on rattle-snakes for a month?" "well, i was up north a bit. i had been looking after a bunch of cattle that had gone up a caã±on when i saw a party of indians coming my way. lucky i saw them before they saw me, and you guess i was off the horse pretty sharp. i turned his head up the caã±on, and sent him galloping on, and then i sheltered among the rocks. the indians came up, no doubt, to look for cattle. i heard them pass by and then come galloping down again, and i knew they had happened upon my horse. they hunted about that place for two days, but the soft rocks had fallen, and they were piled thick along the foot of the cliffs on both sides, and you may guess i had worked myself down pretty deep in among them. "i was in too much of a hurry to think of the rattlers as i got in, but i had noticed as i went up what a lot of them there were lying on the rocks, and i thought a good deal about them as i was lying there. of course i had my knife and pistol with me, but the pistol was no good, for a shot would have cost me my scalp, sure, and a knife ain't the sort of weapon you would choose to use in a tussle with a rattler. when night came i could have shifted, but i guessed i had got as good a place as another, and i might have put my foot into a nest of rattlers in the dark, so i lay there all night and all next day. i slept a bit at night, but all day i kept awake and listened. i could hear the injuns going about and shoving their lances all about down the holes among the rocks. "luckily, the place i had got into was just at the foot of the cliffs, and you could not see that there was a hole unless you climbed up there. well, when night came again i guessed they would give up searching, and take to watching. i got out and went a good bit higher up the gorge. i was pretty nigh mad with thirst, and there weren't no water, as i knew of, within well-nigh a hundred miles. i felt sure the injuns wouldn't come up the valley again, but would keep watch at the mouth, for the hills went up both sides and there was no getting out anywhere 'cept there. soon as it got light i cut a stoutish stick, tore off a strip of my sash, and tied my bowie to the end. then i hid up agin there, but so that i could see out a bit. about ten o'clock, as there wur no signs of the injuns, and the sun wur blazing down fit to frizzle up one's brain, i guessed rattlers would be out. i had got so bad with thirst by that time that i b'lieve, even if i had seen the injuns, i should have gone out. i had not long to search. i had not gone five yards when i saw a rattler lying on a rock. "there are two sorts of rattlers; there is the plain rattler and the rock rattler. the rock ain't so big as the other, but he bites just as bad. he saw me coming, but he did not trouble to move. he just sounded his rattles, and lifted up his head as much as to say you had best leave me alone. when i got near him he lifted his head a bit higher, and swish went my stick, and his head flew off him. i picked up the body and went back among the bushes, skinned it, cut it up into chunks, and ate it just as it was. that was the first of them, and i had three or four more before the day was over. that night and next day i remained quiet, except to fill up my larder, and the next night crawled down to the mouth of the valley; and just where it narrowed i could hear injuns talking. they hadn't lighted a fire; they knew better than that. it would have been just throwing away their lives. so back i went again, for i could not tell how many of the skunks were there. i guessed, perhaps, they would come up the valley again the next day, so i hid again in my old place; and it was lucky i did, for in the afternoon i heard their horses' feet and knew there must have been a dozen of them. "that night i went down again. i could hear no voices, and i crawled out and out until i was well on the plain, but they was gone. that wur just what i had expected. they had got my water-skin with my horse, and knew well enough that no one could have stood that four days' heat in that valley without dying or going off his head, and as they could see nothing of me they must have thought that i had got into some hole and stuck there till i died. their own water, too, must have been running short, and they couldn't stay any longer; so off they had gone. i wasn't much better off than i was before. they had driven the cattle away, and as to starting to walk a hundred miles without water the thing wur not to be thought of. i had found there was juice enough in the rattlers to do me; besides, there wur plants growing about that would help me a bit if i chewed the leaves, so i made up my mind that there was nothing else to do but to stop. "some of my mates would be sure to get up a hunt for me when they found that i didn't come back. i didn't care so much now that i could light a fire, for i was getting pretty sick of raw rattler. i lit one next morning right up at the head of the valley, choosing a place among the rocks where i could pitch a stone over it and hide the ashes if the injuns should take it into their heads to pay me another visit. every morning i cooked enough rattlers for the day, and then took them down and sat among some bushes high up at the mouth of the valley, so that i could see if anyone was coming two or three miles away, for i hoped that a deer, or a bear, or perhaps a head or two of cattle might come up, but nary one did i see, though i stayed there a month. "at the end of that time i saw four mounted figures far out on the plain, and pretty soon made out as they was cow-boys. they was riding towards the hills, and you bet i tracked out to meet them pretty slick. they was four men of my own outfit. they had halted for three or four days after i wur lost, and scoured the plains pretty considerable for me. then they wur obliged to go with the rest to drive the cattle into the station, and as soon as they got there they started out again, making up their minds that they wouldn't go back till they found my body. they reckoned for sure that i had been scalped, and never expected to do more for me than to bury me. they had been four days riding along at the bottom of the foot-hills searching every valley. they had a spare horse or two with them with water and grub. yes, that is how i came to live on rattlers for a month, and though i don't say anything against them as food, and allow as they make a change to cow's flesh, i have never been able to touch them since." "that was a close shave," hugh said. "i suppose people do get lost and die on the plains sometimes." "lots of them; but not old hands, you know. a cow-boy gets to know which way he is going without looking at a mark. at night he has got the stars to guide him. but tender-feet often get lost; and when they once lose their bearings there ain't much chance for them unless someone happens to come along. they most all go out of their mind the same day. they run a bit and then drop down, and then run another way and drop again. i tell you there ain't a more awful sight than a man who has been lost for a day or two, and you have got to look out sharp if you come upon one of them, for he is as like as not to shoot you, being altogether off his head, and taking you for an enemy. "i once came across a chap who was off his head, but who hadn't got weak. he drew his six-shooter when he saw me. it was a long way from a station, and i had no time to fool about, and i didn't want to get shot. he fired once, and the ball went pretty close, so i knew i might chuck away my life by going near enough to rope him. so i fetched out my pistol and took a shot at his ankle, and, of course, down he went. as i expected, he let drop his pistol as he tumbled, and before he could get it again i had ridden up and roped him. then, of course, it wur easy enough. i tied him tight first, poured a few drops of water into his mouth, fastened him across the horse behind the saddle, and rode with him into the camp. he wur laid up for nigh six weeks with his ankle, but it saved his life. "hello!" he broke off, reining back his horse suddenly; "there is a good bunch of cattle right up that dip ahead of us. we are on the wrong side of them now, and if they was to catch sight of us we should have a long ride before we came up to them. we must work round and come down on them from the other side and head them this way, then we shall be travelling in the right direction." hugh's eye, less accustomed to search the plains, had not caught the cattle. "how far are they off?" he said. "about a mile. you go round to the right and i'll go round to the left. when you get to where you think you are behind them stop until you see me; or, look here, you are new at this sort of thing, so we may as well ride together until we get to your station, else we might miss each other and lose a lot of time." so saying he rode off at full speed, hugh, who was on prince, following him. as they went hugh congratulated himself that he had not started by himself, for riding up and down the undulations, and making a half-circle as they were doing, he very soon lost all idea of direction. after ten minutes' riding the cow-boy reined in his horse. "now," he said, "they are in the next dip, just about over the line of that bush. i will go a bit further round and come down on the other side of them. you move on to that bush and wait until you see me coming, and then ride forward. keep on their flank. that dip lies just about in the line of the camp, so keep them going that way." hugh rode until he approached the bush harry had pointed out, and then sat quiet until he saw the cow-boy approaching from the opposite direction. the latter threw up his arm and hugh moved forward. a few strides of the horse took him to the brow, and there, below him, some forty or fifty cattle were grazing. broncho harry was already dashing down the opposite slope. for a moment the cattle stood with heads up and snorts of alarm, and then, as the cow-boy uttered a wild yell, dashed off down the hollow. a little behind them, one on each side, rode the two cow-boys, and for three miles there was no change in their relative position. then the speed of the cattle began to abate, but they kept on at a run for another two miles, and then settled gradually into a walk. an hour later the camp was reached. "there is no occasion to watch them," broncho harry said as they arrived within a quarter of a mile of the waggon. "they will go on to the stream and have a drink, and then lie down in the shade of the bushes, or else mix up with the other cattle down somewhere there. they have done enough running for to-day." "back early, harry?" the cow-boy who had remained behind to look after the horses said. "yes, we have been in luck--got a goodish bunch. hello, sam!" "hello, broncho harry!" the negro replied, putting his head out of the waggon. "got any hot water, because we want tea?" "not got now, but make him quick. plenty of fire in the ashes. not expect anyone back to dinner, only just twelve o'clock." "well, here we are, sam, anyhow. hand me out a frying-pan; a hot dinner is better than a cold lunch any day. i have brought you in a stag, sam." "dat's good, broncho, deer's meat better than cow meat." "not a bit of it, sam. it does for a change; but you cannot go on eating it every day as you can beef, unless you have got to, and then one can eat anything." "are we going out again after dinner, harry?" hugh asked, as they watched the beef frying over the embers of the great fire. "no, sirree, we have done our day's work. we have brought in our bunch, and a good bunch it is. it is just luck that we came on them early, and are back early. if it had been the other way we might not have got back until after dark; maybe we mightn't have got back until to-morrow. after we have done our meal we will go and see if the cattle have settled down quiet, and if they have joined the rest. if they have, we will have a bathe in the stream and then wash our shirts. it will be a good opportunity. one don't get many chances of washing on a round-up." the cattle were found to have joined those brought in the day before, and the cow-boys' programme was carried out. "you ought to practise with that six-shooter of yours, hugh; a cow-boy ain't thought much of if he can't shoot straight. look at that tin on the low bough there. that has been there ever since we were here a year ago. i mind that someone stuck it up for a tender-foot to shoot at; now, you see me knock it off. jehoshaphat!" he exclaimed, when, as he put his hand on the butt of his pistol, a sharp crack sounded beside him, and the tin fell to the ground. a laugh from hugh accompanied the shot. "how in thunder did you do that?" "the usual way, i suppose," hugh said. "i drew my pistol, and pulled the trigger." the cow-boy looked him over from head to foot. "i tell you what, hugh, you are a fraud. you come here as a tender-foot, and you can sit on a bucking broncho, you've a good notion of throwing a rope, and you can shoot like lightning. where did you get it all?" "i have simply practised," hugh said, smiling at the other's gravity of manner. "i made up my mind to take to ranching some months ago, and i practised with the pistol and rope before i started, and, as i told you, i have been three months hunting." "it don't seem nateral," the cow-boy said doubtfully. "i don't say the shot was out of the way, for it wur an easy mark enough at twenty yards, but it wur the spryness of the shooting that fetched me." "that is what i have been specially practising, broncho. i was told that the great thing was to be able to draw quick." "well, let us see a little more of your shooting." he walked to the tree and picked up the tin. hugh put in a fresh cartridge in place of that he had just fired. "now i will throw this up, and you fire at it in the air." bill royce had told hugh that this was a favourite mark of the cow-boys, and not having any tins out on the plains he had thrown up sods or the head of a stag for hugh to fire at. harry took his place about five yards from hugh. "now," he said. hugh waited until the tin reached the highest point and then fired. it flew upward again; the other five shots were fired in quick succession, and then the tin fell to the ground. it was a feat frequently accomplished among the cow-boys, and broncho harry was himself perfectly capable of accomplishing it, but he was not the less surprised at seeing it performed by a new-comer to the plains. "well, you can shoot. now let us see you draw; your pistol's empty, so there ain't no fear of an accident. just put it in your belt again. now stand facing me. we will draw together. keep your hand down by your side till i say, now; then draw, cock, and pull your trigger. stop! i will take my cartridges out, there ain't no use in taking risks, and in a hurry my trigger might go off too. now, i am ready--now!" broncho harry rather prided himself on the quickness with which he could draw, but his pistol was not out of his belt when the hammer of hugh's fell, the lad having fired from his hip. "waal, i swar!" he exclaimed. "why, how in thunder did you do it? i wur looking at your hand, and a'most before i saw it move there was the thing pinting at me. why, i am reckoned pretty slick, and i ain't a spot upon you. do it again, lad." hugh repeated the action. "waal, that beats me; i can't see how you do it. your hand goes up to your hip, thar's a twinkle, and thar's the pistol cocked and the hammer falling at once; it's like conjuring! just do it slow." hugh showed that as his hand fell on the pistol his thumb rested on the hammer and his forefinger on the trigger, while the others closed on the butt, drew the pistol from the belt, and threw the barrel forward. "it is just practice," he said. "i have been at it for the last six months." "waal, young fellow," broncho harry said solemnly, "i have been out on the plains for ten years, and i have seen pretty considerable shooting, but i never saw anything that was a circumstance to that. you are all right. you can get into a muss with the worst bad man in texas just as soon as you like, and you have got him, sure. i wouldn't have b'lieved it if i hadn't seen it; it is a kind of lightning trick. it air useful to be able to back an unbroken broncho, it air useful to throw a rope sartin and sure at full gallop over rough ground, but it air fifty times more useful to be able to draw a pistol like a flash as you do. waal, let us go back to camp. you don't mind my telling the boys. it would be hardly fair as any of them should get into a muss with you, thinking as they had got a soft thing; and it will keep you out of trouble, for you may be sure as no one is like to be getting up a muss with you when they know it would be sartin death." "do as you like, broncho; but it seems to me that there is no fear of quarrelling, everyone seems to be wonderfully good-tempered, and not to mind a bit what jokes are played upon him." "that is so, hugh; people are apt to keep their temper when they know that if they don't someone gets killed; but it won't be always like this. you see we have all been going through the winter, and some of us have been having pretty hard times, and anyhow we are all pleased to be at work again and out on the plains. but you will see that this kind of thing won't last long. when the work gets heavy and men don't get four hours a night in their blankets, and the herds take to stampeding, and one thing and another, men's tempers won't be as they is now; some of them grow sulky, and won't open their lips all day; and others get that crusty that they are ready to jump down the throat of the first man that speaks to them. then trouble begins, you bet. besides, when we get further south, we may come upon mexican villages, and where there is mexicans there is spirits, and where there is spirits there is trouble. i tell you, lad, you don't begin to know about a cow-puncher's life yet." that evening, after the rest of the outfit had returned and supper was over, broncho harry said, "i have had about the biggest surprise to-day, boys, that i have ever had. i looked upon hugh here as a tender-foot; a good un, but still new to it, and i found out that when it comes to a six-shooter, there ain't a man in the camp, nor in the ranche, and i doubt whether there is in all texas, as can shoot as he does." no one expressed a doubt as to the cow-boy's assertion, for on the plains to doubt a man's word is a grave insult; but there was a murmur of surprise. "i don't say as he is the straightest shot," harry went on; "he is a good shot, although maybe there are plenty who can beat him; but when it comes to quickness of drawing, i never see a man who was a spot to him." "that's so," bill royce put in. "hugh can shoot straight, wonderful straight; but i have seen men shoot better, and he ain't quite sartin in his shooting when he is going at a gallop, although he'll learn that; but as for quickness--well, i don't know how he does it; his pistol is out before i have time to get a grip of mine." "let us see you, hugh," two or three of the cow-boys said simultaneously. "i have no objection," hugh said, standing up; "what shall i fire at?" "oh, fire at anything. it ain't the aim, it's the quickness broncho and bill are talking about." "here's a mark i have often seen him fire at when we were out on the plains together." and taking a stick of about the thickness of his wrist from the fire, bill royce walked ten or twelve paces away; then he held out the stick, which was blazing at the end. all eyes were fixed on hugh, who drew and fired from his hip, and the burning end of the brand flew in fragments. there was an exclamation of astonishment from all present. "waal, i never!" long tom said. "in course the shot wur nothing from the shoulder, but there ain't many as could do it from the hip; but that ain't so much, it wur the quickness! how on arth did you do it? i had my eyes on your hand, and i don't know how it wur done no more nor a baby. waal, hugh, i have never felt like quarrelling with you, and you may take your davie i shall never feel like it now. waal, i am jiggered!" the rest all assented with much variety of strange oaths, and then the cow-boys' favourite topic having been broached, there was a good deal of talk about shooting, and several exhibitions of skill that surprised hugh. long tom picked a tiny gourd, about the diameter of a penny, from a trailing vine common on the plains, and after giving a stir to the fire to make it blaze up, went ten paces away and held it up between his finger and thumb, and broncho harry shattered it with a bullet; then broncho went the same distance out, turned himself sideways, and long tom smashed the bowl of his pipe. "would you like to have a try, hugh?" he asked. "no, thank you, broncho! i daresay i might hit the pipe if it were fixed at that distance, but i would not try when it was within three inches of your nose for anything." "it will come in time, hugh; it is just nerve; but i wouldn't mind holding it out to you now. i should not be a bit afeard." then they sat down to the fire again, and hugh heard many anecdotes of marvellous shooting. hitherto he had borne no nickname, being the only one in camp addressed by his simple name; but he found next morning that he had been re-christened, and henceforward he was always addressed as lightning. [illustration] [illustration] chapter ix. a round-up. day by day the herds swelled, and at the end of two months they began to move in the direction of the general rendezvous. hugh had soon taken his share in the night-guarding of the cattle, and found it fascinating work. he and broncho harry generally worked together. the first watch was preferred, because this allowed a fair night's rest to be taken afterwards; but at the same time the work was far harder and more arduous than in the later watches. the cattle were still on their feet when the watch began, and on reaching them the two guards began to ride round and round them, going in opposite directions. for a time the cattle would go on feeding, then gradually they would lie down, until perhaps all but five or six were on the ground. at this time, however, the slightest noise would bring them on to their feet again, and then groups would try to leave the mass to begin to feed again, and the cow-boys had to drive them in. upon a dark night they depended more upon their horses' sight than their own, for these would of their own accord leave the close-packed circle and strike out to turn back any animals that had wandered from it. at last, after an hour or two, the herd would all subside, and the cow-boys would flatter themselves that their work was done. then one of the cattle lying outside would leap to his feet with a snort, alarmed, perhaps, by the sudden scamper of an inquisitive jack-rabbit, which, having come up to examine what was going on, had fled at the approach of one of the cow-boys. with a loud snort the whole herd would then spring to their feet. perhaps after a time the herd would lie down again, reassured by the song of the cow-boys, who from the time they came on duty always continued to sing, unless they played on a fife or some other musical instrument, which answered as well as the voice. at other times a sort of general agitation communicated itself to the herd. those on the outside finding themselves unable to leave the mass owing to the vigilance of their guard, would begin to move along its edge; the motion would spread, and in a short time the whole mass be circling, or, as the cow-boys call it, weaving. as this action, unless checked, always terminated in a general stampede, the duty of the cow-boys was at once to check it. this could only be done by wedging themselves into the mass, shouting and using their heavy whips to break it up and put a stop to the motion. this was dangerous work, not only from the pressure, but from the sea of horns and angry tossing heads. sometimes it would be successful, sometimes it would fail. above the lowing and bellowing there would be a thunder of hoofs on the side opposite to that on which they were engaged. then would rise a shout of "they are off!" and the cow-boys would edge their horses out of the mass, and, one on each flank, gallop at the top of their speed to head the animals back. as soon as they came near the head of the herd they would yell and shout at the top of their voices, sometimes discharging their pistols in the air, pressing the animals on the flank gradually inward, and so checking the speed of the whole until they at last met in front of the herd. sometimes they would succeed before two or three miles of ground were passed over; sometimes the wild flight of the herd could not be checked before morning, when they would be thirty or forty miles away from their starting-place. if unable to stop them, the great aim of the cow-boys was to keep them in one body: in that case no great trouble resulted from the stampede. the other men would be out in the morning and the herd would be driven back to its starting-place. but if the herd broke up, as was sometimes the case, and scattered over the country, it might take many days of hard work before they could again be got together. if the night set in wild, so as to render it probable that the cattle would stampede, a third man was placed on the guard. he would aid in keeping them in as long as possible; but if they broke the circle and went off, his duty was to gallop back to camp. the cow-boys there would leap to their feet in an instant, run to the horses picketed near, saddled and bridled ready for instant use, throw themselves on their backs, and gallop off at the top of their speed in the direction in which the herd had gone. thunder-storms were of not infrequent occurrence, and when the clouds were seen banking up before sunset, and the lightning began to play, the cattle-guard knew that they were in for a troubled night. long before the storm approached close enough to cause actual alarm among the cattle they would evince signs of uneasiness, the electrical condition of the air seeming to affect them. they might lie down, but it was only to rise again, and the distant roll of the thunder seemed to be answered by their restless bellowing. on such a night it needed no message to the camp to bring up help. as the storm approached, and it became evident by the brightness and rapidity of the flashes that it was going to be an unusually severe one, one by one the men would leave their fire or rise from their couches and go out to their horses, pull up and coil their ropes, leap into the saddle, wrap a blanket round them, and gallop off to the herd, beginning always to sing as they approached it, as otherwise their arrival might stampede the animals. when the storm came overhead the terror of the cattle rose to the highest point, and the efforts of the whole of the cow-boys of the outfit scarcely sufficed to restrain them. the almost incessant flashes of lightning showed a sea of heads and horns, wild eyes, and distended nostrils. the thunder was continuous, and so terrible were some of these storms that hugh felt grateful to the animals that the trouble they gave, and the incessant efforts and activity required to restrain them, diverted his attention from the terrible war of elements overhead. on such a night it was almost certain that sooner or later the herd would stampede, and once off, the efforts of their guard were directed to keep them together rather than to head them. so long as they remained in a bunch it mattered little whether they were one mile or thirty from the camp. if headed and held up they would probably start again, and it was less anxious work to gallop by the side of the frightened mass than to hold them in check when once their excitement reached its height. in some respects the ride in such a storm as this was less dangerous than upon a dark, still night, for the lightning flashes showed not only the exact position of the herd, but greatly diminished the chance of serious falls by lighting up the whole configuration of the country, and showing any obstacles in the way. even a fall, heavy though it might be, would be a trifle in comparison to one occurring while endeavouring to head the herd, for in that case it would entail certain death, as life would be trampled out in an instant by the onward torrent of cattle. hugh had by this time come to understand that even twelve horses were by no means too much for the use of each man. wiry and tough as were the ponies, the men who rode them seemed to be iron. hugh was frequently in his saddle eighteen hours a day, occasionally twenty, and four or even five horses would be thoroughly done up before his work was over. had they been fed with grain a smaller number might have sufficed, for unless unusually pressed they could have been ridden again on the following day; but fed entirely upon the dry grasses of the plains they needed a day's rest before they were again fit for work. the herd increased by another thousand before it reached the general rendezvous of the round-up, for each day six of the men scoured the country lying within ten or fifteen miles of the line of march, and drove in all the cattle met with on their way. at last they reached the stream near whose banks the vast herds driven in from all quarters were gathered. there had been an occasional day's halt on the way to give a needed rest to cattle, horses, and men; but now that the outfit had arrived at the spot indicated before they had left the headquarters station, there was a rest for four days before operations commenced. the time was employed by the men in washing, overhauling, and mending their clothes, repairing their saddles, and in sleep. they knew nothing of the position of the other outfits of their own and of the other ranches, but were sure that they all lay within a radius of some twenty or thirty miles--that is to say, all that had as yet arrived. some had probably come up days before, perhaps weeks; others would not be there for some time; all depended upon the nature of the country to be worked and the distance traversed. there were several other outfits scattered along the banks of the stream above and below them at distances of about half a mile apart, and the overseers of the different ranches were busy making arrangements for the general campaign. four days after their arrival a cow-boy rode in with a letter to the overseer of the outfit. a few minutes later broncho harry and four other hands, among whom were hugh and bill royce, were ordered to saddle up and to go down to the central station. the term order is scarcely a correct one, for cow-boys are not men to be ordered. a cow-boy is asked to do a thing, and asked in civil terms. the request has all the force of an order, but it is not so conveyed. it is put in the form, "i want you to do so and so;" or, "will you saddle up and do so and so?" it is just as easy to put it in that form as in any other, and though the cow-boy knows that if he does not comply with the request he has got to ride back to the headquarters station and get his money, he does not feel his dignity injured as it would be by a direct order. there are no men more independent than cow-boys. they know their value; and a really good man knows, and this was more especially the case at that time, that he has but to ride to the next ranche to get employment. the consequence is that although willing to work to the utmost of his powers in the interest of his employers he by no means regards that employer as a master, but treats even the chief manager on terms of absolute equality, and insists upon being so treated by him in return. "broncho harry," the overseer said, "i want you, jack johnson, bowie bob, chunky royce, and lightning hugh to saddle up and ride down to the forks and help in the round-up. the waggon is going to stay here till our herd is called up. there are men from the other outfits there; the boss is there, and he will settle about things. two of the waggons are there, so you will be all right as to grub. i expect you will be there about a fortnight, and then the others will come down and take your place." "are we to take down our other horses?" the cow-boy asked. "no. no. 1 outfit will take charge of the cattle as they are cut out and branded. no. 3 will take the next mob. anyhow, you won't want horses except to take you down there." "all right!" harry said, and proceeded to call the other four together. in a few minutes the horses were brought in and saddled, the blankets rolled up and strapped to the saddles, and the five men chosen, after eating a hasty meal, started for the point named, which was some twenty-five miles distant. "now you are going to see some fun, hugh," bill royce, who had got the nickname of chunky from his short, square figure, remarked as they rode along. "yes," broncho harry put in, "you will have to look out sharp, hugh. i tell you it is pretty lively work when you get hold of a six months' calf, and the old savage of a mother is trying her best to hook you. thar ain't a day that some fellow don't get hurt; but as long as you don't let a cow jam you against the posts it don't much matter. that is what you have got to look to special. a chuck in the air don't much matter, nor being knocked a dozen yards or so, but if you get jammed by one of those brutes against a fence, there ain't nothing to do but to bury you." three hours' riding brought them to the forks. two or three large herds of cattle could be made out far on the plains: another mob could be seen not far from the wooded hollow that marked the course of the stream. horsemen were hovering round them, and there was a confused mass of animals in what looked to hugh like a strong stockade near it. a short distance away twelve waggons were drawn up in regular order some fifty yards apart. columns of light smoke rising near them showed that cooking was going on at each waggon. quickening the speed of their horses the cow-boys rode on until they drew up at the waggon of the [brand circle triangle] ranche. "howdy, pete," broncho harry said as he leapt from his horse, to a negro who, with a mexican assistant, was engaged in cooking. "howdy, broncho harry." "where are the boys, and what's new?" "dey is out dar," the negro said, waving his hand in the direction of the corral. "some of dem is working in de herd; some of dem is inside. irish is in de waggon: him leg broken. new york john got killed three days back." "that's bad, pete. how did he manage that?" "old cow hooked him--ran horn right through him body. irish got tossed against posts." "i suppose there are boys down from the other outfits here, pete?" "yes. five no. 3, five no. 4. no. 4 came in dis mornin'. now you come dat make fifteen, and all our own outfit; dat too much for pete to cook for." "well, you have got someone to help you, pete, so you ought not to grumble." pete made a grimace as much as to signify that he did not consider the assistance of the mexican to be of much account. between the men of these two races there was a general feud, while the cow-boys looked down upon both, and as a rule refused to allow them to work with them except in the capacity of cook. "where are our horses, pete?" "no. 1 horses over dere," the negro said, pointing to a group of horses out on the plain. "young nat looking arter dem." "well, we may as well take our horses out there, boys," broncho harry said, turning to the others. "it is no use picketing them here; we ain't likely to want them." "i will ride them out," hugh volunteered. the others removed their saddles and bridles, and hugh drove them out to the group on the plain. "well, nat, how are you getting on?" he asked a boy of about fifteen years old who was lying on the ground with his horse's rein over his arm near them. "oh, i'm all right," the boy replied; "been here a week, and getting pretty tired of this job, you bet, with nothing to do but just to lie here. blast all camps, i say!" "you ought to be at school, you young imp," hugh laughed. "i would just as soon be doing that as lying here," the boy said. "it will be all right when i get to be a cow-boy, but there ain't much fun about this. just come in?" "yes." "who is with you?" hugh gave the names. "broncho harry ain't a bad sort," the boy said. "the others ain't of much account." "you had better tell them so," hugh said with a smile. "i would tell them if i thought fit," the boy said angrily. "you don't suppose that i'm afraid of any of that mob?" "i know you are a very bad man, nat," hugh said with assumed gravity, "a very dangerous character in a camp; but i hope you won't do any of them any harm." "i sha'n't do them no harm if they don't do me any," the boy said, "but i don't take no sauce from no one." by this time hugh had unsaddled prince, and placing the saddle over his head and carrying the bridle in his hand, nodded to the boy, and started back to the camp, while prince joined the four horses, which began to graze at a little distance from the rest. presently two or three of the other horses came over to the new-comers, and after a little snorting apparently recognized them as friends with whom they had been acquainted at the head-station, and this fact being established prince and his companions were allowed to join them. there were many boys like nat out on the plains, for the most part lads who had run away from home, and who were now training up to be cow-boys, being engaged in day-herding the horses--work that demanded but little skill or attention. they were generally regarded with favour by the outfits to which they were attached, for the cow-boys as a rule are silent men, and the liveliness of the boys amused them. these boys generally grew up into the most reckless and dare-devil of cow-boys, speedily picking up the worst language and imitating the wildest follies of their companions, and they would have been an unmitigated nuisance in the camps had they not been frequently sternly called to order by men with whom they knew there was no trifling. it was not until nightfall that the work ceased and the cow-boys returned to their waggons. they had been working without a break since daylight, contenting themselves with eating a piece of bread and cold meat standing at their work in the middle of the day. "well, boys, come in for a spell?" one of them asked as they came up to the fire where the new arrivals were seated. "we have had a week of it, and it has been a pretty tough job. the cattle are wonderful wild. i suppose the thunder has scared them, and we are pretty sure the injuns have been chasing them lately by the foot-hills. did you see anything of the reds?" "no; there were no signs of them in the part we searched." "there were signs further south," the other went on. "we came on two places where they had slaughtered a lot of cattle, and we hear they have been making raids down into mexico, and the troops have been out after them down by the frontier line. anyhow, the cattle are wilder than usual. you have heard, i suppose, that new york john has been rubbed out?" "yes, we heard that, and i have been talking to irish. he seems getting on all right." "irish is a blamed fool. i told him over and over again he would get into trouble if he didn't mind; but nothing could persuade him that there was any difference between the ways of a kerry cow and a texas steer, and of course he came to grief. i should have thought that new york john would have known better than to get himself hooked like that; but it were not altogether his fault. he wur holding a calf, and he had his eye on the old cow, who had got her dander up pretty considerable. one of the men had roped her, and new york john naturally thought that she was safe. so he downed the calf, and the brand was clapped to it, and the young un bawls out, and of course the cow made a fresh rush to get at it, and the rope breaks, and she was on new york john afore he could look round." "but how came the rope to break? a man must be a fool and worse to come down to round-up with a rotten old rope." "well, the rope was a new un. you may guess there was a lot of talk over it, and it put our backs up a bit that new york john should get killed that way. the rope wur a new one, there warn't no doubt about that, but it had been cut half through. who had done it, in course, no one knew. the men were mad over it, and ef they could have found out who had done it he would have swung from the limb of a tree in a squirrel's jump. there were two or three men who had had musses with the chap as the rope belonged to, but no one could say as any of them had cut his rope. of course it might have been an accident, but no one thought that very likely. however, there it wur. somebody cut the fellow's rope to spite him, and it cost new york john his life, which was pretty rough on him." "what is the work for to-morrow?" "well, your lot and the men of the other two outfits are to be in the yard. we have got a spell off, except, of course, that we have got to look after our own bunch of cattle." "how many are there of them?" "about 6000 i should say. i expect some of us will start driving them up north day after to-morrow." the next morning hugh went down to the cattle-yard as soon as they had finished breakfast. day had just broken, and while they were waiting for the herd to be brought up he looked round at the yard. the paling was composed of very strong posts six feet high, placed at intervals of two or three inches apart. it had been built three or four years before, as this place was the most convenient and central upon the plains. a few waggon loads of timber had been taken out there a fortnight before the arrival of the teams, with a gang of men, who took up any posts that showed signs of rottenness and replaced them by others, the various ranches in the round-up performing this duty by turns. the fence inclosed a space of upwards of an acre. beside the contingent from the [brand circle triangle] ranche some forty or fifty cow-boys from the other ranches were gathered within it. several fires were lighted for heating the brands, and the overseer who was in charge of the work for the day divided the men into parties, each group consisting of representatives of four or five different ranches. in a short time a great herd was seen approaching, driven in by a number of mounted cow-boys. the cross-bars were removed from the opening that served as a gate at the upper end of the yard, and the reluctant animals, unable to withstand the pressure of those behind, poured in. several hundreds entered; the bars were dropped again, and the animals inclosed stood in a dense group, stamping the ground, and threatening an attack as the cow-boys approached them. [illustration: branding the calves at the "round up."] these all carried their ropes, some holding them in their hands ready for throwing, while others had them coiled over their left shoulder, while in their right hands they held their heavy whips. those who were to fetch out the calves first approached. half a dozen ropes were thrown, and the calves were dragged out, struggling and calling, or, as the cow-boys called it, bawling, to their mothers for assistance. the call was not in vain. the cows rushed out furiously to the assistance of their calves. as each did so the cow-boy whose comrade was dragging the calf towards one of the fires shouted out the brand on the cow, and then, cracking their whips, and if necessary using them, they drove the animal back into the mass and kept her there, while the calf was thrown down and branded with the same mark as its mother. hugh was among those told off to fetch out the calves. he had had some practice, as many of the mavericks found had calves by their side, and these as well as the cows had been branded with the [brand circle triangle]. another cow-boy assisted him to haul the calf by main force towards the fire, and held the rope while hugh ran up to it. placing himself beside it he leaned over it, grasped it by the flank with both hands, and then lifted it and flung it down on its side. his comrade then ran up and pinned its head to the ground, while hugh knelt on its haunches, and the brander came up with a hot iron and marked it. the iron was held on long enough only to burn off the hair and slightly singe the hide, and the mark so made was almost indelible. in addition to this the calf's ears were cut, each ranche having its particular mark, such as two long slits and a short one, a square piece cut out and a notch on either side of it, a semicircular piece and two notches, a semicircle and a square, &c. these marks were very durable, but even these often became confused owing to the ears getting torn by a rush through thorns, or by the action of a neighbour's horn in a close press or during a stampede. it required but small exercise of strength to throw a calf of three months old; but many of them were eight or nine months and nearly full grown, and it needed a great exertion of strength and a good deal of knack to throw down animals of this size. once or twice hugh had narrow escapes, for some of the cows, in spite of the cow-boys' whips, burst through them and rushed to the assistance of their calves; but each time the ropes descended over their heads or caught them by their legs, and threw them to the ground before they reached him. after an hour of this work he was relieved by one of the other men, and took his turn of the lighter work of keeping back the cows. when every calf in the yard had been branded the gate at the lower end was opened and the animals driven out, while a fresh mob was admitted from the herd. so the work went on until the herd had all passed through the yard, and the calves been branded. then there was a quarter of an hour's rest while another herd was driven up, and the work recommenced. by nightfall some nine thousand animals had passed through the yard, and nearly four thousand calves had been branded. begrimed with sweat and dust, the cow-boys went down to the stream, where most of them bathed and all had a thorough wash, and then went up to their waggons to supper. "how do you feel now?" broncho harry asked hugh when he threw himself down by the fire. "i feel broken up altogether, harry. my back and loins feel as if i had been beaten to a pulp. i believe i have strained every muscle of my arms, and my hands and wrists are so stiff that i can't close my fingers." "yes; calf-chucking is pretty hard work until you get accustomed to it," the cow-boy said. "it is knack more than strength, though it needs a lot of strength too when you have got a rampagious ten-months calf in your hands." "i have not got the knack yet," hugh said; "and anything over six months i had to have roped by the legs and thrown, but i suppose i shall be able to tackle them in time." in the case of the cows that had been branded only a year or two before there was no difficulty in recognizing the brand, and so to decide upon the ownership of the calf; but in the case of older cows the brand and ear-marks had in some instances both become so far obliterated that it was difficult to decide what they had originally been. over these brands there were sharp and sometimes angry disputes among the cow-boys belonging to the different ranches. the case was generally settled by the overseer in charge of the day's operations calling upon three cow-boys belonging to ranches unconnected with the dispute to give their opinion as to what the marks had originally been. their decision was accepted by all parties as final, and the cow rebranded as well as the calf. "what do you do when the brand is so far gone as to make it altogether impossible to say what it was?" hugh asked. "it would not get here at all in that state," the cow-boy replied. "it would have been rebranded at once by the outfit that first found it just as if it had been a maverick. but in that case, of course, any cow-boy could claim the cow as belonging to his ranche if he could convince the others that the old brand was the one used by it. they never brand over the old mark; that must be left as an evidence." the next day happened to be sunday, and hugh felt glad indeed that he had a day on which to recover from his stiffness. sundays were always kept, except in cases of great emergency, as a day of rest, cow-boys taking the opportunity to wash and mend their clothes, to practise shooting with their revolvers, or to run races with their horses. at rounds-up these races afford one of the chief interests to the cow-boy, for rivalry between the various ranches runs high, and the men are ready to bet their "bottom dollar" upon the representative of their own ranche. "have you ever tried that horse of yours against anything fast, hugh?" one of his comrades asked. "no. i am sure he is very fast, but i have never really tried him." "we were fools not to think of that before," broncho harry put in. "we ought to have raced him against some of the others, and have found out what he can do, and then we might have made a soft thing of it. i suppose you wouldn't mind trying him, hugh?" "not at all. but if he is to race you had better ride him instead of me. i shouldn't say you were much above nine stone and a half." "i don't know what you mean by your stone," harry said. "we don't reckon that way out here. i was a hundred and thirty-five pounds last time i weighed at the head-station." "that is two pounds more than i said. well, i am certainly twenty pounds heavier--i should say twenty-five, and that makes a lot of difference." "i should think so. still we had best have a trial, hugh, before we try to make a match. that is a good horse of yours. i mean the one you first mounted and who played such tricks with you. i should like some day to try him against my best, and see how they go. i daresay you will get him again before the round-up is over." "what length do you run your races here, broncho?" "in general they are short dashes, not above half a mile at the outside, but sometimes a match is made for some distance. well, when we have had dinner we will trot out into the plain. we must go off a goodish bit, and make sure that none of the boys of the other ranches are within sight." accordingly, when dinner was over, broncho harry and hugh went out to the horses. prince come trotting out as soon as he heard hugh's whistle, and broncho harry soon dropped his noose over the neck of his own horse. they then put on the saddles and bridles which they had brought with them, and went off at a canter across the plains. they ran three or four trials. the result showed that broncho's horse was quicker in getting off, and that in a quarter of a mile dash there was little to choose between them, but at longer distances than this prince was, in spite of the greater weight he carried, much the faster. "that horse can go," the cow-boy said admiringly. "i shouldn't mind if there were a pack of redskins coming behind me if i was on his back. the worst of him is he is so good-looking. if he was ugly to look at we might clean out all the camps, but he looks so good that i am afraid we sha'n't be able to get much money out of him. well, now, we won't race him this evening. there are sure to be some matches on, and i will ride my horse. that way i shall find what there is in the camp, and whether there is anything that can beat him as much as your horse can do. don't you go cavorting about on him; just let him run with the rest of the mob. then he won't be noticed. there is too much to be got through in this camp for men to take stock of the horses. then if we keep him dark we can get someone to set up his horse against the best of ours. we will put the boys up to it when we get back, or someone may be blowing about your horse." there were, as the cow-boy anticipated, a number of races run that evening. broncho harry beat two other horses, but lost his winnings and more in the third race, when he was beaten somewhat easily by an animal which in point of looks was greatly the inferior of his own. "that is just what i told you, hugh," he said, when, after unsaddling his horse and sending it off to join its companions on the plains, he returned to the waggon. "i am a blessed fool, for i ought to have known that when that cross t's man offered to back that ugly-looking brute against mine, he wur a sight better than he looked. he just shot off like an arrow at starting. i didn't loose anything afterwards, but i couldn't pick up them three lengths he got in the first forty yards. if we make a match against him we must see that it ain't less than half a mile." the next morning the work in the stock-yards was resumed and continued throughout the week. [illustration] chapter x. a race. "i don't think, broncho," hugh said one evening, "that i should do anything more about that race, if i were you, or if you do, don't lay out any money on it. there is just as much interest in a race if it is for a dollar or two as if all the boys in the outfit piled their money upon it. that horse beat yours pretty easily, quite as easy, i should say, as prince could beat him for that distance, and i really don't think that prince would have any pull of him in races of the length you have on here. in a twenty-mile gallop i feel sure he would leave anything in camp behind easily, but i certainly would not race him any long distance of that sort. if i had a troop of indians after me prince would have to do his best whether it was twenty miles or fifty; but i would not press him when it was merely a question of making money on him. your horse was beaten, and, of course, we none of us like to own that the cross t's men have got a better horse than we have. i am quite willing that prince should run for the honour of the ranche, but i don't feel at all sure about his winning, and should be sorry to see the boys plank their dollars down heavily upon him." "all right, hugh! it is your horse, and i will do as you want; but i should like to take that fellow down a bit. he is one of those fellows as is always blowing. he rather likes to be thought a bad man, and is said to be very handy with his six-shooter." on sunday morning after breakfast was over the cow-boy in question, with two or three men of the same ranche, came across from their waggon to that of the [brand circle triangle] men. "have you got anything else that can go in this crowd?" he said, addressing broncho harry. "there don't seem any horses worth talking about in the whole round-up. some of our boys say as how they have seen one of your lot on a likely-looking bay." "well, i don't deny he is a good-looking horse," broncho harry said, "and can go a bit, but he is slow at starting, and that critter of yours is too speedy for the bay to have a chance of catching him up in a quarter of a mile. make it a bit over, and i will ride him myself against you if you like." "i don't care about a half-mile," the man said, "but i will split the difference, if you like; or if you fancy your critter for a long journey, i am open to make a match ten miles out and back, each side to put down two hundred dollars." "what do you say to that, mate?" broncho harry said, turning to hugh. hugh shook his head decidedly. "i wouldn't have him ridden at racing speed twenty miles if there were a thousand dollars at stake," he said; "but if you like to take up the other offer you can ride him." "oh! it is your horse, is it?" the cow-boy said; "why don't you ride him yourself?" "because i ride something like two stone heavier than you do," hugh said; "and if the horse is going to race he may as well have a fair chance." "well, how much shall it be for?" the cow-boy said, turning again to broncho harry. "i suppose we may as well say the same stake. a hundred dollars a side, i suppose. that won't hurt you if you fancy the horse." two or three of the [brand circle triangle] men broke in together, "take him up, broncho, we will all chip in." "very well, then, that is settled," broncho harry said. "shall we say five o'clock? i suppose we shall ride the same course as last time. i will go out now and step the distance if you will go on with me." "all right!" the man said; and they at once proceeded to mark out a distance of seven hundred paces, which they both agreed was somewhere about half-way between a quarter and half a mile. a wand, to which broncho attached his neckerchief, was stuck up as the winning-post, while a low bush marked the point from which they had started to measure. the news soon spread through the camp, and many of the cow-boys of the other ranches strolled in to find out what the [brand circle triangle] men thought of their chances, and to see whether they were disposed to back their horse. hugh, however, persuaded them not to risk their money. "you see," he said, "my horse didn't beat broncho's by much." "no more did the other chap, hugh; he just jumped two lengths ahead, and after that broncho held him." "yes, i know that," hugh replied, "but we don't know that he was doing his best." "that is so," broncho agreed. "he knew he had got me, and there was no use in giving his horse away. i expect he had got a bit in hand. i don't think it is good enough to bet on. now let us get this money together." twenty of the men put down their five dollars at once; and as the others wished also to have a share, broncho harry said, "well, you three put in your five dollars each, and hugh and i will make it up to fifty. like enough they will be laying odds on their horse, especially when they find we won't bet, so that at the last moment i will take them up for this fifty, and if we win we will put it to the stakes and divide up all round." the proposal was at once agreed to. towards the afternoon they found that the [brand x] men were offering three and four to one upon their horse, for the odds had run up rapidly, as none of the other cow-boys were disposed to back the [brand circle triangle], seeing that the men of that ranche would not bet on their horse. at the appointed hour the two competitors went to the post. there had been several minor races, but these had attracted comparatively little interest; every man in camp, however, had assembled for the purpose of seeing this contest, and they were now gathered near the winning-post. a cow-boy belonging to a neutral ranche was to act as starter. the two riders had divested themselves of their heavy boots. "you must shake him up to begin with, broncho," hugh had said to him before he mounted. "he will do his best afterwards. he hates being passed, and when he sees the other ahead of him he will go all he knows." "now," the starter said, when the two horses stood side by side in a line with him, "i shall walk on twenty or thirty yards ahead so that you can both see me, then i shall hold up my six-shooter and fire. don't either of you start till i do. i may fire straight off. i may wait a minute after i have got my hand up. you have got to keep your eyes on me, and when you see the flash then you let them go." both men fastened their spurs on to their stockinged feet, and as the pistol went off struck their heels into their mounts, while, at the same moment, broncho harry brought down his whip smartly on prince's quarter. astonished at this treatment, the animal gave a bound forward and started at full gallop. there was no occasion for the other man to use his whip; his horse knew what was expected of it, and with its hind legs gathered under it, had been expecting the signal, and was even more quickly away than prince. it did not, however, gain more than a length. for the first three hundred yards the horses maintained their relative position, but prince was tugging at his bridle; and his rider, though shouting and yelling as if to urge him to his fullest speed, was yet holding him in. then the leading horseman, thinking that prince was doing his best, and feeling certain that he had the race in hand, dug his spurs into his horse, and the animal in a few bounds had added another length to his lead; but broncho harry loosened his pull at the reins and let prince go, and before another hundred yards had been passed his head was level with the other's stirrup. the [brand x] man whipped and spurred, while broncho harry sat quiet on his horse, and contented himself by maintaining his present position. when a hundred yards from home he shook his horse up, and slightly touched him with his spur. almost instantaneously prince was level with his opponent, and then dashing on ahead passed the flag-post three lengths in advance amidst a loud cheer from the [brand circle triangle] men, and from most of the other cow-boys; for although few had ventured to back the horse, there was a general feeling of satisfaction at seeing the [brand x] man beaten. the latter without a word circled round and rode straight back to his waggon, and the stakeholder handed over the stake and bets, which had both been deposited with him, to broncho harry. "two hundred and fifty dollars," he said, as he put the roll of notes in his pocket, for the bets had been made at three to one. "i call that an easier way of making money than cow-punching. i can't stand treat, boys, because there is no liquor in camp, but remember i owe you one all round the first time we meet in a saloon." returning to camp the division was made, and each of the twenty-five men received his share of ten dollars, together with the money he had staked. "i shouldn't be surprised, hugh," broncho harry said as they sat round the fire, "if we have trouble with that skunk. he is a bad-tempered lot at best, and he dropped his money heavy, for i hear he put in all the stake himself, and he bet some besides. he took twenty off me last week, but he has dropped pretty well half his season's money. you see if he don't try and get up trouble." "if he does, leave him to me, harry." "i don't want to leave him to you, hugh. i rode the race, and if he wants fighting, he will get it here; but i am afraid it is likely enough he will try and make trouble with you. he knows that i am a pretty tough hand, but he thinks you nothing but a tender-foot, and that sort of fellow always fixes a quarrel on a soft if he gets the chance." "well, as you know, harry, i can take care of myself, and i would much rather it was me than you. i know that you are a good deal better shot than i am, but you know you are not nearly so quick with your weapon. there would be no occasion to shoot, i fancy." "you are right there, lad; if you get the drop on him, you will see he will weaken directly." the evening, however, passed off without the defeated cow-boy making his appearance. "he reckons it wouldn't do," long tom said. "you see the hull crowd would be agin him if he were to come and get up a muss because he has been beat in a race. a fellow who runs his horse is bound to look pleasant whether he wins or whether he loses, and a good many of the boys was saying as they never see a worse thing than the way he galloped off after broncho came in ahead of him. if he was to come down here and make a muss, he knows that for sure the crowd wouldn't stand it, and that if everything wasn't perfectly square, they would come judge lynch on him in no time. now a man may take the chance of being shot in a quarrel; but when, if he ain't shot by one man he is likely to get hung by a crowd, it takes a pretty hard man to run the chances; only, look out for him, broncho. i believe he has got a touch of mexican blood in him, although, i dare say, he would shoot the man who ventured to say so, only it is there for all that, and you know a mexican don't mind waiting months so that he gets even at last." "that's so," broncho harry agreed; "a greaser is about the worst sort of white; that is, if you can call them white. i don't know but i hate them more than injuns." on the following morning half no. 1 outfit started north, with a herd of 5000 cattle that had been picked out from those driven in and branded; and hugh, with his four mates, now took their turn at driving in the herds to the yard. this was much more to hugh's taste than the previous work had been. he did not mind the work of hauling out and throwing the calves, nor of keeping back the cows, but he hated seeing the calves branded, and still more, the operation of cutting their ears. it was, of course, necessary work, but it was painful to him to share in, and indeed he had generally managed to get bill royce to exchange work with him when he was told off to perform these operations. the herding, on the other hand, was good fun. the animals seemed to have an instinctive repulsion for the stock-yard; many of them had been branded there the previous year, and probably recognized the spot. at any rate, there were constant attempts to break away, and it needed all the energy and vigilance of their guard to drive them down to the yard, and still more to keep them there while awaiting their turn to enter it. but more exciting still, and much more dangerous, was the work of those who kept guard at the lower end of the yard. as the animals came out, the calves were half mad with terror and pain, and the cows furious at the defeat of their efforts to succour their offspring, so that it was dangerous work for the men of the various ranches to pick out the animals bearing their brand and to drive them off to the knot of animals gathered at some little distance away under the guard of two of their comrades. sometimes the cows made furious charges, which it needed all the agility of horse and rider to avoid; then, as the animal rushed past, a rope would be thrown over its head or under its leg, and an instant later it would come to the ground with a crash. this generally proved sufficient. the cow, when the rope was slackened, rose to its feet in a half dazed way and walked heavily off, with the evident impression upon its mind that an earthquake had taken place. hugh was glad when he heard in the middle of the day that the rest of the outfit had arrived with the waggon and all the horses--for he felt that prince had had enough of it--and he at once galloped off, roped one of his own horses, shifted the saddle on to him, and went back to work. one or two of the bulls gave a great deal of trouble, charging hither and thither furiously as they came out from the yard. in these cases three or four of the cow-boys united, and while one attracted his attention, the others threw their ropes. some of the bulls had to be thrown half a dozen times before they were subdued. a few days later the [brand x] man, who went by the name of flash bill, walked up to the fire round which the cow-boys of no. 2 outfit were sitting. "i have just come across to say i am sorry i rode off that day you beat me, broncho. i allow it was a mean trick of me, but i was riled pretty considerable; still i oughtn't ter have done it; it wurn't the right thing." "it wurn't," harry said; "but now you own up there is an end of it. sit right down and have a smoke." for some time the conversation turned upon horses. two or three other men of the [brand x] ranche sauntered up and joined in. presently flash bill turned to hugh, who had taken no part in the conversation, and said, "have you a mind to trade that horse?" "no, i wouldn't sell it at any price," hugh said. "it exactly suits me, and i should find difficulty in getting another as good." "seems to me as i have seen that horse before," the man said. "had him long?" "i have had him about eight months," hugh replied. "curious; i seem to know him. can't think where i have seen him; somewhere out west." "i bought him at m'kinney," hugh said. "oh! you bought him, did you?" "how do you suppose i got him?" hugh asked shortly. "oh! there are plenty of horses out on these plains as never was paid for," flash bill said. "i don't say there are not," hugh replied. "at any rate, i expect you are a better authority about that than i am." "what do you mean by that?" "i mean exactly what i say," hugh said quietly. "do you mean to say as i have been a horse-thief!" the man exclaimed furiously. "i mean to say exactly what i did say," hugh replied. "then you are a liar!" and the man's hand went to his hip. to his astonishment, before his finger had closed on the butt of his pistol, he was looking down the barrel of hugh's revolver. "drop that," hugh exclaimed, "or i fire!" flash bill threw up his hand. "now you will take that back," hugh said. "i take it back," flash bill said sullenly. "you've got the drop on me, though how you did it i don't know. there ain't nothing more to be said. i take it back." "there is an end of it, then," hugh said, replacing his pistol in his belt. "you thought you had got a soft thing. you see you've made a mistake." "you had better git, flash bill," broncho harry said. "you ain't wanted here. you came over to make a muss, and only i knowed as hugh could hold his own with you i would have put a bullet into you myself when i saw your hand go to your pistol. you git, and if you will take my advice, you will git altogether. you can't play the bad man in this camp any longer, after weakening before a young chap as is little more than a tender-foot." with a muttered execration flash bill got up, and, followed by the men of his own ranche, walked off. "you did mighty well, considering that it is the first trouble you've been in, hugh; but you did wrong in not shooting. the rule on the plains is, if one man calls another either a liar or a coward, that fellow has a right to shoot him down if he can get his gun out first. that's the rule, ain't it, boys?" there was a chorus of assent. "you may call a man pretty nigh everything else, and it don't go for much. we ain't chice as to our words here; but them two words, liar and coward, is death, and you would have done well to have shot him. you bet, you'll have trouble with that fellow some day. you'll see he will go now, but you'll hear of him again." "i could no more have shot him than i could have flown," hugh said, "for he was really unarmed." "he would have shot you if he had been heeled first," long tom said, "and there ain't a man in the camp but would have said that you had been perfectly right if you had shot him, for it is sartin he came over here bound to kill you. i agree with broncho. you have done a mighty soft thing, and maybe you will be sorry for it some day. i have heard say that flash bill has been a mighty hard man in his time, and i guess as stealing horses ain't been the worse thing he has done, and i reckon he has come back here to work for a bit, because he has made it too hot for himself in the settlements. well, it's a pity you didn't shoot." the next morning, as they were saddling their horses, flash bill rode past. he had his blankets and kit strapped behind his saddle. he checked his horse as he came up to them. "i give you warning," he said to hugh, "that i'll shoot at sight when we meet again! you too, broncho harry." "all right!" broncho harry replied. "we shall both be ready for you." without another word flash bill put spurs to his horse and galloped away. this was the regular form of challenge among the cow-boys. sometimes after a quarrel, in which one had got the drop of the other, and the latter had been obliged to "take back" what he had said, mutual friends would interfere; and if the row had taken place when one or other of the men had been drinking, or when there was no previous malice or dislike between the men, the matter would be made up and things go on as before. if, however, the quarrel had been a deliberate one, and one or other considered himself still aggrieved, he would take his discharge and leave the camp on the following morning, giving his antagonist notice that he should shoot at sight when they next met, and whether the meeting was alone on the plains, in a drinking saloon, or in a street, both parties would draw and fire the moment their eyes fell on each other. that flash bill should have been forced to take back his words by this young hand of the [brand circle triangle] ranch was a matter of the deepest astonishment to the camp, and hugh found himself quite a popular character, for flash bill had made himself very obnoxious; and with the exception of two or three men of his own stamp in the [brand x] outfit, the men of that body were more pleased than anyone else that the bully had had to leave. none were more astonished than the men of the other outfits of the [brand circle triangle] ranche. they had heard hugh addressed as lightning; but curiosity is not a cow-boy failing, and few had given a thought as to how he had come by the appellation. one or two had asked the question, but broncho harry had, the night before his party started to the round-up, said to the others, "look here, boys. if anyone asks how lightning hugh came by his name, don't you give him away. they will larn one of these days, and it will be as good as a theyater when he does that gun trick of his. so keep it dark from the other boys." the few questions asked, therefore, had been met with a laugh. "it is a sort of joke of ours," broncho harry had said to one of the questioners. "you will see one of these days why it fits him." hugh was not sorry when the time came for his outfit to start. they had charge of a herd of eight or nine thousand animals all belonging to the [brand circle triangle]. it was customary for most of the ranches to drive their own cattle, after a round-up, towards the neighbourhood of their station for the convenience of cutting out the steers that were to be sent down to market, or herds, principally of cows and calves, for purchasers who intended to establish ranches in the still unoccupied territory in new mexico, colorado, dakota, and montana. some of these herds would have thousands of miles to travel, and be many months upon the journey. many of the cow-boys looked forward to taking service with these herds, and trying life under new conditions in the northern territories. when the beef herds, and such cow herds as the manager of the ranche wished to sell, had been picked out and sent off, the rest of the cattle would be free to wander anywhere they liked over the whole country until they were again swept together for the round-up, unless other sales were effected in the meantime, in which case parties of cow-boys would go out to cut out and drive in the number required. the number of cattle collected at the rounds-up was enormous, many of the ranches owning from forty to eighty thousand cattle. a considerable number were not driven in at the round-up, as the greater portion of the beef-cattle, which had already been branded, were cut out and left behind by the various outfits, and only the cows and calves, with a few bulls to serve as leaders, were driven in. nevertheless, at these great rounds-up in texas, the number of the animals collected mounted up to between two and three hundred thousand. two-thirds of the work was over when no. 2 outfit of the [brand circle triangle] ranche started. "well, i am glad that is over, bill," hugh said, as they halted at the end of the first day's march. "i am not sorry," bill royce replied; "it is desperate hard work. all day at the stock-yard, and half one's time at night on guard with the herds, is a little too much for anyone." "yes, it has been hard work," hugh said; "but i don't think i meant that so much as that it was not so pleasant in other ways as usual. the men are too tired to talk or sing of an evening. one breakfasted, or rather swallowed one's food half asleep before daylight, took one's dinner standing while at work, and was too tired to enjoy one's supper." "i reckon it has been a good round-up," broncho harry said. "there have been only four men killed by the cattle, and there haven't been more than five or six shooting scrapes. let me think! yes, only five men have been shot." "that is five too many, broncho," hugh said. "well, that is so in one way, hugh; but you see we should never get on out here without shooting." "why shouldn't we?" "because we are an all-fired rough lot out here. there ain't no law, and no sheriffs, and no police, and no troops. how in thunder would you keep order if it weren't for the six-shooter? thar would be no peace, and the men would be always quarrelling and wrangling. how would you work it anyhow? it is just because a quarrel means a shooting scrape that men don't quarrel, and that every one keeps a civil tongue in his head. there ain't nowhere in the world where there is so little quarrelling as out here on the plains. you see, if we didn't all carry six-shooters, and were ready to use them, the bad-tempered men, and the hard men, would have it their own way. big fellows like you would be able to bully little fellows like me. we should get all the bad men from the towns whenever they found the settlements too hot for them. we should have murderers, and gamblers, and horse-thieves coming and mixing themselves up with us. i tell you, hugh, that without the revolver there would be no living out here. no, sirree, the six-shooter puts us all on a level, and each man has got to respect another. i don't say as there ain't a lot wiped out every year, because there is; but i say that it is better so than it would be without it. when these plains get settled up, and the grangers have their farms on them, and the great cattle ranches go, and you get sheriffs, and judges, and all that, the six-shooter will go too, but you can't do without it till then. the revolver is our sheriff, and judge, and executioner all rolled in one. no one who is quiet and peaceable has got much occasion to use it." "i nearly had to use it the other day, broncho, and i reckon i am quiet and peaceable." "waal, i don't altogether know about that, hugh. i don't say as you want to quarrel, quite the contrary, but you made up your mind before you came here that if you got into trouble you were going to fight, and you practised and practised until you got so quick that you are sure you can get the drop on anyone you get into a muss with. so though you don't want to get in a quarrel, if anyone wants to quarrel with you you are ready to take him up. now if it hadn't been so there wouldn't have been any shooting-irons out the other night. flash bill came over to get up a quarrel. he was pretty well bound to get up a quarrel with some one, but if you had been a downright peaceable chap he could not have got up a quarrel with you. if you had said quietly, when he kinder said as how you hadn't come by that horse honest, that bill here had been with you when you bought him, and that you got a document in your pocket, signed by a sheriff and a judge, to prove that you had paid for it, there would have been no words with you. i don't say as flash bill, who was just spoiling for a fight, wouldn't have gone at somebody else. likely enough he would have gone at me. waal, if i had been a quiet and peaceable chap i should have weakened too, and so it would have gone on until he got hold of somebody as wasn't going to weaken to no one, and then the trouble would have begun. i don't say as this is the place for your downright peaceable man, but i say if such a one comes here he can manage to go through without mixing himself up in shooting scrapes." "but in that way a man like flash bill, let us say, who is known to be ready to use his pistol, might bully a whole camp." "yas, if they wur all peaceable people; but then, you see, they ain't. this sort of life ain't good for peaceable people. we take our chances pretty well every day of getting our necks broke one way or another, and when that is so one don't think much more of the chance of being shot than of other chances. besides, a man ain't allowed to carry on too bad. if he forces a fight on another and shoots him, shoots him fair, mind you, the boys get together and say this can't go on; and that man is told to git, and when he is told that he has got to, if he don't he knows what he has got to expect. no, sirree, i don't say as everything out in the plains is just arranged as it might be in new york; but i say that, take the life as it is, i don't see as it could be arranged better. there was a chap out here for a bit as had read up no end of books, and he said it was just the same sort of thing way back in europe, when every man carried his sword by his side and was always fighting duels, till at last the kings got strong enough to make laws to put it down and managed things without it; and that's the way it will be in this country. once the law is strong enough to punish bad men, and make it so that there ain't no occasion for a fellow to carry about a six-shooter to protect his life, then the six-shooter will go. but that won't be for a long time yet. why, if it wasn't for us cow-boys, there wouldn't be no living in the border settlements. the horse-thieves and the outlaws would just rampage about as they pleased, and who would follow them out on the plains and into the mountains? but they know we won't have them out here, and that there would be no more marcy shown to them if they fell into our hands than there would be to a rattler. then, again, who is it keeps the injuns in order? do you think it is uncle sam's troops? why, the red-skins just laugh at them. it's the cow-boys." "it ain't so long ago," long tom put in, "as a boss commissioner came out to talk with the natives, and make them presents, and get them to live peaceful. people out in the east, who don't know nothing about injuns, are always doing some foolish thing like that. the big chief he listens to the commissioner, and when he has done talking to him, and asks what presents he should like, the chief said as the thing that would most tickle him would be half a dozen cannons with plenty of ammunition." "'but,' says the commissioner, 'we can't give you cannon to fight our troops with.' "'troops!' says the chief; 'who cares about the troops? we can just drive them whenever we like. we want the cannon to fight the cow-boys.' "that chief knew what was what. it is the cow-boys as keep back the red-skins, it's the cow-boys as prevent these plains getting filled up with outlaws and horse-thieves, and the cow-boys can do it 'cause each man has got six lives pretty sartin at his belt, and as many more as he has time to slip in fresh cartridges for; and because we don't place much valley on our lives, seeing as we risk them every day. we know they ain't likely to be long anyhow. what with death among the herds, shooting scrapes, broken limbs, and one thing and another, and the work which wears out the strongest in a few years, a cow-boy's life is bound to be a short one. you won't meet one in ten who is over thirty. it ain't like other jobs. we don't go away and take up with another trade. what should we be fit for? a man that has lived on horseback, and spent his life galloping over the plains, what is he going to do when he ain't no longer fit for this work? he ain't going to hoe a corn-patch or wear a biled shirt and work in a store. he ain't going to turn lawyer, or set up to make boots or breeches. no, sirree. he knows as ten years is about as much as he can reckon on if his chances are good, and that being so, he don't hold nothing particular to his life. we ain't got no wives and no children. we works hard for our money, and when we gets it we spend it mostly in a spree. we are ready to share it with any mate as comes along hard up. it might be better, and it might be worse. anyway, i don't see no chance of changing it as long as there is room out west for cattle ranches. another hundred years and the grangers will have got the land and the cow-boys will be gone, but it will last our time anyhow." hugh was much struck with this estimate of a cow-boy's life by one of themselves, but on thinking it over he saw that it was a true one. these men were the adventurous spirits of the united states. had they been born in england they would have probably either enlisted or run away as boys and gone to sea. they were men to whom a life of action was a necessity. their life resembled rather that of the arab or the red indian than that of civilized men. their senses had become preternaturally acute; their eyesight was wonderful. they could hear the slightest sound, and pronounce unhesitatingly how it was caused. there was not an ounce of unnecessary flesh upon them. their muscles seemed to have hardened into whip-cord. they were capable of standing the most prolonged fatigue and hardship, and just as a wild stag will run for a considerable distance after receiving a wound that would be instantly fatal to a domestic animal, these men could, as he had seen for himself, and still more, as he had heard many anecdotes to prove, sustain wounds and injuries of the most terrible kind and yet survive, seeming, in many cases, almost insensible to pain. they were, in fact, a race apart, and had very many good qualities and comparatively few bad ones. they were, indeed, as long tom had said, reckless of their lives, and they spent their earnings in foolish dissipation. but they knew of no better way. the little border-towns or mexican villages they frequented offered no other amusements, and except for clothes and ammunition for their pistols they had literally no other need for their money. nothing could exceed the kindness with which they nursed each other in illness or their generosity to men in distress. they were devoted to the interests of their employers, undergoing, as a matter of course, the most prolonged and most prodigious exertions. they were frank, good-tempered, and kindly in their intercourse with each other, as addicted to practical jokes as so many school-boys, and joining as heartily in the laugh when they happened to be the victims as when they were the perpetrators of the joke. their code of honour was perhaps a primitive one, but they lived up to it strictly, and in spite of its hardships and its dangers there was an irresistible fascination in the wild life that they led. [illustration] chapter xi. a fire on the plains. after the hard work at the round-up the journey north seemed almost a holiday. of an evening the cook's accordion was again brought out, and the men sang and, to hugh's amusement, danced. he thought the proposal was a joke when it was first made, but he soon saw that it was quite serious. he had declined to take part in it, saying that he had never danced since he was a little boy; but it was as much as he could do to restrain his laughter, upon seeing the gravity with which eight of the cow-boys went through a quadrille to the music of the accordion. then followed waltzes, and then some mexican dances, the entertainment being kept up for a couple of hours. dancing, indeed, is one of the favourite amusements of cow-boys, and there being no females to dance with they dance with each other, and are so accustomed to do so that it comes to them as naturally as if dancing with women. when, however, they are camped within thirty or forty miles of a mexican village, it is no unusual thing for a party of half a dozen to ride over to it. perhaps one has preceded them to make the arrangements. these are simple. the mexicans are very musical, and there is not a village where men capable of playing upon the mandoline, and perhaps other instruments, cannot be found. an arrangement is made with these and with the landlord of the little inn. the preparations are not expensive--spirits for the men and a supply of cakes and syrups for the women. the news spreads like lightning, and in the evening mexican villagers, male and female, in their best attire, from miles round arrive, some in carts and some on horseback. the music strikes up, and the dance is kept up until morning. occasionally these entertainments end with a fray, arising generally from the jealousy of some young mexican at the complacency with which his sweetheart receives the attentions of a cow-boy admirer. but these are quite the exceptions. the mexicans know that their hosts will be off in the morning, and that they shall probably never see them again, and they therefore put up philosophically with the temporary inconstancy of the damsels of their village. to the mexican girls, indeed, these cow-boys are veritable heroes. they have heard endless tales of their courage. they know that the indians, who hold their countrymen in absolute contempt, fear to meet these terrible herdsmen. the careless way in which they spend their money, their readiness to bestow their gorgeous silk handkerchiefs, their really handsome and valuable sashes, or the gold cord of their hats, upon their favourite partner for the evening, fills them with admiration. they know, too, that when, as occasionally happens, a cow-boy does marry a mexican girl, and settles down upon some little ranche among them, the lot of his wife is greatly easier than that of those who marry mexicans, and that she will be treated with an amount of consideration and courtesy undreamt of by the mexican peasant, who, although an humble adorer before marriage, is a despotic master afterwards. it is not surprising, then, that upon occasions like these the cow-boy hosts have a monopoly of the prettiest girls at the ball. round the camp fires in the evening hugh heard many tales of such evenings spent in the villages of new mexico. "i had a very narrow escape once," a cow-boy known as straight charley said. "there were six of us went up together to a mexican village, and we gave a first-rate hop. there was a big crowd there, find things went on well until there was a muss between one of our fellows and a mexican. jake was rather a hard man, and we hadn't much fancied his being of our party, for he was fonder of drink than of dancing, and was quarrelsome when the drink was in him. i don't know how the muss began, for i was dancing with as pretty a little mexican girl as i ever came across. however, i haven't any doubt as jake was in the wrong. the first i knowed about it was that the music stopped, and then i heard loud voices. i saw a knife flash, and dropped my partner, and was going to run in to stop it, but i hadn't more than thought about it when there was the crack of a pistol. then knives were out all round, and there was a pretty lively fight. "it seemed, as i heard afterwards, that when jake shot the mexican--and i don't say he had no right to do so when the mexican had drawn his knife first, for if he had not shot he would have been killed himself--two or three other mexicans went for him, and, as a matter of course, two of our fellows went for the mexicans. if they hadn't been all mixed up together the six of us could have cleared the hull lot out, but mixed up like that, and with girls about, our fellows hadn't much show. i was just breaking through to take a hand in the game, when a fellow who had been looking pretty sour at me for some time, jumped on my back like a wild cat, so down i went, and in half a minute my legs and arms were tied tight with their sashes. i didn't try to struggle after i had fallen, for i knew well enough that our fellows had got the worst of it. "when matters cleared up a bit i found that four mexicans had been killed, and five or six others pretty badly hurt. jake and another of our boys were dead; two others had broke out, run to their horses, and ridden away. another of the boys had been taken prisoner, but he had got two or three knife-cuts before he was knocked down. there was a big hubbub for some time, as you may guess, and then they told us we should be taken to the town in the morning. well, they took off the sashes, and marched us away to a house at the end of the village. it was a plank house, and built in the same fashion as their adobe huts, with one room behind the other. of course they had taken our six-shooters and knives away from us, and they shoved us into the inner room, and then a dozen of them sat down to play cards and keep watch in the other. "the place had been built as a sort of lock-up, and there were heavy bars to the window, just as you see in a good many mexican houses. they had left our legs free, but had put some ropes round our arms; but we knew that we could shift them easy enough. the mexicans had shut the door between the two rooms, but we could hear their talk through it, and we heard that, though the thing had been brought on by jake, there would have been a muss anyhow sooner or later. two white men had come into the village a fortnight before; they were dressed like cow-boys, but i reckon they were horse-stealers or outlaws, anyhow they had kicked up a row and shot three men, and rode away, and the mexicans had seemed to make up their minds that they would take revenge on the next party that came in, whoever they were. "well, things looked pretty bad for us. if we had once got inside one of their prisons, the mexican judges would have made short work of us. the greasers would, of course, have sworn that we had begun the row, and shot down four or five of their people without the least cause, and it would have been a case of hanging, as sure as a gun; so dave and i agreed that we had got to git somehow. it wur no use talking of fighting, for there was a dozen fellows in the next room, and they had all got their guns along with them. we hadn't got our knives, and there was no chance of cutting our way out. we were talking it over when someone said, 'are you there, charley?' at the window. it was one of the boys who had got away. you bet i was there pretty sharp. "'here i am, ginger,' i said. 'how goes it?' 'pretty bad,' he said; 'jeffries is cut pretty near to pieces, and i am wounded in half-a-dozen places, and can scarce crawl. jeffries is with the horses a mile away. he is too bad to stand. i made a shift to crawl back to see what had become of you. i have been creeping round, and heard the two of you were shut up here, and that you was going to be taken off to-morrow, and would be hung, sure, so i came round to see what could be done; here is my six-shooter if it will be any good to you.' 'no, that won't be any good,' i said; 'there are twelve of them, and they have all got guns; but give me your knife; these planks are pretty thick, but we can cut our way through.' 'i haven't got it,' says ginger; 'it was knocked out of my belt in the fight, and, worse luck, jeffries has lost his too. a fellow got hold of his wrist, so he couldn't use his pistol, and he drew his knife, and he was fighting with it, when he got a slice across his fingers which pretty nigh cut them off, and he dropped his knife, and, as luck would have it, just wrenched himself free and bolted.' "'well, we must do what we can,' i said; 'but it is hard luck on us. look here, ginger, you bring the two horses up to that clump of trees over there; dave is pretty badly cut about, and cannot run far, but he can make a shift to get over there. if we don't come by an hour before daylight it ain't no use your waiting no longer; you go and pick up jeffries, and make tracks; but i reckon that somehow we shall manage to come.' 'all right!' says he, and went. 'now, dave,' i said, 'you turn over and let me get my teeth at your knots, it is hard if i don't manage to undo them.' "sure enough, in five minutes i had loosed a knot, and then the rest was easy. dave untied me, and we were free so far. 'what next?' says dave. 'we will have a look round,' says i. luckily there was a moon, and there was plenty of light to see what was in the room. there was some bits of furniture and bedding, just as they had been left by the people they had turned out to make room for us, but nothing that i could find as would help us to cut our way out. 'now, dave,' says i, 'you get to that corner and i will get to this, and just shove against the planks, and see if we can't push the hull side of this shanty out.' well, it wur too strong for us. it was made of rough boards, pretty strongly nailed. i thought it gave a little, but nothing as would be any good. 'if we could throw ourselves against it both together it might go,' i said; 'but it mightn't, and if it didn't we should have them inside in a moment, and there would be an end to it. what do you say to our burning ourselves out, dave?' "'how are we to do that, charley?' he said. 'well, i have got my box of matches in my boot, and i suppose you have yours too. let us pile up some of these wooden things against the two corners; there is plenty of straw in this bed. before we begin we will hang one of these blankets over the doorway so as to keep the smoke from going through the cracks. i reckon they are all smoking in there, and they won't smell it very quick.' so we made a pile, moving as quiet as we could, standing still when they were not talking much in the next room, and moving whenever they made a row, which was pretty often. 'these things are as dry as chips,' i said, 'and what smoke there is will mostly go out through the window, but i expect there will be more than we shall like. here is a big pitcher of water, we will soak these two blankets, and then lie down close to the floor; you cover your head over with one, and i will do it with the other. now, then!' "we lit a couple of matches and touched off the straw, and in half a minute there was a blaze up to the roof. then we lay down by the other wall one on each side of the door, and waited. in about two minutes there was a shout in the next room and a rush, then the door was flung open and the blanket torn down, and such a yelling and cussing as you never heard. the smoke was pretty bad where we was lying, and i reckon that up higher it was as thick as a wall. 'the cursed americans have lighted the house and smothered themselves,' one of them shouted. then they rushed out, coughing and choking, and we heard them shouting for water, and there wur as much row as if the village had been attacked by injuns. [illustration: "a couple of kicks sent out the planks, and then we bolted."] "we waited another three or four minutes, and then dave shouted, 'i can't stand this no longer.' i had hoped they would have left the outer door open, and that we could have got out that way, but we had heard it shut. i expect someone more cute than the rest suspected we wur inside biding our time. 'take a long breath, dave,' says i, 'and don't breathe again until you are out; now jump up and join me.' we joined hands and made a run, and threw ourselves against one corner of the end of the hut. several of the planks fell, and a couple of kicks sent the rest out, then off we bolted. "there wur a yell outside, for by this time half the village were there. luckily the men with guns was mostly round by the door, and when the yells fetched them there was too many women and children about for them to shoot. we went straight on, as you may guess, and we were half-way to the woods before the shooting began, and it wur pretty wild at that. dave gave out afore he got to the trees, and i had to carry him. "'this way,' ginger shouted. i lifted dave on to a horse, and jumped up behind him, and we wur off just as the mexicans came running up. after that it wur easy enough. we rode to where jeffries had been left, got him on to ginger's horse, and made tracks for the camp. jeffries died next day, but dave got over it. that wur a pretty near touch, i reckon." "it was indeed," hugh said. "that was a very lucky idea of yours of burning out the corners of the house." "some of them mexicans is cusses," another cow-boy put in. "i had a smart affair with them in one of their villages last year. i had rid in with baltimore rube. we had been searching some of the gullies for cows, and had run short of sugar and tea. waal, i was on a young broncho i had only roped two days before, and the critter wur as wild as could be. when we rode in, a lot of them brutes of dogs that swarms almost as thick as their fleas in all these mexican villages, came barking round, while one big brute in particular made as if he would pin my broncho by the nose, and the pony plunged and kicked till i thought he would have me off. there was a lot of their men standing at their doors smoking, for it wur late in the afternoon, and they wur all back from what they called work. i shouted to them to call their dogs off, but they just laughed and jeered, so i did the only thing as there was to do, just pulled out my six-shooter and shot the dog. waal, if it had been a man there could not have been a worse sort of row. the mexicans ran into their houses just as quick as a lot of prairie-dogs when they scent danger, and in a moment were back with their guns, and began to blaze away. waal, naturally, our dander riz, a bullet chipped the bark off my cheek, and by the way my broncho jumped i knew one had hit him, so baltimore and i blazed away in return, and neither of us didn't shoot to miss, you bet. we just emptied our six-shooters, and then rode for it. "baltimore got a shot in his shoulder. i had one in the leg, and there was two in the saddle. we talked it over and agreed it wur best to say nothing about it. them mexicans will swear black is white, and when there is a whole village swearing one way, and only two men swearing the other way, them two has got but a poor show of being believed. so we concluded to leave those parts altogether, and we rode a hundred and fifty miles in the next two days, and then camped for a week till our wounds healed up a bit. "a fortnight after that we went into the station, and there i happened to light upon one of them rags the mexicans calls papers, and there sure enough was the account of that business. 'two cow-boys, unknown, rode last week into the quiet village of puserey, and without the slightest provocation commenced a murderous attack upon its inhabitants, and after killing four and wounding eight men, they galloped off before the inhabitants had time to betake themselves to their arms to defend themselves. a reward of five hundred dollars is offered for their apprehension.' now, that wur a pretty tall piece of lying; but baltimore and i agreed it wur best to keep dark about it altogether, for if it wur talked about, it might get to the ears of some of the half-caste mexicans about the station, and some day or other, when we went into a village, we might find ourselves roped in." "that is the way," broncho harry said indignantly, "us cow-boys get a bad name. now, i dare say that air article wur copied in half the newspapers in the states, and folks as know nothing about it would say, 'them cow-boys is a cuss; they ought to be wiped off the arth right away.' it is always so whenever there is a row between any of us and the mexicans. they give thar account of it, and we goes away and thinks no more about it one way or the other, and there is no one to show it up as a lie from beginning to end; and i know there's people think we are as bad as the injuns, if not worse, and that we ride about shooting down people just for amusement. then all these outlaws and horse-thieves and bad men near the settlements dress as much as they can like us, and every murder as they commits, every horse that gits stolen, every man that gits held up and robbed, it is just put down to the cow-boys. while if the truth wur known, for every one of these fellows caught or wiped out by the sheriff and their posse, there is twenty gets wiped out by us." there was a cordial "that is so, broncho," all round the fire, for the injustice connected with their reputation was a very sore point among the cow-boys. "well, some day, broncho," hugh said, "when i get away from here, for, as you know, i haven't come here to stay, i will take pen in hand and try to give a true account of you and your doings, so that people may see that there are two sides to the question." "bully for you, hugh!" long tom said; "just you put it in hot and strong. i tell you it ain't nice if one does go down to the settlements in the winter, when work is slack, to see people look at you as if you wur a wild beast, who is only waiting his chance to hold up the hull town. why, i have seen women pull their children indoors as i came along, as if i wur a mountain lion, and was meaning to draw my six-shooter on them just for amusement." "well," hugh said, "i must say i heard stories at m'kinney of cow-boys coming down to a town and riding about shooting off the hats of the inhabitants, making targets of the bottles in the saloons, and generally turning the place topsy-turvy. of course i didn't believe it all." there was silence round the fire, and then straight charley said: "well, lightning, i won't say as you have been altogether deceived as to that, and i won't deny as i have taken part in sprees myself, but you see it don't hurt no one. it is just fun. if we do shoot the heads off the bottles, we pays for them, and it makes one laugh till one can scarcely sit in a saddle to see an old cuss jump when you put a bullet through his stove-pipe hat. it is his fault for wearing such a thing, which is an unnatural invention altogether and should be discouraged." "we do carry on," broncho harry agreed, "thar ain't no denying it. when a man has been out in these plains for six months working worse than a nigger, and that without a drop of liquor, it is natural as he should go in for a high old time when he gits down to a town with money in his pockets; but thar ain't no real harm in it. we know how we can shoot, and that if we fire at a hat there ain't no chance of our hitting the head inside. it just makes things lively for them for a bit, and there is never no trouble, unless anyone is fool enough to take the matter up and make a muss about it." "i am not saying you do any real harm, broncho, only you see the people in the towns don't know how well you shoot. if you knock a pipe out of my mouth, as you have done once or twice, i only laugh, because i know there was no chance in the world of your hitting me; but you see they don't all know that. and so when a man finds there are two holes in his hat an inch above his head, he thinks he has had a marvellous escape of being murdered." "i don't deny as there is something in that," broncho harry said reflectively; "but you see it is in their ignorance that the mistake comes in, not in our shooting. anyhow, you see we have got to do something to amuse ourselves, and we might do worse than just skeer a few store-men, who take it out of us by charging us about double the price they charge anyone else." hugh was not convinced by the argument, but he felt that it was of no use to pursue the subject further. "how do the cows know their calves?" he asked one day, as at the end of a march some of the cows were loudly lowing for their offspring to come to them. "by smell," broncho harry replied promptly. "you don't see much of their ways here, for the calves are pretty well grown up; but when you are driving a herd, as i have done many a time, made up altogether of cows and young calves, you see a lot of it. ten or twelve miles a day is as much as you can do with a herd of that sort. what steers there are always go ahead, grazing as they go. the cows will come straggling along next, and then the calves strung out all over the place, and the rear-guard have pretty hard work to hurry them up. you see calves have got no sense, and run anywhere--under your horse's legs or anywhere else; while the cows don't pay much attention to them till they get to the end of the march. then they begin to bawl for their calves to come to them, and the calves begin to bawl for their mothers, and i tell you that for a bit there is such a row going on that you would think the end of the world had come. two thousand cows and as many calves can kick up a row, you bet, that will well-nigh scare you." "but don't the calves know their mothers' voices?" "not a bit of it; it is just smell and nothing else that brings them together. you would think the cows would know something about the colour of their young uns, but they don't. i have seen a cow that i knew had a white calf run up to a black calf and smell it, then to a brown one, and then to a spotted one, while her own white calf stood bawling fit to kill herself a dozen yards away. it is wonderful how they do find each other at all, and the job often takes them two or three hours. some of the cows concludes at last that their calves have been left behind, and then off they set, and would go all the way back to the place they had started from in the morning if you didn't stop them. sometimes they don't find them at all that night." "but what happens to the calves then?" "the calves shift for themselves. they run up to other cows which have got their own calves sucking. each cow will generally let them have a suck or two, and then drive them off, and in that way they get enough to last them on till they find their mothers in the morning. "there is a good deal of trouble in keeping night-watch over a herd like that. it isn't that there is any risk of a stampede. a cow herd will never stampede if there are a lot of young calves in it; but they don't settle themselves comfortable to sleep. the calves want to wander about, and the cows who haven't found their young ones keep trying to slip off to take the back track, and you have got to be always on the watch for them. take it altogether, i would rather drive a beef herd than a cow herd." after a week's travel they reached the spot that had been fixed upon for the herd to graze. the cow-boys' work was now much lighter. parties of twos and threes could often be spared for a day's excursion up to some mexican village among the hills, or they would go off for three or four days' hunt among the valleys to pick up any cattle that had evaded search during the round-up. one day, when there were but four of them in camp, two of the party who had been absent a couple of days rode in at full speed, and reported to the head of the outfit that they had seen the light of a fire up north. "then there is no time to be lost," colley said. "will you two men stop here and look after things? i will ride off with the other four and fight the fire. when the others come back do you start out after us. the last two who come in must stop here. give us what food you have got, darkey; we may be away four or five days. directly we have gone set to and cook something for the others." hugh and bill royce had returned the day before from an expedition among the foot-hills. broncho harry and another cow-boy were also in camp. in five minutes the horses were saddled, and they dashed off at full speed. "it is lucky that the wind is not blowing strong," colley said, "or we should have the fire down here before we got news of it, and there is no place handy where we could drive the herd. i expects those blessed injuns lit the fire." hugh was very pleased that he was in camp when the news came. he had heard many stories from the cow-boys of these terrible fires, and knew that at times they had wrought havoc among the herds, whose only hope of escape lay in reaching a stream wide enough to check the progress of the flames. after riding twenty miles they could distinguish a faint odour of smoke in the air, and as they gained a crest soon after sunset could see a long line of light in the distance. "it is a big un," broncho harry said, "and no mistake." they lost no time in getting to work, for the wind was rising, and there was but little time to spare. they had on their way picked out a steer from a bunch they came upon, and had driven it before them, and had also stopped and cut faggots of wood from a clump of bushes in a hollow. a shot from broncho harry's revolver brought the bullock dead to the ground, and while royce lit a fire the others with their long knives proceeded to split the bullock into two portions, dividing it from its head down to its tail. "now, broncho, will you go east with lightning while royce and jake go west? keep on until you meet some fellows from the other outfits. they are sure to be at work all along the line. if you don't meet any by the time you get to the end of the flames, then work back and fight the fire as you come. i expect the other four man will be up in an hour or two." broncho harry and royce at once lit two of the long faggots, and fastened the others to their saddles. they then tied the ends of their ropes to the blazing faggots and started. hugh having been already instructed in his part, fastened his rope to a leg of the half bullock, and mounted his horse--he had not brought prince this time, as he feared that he might get burned. he waited until broncho harry was a quarter of a mile ahead. already a line of fire was rising in his track, the dried grass catching like tinder as the blazing faggot passed over it. it had already run along a width of twenty feet or so, burning fiercely on the leeward side, and making its way in a thin red line to windward. it was the leeward side that hugh had to attend to, and galloping his horse along the ground over which the flame had just passed, he dragged the half carcass of the bullock behind him, so that in its course it passed over the line of flame, which its weight and the raw under-surface instantly crushed out. for ten miles he rode on, and then found that harry had stopped. "we are beyond the edge of the fire," the latter said. "it is the other side where there is most danger, unless smith's outfit have got news in time. waal, we have done our part of the job so far." looking back hugh saw a sea of fire approaching across the plains. the wind was blowing stronger now, and the air was full of smoke and ashes. far along the track they had come a thin line of fire was advancing against the wind to meet the great wave that was sweeping down towards it. "we passed some bushes half a mile back," harry said. "we will ride back to them, and then let the horses go. we sha'n't want them any more, and they are pretty well mad with fright now." as soon as they reached the bushes they leapt off, and letting the horses go cut as many boughs as they could carry. then retiring from the strip of burnt ground, already forty or fifty yards wide, they awaited the flames. their approach was heralded by burning fragments, and they were both soon at work beating out the flames as fast as they were kindled to leeward of the burnt strip. single-handed they would not have succeeded, but other cow-boys speedily arrived, and along the whole line parties were at work fighting the fire. at times it got such hold that it was only checked by lighting fresh fires to leeward, and crushing them out as had been done at first, and it was thirty hours before the fire was extinguished along that part of the line. then the news came that further west it had burst through, and the cow-boys, mounting fresh horses that had been brought up, rode off and joined in the fight there, and it was not until after three days' unremitting effort that the danger was finally subdued. during all this time the men had not a moment's rest. their food and water had been sent up from the waggons, and a hasty meal was snatched occasionally. when all was done they were blackened with smoke and ashes. their hair and clothes were singed, and they were utterly exhausted with their efforts. however, they had saved the herds, and were well content with their work; but, as soon as it was over, each man threw himself down where he stood and slept for many hours, watch being kept by some of the last arrivals, for it was by no means improbable that the indians would swoop down to take advantage of the confusion and drive off cattle. as soon as the cow-boys were roused next morning they rode off to their respective outfits, and hugh's party on their arrival enjoyed the luxury of a bathe in the stream, near which the waggon of no. 2 outfit was placed. then, after their change of clothes, they gathered for a comfortable meal. "waal, lightning, that has been a fresh experience for you," broncho harry said. "i am glad i have seen it," hugh replied; "but i don't want to repeat it." "this was nothing, hugh. four years ago there was a fire here that swept right across the plains; there was a strong wind and no stopping it, and there were over 100,000 cattle burned. i suppose some day or other they will be passing laws for putting up fences. if they do, i tell you it will be something like ruin to a good many ranches, for it will prevent cattle from running before the flames. as it is now, their instinct takes them either to a stream or to some high bluff. but if there was fences they would never get away. in the north they lose whole herds in the same way from snow-storms. a herd will drift before snow and wind for hundreds of miles, but if there is anything that stops them they just get snowed up and die. ranchmen have troubles enough, but if they was obliged to fence it would go far to break up the business. "look out, lads, here comes someone galloping into camp. i expect he has got news of the red-skins. i reckoned they would be out on the track of the fire. "oh, it's tom newport," he said, as the man approached. "waal, what he says you may take for gospel. he is not one of them fellows who gets hold of the tail-end of a story and then scares the whole country. waal, tom, what is it?" "just mount up, broncho, and get all your crowd together. there ain't no time for talking now; i will tell you all about it when we get on the track." in an incredibly short time the men had all saddled, and were ready for a start, filling their water-skins, and getting from the cook what bread and cold meat remained over from breakfast. "now, which way, tom?" "north-east. i will tell you about it. the injuns have come down and attacked gainsford. they have killed five or six men and most of the women and children. they have carried off five or six girls, and old man rutherford's rose is among them." an exclamation of fury broke from several of the cow-boys. "where is gainsford? and who is rutherford's rose?" hugh asked. "gainsford is a small place just among the foot-hills south of the injun country. there are about twenty houses. rutherford, he wur the first to settle there. we told him over and over agin that it wur too close to the injuns, and that there would, sure, be trouble sooner or later; but steve, that is rutherford, is one of those pesky obstinate cusses who just go their own way, and won't listen to reason from no one. he got a little herd of cattle up in the valley there, and a patch of cultivated land, and he reckoned he wouldn't be solitary long. he was right enough there, for, as i told you, the place grew, and there are pretty nigh twenty houses there now, that is, there wur twenty houses; i don't suppose one is standing now. rutherford, he war a cow-boy once, and married and settled down there, and rose is his daughter, and as good a lass as there is west of missouri. rutherford's house is free quarters for those of us who likes to drop in. in course we makes it up to him by taking in a deer or a bear's ham, or maybe a few bottles of whisky, if we have been down to the settlement and laid hands on them, and if we come across any mavericks when we are alone, we just brand them r.r., and i reckon rosie has got 200 cattle out here, and they will come in mighty handy for her when she chooses a husband." "is that often done?" hugh asked. "you bet. there are a score and more girls, whose fathers' shanties lie up in the foot-hills, and who are friends of ours, have got a nice little clump of cattle out on these plains. of course any man, living near the plains, can turn his cattle out, and there are dozens of private marks. waal, you see, if a girl only gets twenty branded for her it increases every year, because the calves running with the cows get the same brand put on them; and i have known many a girl when she was married have a little herd of three or four hundred. so, i tell you, it hits us all that rose rutherford has been carried away, and we are bound to get her back if it air to be done. when was it, tom, that it happened?" "yesterday evening, 'bout ten o'clock, i wur riding that way and intended to sleep at steve's, when i saw a light burst up, and then two or three others. i galloped pretty hard, you may guess, but before i got thar it wur over and the injuns had gone; but i larned from a boy who had been hiding among the bushes, but who came out when he saw me, how it wur. he said he had seen rose and five or six other girls carried off. whether old steve wur rubbed out i don't know. i didn't stop to ask no questions. i knew whereabout your outfit was, and rode straight for it." "then the skunks have got sixteen or seventeen hours' start," broncho said. "there is no chance of our catching them till they are right back into their own country. i reckon we shall have a pretty sharp fight of it before we get them gals back." [illustration] chapter xii. an indian raid. the cow-boys were all mounted on horses that had not been worked for some days. hugh was on prince, and they got over the ground at great speed, arriving before sunset at the ruined village. there were three or four men, seven or eight women, and as many children gathered when they rode in. the men had been absent when the attack took place, the women had escaped by seizing their children and rushing out at the backs of the houses and hiding among the rocks and bushes, as soon as the yells of the indians and the explosion of the firearms burst upon their ears. "we heard you was coming," one of the men said; "but i fear it is too late; they have got too far a start altogether." "we didn't waste a minute," broncho harry said; "we wur in the saddle three minutes after tom brought us the news, and we have rode seventy miles since. tom has done a hundred and forty since last night. where is steve rutherford? has he been wiped out?" "no; he wur away after a bunch of horses that had strayed. he wur camping out twenty mile away when he saw the light and guessed what it wur; he drove the horses in before him, feeling sure as he would be too late to do any good, but reckoning that they might be useful." "good man," broncho said; "but where is he?" "he went on alone after them," the man said. "some of us would have gone with him, but he reckoned he had best go alone; thar wurn't enough of us to fight; he allowed that you boys would be here presently, for the young un here told us as tom had ridden off with the news. rube garston and jim gattling rid off an hour later, and i reckon they will bring a few more up before morning; may be sooner." "how many horses are there?" "fifteen of the old man's, i reckon. they are in that corral behind his house, and i guess we have got as many more between us." "then there are enough to mount us ten and as many more," broncho harry said. "ours ain't good for no more travel to-night. waal, we will just eat a bit, and then we shall be ready to go on. how many air there of you?" "six here." "waal, that makes sixteen. i see three of you have got rifles, and four of us have brought rifles along with us. the only question is, which way have the red devils ridden? it air no use our following them if we haven't a clue of some sort. i reckon steve will be here before long; that is what he has gone for. he would know he couldn't do any good himself, and he would be pretty well sure as we couldn't gather here in any such force as could enter the injun country afore this evening." "he took a lantern with him," one of the boys said. "yes, that is it. i guess he followed on foot till daylight, then he mounted and went on their trail until he could give a pretty good guess as to where they was heading; then i allow he will come back to tell us; that is how i read it." "i expect you are right, broncho. he didn't say much when he started; but when we talked of going with him he said, 'just you stop where you are, there ain't anything you can do; we can't fight them till we get help. you just wait right here, boys.' it wur rather rough on us, when our gals are being carried off and our wives have been killed, and the hull place ruined; but we knew as steve knew a sight more about injuns than we did, and had been many a time into the heart of the injun country afore they broke out, so we waited. but i tell you, harry, it wur hard work to sit quiet and know that them murdering villains was getting further away every hour." "we will have them yet!" harry said confidently. "if the old man don't ride up in another half-hour we will start. we will follow the trail as far as we can with lanterns. if we get to any place where the trail branches, then there will be nothing to do but to wait for steve. have yer eaten? because if not, yer had best fill up. it air no use starting on such a job as this fasting. we shall have need of all our strength afore we have done, you can bet your boots!" none of the men had, in fact, eaten anything since the preceding night, but they saw the justice of the advice. "there is some sheep up behind my place," one of them said. "like enough they was up on the hills when the injuns came, but i saw some of them go in there this morning. there ain't no time for cooking now, so we will share your grub, and i will shoot three or four of the sheep and cut them up. they will last us for two or three days." "that is a good idee; and if there is any flour as hasn't been carried off, you had best make up a few lots of five or six pounds each and tie them up in cloths. they will come in mighty handy. hello! here are some more of the boys!" a minute later eight more cow-boys rode up. "hello, broncho! i thought we should find your crowd here. we have ridden all we knew to be here in time to go on with you--that is, if you are going on." "we are going on as far as we can, ike; we are just changing horses. i think there are about enough left to give you one each." "have you any news which way the red-skins have gone?" "not yet. old man rutherford followed 'em up. i expect he will be here soon; if not, we shall meet him. they have got twenty hours' start--that is the worst of it. no, there ain't no chance of overtaking them, that is sartin. what we have got to do is to wipe some of them out, and to give them a lesson, and get the girls back again if we can; and we have got to do it quick, else we shall have the hull injun country up agin us." "i did not think that they would have done it," another man said. "the old man wur always good friends with the injuns, and made them welcome when they came along." "it ain't no good being kind to injuns," another put in. "there ain't no gratitude in them." "injuns air pison!" broncho said; and a general murmur of agreement expressed that in the opinion of the cow-boys this summed up the characteristics of the red-skins. in a few minutes the new-comers were provided with fresh horses. a spare horse was taken on for rutherford, and then, headed by the survivors of the raid, the party started three-and-twenty strong. they travelled fast; not that there was any occasion for speed, but because every man was burning with the desire to get at the enemy. after riding about twenty miles they checked their horses, for a fire was seen a short distance ahead. "that's all right," one of the settlers said. "that will be rutherford, sure enough. it is just there where the valley forks. he is waiting there for us. he would know we shouldn't want a guide as far as this." as they came up a tall figure rose from beside the fire. "well, steve, have you tracked them?" jim gattling, the youngest of the party from the village, asked eagerly. "they have gone over the divide into the springer valley, have followed that some way, and then through the little caã±on, and up towards the head-waters of the pequinah creek. i only went through the caã±on to see which way they turned, and then made back here. i guessed some of you would be coming along about this time." "was they riding fast?" "no. they halted here for some hours. i reckon they had ridden a long way afore they attacked our place. i saw their fires some time afore i got to them, or i might have walked into them, for i didn't think they would have halted so soon. i tied the hoss up and scouted round 'em and when they started this morning before daylight took up the trail after them. they weren't travelling very fast. you see they had got about a hundred head of cattle with them, and i reckon they have three or four days' journey before them. as far as i could make out, from what i seed of them, they don't belong to this part at all. sartin they was going easy, and didn't reckon on being followed. it ain't often they get chased when they are once in the hills. waal, boys, i am glad to see you, and i thank ye all. it is what i expected from yer, for i felt sure that when you got the news you would muster up." "we have brought a fresh horse for you, steve," jim gattling said. "we druv in a herd this afternoon, and they all changed back there, so we are ready to ride at once." "that's good, jim! i was wondering over that, and thinking that if yours had come in from the plains they wouldn't be fit for any more travel to-night, for i knew they was a long way out. where wur you, broncho?" "we wur on little creek." "ah! that's about sixty miles away from our place. waal, boys, we may as well go on over the divide and down into the valley; there we had best camp. you will have done a hundred miles by then, and will want sleep. besides, we mustn't knock the hosses up; they have got their work before them, and maybe we shall have to ride on our way back." "how many of the skunks are there?" "over forty." "we sha'n't have much trouble with that lot," broncho harry said. "not if we catch them before they git to their village, broncho. but i doubt whether we shall do that." "waal, we will fight them, steve, if there was four hundred of them!" harry said. "we have come to get your rosie and the others back, and we are going to do it, you bet." rutherford held out his hand and gripped that of the cow-boy; then, mounting the horse that had been brought for him, he took his place at the head of the party and led the way. it was a toilsome journey over the shoulder that divided the two valleys. the pace was necessarily confined to a walk, and it was five hours before they reached the stream upon which they were to camp. here the horses were turned loose to graze, and the men threw themselves down upon the ground and were soon asleep, for it was now past midnight. with the dawn of day they were on their feet again, a great fire lighted, and some of the mutton cut up and cooked, and some cakes baked. as soon as the meal was eaten they again started. hugh had not changed his horse at the village. broncho harry told him that it was not likely they would travel for many hours that evening, and he knew that prince, who had had an easy time of it lately, could easily do this, and he greatly preferred keeping him, for he felt that upon such an expedition as this his speed might be of the greatest utility. a rapid ride of ten miles up the valley took them to the mouth of the caã±on, which came into the main valley at a sharp angle. it was wide at the entrance, but soon narrowed down into a gorge from ten to twenty feet wide, with rocks rising precipitously on both sides. it was evident by the smoothly-worn face that in the wet season a tremendous torrent rushed down, filling it thirty or forty feet deep; but it was perfectly dry now, and for the most part they were able to ride at a fair pace. here and there, however, masses of rock had fallen down from above since the last rains, and here they had to dismount and allow the horses to clamber over by themselves as best they could. at such spots scratches upon the face of the stones showed where the party they were pursuing had passed on the previous day. the caã±on was upwards of a mile in length, and the valley into which it led was some hundreds of feet higher than that which they had left. as soon as they emerged from the pass they put their horses into a gallop, the track of the party before them being plainly visible. as they got deeper among the mountains the scenery became very wild. forests clothed the hills. great masses of rock towered above the valley, and huge blocks of stone encumbered the route they had to pursue. sometimes the track left the bottom and wound up the hillside, passing at times along the ledges, with precipices above and below. anxious as they were to press forward, much of the journey had to be performed at a foot-pace, for many of the horses having been brought up on the plains all their lives were fidgety and nervous on such unaccustomed ground, and required coaxing and care to get them along the passes. they travelled until late in the afternoon and then halted. the next day's work was of the same character. they were now high up among the hills, and steve told them that they were near the crest of the range. "we had better stop here," rutherford said about three o'clock in the afternoon, as they arrived at a little stream. "we mustn't knock the critters up; they have done a good day's work already." "we have gained upon them, steve," broncho harry said. "the traces have been getting fresher." "yes, we have gained a bit, but not very much. their horses would go faster than ours, because they are accustomed to the mountains; but the cattle will have kept them back. why i stop here is because there is a sort of wall of rock with a passage up through it a mile or two ahead, and though i don't expect they have any idea they are followed, they are like enough to have left a sentry on the top of that wall. it 'ud never do for them to attack us here; we should have no show at all. i want to get my girl back, but throwing away our lives ain't the way to do it. be careful how you pick the wood for the fires, boys: we mustn't let any smoke go curling up. you have got to see that every bit you put on is as dry as a chip." "how on earth do the indians manage to live among these hills?" hugh asked, after the meal had been cooked and eaten. "the country is different on the other side," jim gattling said. "we are pretty nearly up to the top of the divide now, and on the other side the slopes are much more gradual. they have plenty of ranges where they have got cattle and sheep. but i don't know nothing about the country here. steve has been over, but there ain't many as has." "yes," rutherford said, "it is as jim says. there is a wide sort of plateau, with big valleys down to the canadian. we ain't very far now from the frontier of new mexico, and from the top of the hills here you can see the spanish peaks a hundred and fifty miles away. i reckon we may have to go down that side. there are a heap of injun villages up here, and though we may thrash the lot ahead of us they would gather pretty thick in a short time, and like enough cut us off going back, for they know the tracks better than we do, and their horses would go at a gallop along places where we should have to drag ours. going down the other way we can ride as fast as they can, and when we once get down in the valley of the canadian we shall get help at the ranches there." "that will certainly be the best way, steve," broncho harry said. "we are all ready to fight any number of them on the plains, but it wouldn't be good to be hemmed up among these hills with no chance of help. we could keep them off, i reckon, till we had eaten our boots, but they would make an end of us at last, sure. have you often been along this line before, steve?" "once. i came across here with a party of red-skins just after the last peace wur made with them, when it was sure that they wouldn't break out again until they had got their presents. i had got a stock of beads, and looking-glasses and cottons, and such like, and went up with a couple of mules and traded among them for skins, and worked robes and moccasins and indian trumpery. i sent them back east, and did a pretty good trade with them. but i know the other side well. i was ranching two years down on the canadian, and we had two or three fights with the red-skins, who was pretty troublesome about that time. there weren't many ranches down there then, and we had to look pretty spry to keep the har on our heads." "and how do you propose to work it now, steve?" "well, i reckon that if they have got a sentry on them rocks i spoke of he won't stay there after dark, and that the danger will be at the other end of the pass. like enough, there will be one or two of them there. i reckon the best plan will be for me and jim gattling and a kipple of others to go on ahead quiet. if we find any of the skunks there, in course we shall wipe them out. when we have done that the rest can come up the pass. it ain't no place for anyone as doesn't know every foot of the way to come up in the dark; and you must make torches, ready to light up, when one of us goes back with the news that the pass is clear. as soon as we have done with the red-skins, jim and i will go off scouting. you see we don't know yet what band this is, or how far their village is away. we will follow on the trail, and when the rest get up through the pass they must just wait till we bring them word. i reckon, from their coming by this road, as their place is about fifteen mile from the top of the pass. there is a big village there, and i expect they belong to it. i reckon they are just getting there now, and they will be feasting pretty considerable to-night. it air a pity we ain't handy. however, it cannot be helped. we should risk it all if we was to try to push on afore it got dark." "your plan seems to pan out all right, steve. who will you take with you?" "waal, you and long tom may as well come, broncho, though, i reckon, it don't make much difference, for you all means fighting." as soon as it became dusk the party again moved forward. "that's the rock," rutherford said, pointing to a long dark line that rose up before them. "they can't see us here, and i reckon if there wur a scout there he has moved off before this. now, do you other fellows take our critters and just move on slowly. you see that point sticking up above the line. waal, that is on one side of the pass; so you just make for that, and stop when you get there till one of us comes back." the torches had been prepared during the halt, two or three young pitch-pines having been cut down and split up for the purpose. the four scouts moved off at a quick walk, and the rest of the party picked their way along slowly and cautiously towards the point steve had indicated. they had some little trouble in finding the entrance to the pass, but when they discovered it they threw the bridles on their horses' necks and dismounted. the time went slowly, but it was not more than two hours before they heard a slight noise up the pass, and a minute or two later a footfall. "is that you, broncho?" hugh asked. "no, it air me; but it is all the same thing, i reckon. jehoshaphat! but i have knocked myself pretty nigh to pieces among them blessed rocks. it air just as dark as a cave; there ain't no seeing your hand." "well, is it all right, tom?" "no, it ain't gone off right. when we got to the top of the pass there wur two red-skins sitting at a fire. we come along as quiet as we could, but just as we got in sight of them i suppose they heard something, for they both jumped on to their feet and wur out of sight like a streak of lightning. we waited without moving for half an hour, and then they came back again. we could have shot, but steve reckoned it was too great a risk; so he and jim undertook to crawl forward while broncho and me wur to keep ready to shoot if the redskins made a bolt. it wur a long time, or at least seemed so. the red-skins was restless, and we could see they was on the listen. waal, at last up they both jumped; but it wur too late. steve and jim fired and down they both went, and we came on. the wust of the business wur, that one of their hosses broke loose and bolted. steve fired after him. he may have hit him, or he may not; anyhow he went off. so now you have got to hurry up all you know." the torches were at once lit, and leading their horses the party made their way up the gorge. it was steep and narrow, and encumbered with boulders; but in half an hour they reached the other end. broncho harry was awaiting them. "we have got to move away to the right for about half a mile and stop there. there is a clump of trees, and that is where we are to wait. it air a 'tarnal bad business that air hoss getting away. he is pretty sure to bring the injuns down on us. steve ain't going very far. he sez there is another village about three miles from the one he thinks most likely; and when he gets about four miles away from here he will be able to see which way the tracks go, and then he will come straight back to the trees." "do you think you hit the horse, harry?" hugh asked as they made their way to the clump of trees. "you don't suppose i could miss a horse if i tried, hugh. i hit him sure enough, worse luck. if i had missed him it wouldn't have mattered so much. if he came galloping in by himself they might have thought he had got scared at something--by a bar, perhaps--and had just made tracks for the camp. like enough they would have sent off four men to see if it wur all right; but when the blessed thing turns up with a bullet in his hide, they will know there has been a fight." "what do you think they will do then, harry? are they likely to ride out in force to the gap?" "they may, and they may not. i should say they won't. i should guess they'll just throw out scouts all round their village and wait till morning. they won't know how strong our party is, and wouldn't take the risk of being ambushed in the dark." "perhaps when the horse goes in they won't notice it, especially as they will be feasting and dancing." "i don't reckon that worth a cent, hugh. there are safe to be one or two of their boys out looking after the horses; besides, those varmints' ears are always open. they would hear a horse coming at a gallop across the plain half a mile away, aye, and more than that. directly the boy sees the horse is saddled he will run in and tell them, then they will take it in by the fire and look at it. when they see the mark i have made on it there will be a nice rumpus, you bet. they will know what it means just as if it wur all writ down for them." two hours passed, and then the sound of an approaching horse was heard. "well, steve, what news?" "the horse has gone on straight for the village--the one we thought--and all the other tracks go in that direction. there ain't no chance of taking them by surprise now." "what do you think they will do, steve?" "they will just watch all night, that is sartin, and in the morning two or three will be sent out to scout. there ain't many trees about here, and they will reckon that they can see us as soon as we see them; and those they send out are safe to be on the best horses they have got. in course we could lie down there by the gap and shoot them when they come up; but i don't see as that would do us any good. when they didn't get back it would only put the others more on their guard than ever. if we don't shoot them they will find our tracks here, and take back news how many we are. i tell you, lads, look at it as i will, i don't see no way out of it; and what makes it wuss is, when they take back news that the scouts they left here have both been shot, it will go mighty hard with the captives in the village. i can't see no way out of the kink anyhow. i am ready to give my life cheerful for rosie, but i ain't going to ask you to give your lives when i don't see as there is any chance of getting her. do you see any way out of the job, broncho?" "i don't, steve. as you say, there was about forty or fifty of these varmint in the expedition, and we may reckon there will be as many more able to draw a trigger in the village. that makes eighty. four to one is pretty long odds. if they was out in the plain we might be a match for them, but to attack an injun camp that's waiting and ready ain't the same thing as fighting in the plains. half of us would go down before we got in, and there would not be no more chance of the rest of us getting the captives away than there would if they was in the moon. if it hadn't been for this affair of the hoss we might have carried out your plans, and you might have made your way into the village; and there wur just the chance that yer might have got them out and brought them along to some likely place where we was handy; but there ain't no need to talk about that now. they will be guarded that strict that a bird couldn't get to them with a message. that ain't to be thought of. can any of you boys think of anything?" no one spoke. then hugh said: "i am only a young hand yet, and i don't know that my ideas are worth anything, but i will tell you what they are, and then you can improve upon them perhaps. it seems to me that, in the first place, we ought to leave say four men at the gap. if four indian scouts come out they ought to shoot or rope three of them, and let the fourth escape. if there were only two of them i would let one get away." "what should they do that for, hugh?" broncho harry asked in surprise. "i will tell you directly, broncho. all the rest of us except the four who are left on watch should start at once and make a big circuit, and come round to the other side of the village, and stop a mile or so away in hiding; at any rate, as near as we can get. why i propose letting one go is this. suppose three or four scouts go out and none return, the indians will be sure that they have fallen in a trap somewhere. they won't know how strong we are, or whether we think of making an attack on their village, and they will stop there expecting us for days perhaps, and then send out scouts again. now, if one gets back with the news that they saw no signs of us until they got close to the gap, and then three or four shots were fired and his comrades were killed, but he got off without being pursued, it seems to me that they would naturally imagine that there was only a small party at the gap--perhaps three or four men from the village they attacked, who had come out to revenge themselves--and would send out a strong party of their braves at once to attack them. of course the four men left at the gap would, directly they had done their work, and the indian was out of sight, mount their horses and make the same circuit as we had done, and join us as quickly as they could. we should be keeping watch, and after seeing the war party ride off we could dash straight down into the village. half, and perhaps more than half, of their fighting men will have gone, and the others, making sure that we were still at the gap, and that there was no fear of attack, will be careless, and we should be pretty well into the village before a shot was fired." "shake, young fellow!" steve rutherford said, holding out his hand to hugh. "that air a judgematical plan, and if it don't succeed it ought ter." there was a general chorus of assent. "it beats me altogether," steve went on, "how yer should have hit on a plan like that when i, who have been fighting injuns off and on for the last twenty years, couldn't see my way no more than if i had been a mole. you may be young on the plains, lightning, fur so i have heard them call yer, but yer couldn't have reasoned it out better if yer had been at it fifty years. i tell you, young fellow, if i get my rosie back agin it will be thanks to you, and if the time comes as yer want a man to stand by yer to the death yer can count steve rutherford in." "and jim gattling," the young settler said. "rosie and me wur going to get hitched next month, and it don't need no talk to tell yer what i feels about it." "which of us shall stay, and which of us shall go?" broncho harry said. "you are the only man as knows the country, steve; so you must go sartin. long tom and me will stay here if you like. you can give me the general direction of the village, and i expect i can make shift to come round and join you. besides, there will be your trail to follow. i don't reckon they will send out those scouts till daylight. anyhow, we won't start before that, and we are safe to be able to follow your trail then. who will stop with us? will you stay, hugh?" "no!" hugh said decidedly; "i will go with steve. i am not a very sure shot with the rifle." "you can shoot straight enough," broncho harry said. "well, perhaps it isn't that, harry; but so far i have had no indian fighting, and though i am quite ready to go in and do my share in a fight, i tell you fairly that i couldn't shoot men down, however hostile, in cold blood." "all right, hugh. you sha'n't stay with us. when you know the injuns as well as we do, and know that mercy ain't a thing as ever enters their minds, and that they murders women and children in cold blood, and that if they do take a prisoner it is just to torture him until he dies, you won't feel that way." "i will stay with you, broncho," jim gattling said. "i have just seen my house burnt and the best part of my stock carried away, and a dozen or more of my friends killed or scalped, and you bet i would kill a red-skin at sight just as i would put my heel on a rattlesnake." another of the party also volunteered to stay at the gap. no further words were necessary. the party mounted. "that is where the village lies, broncho; just about under that star. it is about fifteen mile, as i told you, on a straight line. we shall keep over there to the right, and in a couple of miles we shall get to where the ground falls, and will travel along there. you can't be wrong if you keep down on the slope. there air no chance then of your being seen. i don't know just where we shall turn off. there are several dips run down from above, and we shall follow one of them up when i reckon we have got a mile or two beyond the village. so keep a sharp look-out for our trail there. you needn't bother much about it before, because you can't miss the way; but look sharp at the turnings. i would drop something to show you where we turn off, but if any injun happened to come along he would be safe to notice it. when you guess you have ridden far enough keep a sharp look-out for the place when we turn off, and then follow the trail careful. it is rolling ground, that side of the village, and i reckon we kin get within half a mile of it. there ain't much fear of their wandering about, and any scouts they have out won't be on that side. so long!" steve rutherford led the way. "there ain't no need to hurry," he said. "we have got plenty of time, and i reckon that when we get a bit further we will dismount and lead the horses. they have had pretty hard work coming up the hills, and i tell you they are likely to want all their speed to-morrow, and some of them will have to carry double if we can't manage to get hold of a few of the injun ponies." accordingly, after riding for half an hour, the party dismounted, and led their horses for a long distance. this was a novel exercise to the cow-boys, for it is rare for one of them to walk a hundred yards. a horse stands ever ready at hand, and if it be only to go down to the stream hard by to fetch a bucket of water the cow-boy will always throw his leg over his horse. but all felt the justice of steve's remarks. they knew that they had at least a hundred-mile ride before they could hope to meet friends, and that the pursuit would be hot. it was therefore of vital importance that the horses should start as fresh as possible. after three hours' walking they mounted again, and continued their way until steve rutherford said that he thought they had gone far enough now. the moon had risen at two o'clock, and its light had enabled them to travel fast since they had remounted. turning up a hollow they followed it for about two miles, and then found they were entering a hilly and rugged country. "here we are," steve said. "the village lies at the foot of these rocks. i don't know how far along it may be, but i am right sure that we have got beyond it. now, boys, you can sleep till daylight. i will keep watch, and see that none of the horses stray." in a very few minutes all was quiet in the little valley, save for the sound of the horses cropping the short grass. at the first gleam of daylight rutherford stirred up one of the sleepers. "i am going to scout," he said. "when the others wake tell them to be sure not to stir out of this dip, and to mind that the horses don't show on the sky-line. the injuns will be keeping their eyes open this morning, and if they caught sight of one of them critters it would just spoil the hull plan." rutherford was gone two hours. long before his return all the men were up and about. bill royce had gone a little farther up the valley, which narrowed to a ravine, and, climbing the rocks cautiously, had taken a survey of the country. "no signs of the village," he said when he returned, "and no signs of injuns as far as i can see. so i think, if we go up to the head of this gulch, it'll be safe to make a fire and cook the rest of our meat. there ain't more than enough for one more feed. after that i reckon we shall have to take to horse-flesh. now, half of us will go up and cook, and the other half keep watch here. we may have steve coming back with twenty red-skins on his track." just as they had fried their meat steve returned. "we are about three miles from the village," he said, "but keeping along at the foot of the hills we can get to within half a mile of it safe. beyond that it is a chance. what are you doing?" "cooking." "well, one must eat, but the sooner we get on the better. we want to watch how things go." as soon as the meal was finished the party mounted, and, keeping close to the foot of the hill, rode on till steve said, "we cannot go beyond that next bluff; so turn up this gulch. i looked in, and there is good feed for the horses there. you had better look round when you get in to see as there ain't no bar or nothing to scare the horses, and two of yer had best stay on guard here at the mouth. ef one of them critters wur to get loose and to scoot out below there our lives wouldn't be worth a red cent. now, stumpy, you and owen and me will go up over there. from among them bushes just at the foot of the rock we can see the camp, and we will take it by turns to keep watch. if you others will take my advice you will all get as much sleep as you can till we come for you, but mind, keep two on guard here." "can i come with you, steve?" hugh asked. "i don't feel like sleep at all." "you can take my place, lightning," royce said. "i ain't in no hurry to look at the injuns. i expect i shall see plenty of them afore we have done." [illustration] [illustration] chapter xiii. rescued. steve rutherford, the settler owen, and hugh made their way along at the foot of the steep rocks, keeping among the fallen boulders, stopping at times, and making a close survey of the plains to be sure that no indians were in sight, before moving further. "that is the point," steve said presently; "from among those rocks we can get a view of the village. you must keep your head low, lightning, and not show it above the rocks. they will be keeping a sharp look-out, and like enough they would make out a lizard moving at this distance." when they reached the point they made their way with extreme care to the highest boulders, and then, lying down, looked through the interstices between them. hugh started as he did so, for although the indian village was nearly half a mile away, the mountain air was so clear that it did not seem a quarter of that distance. its position was well chosen; the hill rose almost perpendicularly behind it, defending it from an attack on that side, while in front and on both sides the ground sloped away and was clear of brushwood or inequalities that would afford shelter to assailants. trees stood in and around it, affording shade during the heat of the day. a number of horses were grazing close to the village, with half a dozen indian boys round them, in readiness to drive them in at the shortest notice. smoke was curling up from the top of the wigwams, and through the trees many figures of men and women could be seen moving about. "how long do you think it will be, steve, before their scouts get back again?" "another hour, i should guess; i expect they started at daybreak. anyhow, they had gone before i got here. i reckon they wouldn't travel fast going there; in the first place they would scout about and look for signs of an enemy, and in the second they wouldn't want to blow their horses, for they might have to ride for their lives any moment. i should give them four hours, a good two and a half to get there, and something over an hour for one of them to get back again. he may be here in half an hour, he may not be here for an hour; it will be somewhere between one and the other." twenty minutes passed, and then steve exclaimed, "here he comes!" the other two caught sight of the indian at the same moment, as first his head and shoulders, then the whole rider and horse, appeared on the crest of a rise some four miles away. he was as yet invisible from the village, but in a few minutes they could perceive a stir there, and three or four warriors ran out from the village, leaped on to their horses, and galloped out to meet the returning scout. they saw them join him, and, sweeping round without a check, accompany him, and in ten minutes they reached the village. a minute later a mournful wail sounded in the air. "they know it now," steve said; "they are just about beginning to feel as we do. it is all very well as long as they go out, and murder and burn, and come back with scalps, but they don't like it when the game is played on them." "when will they start out again, do you think, steve?" "not yet awhile, they are going to talk; indians never do anything without that. there, do you see, there ain't a man among the trees; there are some women and children, but nary a warrior. you may be sure that they are gathering for a great council; first of all the scout will tell his story, then the chiefs will talk. it will be another hour at least before there is a move made." "oh, i do hope our plan won't fail!" hugh said. "i don't think that there is much chance of it," owen put in. "they are bound to do something. their scout can only report that, so far as he saw, there was not more than four men, and as they did not chase him he expects they have no horses. they never can leave it like that. they are bound to go out and see about it, otherwise they know they couldn't go in twos or threes without the risk of being ambushed, just as the scouts were; besides, they lost the two men they left behind, and maybe one, maybe three, this morning, and they are bound to have vengeance. oh, they air safe to go!" an hour later a sudden succession of wild yells were heard. "thar's their war-cry," steve said; "the thing is settled, and they air going." a few minutes later the indian boys were seen driving the horses in towards the village, and then a number of warriors ran out. "there air a good lot of them," steve said, in a tone of satisfaction. "they was sure to go, the question wur how many of them. it will be a strong party anyhow." the indians were soon seen to be mounting. "now we can count them," steve said. "five-and-thirty." "i couldn't tell within four or five," hugh said; "they keep moving about so, but i should say that was about it." "yes, five-and-thirty," owen agreed. "you have the youngest legs, lightning, you scoot across as hard as you can run and tell them to get ready; steve and i will see them fairly off, and then we will come in. don't let them move out of the hollow till we join you; there ain't no special hurry, for we mustn't attack till the band have got four or five miles away. if they heard the guns they would be back agin like a torrent." hugh did as he was told. as he ran down over the crest into the dip he gave a shout of satisfaction at seeing broncho harry and the three men who had remained with him; they had arrived a few minutes before. "well, harry, we saw all had gone right, as only one of their scouts came back." "has it drawn them?" harry asked. "yes; a band of five-and-thirty started five minutes ago." "bully for us!" harry said. "then we have got them all right now. i expect there ain't above thirty fighting men left in the village, and, catching them as we shall, they won't have a show against us." "how did you get on, harry?" "it wur just as you reckoned, lad; three of 'em came out. they were very scarey about coming close; they yelled to their mates, and in course got no answer; then they galloped round, one at a time, getting nearer and nearer, but at last they concluded that the place was deserted, and rode up. we let them get so close that there wur no fear of our missing, and then we shot two of them; the other rode for it. we fired after him, but took good care not to hit him, and as soon as he had gone we ran to the wood where we had left our ponies, and came on here pretty slick. there wur no difficulty in following your trail; we reckoned that we should have to come pretty fast to be here in time, as it wur three or four miles further for us to go than the injun would have, and he wouldn't spare his horse-flesh. still we was sure it would be an hour at least before they was ready to start, more likely two. jim gattling wur flurried a bit; natural he wouldn't like not to be with the others when they went in to rescue rosie. so it seems we air just in time with nothing to spare. but here comes steve." by this time all had been got ready for a start. horses had been brought up, saddles looked to, girths tightened, and blankets strapped on. a hearty greeting was exchanged between steve and the party just arrived. "we will give them another ten minutes afore we start," steve said. "now, we had better settle, broncho, as to what we should each do when we get in, else there may be confusion, and they may tomahawk the prisoners before we find them." "yes, that is best," broncho agreed. "now, look here; our crowd will do the fighting, and you and your fellows jump off as soon as you get in, and search the wigwams. you will know just where to go; the prisoners are safe to be in a wigwam close by that of the principal chief; he will keep them close under his eye, you may bet your life. and mind, boys, let us have no shooting at squaws or kids. we have come out to rescue the women they have carried off, and to pay out the men for the work they did, but don't let us be as bad as they are." there was a general assent from the cow-boys, but two or three of the men who had come with them grumbled, "they have killed our wives and children, why shouldn't we pay them back in the same coin?" "because we are whites and not red-skins," broncho harry said. "look here, steve; we have come here to help you, and we are risking our lives pretty considerable in this business, but afore we ride into that village we are going to have your word that there ain't going to be a shot fired at squaw or child. those are our terms, and i don't think they are onreasonable." as a chorus of approval went up from the rest of the cow-boys, and as the others were well aware that what they said they meant, they unwillingly assented. "that is right and square," broncho harry said. "you have all given your promise, and if anyone breaks it, i begin shooting, that is all. now it's about time to be moving, steve." the men swung themselves up into their saddles. "now, boys, quietly until we get in sight of the village, and then as fast as we can go." but all were eager for the fight, and the pace gradually quickened till they came within sight of the village. then they charged down upon it at full gallop. they had gone but a short distance when they heard the cry of alarm, the yells of the indians, shouts and orders, screams of women and children, and the barking of the village dogs. shots were fired, but to hugh's surprise these ceased before the cow-boys reached the village. "the skunks are bolting," broncho harry exclaimed. "keep round the trees, no. 2 outfit, and straight across the plain after them. they may have got some of the girls." it was, however, less than two minutes from the moment the assailants had been seen to that when they burst into the village. the indians, taken altogether by surprise at the appearance of a foe from a quarter from which no danger had been apprehended, and seeing a band of the dreaded cow-boys dashing down at a gallop, caught up their arms, and then, in obedience to the orders of the chief left behind in charge of the village, dashed out to their horses, mounted, and rode off. their leader had seen at once that there was no hope of resistance. the assailants were nearly equal in number to the fighting men left in the village, they would be armed with those terrible pistols that were the dread of the indians, and they had all the advantage of a surprise. there was nothing to do but to ride off to the main body. for a moment the thought of killing the prisoners before starting had crossed his mind, but there was no time to run to the wigwam in which they had been placed, and he saw too that their death would entail that of the indian women and children. these had been no less speedy in their movements than the men, and at the first cry of danger the women had seized their infants and, followed by the boys and girls of the village, had fled along the foot of the cliff till they reached a spot where, although steep, it was accessible. here a path, winding among boulders and hidden by bushes, led up to the top of the cliff. this had been constructed by the boys of the village at the time the indians first established themselves there, for the purpose of enabling its occupants to make their escape in case of a sudden attack by superior forces. steve and his party were astonished when, as they dashed into the village, they found the place almost deserted. a few old men stood at the entrances of their wigwams, and four or five aged women were assembled in front of one standing near the centre of the place; and as the cow-boys and settlers galloped up, five white women ran out from the wigwam to meet them, with cries of joy. "all safe, rosie?" steve rutherford shouted as he rode up. "all safe, father;" and a cheer burst from the rescuers as they leapt from their horses and crowded round the girls. these had all friends or relations among the party. "three of you let off your rifles one after the other," steve said, the instant he had embraced his daughter. "i told broncho as he rode off that should be the signal that we had got them all. then some of you had better ride as hard as you can after them. you may be wanted, though i don't expect the indians will stop. tell broncho he had best come back again, there ain't no time to lose. the rest of you scatter and put a light to these wigwams. there is all the things they stole from us scattered among them, and all their skins and things, not worth much, perhaps, but a lot to them. look into the huts and see there ain't no babies left in them. where are all the women and children, rosie?" but rosie was at that moment much too occupied with jim gattling to hear him. "never mind that now, gal," steve said, striding up to them; "there will be time enough for fooling when we get out of this. whar are the women and children?" "i don't know, father. we know nothing about it. we were in the wigwam and suddenly heard shouts and screams, and then almost directly everything became quiet, and then these old women opened the door and made signs to us to come out, and as we did we saw you charging in among the trees." [illustration: "all safe, father," cried rosie.] "where are the squaws and children?" steve asked one of the old women in her own language. she looked vacantly at him as if she did not understand. "bah! that's no use," he said; "i might have known that. scatter about, boys; see if you can't find some of them. they can't have gone out on to the plain, that is sartin. they can't have got up this cliff--not here. perhaps thar's a cave somewhere. scatter along and sarch. go right along some distance each way, thar may be some path up somewhere." "what does it matter about them, steve?" one of the settlers asked. "we agreed there wurn't to be no killing of squaws or kids." "i don't want to kill them," steve said. "i am just so pleased at getting my girl and the others back that i don't feel like hurting anything; what broncho and me reckoned on was to take some of the chiefs' wives and children along with us as hostages. if we had them with us we reckoned they would not attack us on our way back. i tell you, boys, it may just make the difference of our scalps to us." not another word was needed, and all, with the exception of a few of the friends of the rescued women, scattered on the search. it was ten minutes before they found the concealed path. the man who discovered it ran back to rutherford. "i have found the place, steve; it is away three or four hundred yards to the left there. just at the end of the clump of trees there are some bushes against the face of the hill. it didn't look as if there could be any way up, but i pushed through them, and, sure enough, there was some steps cut in the rock. i went up them, and round a sharp angle there was a sort of gap in the cliff. you couldn't see it from the plain, and a path went straight up there." "that air bad news, owen. they have got a quarter of an hour's start, and it ain't no sort of use our going after them. waal, there is nothing to do but to ride for it. i wish broncho's party was back." "they air just coming back," a man said. "i have been to the edge of the wood to look after them. they are galloping back, and will be here in a few minutes." by the time broncho harry and his party rode into the village the wigwams were all in flames. the men who had set fire to them had brought out the meat they had found inside. there were several quarters of deer, and a quantity of beef, doubtless the produce of animals belonging to the herd they had driven off. they were satisfied that the burning of the wigwams would be a heavy loss to the indians, for they had found many piles of skins and robes stored up to be used in barter for guns and horses. indeed, the whole belongings of the tribe, except their cattle, were destroyed, together with, what perhaps would be even more severely felt, the scalps taken from their enemies in many a fight and massacre. a few words acquainted the new-comers with what had taken place, and they were delighted to find that they had arrived in time to save the women from the fate that awaited them. "did you hear the rifle-shots, broncho?" "nary one. we was having a skirmish with the red-skins. they showed fight at first till they saw the rest of the boys coming out. we chased them two miles, and killed six of them. then we thought it best to come back, for we could see that a couple of the best mounted had been sent straight off as hard as they could go after the first lot. we should not have chased them as far as we did, but we wanted to rope five of their horses for the women. as soon as we had done that we took the back track. have you caught some of the squaws, steve?" "no, worse luck, they had all cleared out afore we got here. there was nary a soul in the village except these old men and women." "but where on earth did they get to?" "it took us a quarter of an hour to find out, and then one of the men lit on it pretty nigh by accident. right along the cliff thar is some steps cut in the rock. they are hidden by bushes, and up above them is a sort of gap in the rock with a path up it. you can't see it from the plain at all. no doubt that is the principal reason why they fixed their village here. it gave them a means of escape if they were attacked." "waal, if you haven't got no hostages, steve, there ain't another minute to waste here. you see we had figured on them hostages. i see you have got some meat; that is good. waal, are you all ready? because if so, let's git." three minutes later the party rode away from the burning village, the women mounted on the indian horses. "thar's our cattle," steve said, pointing to a herd out on the plain, "but it ain't any use thinking of them now." "you bet," broncho harry replied. "there ain't no thinking about horns or hides at present. it is our own har we have got to think of." "you think they will catch us up, broncho?" said steve. "i don't think nothing at all about it. they are just as sure to catch us up as the sun is to rise. we have got every foot of a hundred miles to go, and the horses have been travelling hard for the last three days. by this time those fellows as have galloped on ahead are pretty nigh their main party, if they haven't overtook them before this. they had no call for speed, and would be taking it easy. you can't reckon much more than ten miles start. still, when they catch us they won't be more than three to one. "there was thirty-five went out, you said, steve, and another twenty-five in the second lot. that brings them up to sixty, which is pretty nigh three to one. "well, three to one ain't such great odds even if they wur to come down and fight us in a body; but i reckon they would not do that. they are more likely to make a surround of it. they would know that we should have to leave pretty near half our number to guard the women, and the rest wouldn't be strong enough to charge them. besides, it ain't only sixty we have got to reckon with. like enough half a dozen of them started, as soon as we turned back, to the other villages of the tribe. you may reckon we shall have two or three hundred of them coming along in our track in an hour or two. don't you make any mistake about it, steve; we sha'n't get away, and we have got to fight. now, you know the country, and what you have got to reckon up is, where shall we fight? you can't calkilate on above fifty miles, and if you say forty it will be safer. a few of the horses might get a bit further than that, but taking them all round, and reckoning they have been going hard for the last few days, forty is the longest we can calkilate on afore we hear the red-skin yells behind us." "the two brothers are about forty miles from here," steve rutherford said. "ah! i have heard of them. they are two buttes close together, ain't they?" "yes. we should be safe enough there if all the red-skins in creation was attacking us. they might starve us out, but they could never climb up. one of the brothers there ain't no climbing up at all. it stands straight up all round, but the other has got a track up. i have seen cattle on the top." "do you know the way up, steve?" "yes. i was with a party that came out from the canadian looking up cattle that had strayed. we didn't find many of the cattle. the injuns had got them, you may be sure; but we stopped at the foot of the buttes, and did some hunting for a day or two. three or four of us climbed up. it ain't a road you would choose to drive a team down, and i should not have thought that cattle would have climbed it if i hadn't been told they did so. still it is good enough for us." there was no attempt to gallop at full speed, the horses being kept at a canter, the pace to which they are most accustomed. "there," steve said, pointing to the lower country ahead of them, for they had since starting been gradually descending, "there are the brothers." "they don't look far away," hugh, who was riding beside him, remarked. "i guess they are near fifteen miles, lightning." "i should have said five if i had been asked," hugh said. "i wish they was only five. i expect before we get half way to them we shall hear the injuns behind us." "yes, broncho has been telling me what you think of it. well, there is one thing, if we get to those buttes first we can keep the whole tribe at bay." "yes, lad, as far as fighting goes; but there is one thing agin us." "water?" hugh asked. "you have hit it. i don't say as there mayn't be some water up there. i reckon there is, for they told me the cattle would stay up there for some time without coming down. there weren't no cattle when i was there, and i didn't see no water, but it may be at times there is some. the top of the place seemed to me lowest in the centre--not a great deal, perhaps maybe not more than three or four feet--and if there is any hole in the middle there may be water there. i wurn't thinking of it at the time, and didn't look for it. maybe in the rains it gets filled up, and there is enough to last the cattle some time. everything depends on that." "i have been thinking," hugh said, "that if i were to ride straight on i might get through to the next ranche. my horse is a first-rate one, and i am sure he could do the distance." "if he had started after a couple of days' rest he could carry you a hundred miles, i don't doubt. there ain't nothing out of the way in that. i have ridden as much a score of times; but you see, lad, he has not had much rest and not much time to eat since we started. you rode him out from your camp and then on to the first halting place; that made eighty or ninety mile. next day we made sixty, i reckon. then he was going all yesterday till we halted before we went up through the pass, and he kept on going till a good bit past midnight. we may not have done more than fifty or sixty mile, but he got no feeding till we got into that dip about two o'clock this morning. "if you only had the horses after you that the indians rode down to gainsford i should say your horse would carry you as well as theirs would; but it won't be so. you bet your life, that mob we saw outside the village was a fresh one. the fust thing they would do when they got to camp in the afternoon would be to send some of the lads off to the grazing grounds with the horses they had ridden, and to fetch in a fresh lot. besides that, as i told you, there will be others of the tribe coming up and jining in the chase. scores of them. they will all be on fresh mounts, and they will be just on the best ponies they have got, for they will guess that we are heading for the canadian. no, no, lad; it'll never do. they would ride you down sartin. "another thing is, whoever goes has got to know every foot of the country, to travel at night, and to be able to find his way to the nearest ranche. that job will be mine, i reckon. i know more of the injun ways than anyone here, and if anyone can do the job i can. besides, it is my place. you have all gone into this affair to get my rosie out of the hands of the red-skins, and it is my duty to get you out of the scrape. listen!" the whole party checked their horses simultaneously as the air brought to their ears a long, quavering yell, and looking back they saw against the distant sky-line a confused body of horsemen. "two miles good, ain't it, broncho?" "about that, i should say, steve; and we have got twelve to ride. now, then, let the ponies know they have got to do some work." the shouts of the riders, the tightening of the reins, and a touch of the spur told the horses what was required of them, and they sped along at a very different pace to that at which they had hitherto travelled. "we are all right, i think," long tom said to hugh. "they have been riding a good deal faster than we have, and i don't think they will gain on us now--not anything to speak of. we shall be at the buttes long before they catch us, though you see when one party is chasing another they have got a great advantage." "how do you mean, tom? i don't see what advantage they have." "they have this advantage, lightning. all horses ain't the same. some can go a lot faster than others. some can keep on ever so much longer than others. there are some good and some bad." "of course there are, tom, but that is the same with both parties." "sartin it is, lad, but you see the party that is chasing go at the speed of their fastest horses; waal, not of their fastest, but the speed that the most of them can keep up. those who are badly mounted drop in the rear and are left behind; the others don't consarn themselves about them. now, it is just the contrairy with the party that is chased. they have got to go at the pace of the slowest horse among them. they can't leave one or two of their mates to the marcy of the red-skins: they have got to keep together and to fight together, and, if must be, to die together. there is a lot of difference among the horses in this crowd. we just took what we could git when we started; thar wurn't no picking and choosing. thar wur one apiece for us good or bad. the pace we are going ain't nothing to that horse of yours, but you'll soon see that some of the others can't keep it up, and then we shall have to slow down to their pace." "i didn't think of that, tom. yes, i see, a party that pursues has an immense advantage over one that flies, providing, of course, they are greatly superior in numbers. if not, there will be a time when the best mounted men could no longer ride at full speed, because if they did they would be inferior in numbers to those they chased when they came up to them." "that is reasonable, lad, and if those red-skins behind us are only the lot from the village, that will bring them up a bit. they know well enough they can't lick us, if they ain't pretty nigh three to one, and so they will want their whole crowd up, and they won't be able to travel at the speed of their best horses. that is why i said that we shall beat them easy. it ain't really them, it is the bands from the other villages that we have got to fear. i don't know this kintry, and i don't know where the other villages are; but i shouldn't be surprised any moment to see bands cutting in from the right or left. some of the injuns would ride straight off there, and they will have heard the news as soon or sooner than the band that went after us to the rocks. they will guess the line we should take, and will all be on fresh horses. that is what i am thinking of all the time." "i suppose steve knows?" hugh said. "he knows. he ain't said much, but he dropt behind an hour ago, and said to me, 'keep a sharp look-out on both sides, tom; that is where the danger comes in.'" for the next five miles the pursuers did not appear to gain. "can't we take it easy, steve?" jim gattling asked. "some of the horses are beginning to blow a bit. there ain't more than seven miles now between us and the buttes. we might let them walk for five minutes now to get their wind again." steve turned in his saddle and looked round at the horses. wiry little animals as they were, many of them were showing signs of distress. "we will go a little bit easier," he said, "just a little. when we get to that brow a mile ahead we shall get a better view. then we will see about it." the horses were pulled in a little, but still kept at a gallop until they got to the top of the ascent. from this point there was a smooth and regular fall right down to the valley from which rose the buttes six miles away. "now you have got to ride for it, and no mistake," steve said sharply. "there they come both ways. that is just what i was afeard of." an exclamation of something like dismay broke from many of the men, for two bands of indians were seen, one on each hand, riding, like themselves, for the buttes. the one to the left was perhaps a mile away, but considerably in advance of them. that on the right was perhaps twice as far, and was, like themselves, just beginning to descend the long incline. "we shall pass the crowd to the right," broncho harry said, "but the others will cut us off, sure." "that is so, harry," steve said quietly. "but there is one thing, there ain't above forty or fifty of them, while that crowd to the right are twice as strong. if they had been first, it would have been all over with us. well, don't travel too fast, lads. we can't pass ahead of that lot to the left, but there is no fear of the crowd to the right. just go at the pace we are going now. look here, what has got to be done is this: we have got to keep together with the women in the middle of us. we have got to go right through them. now nine of you have got rifles, you keep next to the gals. the moment we have got through the injuns, you ride with them straight on to the foot of the butte. i must go with you, because i know just where the path starts, and no one else does. the moment you get there you jump off the ponies, take post among the rocks, and open fire on the injuns. you, broncho, with the rest of them, directly we are through, you turn again and charge them. just check them for about a minute, that will be enough; then you ride in and we will cover you with our rifles." "that is about it," harry replied. "now, boys, you all hear. you with the rifles go straight on. and look here, empty your six-shooters into them as you charge--the more you wipe out the better. then the rest of you with me just give a yell to scare them, and then close with them again. don't you empty your six-shooters at first, but keep your fire till we are through them; it is mighty hard if the others, with six shots apiece, don't clear the way for us. you must bear in mind that you will want every shot after we are through, so don't throw away one. don't you bother about the advance crowd with the women. i will keep my eye on them, and when i see they are ready i will give a yell, and then we will ride for it together." the indians saw that they had it in their power to cut off the whites from the buttes, and they no longer rode at the headlong speed at which they were going when first perceived, but slackened down their pace. they could, if they had chosen, have brought on the fight at some distance from the buttes, but they had no motive for doing so. they saw the large party coming from the other side, and preferred to delay the contest till the last moment in order that their friends should be near at hand. steve remarked with satisfaction that they did not attempt to outride his party. "the fools," he said to broncho harry, "they won't be there above a hundred yards before us, and won't get above one shot each before we are on them. if they had known their business they would have ridden fit to kill their horses till they got there, and then jumped off and run up that path and held it. we should have lost half our number at least fighting our way up. in fact, with the women with us, we couldn't have done it." scarce another word was spoken as the party galloped on. mile after mile had been passed, and the buttes were now towering up in front of them. when within half a mile of the foot the riders gradually fell in to the places assigned to them. those with rifles went in front, then the women, then the men with revolvers only. the small party of indians kept on until within a hundred and fifty yards of the foot of the buttes, then they halted and turned. the whites were at the moment some two hundred yards behind them. the great party of indians on the right were about half a mile away. the indians in front did not await the shock of the whites, knowing that the impetus of the latter would give them an advantage, but raising their war-cry dashed forward to meet them, discharging their rifles as they came. not a shot was fired by the whites until the two lines were within twenty paces of each other, then the revolvers of the ten men in front cracked out sharply. several of the indians fell. then there was a crash as the lines met, and then for a moment a confused medley--the indians fighting with tomahawk and spear, the whites with their deadly revolvers. the conditions were too unequal. there was not one among the band of whites who could not rely with certainty upon his aim, and as in a close line, boot touching boot, they pressed on, the indians melted like snow before them. it seemed to hugh but a moment from the time the fight began till the path before them to the buttes was open. "forward!" shouted steve. "we are through them, boys." as hugh dashed on he heard broncho harry's shout, the cracking of the revolvers, and the yell of the indians. the women were riding abreast with them now. "never mind the gals," steve shouted. "all tumble off together." it was but a few seconds before the first band threw themselves from their horses and took up their post behind boulders and bushes. as they dismounted steve gave a loud shout, and almost at the same moment the party that had fought under the leadership of broncho harry wheeled round and rode towards them. had there been only the indians that had tried to bar their way to reckon with, there would have been no need for them to seek refuge at the buttes. half their number had fallen under the bullets of the front line of the whites as they fell upon them. the charge of broncho harry's detachment had completed the effect of the blow. the whole conflict had only lasted half a minute, but in that time the deadly six-shooters had wrought terrible havoc with the band of indians. less than half of them went galloping back to meet their advancing friends, and several of these were leaning over their saddles evidently badly wounded. over twenty lay together at the spot where the two parties had met. a few of the horses stood quietly beside their dead owners, the rest were careering wildly over the plain. a loud cheer broke from both parties of the whites as broncho harry's band rode in and dismounted. "that has been a pretty tight race," long tom said, "but we beat them handsome." "tom, do you all stow away your horses and ours as snug as you can among the rocks and trees, then take your places down here. we will get a bit higher up so as to get a wider range for our rifles, but we haven't time for that now, we must just give this other crowd a hint that we have got rifles and can use them. now, boys, take steady aim at that clump of red-skins. don't throw away a shot. there is nothing like straight shooting for skeering a red. here goes;" and steve, taking a steady aim, fired, while his companions followed his example. [illustration] chapter xiv. surrounded by red-skins. the large band of indians had checked their horses some five hundred yards from the foot of the buttes as they saw the survivors of the party in front galloping back to them, and realized that the whites had gained shelter. some of the more impetuous spirits had, however, ridden on, and were some distance in advance when the rifles of the defenders cracked out. four of the indians fell from their horses, three others were wounded, and these, with their companions, wheeled round and rejoined the main body, who now, at the order of their chief, fell back, and were, a few minutes later, reinforced by the band that had followed on the footsteps of the fugitives. "now, boys, we can go up to the top, but first let us see how we stand. has any gone down?" "yes, there are two missing," long tom said. "i saw two of the first line go down as we charged them." "john spencer wur killed," jim gattling said. "he wur riding next to me." "boston wur the other," broncho harry said. "i wur riding in a line with him behind, and saw him go back ker-plumb. i knew he wur hit through the head by the way he fell." four other men were, it was now found, wounded, and one of the women had been hit in the shoulder with a rifle ball. "the red-skins ain't no account with their rifles on horseback," long tom said. "let them lie down and get their piece on a log and they can shoot pretty straight, but it's just throwing away lead to try to shoot with a rifle from a horse. i never knew more than two or three whites who was anyway sartin with their pieces when their horses was on the move. a six-shooter's worth ten rifles on horseback. a fellow kin gallop and keep his arm straight, but when it comes to holding out a long tube with both arms, and your pony going on the jump, it stands to reason there ain't no keeping the thing straight. if those red-skins had hurried up and dismounted, and steadied their rifles on their saddles, i reckon they might have wiped out half of us before we reached them. waal, steve, you and the women, and best part of the others, may as well get up to the top; but broncho and me, and two or three of the boys, will stop down here and look after the horses. lightning, you may as well stop down here with a kipple of other fellows with rifles, so as just to give them a hint to keep at a distance, otherwise they will be sending their lead up while the others are getting to the top." but the indians showed no signs of any intention of harassing them for the present. they knew that the rifles in the hands of the defenders carried farther and straighter than their own. they had suffered heavy losses already, and were in no way disposed to do anything rash. they knew that there was no occasion for haste, and no fear of the fugitives attempting to make their escape. after some consultation they drew further off into the plain, and in a short time smoke could be seen ascending at several points. "there ain't no occasion to wait down here no longer," long tom said. "the injuns know well enough that they can't take this place, not at least without losing a hundred men; and it ain't red-skin fashion to throw away lives, special when they know they have only got to wait to do the job without any fighting at all. so let us go up." the path was comparatively easy for three-quarters of the way to the summit of the buttes. it seemed that on this side either the rock had crumbled away in past ages so as to make a gradual slope, or else water or wind had thrown up a bank against it. the height of the butte above the broad valley would be about three hundred feet, and the slope was covered with trees and undergrowth, until it terminated abruptly at the face of a wall of rock fifty feet from the summit. at one point only this wall was broken by a sort of gap or cleft some three feet wide at the bottom, and slanting as steeply as the roof of a house. the bottom was worn almost smooth by the rains of centuries and by the feet of cattle, and hugh had to sling his gun behind him and use both hands to grasp the irregularities of the rock on either side to get up. on reaching the top he found that the summit was almost flat, a couple of hundred yards in length, and as many feet in width. it was covered with grass, and several trees, some of considerable size, were scattered about over the surface. "well, bill," he said as royce came up to him, "have you found any water?" "yes, there is a rock pool in the centre there by that big tree. there is water enough for us and the horses for maybe a week. enough for us without the horses for a month or more." "what are you going to do? bring the horses up here?" "we haven't settled that yet. i reckon we shall bring the best of them up anyhow." "i suppose there is no possible place the indians can get up except by that gap?" "nary one, everywhere else the rock goes straight down to the plain. there ain't no way, except by flying, to get up here if you don't come by this gap. anyhow we shall bring the horses a good long way up the slope; it is a long line along the bottom there, and the red-skins might crawl up in the night, and we should pretty nigh all have to keep guard. steve says that though where we came up the ground wur smooth enough, it ain't so over the rest of the slope, but that, what with the boulders and the undergrowth and thorns, it is pretty nigh impossible to get up through the trees anywhere else. he expects that it's been water washing down the earth and sand through that gap that has filled up between the boulders, and made it smooth going where we came up. so we will bring up the horses, and get the best of them up here, and tie the others just below the gap. we can take them down water in our hats if we decide to keep them, or get them up to-morrow if we like. anyhow all we shall want will be to keep four men at watch down below them." "i should have thought it best to bring them all up at once, bill; what is the use of leaving them below?" "waal, hugh, there ain't grass enough to bring them all up here, and every morning we can take them down and let them graze below. there air no fear of the injuns coming close to drive them off, and if they tried it, the critturs would come up the path again of their own accord, except those we took from the indians. they can get a good lot of sweet grass under the trees down thar, and as long as they get that they can do pretty well without water. thar, do you see thar are two or three more lots of indians coming down to join the others. they'll have three hundred of them down thar before long." "it don't make much difference how many of them there are, if they dare not attack us," hugh said. "that's where you are wrong, hugh," broncho harry, who had now joined them, said. "the more thar are of them the closer watch they can keep to see that none of us gets away, and the more thar are of them the bigger the party must be that comes to rescue us. you may be sure that they have scouts for miles and miles off, and if they get news that there is a party coming up, they will just leave a guard to keep us here, and go down and fall on them." "i didn't think of that, harry. yes, it will need a very strong party to bring us off. but perhaps they will get tired and go." "don't you bet on that, hugh. ef thar air one thing an injun never gets tired of, it's waiting. time ain't nothing to them. them chaps can send out parties to hunt just as if they wur in their own villages. the boys will bring them down corn, and gather their firewood for them, and as long as we are up here, they will stop down thar, if it was six months. they know how many of us thar are here. lots of them must have been up here at one time or another, and knowing the time of year, and how much rain has fallen lately, there ain't no doubt they can calkilate pretty well how much water there is in this pool. they will know that we shall keep our horses as long as we can, and they will reckon that three weeks at the outside will see the end of the water. as for food, of course, we are all right. we have got the horses to eat, and horse is pretty nigh as good as cow-beef. i would just as soon have one as the other. a young broncho's a sight tenderer than an old cow any day." hugh now took a turn round the edge of the butte. it was, as royce had said, a mass of rock rising perpendicularly from the plain. it was separated from the other butte by a gap a hundred and fifty feet wide. it was clear that they had once formed one mass, for between them was a rocky shoulder connecting them. this was very steep on both sides, narrowing almost to a razor edge at the top, where it joined the butte on which they were standing. this edge was fifty feet below the top, but it rose as it retreated from it, and on the opposite side reached up to a level with the plateau. a fire had already been lighted on the top of the butte, and over this the women were cooking some of the meat they had brought from the indian village, and in a short time the whole party except two, who were placed on sentry to watch the movements of the indians, gathered round it. "waal, boys," steve said when the meal was finished, "i reckon that thar ain't no time to lose, and that i had best start to-night. there ain't no denying that we air in a pretty tight fix here, and it won't be easy to get a force as can fight their way through that crowd. i reckon i shall not be able to gather over fifty cow-boys on the canadian, and so i'll have to ride to the nearest fort and get the troops to help. that air about two hundred miles from the canadian. it ull take me three days to get there after i leave the ranches. it ull take four at the very least before the troops will get down there. you can't reckon less than a week. i shall be two days getting down to the ranches, as there won't be any travelling by day. so you see if i start to-night, you can't reckon on seeing us back afore ten days at the earliest." "that will be about it, steve. i don't see as you can do without the troops noway. waal, we can hold out a fortnight easy. we must put the horses on mighty short allowance of water, so as to make it last a fortnight. if we find it running out quicker'n we expect, we must kill off half the animals. it don't matter about them a bit, ef you come up strong enough to thrash the red-skins without our help. yes, i think you had better go to-night. you are as likely to get out to-night as any night, but you'll have to look mighty sharp, steve, for you may bet your life them injuns will be as thick as bees round the butte." "how do you mean to go, steve?" hugh asked. "tie the ropes together, lightning, and get lowered down over the edge." "i have been looking at the ridge that runs from this butte to the other," hugh said, "and it struck me that if you were lowered down on to it you might get along on to the other butte. of course two others would be lowered with you, and then you could be let down from the farthest side of the other butte. you said nobody had ever been on it, and anyhow the indians are not likely to be as thick over there as they would be round this one." "thunder! you are right again, lightning. i will go and have a look at it at once. it will soon be getting dark; broncho, do you and long tom go along with me. we will lie down afore we get to the edge. you may be sure that there are plenty of sharp eyes watching all round, and if they was to see us standing there, and looking at that ledge of rock, they might guess what we had in our minds. while we are away, the rest of you might go down and get up the ponies." it took some time to lead all the horses up the slope. prince and four others were brought up to the plateau, but it was necessary to tie strips of blanket under their feet to enable them to get sufficient footing to climb up through the gap. "i shouldn't have thought that cattle could have come where horses can't," hugh said. "cattle can climb pretty nigh anywhere," the cow-boy he addressed replied. "i have seen cattle climb places where you would have thought that nothing but a goat could get to. you see their hoofs are softer than horses, and get a better hold on rocks. but horses could get up here easy enough if they weren't shod. they don't have a fair show with shoes on." by the time the horses had been brought up, night had fallen. four men were told off as a guard; two of them took up their post half-way down the slope; two went down to its foot. no attack was anticipated, for the indians would be sure that a sharp watch would be kept, and there would be no chance whatever of their making their way up to the summit unobserved. hugh was not with the first party on watch, and joined the crowd round the fire. "what time are you going to start, steve?" "as soon as it gets quite dark. thar ain't no good in waiting. they air on watch now, and they will be on watch all night, so thar is no difference that way, and the sooner i goes, the farther i will git afore morning. it is settled that if i am caught to-night, jim gattling will try next; ef he goes down too, broncho harry will try. after that you can settle among yourselves." "i will volunteer to be next," hugh said. "another couple of days and prince will be ready to do anything. if i was to try i should start on his back and take my chance. the indians cannot have many horses as fast as he is, and if i can get through safely, they may ride as hard as they like. there won't be many who can catch me anyhow, and if they came up one at a time, i have my revolver and can hold my own. i shouldn't like to try to-night, for many of their horses are fresh, and prince wants at least twenty-four hours before he is fit for work again; but if you like to give up your attempt to-night, steve, i will try to-morrow night." "no, no, lad, we will do as we have planned. you might do it, and you might not. more likely you would not, for like enough you would run agin a dozen of them going out, and would get a lasso dropped over your shoulders afore you saw or heard them. besides, you are young, lad. you have got your life afore you. i am getting on, and rosie will have jim to look after her, so it don't make much matter along of me." an hour later it was perfectly dark. steve had left his hat lying on the edge of the rock exactly above the ridge, when he had visited it with harry and long tom. several of the ropes were knotted together; while this was being done, steve withdrew with his daughter and jim gattling from the fire, and was absent five or six minutes. he came back by himself. "i am ready," he said. "good-bye to you all! i hope as i'll see you all agin afore long." he shook hands with them all round, and then, taking up his rifle, walked away without looking round, followed by broncho harry and long tom, the latter saying to hugh and two others, "you come too. we shall want you to lower the last of us down, and to hoist us up again." the hat was soon found. all three men took off their boots. broncho harry tied those of steve together by a short piece of rope and slung them over his shoulder, and he and tom left their revolvers and belts behind them. "now we are ready," harry said; "mind, steve, as you go down you keep your face to the rock, so that that gun of yours sha'n't strike it; you can't be too keerful, you know." a loop was placed round steve's shoulder under the arm. "you lie down, hugh, with your face over the edge, then steve can tell you if we are one side or other of the ledge. it looked plumb down from here, but it mayn't be." harry had, rather to hugh's surprise, taken up his blanket as he left the fire, but he now saw the object; it was partly folded and laid over the edge so as to prevent any chance of the rope touching a rock and being cut by it. "now, tom and i will hold it out a bit beyond the face," harry said; "and you two do the lowering away. now, steve." steve knelt down at the edge and lowered himself until the strain came on the rope. this broncho and tom held out as far as they could, and the other two steadily lowered it. it was so dark that hugh could not see the ridge and presently lost sight of steve. soon, however, he heard his voice, "about a foot more to the right." a few seconds later the strain on the rope ceased. "are you all right, steve?" hugh asked. "yes, i am astride of it; it is wider than i thought it was. now i will move on; you can let broncho down as soon as you like." the other two men were lowered, and then there was a long silence. it was no easy matter, hugh knew, to crawl along the ridge, for it was by no means even. the great danger was that there might be loose pieces which would be dislodged and go clattering down below. when, however, ten minutes had passed without any sound being heard, the watchers felt sure that the three men must have gained the opposite summit. there was nothing now to do but to sit down and wait. at the end of an hour and a half, hugh, who was again leaning over listening intently, heard a voice below him, "lower down that other rope, hugh, we are both here." the short rope was lowered, for the long one had been taken by them to lower steve from the other butte, and in a short time broncho and long tom stood beside them. "i think the old man has got safe off," broncho harry said. "we have stood over there listening all this time and ain't heard a sound. there are plenty of the varmint about. you hear that barking of prairie-dogs and hooting of owls? that's them letting each other know where they are; they are thick everywhere, i guess, round the foot of this butte, but we didn't hear them on the other side, and i reckon there ain't many of them there anyhow. steve must have got beyond them by this time. that wur a first-rate idea of yours, hugh; he never would have got through if we had lowered him off here; but it wasn't no joke getting along that ridge in the dark, i can tell you. we air all accustomed to balance ourselves in the saddle, and so made a shift to get across; but in some places the rock wur pretty nigh as sharp as a knife." "do you think that there is any chance of a night attack, broncho?" "one never can answer for the varmint, but i don't reckon as they are like to try it; they know they couldn't get up to the top, and all they could hope for would be to kill some of the horses and cut off the men on watch. it wouldn't be worth risking many lives to do that; besides, it ain't a nice place to climb in the dark. they can crawl along out on the plain without making more noise than a snake would do, but that is a different thing to climbing up among bush and rock in the dark. they couldn't reckon on doing it without being heard. no, hugh, it may be that one or two of the young bucks wanting to distinguish themselves and thirsting for scalps, may crawl up and see if they can catch any one napping down below there, but i reckon that is all, and that ain't likely to be tried to-night. they are all out there trying to make sure that no one gets away. that is their first consarn; besides, like enough the chiefs will try in the morning to get us to surrender, and it wouldn't do for any young brave to make a venture on his own account, until it is sartin that they ain't going to get us without fighting; still, i wouldn't say that when it comes to your turn to be on guard, lightning, it would be altogether safe for you to put your rifle down and take an hour's sleep." "well, i am not likely to try that experiment anyhow, broncho." "no; i didn't guess as you was. i only said as it wouldn't be safe. i don't think steve put enough men on guard. i am going to talk to the others about it. i reckon we ought to divide into two guards, say ten on each watch: four down below, four up with the horses, two up here at the top of the path. we sha'n't have much to do all day, and can sleep as much as we like. steve is an old injun fighter, and he knows better than we do what the chances air, still there ain't no good taking risks." "i quite agree with you, broncho. now that steve has got safe away we know we shall get help before very long; and it would be foolish to run any risk merely from want of care. i would go even farther and let fifteen men be on watch at night, and let five sleep and keep look-out during the day." "that would be no better, lad, that would be worse, for it is difficult to keep awake the whole night, especially if night after night passes without an alarm." by this time they had reached the others, and there was much rejoicing when it was heard that steve rutherford had got safe away. "do you feel sure, harry, that they might not have caught him and killed him without any noise?" rosie asked anxiously. "sartin. steve's last words was: 'i shall keep my six-shooter in my hand, and if they riddle me with arrows, broncho, i will fire a shot or two before i drop, don't you fear about that.' and he would do it. besides, it ain't in injun nature to kill an enemy without setting up a yell over it. a red-skin's like a hen laying an egg; he has got to boast of it loud enough for all the world to hear. no; you needn't be a bit afeard, gal. your father has got off safe, and by this time i reckon he is ten miles away." harry then made the proposal that half the men should be always on guard, to which they at once agreed, and six of them, taking up their arms, left the fire without further words, and started to take up their post on the slope. "now, rosie, you shall give us a pan of tea and a bit of meat, and then the sooner we are all asleep the better. we shall want to use our eyes when it is our turn on watch." at twelve o'clock they were on their feet again, and went down the hill. "now, harry," said long tom, "lightning and you and me will go along to the bottom; three others keep about fifty yards behind us, two up below the horses, and two on the top here." as they took their places, and the men they relieved returned to the summit, long tom said: "listen to the calls, lightning; the red-skins have heard us moving and are warning each other to look sharp. i reckon they are as thick as peas all round here, for they know that if one of us tries to make a bolt on horseback it is here he must start; but they can hardly suppose that we are such fools as that comes to. now you move away five or six yards to the right and post yourself behind a rock. you have got to keep your eyes in front of you to see if you can see anything moving in the grass; and you have got to listen for any sound over there to the right, in case any of the red-skins should try to crawl up through the bushes to circumvent us. i'll go to the left, and broncho kin take the middle of the path." hugh took up his post and maintained a vigilant watch; he was much more afraid of an attempt on the part of the indians to crawl up on the right than of an attack in front, and listened intently for the slightest sound of moving leaves on that side, for he knew that the indians would not be likely to break the smallest twig in their progress. in front of him he could discern the expanse of the plain stretching out; there were a few low bushes here and there, and at times, to his straining eyes, it seemed that some of the dark masses moved, but he knew that this might be only fancy. hour after hour passed. presently harry stole up to his side. "day will be breaking in an hour, hugh, keep a sharp look-out now; they will try it, if they try it at all, just as the sky begins to lighten." all, however, remained quiet, and hugh felt in no slight degree relieved as the light stole gradually up the eastern sky, and he felt that harry's anticipations were incorrect, and that no attack would be made. as soon as the sun rose the sentries were relieved, and the party on watch retired to the crest, for from there a view over the whole of the plain was obtainable, and it was impossible for the indians to crawl up towards the buttes without being seen. two hours later a party were seen approaching from the main indian camp; they stopped five hundred yards away; then two indians advanced and held up their arms to show they had left their rifles behind them. "i thought they would be wanting to have a talk this morning," broncho harry said. "i suppose two of us had better go down to meet them." "you and jim gattling had better go, broncho." "no," jim said; "rason had better go with you, broncho: he speaks a little of their language, and i don't; it is not likely either of the chiefs speak english." "all right!" broncho said; "it is as well to understand what they say, though we know well enough that nothing will come of it. put your six-shooter in your pocket, rason, they will have their tomahawks and knives hidden about them somewhere; half a dozen of the rest had better come down the slope. it ain't likely they will make a rush, but when they find we won't agree to their terms they may turn nasty." hugh watched the meeting from the top of the butte. it lasted about ten minutes, and then the envoys separated and returned to their respective parties. the result was clear enough, for when the indian chiefs reached their followers they raised a defiant war-cry, which was taken up all over the plain. "just as i expected," harry said. "the red-skins always like to have a talk before they begin to fight, even when they know well enough that nothing can come of it." "what were their proposals?" "they said that they knew we could hold out for a time, but that the water would soon be finished, and we must give in then. we had stolen the white women out of their camp, and had killed their young men; but if we would give up the women and surrender our arms and ammunition, they would let us depart free." "what did you say, broncho in return?" "i said that we was very comfortable up here, and that if we had taken the women, they had stolen them away from us. as to our arms, we thought they was more useful in our hands than they would be in theirs; but that if they would go back to their villages we would promise to do them no farther harm until they troubled us again." "who were the chiefs, harry?" "one was the eagle; he is a big chief. i have often heard of him. the other was the owl. i fancy the eagle is the fighting chief, and the owl the counsellor. he is a crafty-looking beggar. the eagle is a fine tall red-skin, a sort of chap i shouldn't care about having a hand-to-hand fight with, with knives and tomahawks. he told us it wur no use our hoping for assistance, for that none could come to us, and unless we could fly we could not get through his young men; and that even if we could, our scalps would be hanging in their lodges long before we could get down to the ranches. i said he might have our scalps if he could take them; but that if he did it would be off dead bodies, for as long as one of us had strength to draw trigger he would not get up on to the butte. that was all. he knew well enough what the answer would be. he wanted to see, i fancy, how we took it, and whether we were in good heart. it wur just a game of bluff, and neither of us wur going to show our hands." that night broncho harry's party went first on watch, and were relieved at twelve o'clock. the indians had remained quiet all the day, and harry said to hugh as they returned up the hill after being relieved, "i shouldn't be surprised if they try and attack before morning. in the first place, they have been wonderful quiet all day; and in the next place, i reckon that when the chief said he acknowledged that we could hold the place, he just meant to give us the idee that he didn't mean to attack, and wur only going to starve us out. in course they will do that afterwards, but i think they will try one rush first. i tell you what, hugh, we will set to work now and get the rest of the horses to the top. they can't pick up much where they are now, and they may as well be out of the way if there is a fight." the ten men soon got the horses up on to the plateau and then lay down to sleep. the morning was just breaking when the crack of a rifle was heard, and it was followed instantly by a score of others and an outburst of fierce yelling; every man sprang to his feet and ran to the top of the path. "hugh, do you and two others take your place on the edge of the rock on the right of the gap. tom, you and stumpy and rason, take your places on the left and kiver us as we fall back, if we have to, as is like enough. come on with me the rest of you." standing on the edge of the cliff, hugh saw the flashes bursting out rapidly among the rocks and trees at the foot of the slope, and soon perceived that they were mounting upwards. a crowd of indians must have thrown themselves suddenly forward and established themselves in cover, and they were now fighting their way up. the defenders had fallen back, for the answering flashes were half-way up the slope. the rattle of musketry was incessant, but far above it rose the yells of the indians. the whites fought silently. it was still too dark to make out the figures, and hugh and his companions remained inactive. "our men are falling back, bill," he said presently to royce, who was standing a few yards away on the other side of the gap. "they are sure to do that," royce replied. "i guess there are two hundred injuns down there, and though it is difficult for them to make their way through the bushes, they will do it. you will see our fellows will soon be up here." five minutes later, indeed, three or four figures were seen coming up the path. "who are you?" hugh shouted. "it is all right," one of them called out. "there air too many for us, and broncho has ordered us to fall back, and help you cover the rest." gradually the flashes of the defenders' rifles ceased to spurt out from among the rocks, and died away altogether. then at full speed the men dashed up the pathway, followed closely by a number of leaping figures. then the rifles of those along the edge of the rock cracked out. there was a chorus of cries and yells, and the pursuers bounded in among the rocks and bushes again, and their rifles flashed out angrily. rason fell backwards, shot through the head, and a cry on the other side of the gap showed that at least one was hit there. "lie down," hugh shouted, "and fire over the edge." in a minute the whole party were gathered on the crest. the daylight was now broadening rapidly; but not one of the assailants could be seen, though the puffs of smoke from behind rock and bush showed how thickly they were gathered. "will they try a rush, do you think?" hugh asked broncho, who had taken his post beside him. "i don't think so," harry said. "i expect they didn't reckon on finding so many men on guard on the slope, and thought they might carry it with a rush and get here afore we was ready for them, and before it wur light enough for us to shoot straight. they can't gather thick enough among the rocks down thar to give them a chance of making a big rush." apparently this was also the opinion of the indians, who soon learned that it was dangerous to show their position by firing, for every shot was answered instantly, and several were killed as they raised their heads to fire from behind the rocks. the firing, therefore, gradually ceased. "now we are just as we was before," harry said. "it wur sartin we couldn't hold the slope if they made an attack. the only thing is, they are nearer for a rush in the dark than they was afore. there ain't no fear of their trying it as long as it is light. six will be enough to keep guard at present. we will talk over what is best to be done." six men were picked out as a guard, the rest assembled in council. "we have got to block up that gap somehow," harry said. "if they make a rush in the dark we may kill a lot of them; but the chances are, they will get up. it seems to me that we had best kill half the horses and pile them up down near the mouth. that will make a breast-work, and will stop their bullets." there was a general chorus of assent. then hugh said, "that seems a very good idea, harry, but i should think that it would be better if we were to make that breast-work half-way up the gap, and to cut off some big arms of these trees and pile them in front of it. if we were to pretty well fill up the gap with boughs it would be very difficult to get through, and a couple of us behind the breast-work with six-shooters would prevent them from clearing it away, especially as the others could fire down from above on them." "that's it," broncho harry said. "that will make us as safe as if there wur no gap at all. bully for you again, young un! let us set to work about it at once." there was not a hatchet among them, and it took them the whole day to cut off five or six stout boughs of trees with their bowie-knives. however, it was done at last. the boughs were dragged along until near the mouth of the gap and then dropped into it, the butt-ends inwards, broncho harry and two or three of the others going down into the gap and arranging them so that a dense screen was formed outwards with the boughs and leaves. one or two shots came up from the bottom of the slope, but these were harmless, and the guard took care that no one was able to fire from a direct line with the gap from anywhere near the summit. at last the boughs were all in position, and a dense hedge filled the gap twelve feet high. "we can spare the horses," harry said. "they can't get through that hedge with us above them. they will never even try it. they see as we are up to something by their firing, but i don't suppose they can make out what it is. like enough one of them will crawl up after it gets dark to see, and when he reports what we have done they will know that the game is up as far as taking the place by storm is concarned." from this time forward no attempt was made to renew the attack. the indians still held the slope, for shots were occasionally fired whenever one of the defenders came near enough to the edge to allow his head to be seen, otherwise all was quiet. as soon as the meat brought up was finished, one of the indian horses was killed, and hugh found that its flesh was by no means bad eating. the water was carefully husbanded, horses as well as men being placed on the smallest possible allowance. the horses too were picketed so as to prevent them from grazing at will, and the grass was cut and supplied to them in small bundles, mixed with leaves from the trees. with good management it was agreed that they would be able to hold out for a fortnight without difficulty. [illustration] [illustration] chapter xv. with the waggon teams. soon after daybreak on the twelfth day the watch, which had now been carefully kept up for some days, reported that two indians were galloping at full speed up the valley. a cheer broke from the defenders of the butte, for they doubted not that these brought news of the approach of a relieving party. when the horsemen arrived at the main encampment out on the plain a stir was immediately visible, and in two or three minutes the indians were seen running out to the horses grazing on the plain beyond, while loud yells rang through the air. "those who have got rifles had better come to the edge," long tom shouted. "all these fellows who are here will be scooting out on the plain in a minute. we must stop a few of them anyhow." a minute or two later scores of indians dashed out from the trees at the foot of the buttes, and ran towards their encampment. the whites at once opened fire, but a running man far below is a difficult mark, and not a single shot took effect. "you don't call that shooting," broncho harry said indignantly. "it is all very well, harry," hugh said, "but a brown spot three hundred feet below you, and as many yards away, isn't an easy mark." "waal," harry said, "it can't be helped. now we will get ready to go out to lend a hand to our friends. let us have a couple of ropes; we will tie them to the branches one by one and haul them up. there is no fear of an attack. now look here, jim, you and your lot had best stop here to guard the women, and we will sally out. there are five of you; that will be plenty." the man on watch now gave a shout. "i can see them," he said. "how many of them?" "i guess there is about eighty. there is a thick clump in the middle, i reckon that they are the soldiers, and thirty or forty riding loose; i allow they are cow-boys." "that is just about the right number," harry said; "if there was more of them the indians wouldn't fight. i don't know as they will now, but seeing as there must be three hundred of them, i expect they will try it. now, then, up with these branches." in a quarter of an hour the branches were all hauled out of the gap. while this had been going on the women had given a feed and a good drink of water to the horses, for there was no occasion any longer to husband their resources. the animals were now saddled and led down through the gap. by this time the indians were all mounted, and were moving in a close body across the plain to meet the advancing foe. "now, jim," broncho harry said, "you stand on the edge, and when you see the fight begin you wave your hand. we can't make a start until they are at it, and we sha'n't be able to see down below there." the cow-boys made their way down to the plain and then mounted. they sat for ten minutes with their eyes fixed upon jim gattling. presently he waved his arm, and with a shout they started at a gallop. as soon as they were fairly out on the plain they heard the sound of fire-arms, and after galloping half a mile came suddenly in view of the combat. the indians had boldly closed with the troops and cow-boys, who were now driven together. a desperate hand-to-hand conflict was raging. swords flashing in the sun, waving tomahawks, and spears could be seen above the mass. the cracking of revolvers was incessant, and a light smoke hung over the conflict. "they are hard at it, boys," long tom exclaimed; "now don't shout until we are on them. they are too busy to notice us. keep well together, and we shall go through them like a knife." not a word was spoken as they galloped down upon the scene of conflict. when they were within a hundred yards a cry of warning was raised, and some of the indians faced round; but in a moment, with a loud shout, the band of cow-boys charged down upon them and cleft their way into the mass, horse and rider rolling over under the impetus of the onslaught. the deadly six-shooters spoke out, while the indians fell thickly around them; and in a minute they had joined the whites in the centre of the mass. there was a shout of welcome, and then the officer commanding the troops cried: "now is your time, lads; press them hard, give it them hot!" and the united party attacked the indians with fresh vigour. up to this time there had been little advantage on either side. many more of the indians had fallen than of the whites, owing to the superiority of the latter's weapons, especially the revolvers of the cow-boy section. still their great superiority in numbers was telling, and when the six-shooters were emptied the cow-boys had no weapons to oppose to the spears and tomahawks of the indians. the sudden attack from the rear, however, had shaken the red-skins. in the momentary pause that had ensued many of the cow-boys slipped fresh cartridges into their pistols, and in a short time the indians began to give ground, while the less courageous of them wheeled about their horses' heads. [illustration: the cow-boys charged down upon the indians.] war eagle and some of the chiefs fought desperately; but when the former fell, cut down by one of the troopers, a panic spread among his followers, and as if by a sudden impulse they turned and fled. the pursuit was a short one, for the horses of the rescuing force were jaded with the long journey they had performed; those of the party from the butte were weakened by hunger, while the ponies of the indians had been doing nothing for days, and speedily left them behind. after hearty congratulations by the rescuers, and sincere thanks by those whom they had relieved from their peril, the party returned to the scene of conflict. four troopers and two cow-boys had fallen, and a score had received wounds more or less serious; while on the part of the indians over thirty lay dead. graves were dug for the fallen whites, the wounds of the others were bandaged up, and they then proceeded to the butte, at whose foot the women, and the settlers who had been left to guard them, had already gathered, they having hurried down as soon as they saw the plain covered with flying indians. steve had returned with the rescuing party, and had been severely wounded in the fight, a blow from a tomahawk having cut off one of his ears, wounded his cheek, and inflicted a terrible gash on his shoulder. he was, however, in the highest spirits. "i sha'n't look so purty, my dear," he said to his daughter, who burst into tears at the sight of his injury, "but then i was not anything uncommon afore, and i haven't any thought of going courting again. waal, we have given the injuns a smart lesson." when the handshaking and congratulations ceased, the captain commanding the cavalry held a consultation with steve and some of the cow-boys as to the advisability of following up the victory and attacking the indians in their own villages. "i should not feel justified in doing it unless i was pretty certain of success. the commandant of the fort gave me orders to rescue this party, and i have done so; but he said nothing about engaging in a regular campaign with the indians." "i shouldn't try, captain," steve said. "i reckon they haven't half their force here to-day--no, nor a quarter--for they reckon to put a thousand fighting men in the field. they didn't guess as any of us had got off to get help, and knew that they had plenty here to keep us caged upon the butte. another thing is, the cow-boys with us air all employed on the ranches, and although they came off willing to rescue the women, and pay the injuns off for that murdering business at our settlement, i reckon they will want to be off again to their work. but even with them we ain't no match for the forces the red-skins can collect, so if you will take my advice, captain, you won't waste a minute, for thar is no saying how soon they will be down on us again, and if they did come the fight to-day wouldn't be a sarcumstance to the next." "you are right," the officer said; "it would be folly to risk anything by waiting here. i suppose you are all ready to start." "i reckon so," steve said; "the horses have all been brought down from the hill." the officer at once gave orders to mount. while this conversation had been going on, hugh, who was occupied in giving prince a good feed from the grain the soldiers had brought for their horses, saw one of the troopers staring at him. "hullo, luscombe!" he exclaimed, "who would have thought of seeing you here!" "i thought i couldn't be mistaken, hugh," the other exclaimed as they grasped each other's hands; "but you have changed so much, and widened out so tremendously in the eighteen months since i left you, that for a moment i wasn't sure it was you. well, this is luck, and it is quite a fluke too. i was getting heartily sick of doing duty at that wretched fort, where one day was just like another, and there was nothing in the world to do except cleaning one's traps, when a letter arrived from the governor. i told you the old boy was sure to give in sooner or later, and he sent me money to get my discharge and take me home. i was just going to the commanding officer to make my application when rutherford rode into camp. it was evidently something very important, for his horse fell dead as he drew rein. so i waited to hear the news, and found that our troop was ordered to mount instantly to ride to the rescue of a party of settlers and cow-boys who were besieged by the indians. "you may guess i dropped my letter into my pocket and said nothing about it. we have done a good deal of scouting, and had two or three paltry skirmishes with the indians, but nothing worth talking about; and this seemed, from what rutherford said, to be likely to be a regular battle, and so, you see, here i am. it has been a jolly wind-up for my soldiering. and to think that you should be one of the party we have ridden something like three hundred miles to rescue! now tell me all about yourself." at this moment the trumpet to saddle sounded. "i will tell you as we ride along," hugh said. "i don't suppose there will be any particular order kept on our way back." five minutes later the whole party were cantering down the valley. they did not draw rein until late in the afternoon, and then halted on the banks of the canadian. a strong cordon of sentries was posted that night, but there were no signs of indians, and the next day the party reached one of the ranche stations. during the two days' march and at the camp hugh and luscombe had kept together, the latter having obtained permission from his officer to fall out of the ranks, upon his telling him that one of the cow-boys was an old friend who had come with him from europe. "i shall be off in a month or two," luscombe said when they parted that evening. "i expect there are formalities to be gone through here just as there are in england. you are quite sure there is no chance of your going home with me?" "quite sure. i have another three years to stop out here yet, and then i can go back and claim my own. i wrote to randolph, my trustee you know, to tell him i am alive and well, and very glad that i did not kill that uncle of mine, and saying that i shall return when i am of age, but not before. what do you mean to do, luscombe?" "i am going to settle down," luscombe said. "i can tell you a year's work as trooper in one of these yankee forts is about enough to make a man sick of soldiering. i have eaten the bread of adversity, and very hard bread it is too, and there is mighty little butter on it. i am going in for fatted calf when i go back, and am quite prepared to settle down into a traditional squire, to look after fat beeves, become interested in turnips, and to be a father to my people. well, anyhow, hugh, you will let me know when you come back to england. you know my address; and as soon as you have kicked that uncle of yours out, and have squared matters generally, you must come straight to me. you will be sure of the heartiest welcome. the governor is a capital old boy, and if he did cut up rusty, the wonder is he didn't do it long before. my mother is a dear old lady, and the girls--there are two of them--are first-rate girls; and the youngest, by the way, is just about the right age for you. she was fourteen when i came away." hugh laughed. "i shall very likely bring home an indian squaw or a mexican, so we won't build on that, luscombe; but when i go back to england you shall hear of me, and i accept the invitation beforehand." on the following morning the party broke up. the troops started back for the fort. steve rutherford and the cow-boys rode for a time south-west, and then worked their way over the foot-hills and came down into the plains of texas, and after a week's travel returned to the village from which they had started. it had already begun to rise from its ruins. waggon-loads of lumber had been brought up from below, and there was no lack of willing hands from other scattered settlements to aid in the work of rebuilding the houses. little attention was paid to the party as they rode up from the plains, for it was not on that side that a watch had been kept up for their return, and indeed the eyes of the survivors had almost ceased to turn towards the mountains, for hope had well-nigh died out, and it had been regarded as certain that the whole party had been cut off and massacred by the indians. as soon, however, as the news spread that there were women among the approaching troop, axes, saws, and hammers were thrown down, and there was a rush to meet them. the scene was an affecting one, as mothers clasped daughters and women embraced their husbands, whom they had never thought to see again. the cow-boys were pressed to stay there for the night, but they refused as they were anxious to return to the ranche, from which they had been absent more than three weeks. fortunately, the busy season was almost over when they left, and they knew that there were enough hands on the ranche to look after the cattle during their absence. on the way back broncho harry said to hugh: "i expect, hugh, a good many of us will be getting our tickets before long. they don't keep on more than half their strength through the winter. what are you thinking of doing? if you would like to stop on i will speak to the boss. i reckon i shall have charge of an outfit this winter, and can manage for you and stumpy." "thank you very much, broncho, but, as i have told you often, i don't want to stop. i have had a season's life as a cow-boy, but i have no idea of sticking to it, and mean to have a try at something else. i intend to go back to england when i am twenty-one. i have some property there, and have no need to work. i got into a scrape at home with the man who is my guardian, and don't care about turning up until he has no longer any authority over me." "waal, you know your own business, lightning. it is a pity, for in another year you would make one of the best hands on the plains." "if i were to stay for another year i expect i should stay for good, harry. it is a hard life, a terribly hard life; but it is a grand one for all that. there is nothing like it in the way of excitement, and i don't wonder that men who once take to it find it very difficult to settle down to anything else afterwards. therefore, you see, it is just as well to stop before one gets too fond of it. i know i shall always look back upon this as the jolliest time of my life, and i am lucky to have gone through it without having been damaged by a cow, or having my neck broken by a broncho, or being shot by an indian. royce has made up his mind to go with me, and as soon as we get our discharge we shall make our way to new mexico, and perhaps down into arizona; but of course that must depend upon other things." upon reaching the station they found that, as harry had predicted, hands were already being discharged. the manager said, when they went to him and told him that they wished to leave, "well, i had intended to keep you both on for the winter; but of course if you wish to go, there is an end of it, and there are so many anxious to be kept on that a man in my position feels almost grateful to those who voluntarily afford vacancies." there were very hearty adieus between hugh and royce and broncho harry, long tom, and the others who had been their close companions for months. then they mounted and rode off from the station. they had heard from a man who had just arrived that a large waggon-train was on the point of starting from decatur for santa fã©. it was composed of several parties who had been waiting until a sufficient force was collected to venture across the indian country. there were several waggon-trains going with supplies for the troops stationed at the chain of forts along the line. others had goods for santa fã©; while a third was freighted with machinery and stores for mining enterprises farther south in new mexico. it took royce and hugh a week to traverse the country to decatur, and on arriving there they heard that the teams had started two days before. they waited a day at decatur to buy a pack-horse and the necessary stores for their journey, and then set out. in two days they overtook the train, which consisted of forty waggons. learning which man had been selected as the leader of the party they rode up to him. "we are going to santa fã©," royce said. "we are both good shots and hunters, and we propose to travel with you. we are ready to scout and bring in game, if you will supply us with other food." "that's a bargain," the man said briefly, by no means sorry at the addition of strength to the fighting force. "i reckon you will earn your grub. they say the injuns air on the war-path." "they are right enough there," royce said. "we have been engaged in a fight with a band of the comanches who made a raid down on a little settlement named gainsford, killed a score of settlers, and carried off five women. we got together a band from the ranche we were working on and went after them, and we had some pretty tough fighting before we got through." "waal, you will just suit us," the man said. "i hear pretty near all the tribes are up, but i doubt whether they will venture to attack a party like this." "i don't think they will if we keep together and are cautious," royce said. "you have forty waggons; that, at two men to a waggon, makes eighty." "that's so," the other agreed; "and what with cooks and bosses and one thing and another, we mount up to pretty nigh a hundred, and of course every man has got a rifle along with him." "that makes a strong party," royce said, "and with the advantage you will have of fighting from the cover of the waggons, i don't think the red-skins would dare to attack you. we have got a pack animal along with us, as you see, with our blankets and things. we will hitch him to the tail of one of the waggons." the man nodded. "i have got four teams here of my own," he said, "and a spare man who cooks and so on for my outfit, so you may as well jine in with that. they air the last four waggons in the line." the journey occupied six weeks. they kept at first up the west fork of the trinity river, crossing a patch of heavily timbered country. then they struck the main fork of brazos river and followed it for some distance; then took the track across to the rio pecos. it led them by a toilsome journey across an elevated and arid country without wood or water, save that which they obtained at the head-waters of the double mountain river and from four small streams which united lower down to form the north fork of the colorado river. from this point until they reached the pecos, a distance of over a hundred miles, there was no water. at ordinary times caravans would not have followed this route, but would have kept far to the north. but they would have been exposed to attacks by the comanches and utes, so in spite of their strength they thought it prudent to follow the longer and safer route. with a view to this journey across the desert each waggon carried an empty hogshead slung behind it. these were filled at the last springs, and the water, doled out sparingly, sufficed to enable the men and animals to subsist for the five days the journey occupied, although the allowance was so small that the sufferings of the cattle were severe. up to this time hugh and royce had succeeded almost daily in bringing a couple of stags into camp, but game was scarce in this parched and arid region, where not only water was wanting, but grass was scanty in the extreme, and the only sustenance for deer was the herbage of the scattered bushes. they therefore rode with the caravan, and aided it as far as they could. the waggons, which were of great size, were generally drawn by twelve oxen or mules, and in crossing the deep sand it was sometimes necessary to use the teams of two waggons to drag one over the sand-hills. sometimes even this failed to move them, and the mounted men fastened their ropes to the spokes of the wheels, and so helped to get the waggons out of the holes into which they had sunk. "i would rather run the risks of a fight with the indians," hugh said to royce on the last day of their journey across the plain, "than have to perform this frightful journey. the heat is simply awful, and i feel as if i could drink a bucket of water." "you will get plenty of water to-night, hugh. the pecos is a good big river. i believe the animals smell it already. look how hard they are pulling. the drivers crack their whips and shout as usual, but the beasts are doing their best without that. we have been very lucky that we have had no sand-storms or anything to delay us and confuse us as to the track. waal, we are over the worst of the journey now; except the guadalupe pass there ain't much trouble between the pecos and el paso. once there we are on the rio grande all the way up to santa fã©." towards the afternoon the ground became harder, and the animals quickened their pace almost to a trot, straining at the ropes with heaving flanks, while their tongues hanging out and their blood-shot eyes showed how they were suffering. an hour before sunset a shout broke from the men as, on ascending a slight rise, the river lay before them. the instant they reached its bank and the animals were loosed, they rushed in a body into the stream and plunged their nostrils deeply into the water, while the men, ascending the banks a short distance, lay down at the edge of the stream and satisfied their thirst. five minutes later all had stripped and were enjoying a bath. hugh had been much struck with the difference between the teamsters and the cow-boys; the former did not wear the chaperajos or leather overalls with fringed seams, or the bright silk neck handkerchiefs or flat-brimmed hats of the cow-boys. their attire was sober rather than bright. they wore soft hats, with slouched brims, and great cow-hide boots. there was none of that dashing, reckless air that characterized the cow-boys, or the quick alertness that showed the readiness to cope with any emergency that might occur. nor in the camp at night was there any trace of the light-hearted gaiety which showed itself in song, laughter, and dance in the gatherings round the cow-boys' fires. they were for the most part silent and moody men, as if the dull and monotonous labour in which they were engaged, and the months of solitary journeying, with nothing to break the silence save the cracking of the whips and the shouts of encouragement to the animals, had left their mark upon them. hugh and royce agreed cordially that, with all its dangers and its unmeasured toil, they would infinitely prefer the life of a cow-boy, short as it might be, to that of a teamster, even with the prospect of acquiring a competence upon which to settle down in old age. two days' halt was made on the banks of the pecos to rest the foot-sore animals. then the journey was recommenced, the river crossed at a shallow ford, and its banks followed until, after three days' journey, a small stream running in from the west was reached. hence the route lay due west to el paso. the country was flat until they reached the guadalupe range of hills, which they crossed by a winding and difficult pass, each waggon being taken up by three teams. then skirting the alimos hills they crossed the sierra hueco by the pass of the same name, which was far easier than that of guadalupe, and then one long day's march took them down to fort bliss, which stands on the rio grande, facing the town of el paso. they had now arrived at the borders of civilization. mexican villages and towns, and united states posts were scattered thickly along the course of the river all the way from el paso up to santa fã©. "what air you thinking of doing, young fellow?" the head of the party asked hugh as they sat by the fire of the encampment a short distance out of el paso. "you see we shall kinder break up here. i go with my teams to the forts along the river, and then strike out east to the outlying posts. about half my freight is ammunition and such like. waal, then, pretty nigh half the waggons go up to the mines. they have powder, tools, and machinery. one or two stay here. they bring hardware and store goods of all sorts for this town; the rest go up to santa fã©. now what air you thinking of doing? you can make up your mind to stay here, or you kin go up to santa fã©. you told me you had a fancy for jinin' some prospecting party and going out west into arizona. i doubt whether you will find anyone much bent on that job at present, seeing as how the injuns is stirring, though i don't know that makes much difference, seeing they is always agin anyone going into what they calls their country. "anyhow, the miners will all have to work with a pick in one hand and a rifle in the other. you have got the apaches here, and they air wuss than the comanches. the comanches have had to deal with western hunters and pioneers, and know that there ain't much to be got out of them but lead, so beyond stealing cattle they've got into the way of being mostly quiet, though now and agin they break out, just as they have at present. now the apache has had to deal all along with mexicans, and he has pretty good reason for thinking that he is a much better fighter than the white man. he has been raiding on the mexican villages for hundreds of years, burning and killing and carrying off their women and gals, and i guess thar is a pretty good sprinkling of mexican blood in his veins, though that don't make him better or wuss, as far as i know. still, take them altogether, they air the savagest and hardest tribe of red-skins on this continent. "however, if you like to go prospecting among thar hills and to run the risk of losing your scalp, that is your business; but if you do, this is the place to start from, and not santa fã©. there is gold pretty nigh everywhere in the valley of the gila, and that lies a bit to the north-west from here. at any rate, it seems to me that this is the place that you are most likely to fall in with parties starting out. but let me give you a warning, lad. you will find this town is pretty nigh full of gold-miners, and you won't find one of them who won't tell you that he knows of some place that's a sartin fortune up among the hills. now, don't you believe them. don't you go and put your money into any job like that. if you find a party being got up, and others think it good enough to jine, of course you can chip in, but don't you go and find the money for the whole show." "there is no fear of that," hugh laughed. "i had about five-and-twenty pounds when i went on to the ranche, and i have got that and six months' pay in my belt. that won't go far towards fitting out an expedition." "no, it won't," the teamster agreed. "it will be enough for you to be able to chip in with the others, but, as you say, not to stand the whole racket. waal, what do you think?" "i am very much obliged to you for your advice," hugh said, "and i think we can't do better than stay about here for a bit at any rate. what do you say, royce?" "it is all one to me," royce replied; "but there is no doubt that el paso is as good a place as any, if not better, for looking round." "then that is settled, bill; and to tell you the truth, i have had pretty nigh enough riding for the present, and sha'n't be sorry for a fortnight's rest." "same here," bill said. "i feel as if i was getting part of the horse, and should like to get about on foot for a bit so as to feel that i hadn't quite lost the use of my legs." accordingly the next morning they bade good-bye to their comrades of the last two months, and mounting, rode into el paso. it was a town of some size, and purely mexican in its features and appearance. the inhabitants almost all belonged to that nationality, but in the street were a considerable number of red-shirted miners and teamsters. hugh and his companions rode to one of the principal haciendas, and handed over the three horses to a lounging mexican. "they have been fed this morning," royce said. "we will come in and give them some corn in two hours." "i will see after prince," hugh said, patting his horse's neck. "don't you be afraid that i am going to leave you to the care of strangers. we have been together too long for that, old boy." they then went into the hotel, and ordered a room and breakfast. "i don't care much for this mexican stuff with its oil and garlic," royce said as they had finished the meal. "don't you? i call it first-rate. after living on fried beef and broiled beef for over a year, it is a comfort to get hold of vegetables. these beans were delicious, and the coffee is a treat." "it isn't bad for one meal," royce admitted reluctantly, "but you'll get pretty sick of mexican cookery after a bit, and long for a chunk of plain beef hot from the fire." "perhaps i shall," hugh laughed, "but i think it will be some little time first. now let us take a stroll round the town." it was all new to hugh. he had seen the mexican women in their native dress in the villages among the hills, but here they indulged in much more finery than the peasant girls. the poblanas were all dressed in gay colours, with a scarf or rebozo over their heads, with gold pins and ornaments in their glossy black hair, and with earrings, necklaces, and generally bracelets of the same metal. no small share of a peasant's wealth is exhibited on the persons of his womankind. they wore short skirts, generally of red or green, trimmed with rows of black braid, while a snow-white petticoat below and a white chemisette partly hidden by a gay handkerchief over the shoulders completed the costume. they were almost all barefooted, but hugh observed that their feet and ankles were exceedingly small and well formed, as were their hands and plump brown arms. here and there were a good many of the upper class half shrouded in black mantles, wearing the spanish mantilla, worn so as partly to conceal the face, though it needed but the slightest movement to draw it aside when they wished to recognize anyone they met. most of these were on their way to a church, whose bell was pealing out a summons, and carried their mass-book in one hand and a fan in the other. many a look of admiration was bestowed by the merry peasant girls upon hugh as he walked along. he was now eighteen and had attained his full height, and his life on horseback gave an easy and lissom appearance to his tall, powerful figure. his work among the cattle had given to his face something of the keen, watchful expression that characterizes the cow-boys, but not to a sufficient extent to materially affect the frank, pleasant look that was his chief characteristic. his gray eyes, and the light-brown hair with the slight tinge of gold in it, typical of the hardy north-country race, were very attractive to the dark-skinned mexicans. he and his companions had both donned their best attire before leaving camp, and this differed but slightly from that of the mexican vaqueros, and though sufficiently gay to attract general attention elsewhere, passed unnoticed at el paso. the western cow-boy was not an unusual figure there, for many of those discharged during the winter were in the habit of working down upon the new mexican ranches and taking temporary employment with the native cattle-raisers, by whom their services were much valued, especially where the ranches were in the neighbourhood of those worked by white cow-boys. these in any disputes as to cattle with the mexican vaqueros were accustomed to carry matters with a high hand. but the white cow-boys in mexican service were just as ready to fight for their employers' rights as were those on the american ranches, and the herds were safe from depredation when under their charge. there were many priests in the streets, and, numerous as they were, they were always saluted with the deepest respect by the peasant women. "it is wonderful how much women think of their priests," royce observed philosophically. "back east it used to make me pretty well sick, when i was a young chap, to hear them go on about their ministers; but these mexican women go a lot farther. there is nothing they wouldn't do for these fat padres." "no. but they are not all fat, royce," hugh said. "i acknowledge they look for the most part plump and well-fed, and upon the best of terms with themselves, as well they may be, seeing how much they are respected." "they have got a pretty easy life, i reckon," royce said contemptuously. "they have to say mass two or three times a day, sit in a box listening to the women's confessions, and fatten upon their gifts and offerings." "at any rate, royce, the people here are religious. see, there are as many peasants as peasant women going into that church. whatever may be said about it, religion goes for a good deal more in a catholic country than in a protestant. it is a pity there is not more religion among the cow-boys." "how are we to get it?" royce protested. "once or twice a year a minister may arrive at a camp and preach, but that is about all. we always give him a fair show, and if any fellow wur to make a muss it would be worse for him. i don't say as cow-boys don't use pretty hard language among themselves, but i will say this, that if a minister or a woman comes to camp they will never hear a swear word if they stop there a week. no, sir. cow-boys know how to behave when they like, and a woman might go through the ranches from end to end in texas without being insulted." "i know that, royce. the point is, if they can go without using what you call swear words when a woman is among them, why can't they always do so?" "it is all very fine to talk, hugh; but when you get on a bucking broncho that sends you flying about ten yards through the air, and you come down kerplump, i never seed a man yet as would pick himself up and speak as if he wur in a church. no, sir; it's not in human nature." when they got back to the hotel hugh observed that questioning glances were cast at them by several men who were lounging about the steps. royce observed it also. "what have those fellows got in their heads, i wonder?" he said. "do they reckon we are two bad, bold men who have been holding up some mexican village, or do they take us for horse-thieves? there is something wrong, hugh, you bet." "they certainly didn't look friendly, royce, though i am sure i don't know what it is about. you haven't been winking at any of their women, have you?" "g'ar long with yer!" royce laughed. "as if any of them would look at a little chap like me while i am walking along of you. if there has been any winking it's you as has done it." "i am quite innocent, royce, i assure you. still there is something wrong. well, let us go and see that the horses are fed." there were five or six men in the yard. they were talking excitedly together when hugh and his companion came out of the hotel, but they were at once silent, and stood looking at them as they crossed the yard and went into the stable. "thar's something wrong," royce repeated. "if my horse wur as good as yours, hugh, i should say let's settle up quietly and ride out and make a bolt; but they would overtake me in no time." "that would never do, royce. i don't know what their suspicions are, but they would be confirmed if we were to try to escape, and if they overtook us the chances are they wouldn't give us much time for explanations." "you are right there, hugh. the mexicans hates the whites. they know that one of us can lick any three of them, and it riles them pretty considerable. they don't give a white man much show if they get their hands on him." "well, it is no use worrying about it, royce. i suppose we shall hear sooner or later what it is all about." passing through the hotel they took their seats at some tables placed in the shade in front of the house, and there sat smoking and talking for some time. "if those fellows round the door keep on looking at us much longer," royce said, "i shall get up and ask them what they mean." "don't do that, royce. it would only bring on a fight; that is no use here." "waal," royce said doggedly, "i haven't got to sit here to be stared at, and some of them fellows is going to get wiped out if they go on at it." "we are sure to hear before long, royce. see, there is a knot of four or five fellows in uniform at the other end of the square. i suppose that they are a sort of policemen. i have seen them looking this way. you will see they are going to arrest us presently, and then, i suppose, we shall hear all about it." "i wish we had broncho harry and the rest of our outfit here," royce said. "we would clear out the whole town." half an hour later there was a clatter of horses' hoofs, and two gentlemen, followed by half a dozen mexican vaqueros, rode into the square and made straight for the hotel. simultaneously the guardians of the peace moved across the square, and there was a stir among the loungers at the entrance to the hotel. "the affair is coming to a crisis, royce!" one of the mexicans was an elderly man, the other a lad seventeen or eighteen years old. the latter dismounted and entered the hotel. in two minutes he reappeared and spoke to the other, who also dismounted, and after a word or two with one of the men belonging to the hotel, and a short conversation with the leader of the party of civil guards, advanced to the table at which hugh and royce were sitting. he saluted them as they rose to their feet. hugh returned the salutation. "seã±ors," he said courteously, in very fair english, "you have, i understand, just arrived here, having accompanied a waggon-train across the deserts from texas." "it is perfectly true, seã±or," hugh replied. "is there anything unusual in our doing so?" "by no means," the mexican said. "the matter that concerns me is that one of you is riding a horse which belonged to my son, don estafan perales." "you mean the bay?" the mexican made a gesture of assent. "i purchased that horse at m'kinney, a small town in the north-east of texas." "may i ask who you purchased it from?" "certainly, seã±or. it must have passed from the hands of your son before it was offered for sale to me. i bought it from two men whom i had never seen before." a little crowd had gathered behind the mexican, and at this answer there were exclamations of "a likely story that!" and "death to the horse-thieves!" two men in mining costume, the one a tall, powerfully-built man some fifty years old, the other small and of slight figure, with snow-white hair, who had just strolled up, separated themselves from the rest and ranged themselves by hugh's side, the big man saying in mexican: "softly, seã±ores, softly. you ain't neither judges nor jury on this case, and me and my mate is going to see fair-play." "there is no intention, seã±or, of doing anything unfair," the mexican said. "the matter is a simple one. these strangers have just ridden in here with a horse belonging to my son. he started from here with three servants and a party going to texas. this was upwards of eighteen months ago. he had business at new york. his intention was to spend a few weeks in texas hunting, then to proceed to the nearest railway-station and take train to new york. from the time he started we have never heard from him. some members of the party he accompanied have long since returned. it seems that he accompanied them until they had passed the bad lands, and then left them to carry out his intention of hunting. we have never heard of him since. he certainly has never arrived at new york. and now that these strangers arrive here with his horse, which was recognized as soon as it entered the stables, i have a right to inquire how they obtained it." "surely, seã±or," hugh said. "the men from whom i bought it were, as i said, strangers. they were two very doubtful-looking characters, and as they appeared very anxious to sell the horse, and were willing to part with it considerably under its value, my opinion was that undoubtedly they had not become possessed of it honestly. my friend here was with me at the time, and the only terms upon which i would purchase it and a pack-horse they had also to sell, were that they should give me a formal receipt signed in the presence of the sheriff and judge, in order that, should i at any time come across the owner of the animal, i should be in a position to prove that i at least had come by it honestly. that receipt i have here;" and taking a small leather letter-case from his pocket he produced the receipt. "there are the signatures, seã±or, and the official stamps of the writers, and you will see that they testify also to their personal knowledge of me as a resident of the town. i may add that it is certain that had i been an accomplice of the thieves i should have taken good care not to bring the horse to a locality where he would be at once recognized." the mexican glanced through the paper. "that is perfectly satisfactory, seã±or, and i must apologize for having for a moment entertained suspicions of you. explain this, carlos," he said to his son. "i would have further talk with these gentlemen." the young mexican translated in his own language the effect of what had passed, and the little crowd speedily dispersed, several having walked away as soon as the two miners sided with the accused, as a fray with four determined men armed with revolvers was not to be lightly entered upon. the miners were also turning away when hugh said to the mexican, "excuse me a moment, seã±or." "thank you greatly," he went on, turning to the miners, "for siding with us. we are strangers here. will you let us see you again, and have a talk with you? at present, as you see, this gentleman, who has lost his son, who has most probably been murdered by these horse-thieves, wants to question me. do me the favour to come in this evening and drink a bottle of wine with us, when we can again thank you for your aid." "there are no thanks due," the bigger of the two men said. "me and my mate know nothing of the affair, but seeing two of our own colour facing a lot of these mexikins we naturally ranged up alongside of you to see fair-play. but as you are strangers, and we have nothing particular to do, i don't mind if we come in and have a talk this evening. eh, mate?" the little man nodded, and the two walked off together. hugh then turned to the mexican. "now, seã±or, we are at your service." "seã±ors," he said courteously, "my name is don ramon perales. my hacienda lies three miles away; this is scarcely a place for quiet conversation. i am anxious to learn all particulars that you can give me as to the men from whom you bought the horse. may i ask if you would mount your horses and ride back with me?" "with pleasure, seã±or," hugh said. "our time is entirely our own, and i can readily understand your anxiety to hear all you can about this matter." [illustration] [illustration] chapter xvi. a mining expedition. in a few minutes hugh and royce remounted and joined the two two mexican gentlemen, and set out, with the party of vaqueros riding behind them. "you came in with quite a strong force, don ramon," hugh said smiling. "it might have been necessary," the mexican replied. "i could not tell with whom i had to deal. our guard do not care very much about risking their skins, especially when it is a question of texan cow-boys, who have, if you will excuse my saying so, a terrible reputation, and can use their pistols with a skill that is extraordinary. i could not guess that i had to do with gentlemen." "there is nothing that way about me, seã±or!" royce said abruptly. "i am a cow-boy, or a teamster, or a miner, or anything that comes to hand, but nary a claim to be a gentleman." "my friend is a good fellow, seã±or, in every way," hugh said, "and is my staunch and true friend. i myself am an englishman who has come out to enjoy the hunting and the rough life of the plains of the west for a few years before settling down at home." "and now, seã±or," the mexican said with a bow, "will you let me begin to question you, for i am full of anxiety as to my unfortunate son? i feared before that he was lost to us; i fear now even more than before, for i am sure that he would never have parted with his horse, which he had reared from a colt and was much attached to. these men from whom you bought it, were they known in that locality?" "no," hugh replied. "wherever they came from they did not belong to that corner of texas, for neither the judge nor the sheriff had ever seen them before. had they known that they were bad characters they would have arrested them and held them until an owner was found for the horse; but as they knew nothing against them they did not feel justified in doing so." "will you describe them to me?" the mexican said. "they were men of between thirty and forty. from their attire they might have been hunters. they were dressed a good deal like your vaqueros: they wore chaperajos with red sashes around their waist, and flannel shirts. they had jackets with silver buttons, which you don't see much among our cow-boys on the plains, and broad, soft, felt hats. i should say that one was a half-breed--that is to say, half mexican, half american. both had black moustaches, and what i should call hang-dog faces." "i have no doubt, from your description," don ramon said, "they were two men who joined the caravan a day or two before my son left it. these men said they were hunters, and i was told that my son engaged them to accompany him while he was hunting, to act as guides, and show him the best places for game. they were described to me by some of the party that returned here, and i feared at the time that if evil had befallen him it was through them. now that you tell me they sold you his horse, i feel but too certain this was so." "they seemed to have ridden fast and far. their own horses and the bay were in fair condition, seã±or, but the pack-horse was very poor. the men were evidently in great haste to get away, and i should judge from this that if, as you fear, they murdered your son and his three servants, they probably did it at the last camping place before they arrived at m'kinney. had they done it when far out on the plains there would have been no good reason why they should have been in so much haste; but if it had been but a short distance away they might have feared that someone might find the bodies and organize a pursuit at once." "why should they have delayed so long if their intention was murder?" the younger mexican asked. "that i cannot say, don carlos. they may have fallen in with other hunters after leaving the caravan, and these may have kept with them all the time they were out on the plains, and they may have had no opportunity of carrying out their designs till the party separated; or again, your brother's attendants might have been suspicious of them, and may have kept up too vigilant a watch for them to venture on an attack before. but this watch may have been relaxed when the journey was just at an end, and it seemed to them that their fears were unfounded." "that is the most likely explanation," don ramon said. "they were three picked men; two of them were hunters, the other my son's body-servant. it is likely enough that the hunters would have kept alternate watch at night had they suspected these fellows. those two were to have remained in charge of the horses at the town where my son took rail, and to await his return there; the other man was to accompany him to new york. my son had an ample supply of gold for his expenses, and i fear it was that rather than the horse that attracted the scoundrels." they were by this time approaching a large and handsome building, standing in extensive grounds. as they halted before it a number of _peã³ns_ ran out and took the horses. prince had quickened his pace as he neared the house, and had given a joyful neigh as of recognition. when hugh alighted, the horse, as usual, laid his muzzle on his shoulder to receive a caress before turning away, and then, without waiting for one of the _peã³ns_ to take his rein, walked away towards the stables. "i see he is fond of you, seã±or. you have been a kind master to him." "i love horses," hugh said, "and prince, as i have called him, has been my companion night and day for eighteen months. we have hunted together, and roped-in cattle, and fought indians, and divided out last crust together." don ramon led the way into the house, and then into a room where an elderly lady and two young ones were sitting. they rose as he entered. "what news, ramon?" the elderly lady asked. "such news as there is is bad, maria. these caballeros, don hugh tunstall and--" (he hesitated and looked at royce, with whose name he was not acquainted). "bill royce, without any don!" the cow-boy put in. the mexican repeated the name--"have been good enough to ride over here with me, in order that you, as well as i, might question them as to what they know of our son. unhappily they know little. we were not misinformed. don hugh has indeed our son's horse, but he bought it, as he has proved to me, from two strangers, who tally exactly with the description we have received of the two hunters who left the caravan with our son. i feared all along that these men were at the bottom of whatever might have befallen estafan. i fear now that there is no doubt whatever about it. caballeros, this is my wife, donna maria perales. these are my two daughters, dolores and nina." for an hour hugh and his companion remained answering the questions of donna perales; then hugh rose, feeling that the ladies would be glad to be alone in their grief, for the confirmation of their fears respecting don estafan had brought their loss back to them freshly. don ramon and his son accompanied them to the door. "i pray you," the former said, "that if at any time you come upon the villains you give them in custody. i and my son will make the journey to appear against them, however far it may be." "you need not trouble on that score," royce said. "if we meet them, i warrant you we can manage their business without any bother of judge or jury. they will have a cow-boy trial, and after the evidence hugh and i can give, you may be sure that a rope will very soon settle their affair." "i must ask you, don ramon," hugh said, "to lend me a horse back to the town, and to send a vaquero with me to bring it back." "but why, sir?" the mexican asked in surprise. "you have your own horse." "no, seã±or, prince is not mine. he was your son's, and is yours. a man who buys stolen property is liable to lose it if he meets the proper owner, and when i bought prince for half his value i knew that i was running that risk." "no, seã±or englishman. i do not say that a man who has lost his horse has not the right to reclaim it wherever he may find it. that is, if he happens to be in a place where the law is respected, or if not if he happens to be with the strongest party; but in the present case i could not think of depriving you of the horse. it is evident that he has found a good master, and that you stand in his affections just as my son did; besides, if you will pardon my saying so, the horse is more to you than it is to me. there are many thousands of horses running wild on my estates, and although my son used to assert that there was not one which was equal to his horse, there are numbers that are but little inferior, for our horses are famous. they are mustangs crossed with pure arab blood, which my grandfather had selected and sent over to him, regardless of cost. pray, therefore, keep the bay. may it carry you long and safely! it will be a real pleasure to my wife and myself to know that poor estafan's favourite horse is in such good hands. i have also," he said courteously to royce, "taken the liberty of ordering my _peã³ns_ to change the saddle of the horse you rode to one more worthy of being a companion to the bay. it is of no use for one man to be well mounted if his comrade does not bestride a steed of similar swiftness." hugh and royce warmly thanked don ramon for his kindness. the horses were brought round, and that of royce fully bore out the commendation of the mexican. "we hope to see you again to-morrow," don ramon said as they mounted. "you will always be welcome guests here." "and you will not forget," don carlos said in a low tone, "if you ever meet those men." "that has been a fortunate adventure," royce said as they rode off. "i have often wondered whether we should ever fall upon the original owner of your horse, and pictured to myself that we might have a bad time of it if we did. it isn't everyone who would have accepted that receipt of yours as proof." "no; i always felt that myself, royce. well, that sorrel of yours is a splendid animal, and really worthy to go with prince. i often wished you had a mount as good as mine, for my sake as well as your own, for there is no doubt of the truth of what he said. when two friends are riding together their pace is only that of the slowest horse." "that is so," royce agreed. "so there is some arab blood in them. i have often talked over the bay in the camps. we all agreed we had never seen so good a mustang. there are good mustangs, but they are never a match for a really first-rate states horse, and yet we could not see any signs of such a cross in prince. he wur mustang, but there seemed more whip-cord and wire about him than a mustang has. i have heard say that the mustangs are the descendants of spanish barbs, and that the barbs were moorish horses." "yes, that is so, royce. the barb is related to the arab, but is not, i believe, of such pure blood; it is a coarser animal; and if don ramon's grandfather brought over some pure arabs of first-rate strain they would, no doubt, greatly improve the mustangs." "waal, hugh, if we ever do meet those two murdering villains, i reckon their chances of getting away from us ain't worth mentioning." the reception on their return to the hotel was very different to that they had before experienced. they had been visitors at don ramon's hacienda, and don ramon was the richest proprietor in the district of el paso. after they had finished supper that evening, and were enjoying coffee and cigars at a table placed with others in a garden behind the hotel, the two miners who had stood by them in the morning came up and took seats beside them. "you had a pretty rough welcome this morning at el paso," the big man said. "but, by the way, i do not know what to call you. my own name is sim. i am generally known as surly sim. my friend's name is frank; i generally call him the doctor." "my name is bill," royce said; "and out on the plain the boys call me stumpy, which don't need any explanation. my mate's name is hugh, and he has got the name of lightning." "ah! and why is that, may i ask?" the white-haired little man said. "well, it is because of one of his accomplishments, doctor. he has got the knack of drawing a pistol that sharp, that almost before you see his hand move you are looking down the tube of a pistol." "a very useful accomplishment," the little man remarked, "always supposing that it is not used too often, and that it is only used in self-defence. i am a peaceful man myself," he went on, "and have a horror of the use of fire-arms." his companion laughed. "now you know that that is so, sim," the little man said earnestly. "waal, doctor, i don't go for to say that you are quarrelsome, and ef anyone said so in my hearing i should tell him he wur a liar. but for a peaceable man, doctor, and i don't deny as you are peaceable, i don't know as thar is a man in the mining regions who has used his weapon oftener than you have." "but always on the side of peace, sim," the little man said earnestly. "please to remember always on the side of peace." "yes, in the same way that a new york policeman uses his club, doctor." "well, i can assure you i don't often use what you call my accomplishment," hugh said. "i practise it so that i may be able to defend my life if i am attacked, but except in a fight with a band of comanches, i have only once had occasion to draw my pistol." "and he weakened?" sim asked. "yes, i had the drop of him. there was nothing else for him to do." "and what are you doing at el paso?" "you are too abrupt, sim, much too abrupt," the little man said deprecatingly. "not at all, doctor. if it is anything they don't want to tell they won't tell it. if it isn't, we may be useful to them." "we have no particular object in view," hugh said. "i am an englishman; but not a rich englishman, who comes out to buy ranches, or to speculate in mines. but i have come rather to pass three or four years in seeing life on the western plains than to make money. i worked for six months in m'kinney, had three or four months' hunting, and then worked six months as a cow-boy; and i thought that, for a change, i should like to come this way and see something of mining adventure in new mexico or arizona. my mate here has been with me for nearly two years, and has thrown in his fortune with mine." "there is adventure enough, and more than enough, in mining down thar in arizona. the doctor and i have been at it for some years. we haven't made a penny, but we have saved our scalps, so we may be considered lucky." "i was told," hugh went on, "that el paso was the most central place to come to. my idea was that i might find some party setting out on a prospecting expedition, and that i might be able to join it." "it ain't a good time for prospecting expeditions," sim said. "even on the upper gila the mining camps is all on guard, knowing that any day the apaches may be down on them, and it would want a man to be wonderful fond of gold for him to go out prospecting down in arizona." "i don't care much for gold," hugh laughed, "though i don't say i should object to take my share if we hit on a rich lode. i should go for the sake of the excitement, and to see the life." "well, at other times you might find any number of people here in el paso who would be glad enough to take you out on such an expedition," the doctor said. "you ask the first man you meet, mexican or white, and he will tell you that he knows of a mine, and will take you to it if you will fit out an expedition." "you are exceptions to the rule, doctor." "no, i don't say that," the doctor replied, though his companion gave a growling protest. "oh, yes, we know of a mine!" he went on, not heeding the growl. "at least we believe we do, which is, i suppose, as much as anybody can say; but we are like the rest, we say that it is better to stay at el paso and keep our scalps on, even if we are poor, than to go and throw away our lives in looking for a mine. we have been out working for the last six months on a mine in the gila valley on shares with six others. we weren't doing so badly; but the mexicans who were working for us got scared and wouldn't stay, so we have given it up and come down here. some day or other when things settle down again, i suppose the mine will be worked, but it won't be by us. we are looking out for someone who will buy our shares, but i don't suppose anyone will give five dollars for them, and they would be right. the thing paid in our hands, but it wouldn't pay in mexicans'. they are poor shiftless creatures, and have no idea of hard work. we should have given it up anyhow, even without these indian troubles, which don't make much difference, for the apaches are always ready to come down when they see a chance. it is always war between them and the whites. but we were there six months, and six months are about the outside sim and i ever stop anywhere." "when you go prospecting, do you often get any hints from the indians as to where gold is to be found?" "never," sim howlett said. "the injuns are too lazy to work theirselves, and they know that when the whites get hold of gold they pour down in numbers. i believe they do know often where there are lodes. i don't see how they can be off knowing it, for a red-skin is always keeping his eyes on the move. nothing escapes him, and it would be strange if, wandering about as they do, and knowing every foot of their country, they didn't notice gold when it is there to see. besides, they have got tales handed down from father to son. in old times they had gold ornaments and such like, but you never see them now. they know well enough that such things would draw the whites. sometimes a red-skin will tell a white who has done him some great service where there is a lode, gold or silver or copper, but it don't happen often. besides, most times the place lies right in the heart of their country, and for all the good it is, it might as well be in the middle of the sea. of course, if it was gold, and the metal was found in nuggets, and a horse-load or two could be got in a month, it might be done; but not when it comes to settling there and sinking shafts and mining; that can't be done until the apaches are wiped out." "but are there such places as that, sim?" "waal, there may be, but i have never seen them. the doctor and me have struck it rich many a time, but not as rich as that. still, i reckon there are places where the first comer might gather a big pile if the red-skins would but let him alone for a month." "i suppose you are absent some time on one of these expeditions? do prospectors generally go on foot or horseback?" "they in general takes a critter a piece, and two others to carry grub and a pick and shovel; sometimes they go two together, but more often one goes by hisself. in course where two men knows each other and can trust each other, two is kind of handier than one. we shouldn't like to work alone, should we, doc? but then, you see, we have been twelve years together. sometimes a man finds his own outfit. sometimes he goes to a trader in a town; and if he is known to be a good miner and a straight man, the storekeeper will give him a sack of flour and a side of bacon, and such other things as are required, and then they go partners in what is found. sometimes this goes on for months, sometimes for years; sometimes the trader loses his money, sometimes he makes a fortune. you see there are plenty of places as ain't in what you may call the indian country, but somehow or other it do seem as if the red-skins had just been put down where the best places is, so as to prevent the gold being dug. in arizona some big finds have been made, but nobody's any the richer for them. the red-skins is always on the look-out. often an exploring party never comes back. sometimes one or two come back with the news that the others have all been wiped out; but what with the awful country and the want of water, and the sartainty of having to fight, and of sooner or later being surprised and scalped, there ain't many men as cares about following the thing up." "i suppose you know of such places, sim?" "waal, maybe we do," the miner said cautiously. "maybe we do; eh, doctor?" the little man did not reply, but sat looking searchingly at hugh. when he did speak it was not in direct answer to the question. "i like your face, young fellow," he said. "it reminds me of one i have seen somewhere, though i can't say where. you look to me as if you were downright honest." "i hope i am," hugh said with a laugh. "you may bet your boots on that," bill royce said. "he is as straight a man as you will find in texas." "and you are out here," the other went on, "part for pleasure, part just to see life, and part, i suppose, to make money if you see a chance?" "i have never thought much of making money," hugh replied, "although i should certainly have no objection if i saw a chance; but i have never thought of doing more than keeping myself." "and he has been with you, you say, nigh two years?" and he nodded at royce. "and you can speak for him as he does for you?" "that i can," hugh said warmly. "we have worked together and hunted together, we have been mates in the same outfit, and we have fought the comanches together, and i can answer for him as for myself. he gave up his work and went with me, not because there was any chance of making more money that way than any other, but because we liked each other." "well, sim," the little man said, "it seems to me that these two would make good mates for that job of ours." "waal, doctor, you know i leave these things to you. i kinder feels that way myself towards them, and anyhow i don't see as there can't be no harm in setting it afore them, seeing as there ain't no need to give them the indications. but i reckon there is too many about here to talk on a matter like that. waal, it comes to this," he went on, turning to hugh, "if you air disposed to make a jint expedition with us, and ain't afeard neither of roughing it nor of red-skins, you meet us to-morrow three miles outside the town on the south road, and we will talk to you straight." "that is just what would suit me," hugh said; "and you, royce?" "it is all the same to me, lightning. if you are for an expedition you know you can count me in." "good night, then," sim howlett said, rising. "we have sat here quite long enough talking together if we mean to do anything. i reckon there is a score of these mexikins have been saying to themselves afore now, what can those two miners and them cow-boys be a-talking together about? and when a mexikin begins to wonder, he begins to try and find out; so we are off. three miles out on the south road at nine o'clock to-morrow morning. about half a mile past a village you will see a stone cross by the road. there is a path turns off by it, you follow that, and you will come across us afore you have gone two hundred yards." "what do you think of it, royce?" hugh asked when they were alone. "don't think nothing of it one way or the other. most of them miners have got some tale or other. however they seem to me straight men." "i feel sure they are," hugh said. "the big one looks an honest fellow. i don't so much understand the little one, but evidently he is the head of the party. he is a curious little fellow with his white hair and gentle voice. he doesn't look strong enough for such a life as they lead, but i suppose he is able to do his share or they would never have been working twelve years together. at any rate i came here to see something of life among the mines, and this seems as good a chance as we are likely to have." the next morning they breakfasted at seven, and at half-past eight saddled their horses and rode out. they found their two companions of the previous night at the appointed place. as the miners saw them approaching they turned off the path and preceded them to a mexican hut, and there waited for them to come up. "good morning!" the doctor said as they dismounted; "there is no fear of our being overheard here. the mexican who lives here has often been up with us among the hills, and started for the town a quarter of an hour ago, when we told him we had a rendezvous here. now, if you will hitch your horses up and sit down on these maize stalks we can talk comfortably. a year ago, when sim and i were working in a gulch among the mountains, we heard a call in the distance. we went to see what it was, and found a man who had dropped down, just worn out and famished, after he had given the cry that fetched us. he had been shot in four or five places, and we saw at once that his journey was nearly over. "we carried him to our fire and brought him round, and did all we could for him for three weeks; then he died. he told us he had been one of a party of six who had been prospecting in the hills west of the lower gila. one of them had learned, from an indian he had helped in some way, of a place where the bed of a stream was full of gold. they found it; but the next morning they were attacked by the apaches, who had, i expect, been following them all the time. two of them were killed at once, the others got upon their horses and rode for it. three of them were shot down, but this man was well mounted and got off, though they chased him for three days. he lost his way; his horse fell dead, but he struggled on until he saw the smoke of our fire and made us out to be whites. "before he died he told us how the place could be found. he said there was no doubt about the gold, and he had three or four nuggets in his pockets, weighing two or three pounds each. he said he had had lots of bigger ones, but had chucked them all away to lighten his horse. well, it is a long journey. it will take us all a month, i reckon, to get there. we cannot go straight--the apaches would have us to a certainty--but must go north into the moquis country, and then down again from that side. we have been minded to try it ever since, but luck has been bad with us, and, besides, two men wouldn't be enough for such a journey. "it ain't every one sim and i would care about going with, but we have both taken a fancy to you. we saw you stand up straight before that crowd of mexicans; besides, we know it wants good grit for that cow-boy life. now this is the offer we make. we have got two horses, and we can buy two pack-horses, but we can't go further than that. you have got two out-and-out horses; we saw you ride in yesterday afternoon. you will want another pack-horse, and you will have to provide the outfit: say two bags of flour, two sides of bacon, ten pounds of tea, and a couple of gallons of spirits; then there will be sugar and some other things. "we shall also want a small tent. now if you like to join us on these terms you can. there is plenty of gold for us all. but mind you, it will be no child's play. the journey from the moquis country there will be terrible; and there is the chance, and a pretty big chance it is, i tell you, of a fight with the red-skins. we may never find the place. we have got pretty good indications, but it is not an easy matter to find a place among those mountains. still, there it is. if you get there and back you will each have a horse-load of gold; if you don't you will leave your bones there. what do you say to it?" hugh looked at royce. "i reckon we kin take our chances if you kin," the latter said. "at any rate, mates, you will find as we can take our share in whatever comes." "then that is agreed," the doctor said. "now about preparations. it will never do for you to be buying the things here; for if we were seen to start off together we should be followed, sure enough; it would be guessed at once we had told you of something good. we must not be seen together again. we will get our pack-horses and load up, and go as if we were undertaking a job on our own account, and camp up somewhere twenty miles away, and stop there a week. after we have gone you can get your outfit and move off and join us. sim and i have been talking over whether it will be a good thing to take josã©--that is the man here--with us, instead of buying baggage horses. he has got four beasts. he could ride one himself, and the other three, with the one you have, would make up the number. josã© can be trusted; besides, we should not tell him where we were going, but we should have to say it would be a long journey and a dangerous one. he is a widower, with one child, and these horses are his only possession, and i think he would want their value put down before he started, say seventy-five dollars a-piece for them and their saddles, that is three hundred dollars. you wouldn't buy them for less. so as far as money goes it would come to the same thing. you will get it back again if josã© and the animals come back; but if we all do come back, three hundred dollars would be nothing one way or the other. then comes the point, would it be worth while to take him? there would be one more mouth to feed, but that does not go for much; there would be one more rifle in case we had to fight, and josã© has plenty of courage. i have seen him in a fix before now. he would look after the beasts and leave our hands free; and his pay would cost us nothing, for if we got there he would help us gather and wash the gold." "what is the drawback then?" hugh asked. "the drawback is, that if we have to ride for it he might hinder us." "there ain't much in that, doc.," sim howlett put in. "our horses are pretty good though they ain't much to look at, but the horses our mates here have got would leave them standing, and i don't know that josã©'s best is much slower than ours; besides, when you are working among those mountains speed goes for nothing. a horse accustomed to them would pick his way among the rocks faster'n a race-horse. ef we are attacked there running won't be much good to us. ef we get fairly out from the hills with the gold and the 'paches are on our trail, why, we then must trust to cunning, and our mates here can ride clear away." "we sha'n't do that, sim," hugh said. "if we throw in our lot with you we shall share it to the end, whatever it is." "waal, that is all right, lad; but there are times when stopping to fight is just throwing away your life without doing no good. the doctor here and me ain't men to desart mates; but when a time comes where it ain't no sort of good in the world to fight, and when those mates must get rubbed out whether you stick by them or not, then it is downright onreasonable for anyone as can get clear off to throw away his life foolish." "well, anyhow, sim," hugh said, "it seems to me that it will be best to take josã© and his horses with us. it will, as you say, leave our hands free, and it will make the journey much more pleasant, and will add one to our strength. well, that would cost, you say, three hundred dollars; how much will the rest of the outfit cost?" "three hundred at the outside," the doctor said. "we have been reckoning it up. of course we have all got kits, and it's only grub and ammunition we have got to buy, and two or three more shovels, and some pans for washing the sand, and another pick or two, and a couple of crowbars. three hundred dollars will get as much grub as the four pack-horses will carry, and make a good proper outfit for us. will your money run to that?" "hardly," hugh said, "that's just about what we have got between us. we had each six months' pay to draw when we left the ranche, and i had some before. i think we are about twenty dollars short of the six hundred." "that is plenty," the doctor said. "if you put in four hundred, sim and i can chip in another two hundred, as we sha'n't have to buy pack-horses; so we have plenty between us. we shall see josã© to-night and talk it over with him, and if he agrees he will come to you and bring a document for you to sign, saying that if he does not return in six months, the three hundred dollars are to be paid over for the use of his child; then he will go with you to a priest and put the paper and the money in his hands; then you can hand him over your pack-horse, he will take charge of it; then, if you will give us a hundred dollars, we engage to get the outfit all provided. when it is all done we will let you know what day you are to meet us, and where. you see we are asking you to trust us right through." "that is all right," hugh said. "we are trusting you with our lives, and the dollars don't go for much in comparison." "that is so," sim howlett said. "waal, there is nothing more to say now. you had best ride back to the town and give yourself no more trouble about it. you will hear from us in a few days, or it maybe a week. we shall buy half the things and send them on by josã©, and then get the others and follow ourselves. it would set them talking here if we was to start with four loads. there is some pretty bad men about this place, you bet." "well, we sha'n't have much for them to plunder us of," hugh said. "four laden horses wouldn't be a bad haul, but it ain't that i am afraid of. if there wur a suspicion as we was going out to work a rich thing, there is plenty of men here would get up a party to track us, and fall on us either there or on our way back. there are two or three bands of brigands upon the mountains, and they are getting worse. there have been several haciendas burned and their people killed not many miles from el paso. parties have been got up several times to hunt them down, but they never find them; and there is people here as believe that the officers of the _guã¡rda_ are in their pay. they have come across us more than once when we have been prospecting. but they don't interfere with men like us, because, firstly, we haven't got anything worth taking, anyway nothing worth risking half a dozen lives to get; and in the next place, ef it got known they had touched any of our lot, the miners would all join and hunt them down, and they know right enough that would be a different thing altogether to having to deal with the mexikins." five minutes later hugh and royce were on their way back to el paso. [illustration] [illustration] chapter xvii. carried off. the next morning, in accordance with the promise they had given don ramon, hugh rode out to the hacienda, royce saying that they were too great swells for him, and he would rather stop quietly at el paso; "besides," he said, "most likely josã© will come this morning, and i will stop and fix up that business with him." hugh did not try to dissuade him, for he had seen that royce was ill at ease on the occasion of his first visit. on reaching the hacienda he received a hearty welcome from don ramon and his family, and don carlos rode with him over a part of the estate, where a large number of _peã³ns_ were engaged in the cultivation of tobacco, maize, and other grain. "if you have time, seã±or hugh, you must go with me to see our other estates; our principal one lies twenty leagues to the south. we have five hundred square miles of land there, and big herds of cattle and droves of horses, but i suppose you have seen enough cattle." "yes; there is no novelty about that," hugh replied. "how many have you?" "there and in other places we have somewhere about 150,000 head; as to the horses, we don't know; they are quite wild, and we drive them in and catch them as they are wanted. we have about a score of our best here, but these are the only animals we keep here except bullocks for the plough and the teams to take the crops down to market." "i hear you have been rather troubled with brigands lately; have you any fear of them?" "the scoundrels!" the young man exclaimed passionately; "it is a disgrace that they are not hunted down. yes, they have been very daring lately, and my father and several of the other hacienderos have written lately to the authorities of santa fã© complaining of the inactivity of the police here. i have tried to persuade my father to move down to our house at el paso until the bands have been destroyed; but he laughs at the idea of danger. we have twenty armed _peã³ns_ sleeping in the outhouses, and twelve male servants in the house, and indeed there is little chance of their attacking us; still one cannot but feel uncomfortable with ladies here. "there are a hundred troops or so stationed in the fort on the other side of the river, and they have joined two or three times in the search for the brigands, but of course they are too far off to be any protection to us here; besides they are not of much use among the mountains. the officer in command is fonder of good wine than he is of the saddle. it is a difficult thing to rout out these brigands; half the peasantry are in alliance with them, and they get information of everything that is going on, and even if we knew of their hiding-places, there would be little chance of our taking them by surprise. however, sooner or later, i suppose, we shall have them. there is a large reward offered for their capture; someone is sure to prove traitor at last. it is always the way with these bands, someone thinks himself ill-used in the division of the booty, or takes offence with the leaders, or something of that sort, or is tempted by the reward, and then we get them all; if it wasn't for treachery, the country would soon become uninhabitable." his host would not hear of hugh returning that evening to el paso, but sent a _peã³n_ in to tell royce that he would not return until next day. hugh spent a delightful evening; the young ladies played on the mandoline, and sang with their brother. the soft light, the luxurious appointments, and the ripple of female talk, were strange and delightful after so long a time among rough surroundings; and it was with great reluctance that he mounted his horse and rode back on the following morning. he found on arrival that his comrade had arranged the matter with josã©, and had deposited the money with the priest. as he was standing chatting to him at the door of the hotel, a ragged mexican boy ran up, placed a scrap of paper in hugh's hand, and at once darted away. "it is from the doctor," hugh said, opening it, and then read as follows: "i have something particular to say to you; it must be private; when you have received this stroll quietly through the town as if you were only looking at the shops; go down to the river and follow it up till you hear three whistles, then come to them; you had better come alone. the doctor." "i wonder what the little man has got to say, royce?" "dunno," the other said. "i suppose you had better go and see. you have got your six-shooter anyhow?" hugh obeyed his instructions and walked along the river bank till he heard the whistles; they came from a small clump of bushes standing apart from any others. as he approached it he heard the doctor's voice, "look round and see if there is anyone in sight." "no one that i can see," hugh replied. "then come in." hugh pushed his way through the bushes. "why, what is the matter, doctor?" he asked, surprised at all these precautions. "i will tell you. sit down there. it is just as we fancied it might be. i told you that we might be watched. these confounded mexicans have nothing to do but watch, and they have found out what we are after." "how did you learn that, doctor?" "well," the doctor said reluctantly, "my mate has but one fault, he will sometimes go in for a drink. it's not often, but just occasionally, once perhaps every few months. it has always been so ever since i have known him. well, last night it came over him. he thought it would be a long while before he would have a chance again, i suppose; he is not quarrelsome when he drinks, but you may be sure i always go with him so as to take care of him. so yesterday evening, seeing that he had made up his mind for it and was not to be turned, i went with him to a little wine-shop near where we lodge. there were half-a-dozen mexicans in there drinking and talking, and as they stopt talking directly we went in, i saw we were not wanted. but i noticed more than that. i saw two of them glance at each other, and though i could not recollect i had ever set eyes on them before, i saw they knew us. "we hadn't any money on us beyond what was wanted to pay for the liquor, so though i didn't like the look of them i was not uneasy. we sat down and called for some liquor, and i managed to say to sim, 'these chaps know us, sim; don't you go drinking.' he nodded. we drank for a bit, at least he did, i don't touch spirits. then, talking carelessly out loud, we, in whispered asides, made out a plan. we agreed that we should quarrel, and i should go out, and that he should seem to go on drinking until he got drunk and stupid, and then like enough he might hear something. so we carried that out. "as soon as he had drunk his glass he called for another, and then another. i got up a row with him, and told him he was always making a beast of himself. he said he would drink if he chose, and wouldn't be interfered with by any one. then i got nasty, and we had a big row, and i went out. then sim went on drinking; he can stand a lot more than would floor most mexicans. they got into talk with him, and he could see they were trying to pump him as to what we were going to do, but you bet he didn't let much out. then he got gradually stupid, and at last rolled off the seat on to the ground. for a bit the mexicans went on talking together, and then one of them crept over and felt his pockets, and took the few dollars he had in them out. that convinced them he was dead off to sleep, and they went on talking. "what he gathered was this: the fellows were the spies of one of these bands. they had noticed you particularly when you came in, because it seems their captain was in the town and recognized your horse, and told them he didn't like your being here, and they were to watch you sharp. they were in the crowd when there was the row about the horse, and they saw us having our talk with you. they followed you out to the don's and back again, and when you rode out in the morning to meet us they sent a boy after you, and he kept you in sight and tracked you up to the hut, and then crawled up close and overheard what we were saying. they sent off word at once to their chief, and we are to be followed by two men; when they have traced us to the place, one is to ride back to some place where a dozen of them will be waiting to attack us on our way back." "that is bad," hugh said; "what is to be done?" "this has got to be put a stop to," the doctor said calmly, "though i don't see how yet. at any rate sim and i think we had better not hurry, a few days won't make any difference, and something may occur. he picked up from their talk that the villains had something else in hand just at present; some stroke from which they expect to make a lot of money, but they talked low, and he couldn't catch much of what they said. maybe it will go wrong, and the country may be roused and hunt them down, and if so you bet we will be in it; we have got chances enough to take in this job as it is, and we don't want to reckon on brigands; not that there is much fear of them now that we know their plans, we have only got to ambush the men they send after us. still, we ain't going to take any chances. the fellows may follow direct; they are sure to choose some one who knows the mountains well, and they may judge by our direction the course we are taking and go by other paths; they would know pretty well we are not the sort of people to fool with. still it is better to wait a little while and see if there is a chance of putting a stop to it here. it is not that we are feared of the skunks; if we could not throw them off our trail, we could fight them anyway, but one don't want to have them on one's mind; we have got plenty of things to think about without them." "o yes! i think it much better to stay here for a bit, doctor. there is no hurry about a start on our expedition, and i should certainly like to take a share in routing out these bandits, especially as, from what you say, it seems that the men at their head are the fellows who murdered don ramon perales' son, and sold me his horse. i wonder which hacienda it is that they are meaning to attack!" "yes, it is a pity sim didn't manage to find that out; we would have caught them then." "have you any idea how strong the band is?" "they are not often over twenty," the doctor replied. "twenty is enough for their work, and if there were more the shares of the plunder would be too small; but, as i said, they have got friends everywhere, and could probably gather thirty or forty more if they knew the troops were going to attack them. a mexican is always ready on principle to join in if there is a chance of getting a shot at an american soldier." "i suppose you have not the least idea in what direction these fellows have their headquarters?" "well, i have some sort of an idea, at any rate i know of one place where there is a party who don't care about being interfered with by strangers. two or three months ago when sim and i were away about forty miles over to the north-west, we were in a village just at the mouth of a bit of a valley, and the girl who waited on us at the little wine-shop whispered in my ear when the landlord's back was turned, 'don't go up the valley.' well, we were not thinking of going up the valley, which was only a sort of gulch leading nowhere, but after that we thought that we would have a look at it. we took a goodish round so as to get above it, and looked down, and we saw a house lying among some trees, and lower down, near the mouth of the valley, made out two men sitting among some rocks on the shoulder. "the sun shone on their gun barrels, but that didn't go for much, for the mexicans out in the country pretty well always go armed. we watched them for a couple of hours, and as they didn't stir we concluded they were sentries. the girl wouldn't have given us that warning unless there had been something wrong, and i expect that house was the headquarters of one of these gangs." "what made her do it, i wonder, doctor?" "that i can't say, lightning. it is never easy to say why a woman does a thing. she may have thought it a pity that sim and i should get our throats cut, though i own that wouldn't be a thing likely to trouble a mexican girl. then she may have had a grudge against them; perhaps they had shot some lover of hers, or one of them may have jilted her. anyhow, there it was, and if we hear of any attack of brigands upon a hacienda, we will try that place before going any further. and now, lad, you had better be going back. i shall lie here quiet for an hour or two in case there should be anyone watching you, as is likely enough." hugh returned to the hotel and told royce what he had heard. "that will suit me," bill said. "i am death on border ruffians, and if ever i see two of them it wur them fellows as sold you the horse at m'kinney. and so it's their intention to follow us and wipe us out, and get our swag? waal, maybe it will be the other way. if i was you, lightning, i would ride over to don ramon's this evening, and give him a hint to be on his guard. there is no reason why it should be his place they have got in their mind more than any other. but the fact that they stole the son's horse, to say nothing of killing him, might turn their thoughts that way. if you do a fellow one injury, i reckon that like as not you will do him another. i don't know why it is so, but i reckons it's human nature." "i will ride over at once," hugh said. "i wouldn't do that, hugh. you don't know who may have been watching you, and if it is known that you had been meeting the doctor quiet, and the doctor is a mate of sim's, and sim was in that wine-shop, they will be putting things together, and if you ride straight over to don ramon now, they will think it is because of something the doctor has been saying to you. then if it should chance as that is the place they are thinking of, it air long odds that sim and the doctor get a knife atween their shoulders afore bed-time. you go quietly off in the cool of the evening, just jogging along as if you was going to pay a visit of no particular account. they ain't got no interest in us, except as to this expedition to find gold, and they won't concarn themselves in your movements as long as i am here at the hotel and the others ain't getting ready to make a start. they have learned all they want to learn about our going." just as the sun was setting, hugh set out. it was dark when he reached don ramon's hacienda. after chatting awhile with don ramon, his wife and son--the two girls, their father said, being somewhere out in the garden--hugh said quietly to the mexican that he wanted to speak to him for a moment in private. don ramon lighted a fresh cigarette, and then said carelessly, "it is a lovely evening, we may as well stroll outside and find the girls. i don't suppose they know that you are here?" don carlos followed them into the broad verandah outside the house. "your son can hear what i have to say," hugh said in reply to an inquiring look from don ramon, and then reported the conversation that sim had overheard. father and son were both much excited at the statement that the horse had been recognized. "then poor estafan's murderers are somewhere in this neighbourhood!" the don exclaimed. "that is the part of the story that interests me most, seã±or. as to attacking my hacienda, i don't believe they would venture upon it. they must know that they would meet with a stout resistance, and el paso is but three miles away. daring as they are, they would scarcely venture on such an undertaking; but i will, of course, take every precaution. i will order four men to be on guard at night, bid the others sleep with their arms ready at hand, and see that the shutters and doors are barred at night. but the other matter touches us nearly. if estafan's murderers are in the province we will hunt them down if i have to arm all the vaqueros and _peã³ns_, and have a regular campaign against them. "you were quite right not to mention this before my wife; she and my daughters had better know nothing about it. by the way, i wonder where the girls are; they are not generally as late as this. i suppose the evening has tempted them; it is full moon to-morrow." he raised his voice and called the girls. there was no reply. "carlos, do you go and look for them, and tell them from me to come up to the house; and now, seã±or, we will have a cup of coffee." in a quarter of an hour carlos returned. "i cannot find them, father. i have been all round the garden calling them." don ramon rose from his seat and struck a bell on the table. "they must have gone up to their rooms," he said, "without coming in here." when the servant appeared, he said, "rosita, go up to the seã±oritas' room, and tell them that don hugh tunstall is here." "they are not there, seã±or. i have just come down from their rooms." "what can have become of them, carlos?" don ramon said. "i have no idea, father; they had lion with them. he was asleep here when they called him from outside, and i saw him get up and dash through the open window." "i can't understand it," the don said anxiously, "for the evening is cold; besides, they would scarcely go outside the garden after nightfall." "they might be down at chaquita's cottage, father." "oh, yes! i didn't think of that, carlos," don ramon said. "yes, they are often down at their old nurse's. rosita, tell juan to go down to chaquita's cottage and beg the young ladies to return, as i want them." in ten minutes the servant came back. "they are not there, seã±or; they left there just as it was getting dark." "surely there is nothing to be uneasy about, ramon!" his wife said. "the girls are often out as late as this on a moonlight evening. they are sure to be about the garden, somewhere." "but carlos has been round," don ramon said. "well, we will go and have another look for them." followed by the two young men he stepped out on to the verandah. "carlos," he said, "go round to the men's quarters and tell them your sisters are missing, and that they are all to turn out and search. i don't like this," he said to hugh, after his son had left. "i should have thought nothing of it at any other time, but after what you have just been telling me, i feel nervous. now, let us go round the garden." [illustration: discovering the body of the bloodhound.] they traversed all the walks, don ramon repeatedly calling the girls' names. they were joined in their search by don carlos and a number of the men. "they are certainly not in the garden," don ramon said at last. "now, let us go down towards chaquita's cottage; they may either have followed the road on their way back, or have come along a by-path to the garden. we will go by the path, and return the other way." the path lay through a shrubbery. just as they entered it, a man met them running. "well, what is it, juan?" don ramon asked as he came up and he could see his face by the light of the torches some of the men were carrying. "i don't know, seã±or, but we have just come upon some fresh blood on the path." with a cry of alarm don ramon ran forward with his son and hugh. fifty yards farther they saw two of the men standing with torches in the middle of the path. "here is blood, seã±or," one of them said. "we passed it without noticing it on our way to the cottage; we were not examining the ground; but on our way back the light of the torches fell upon it." don ramon stood staring in speechless horror at a large patch of blood on the path. "there has been a struggle here," hugh said, examining the ground. "see! there are marks of large feet. some of them have trod in the blood. see, don carlos!" and he pointed to a line of blood drops leading to one of the bushes. "search, hugh," the young man groaned, "i dare not." hugh motioned one of the men with a torch to follow him. the father and son stood gazing after them as they entered the bushes. a moment later hugh called out: "it is the dog, seã±ors, there is nothing else." an exclamation of joy broke from the two mexicans. they were at least relieved of the overpowering dread that had seized them at the sight of the blood, and at once joined hugh. the dog, a fine cuban blood-hound, was lying dead, stabbed in a dozen places. "what can it mean, father?" don carlos said in a low voice. "i can hardly think," the mexican said, passing his hand across his forehead. "i am afraid, seã±or, it is too evident," hugh put in. "this is the explanation of what my friend heard. the brigands did not intend to attack the hacienda. they have carried off your daughters, and the hound has died in their defence." "that must be it," don ramon exclaimed in the deepest anguish. "oh, my poor girls, how can it have happened!" "i expect they were in hiding here," hugh said, "and sprang up suddenly and seized and gagged the seã±oritas before they had time to scream. the hound doubtless sprang upon them, and, as you see, they killed it with their knives." "what is to be done?" don ramon asked hopelessly. "the first thing is to follow the path down to the road," hugh said; "probably they had horses somewhere. will you tell the men to go along cautiously with their torches near the ground." don carlos gave the order in mexican. one of the party, who was the chief hunter at the hacienda, went a little ahead of the others with a torch. he stopped a short distance before he reached the junction of the path with the road, which they could see ahead of them in the moonlight. "here are fresh marks of horses' hoofs," he said. "see," and he held the torch above his head and pointed to the bushes, "twigs have been broken, and there are fresh leaves upon the ground. the horses must have been hidden here. do not move until i examine down to the road." he went forward alone, and returned in two or three minutes. "there are faint tracks from the road to this point; they came along at a walk. there are deep ones down to the road, and along it; they went off at a gallop. there were six of them." "what is to be done, seã±or?" don ramon said to hugh. "my brain seems on fire, and i cannot think." "i should imagine your daughters can be in no immediate danger, seã±or," hugh said quietly. "the brigands have doubtless carried them off in order to wring a heavy ransom from you. they must have got two hours' start, and i fear pursuit would be useless to-night, though i would send three of the men accustomed to tracking on at once to follow their traces, and to learn the direction they have taken after leaving here. of course it will be for you to decide whether you will go down to the town and see the alcalde, and obtain a posse of men to join your vaqueros in a search for them, and then to cross the river to the fort and get the help of the troops, and scour the whole country; or whether you will wait until you hear, as you doubtless will, from the brigands." "let us go back to the house," don ramon replied; "we must think it over. we must not do anything rash, or we might endanger their lives." the news had reached the house before they arrived there. donna maria was completely prostrated with grief, the women were crying and wringing their hands, and the wildest confusion prevailed. don ramon had by this time recovered himself, and sternly ordered silence. he then proceeded to the room where his wife had been carried, and endeavoured to assure her that there was little fear for their daughters' lives, for the brigands could have no purpose in injuring them, and had only carried them off for the purpose of exacting a ransom. "what do you really think had best be done, my friend?" don carlos asked hugh when they were alone together. "of course, whatever ransom these villains ask must be paid, although i have no doubt it will be something enormous. but it is terrible to think of the girls being even for an hour in their hands, especially when we feel sure that these men are the murderers of my brother." "i should say," hugh replied, "that whatever they demand must be paid. it will not do to risk the seã±oritas' lives by doing anything as long as they are in their hands. but i should advise that the moment they are free we should fall upon these scoundrels and exterminate them, and recover the ransom. i think that i have a clue to the place where they are likely to be taken. one of my miner friends was speaking to me of a place that would be likely to be used for such a purpose. he could lead a party there. but it would never do to attempt it while the ladies are in their hands. you may be sure that a careful watch will be kept, and at the first alarm the villains might murder them. we will hear what your father says when he returns, and if he thinks, as i do, that we can attempt nothing until he receives some communication from the brigands, i will ride back to el paso and consult my friends there." don ramon on his return said that he was strongly of opinion that it would risk the girls' lives were any movement made until he heard of them. as he could be of no utility hugh rode over to el paso, don carlos saying that he would let him know the instant they received any communication from the brigands, but that he should anyhow see him in the morning, as he should ride over with his father to report the matter to the authorities. it was past ten o'clock when hugh reached the hotel. it happened to be a festa, and the square was full of people, and the cafã©s and wine-shops open. royce was in the bar-room of the hotel. "royce, do you know where sim and the doctor are likely to be found?" "i saw them sitting in front of the wine-shop in the corner of the square, not more than ten minutes ago." "come along with me, then, bill." "but i thought we weren't to be seen with them?" royce said. "there can be no reason against it now," hugh replied. "they have learned all they wanted to learn about it, and know that we are going together. at any rate our meeting would seem to be accidental." "is anything up, hugh?" royce asked as they made their way through the crowd in the square. "you look troubled." "i will tell you directly, bill." "there they are. they are still at the same table, hugh." there were two empty chairs at the table. hugh nodded carelessly to the doctor and sim, and sat down beside them. "after what you told me this morning, doctor, there can be no harm in our being seen together. i want to talk to you badly. there are too many people about here. do you mind both coming down to the river. we can talk as we go." directly they were out of the square he told the three men what had happened. "carried off those two young ladies!" royce exclaimed. "by thunder, that is too bad. what is to be done, boys?" "let us wait until we know all about it," sim replied; while the doctor said, in his quiet way, "this has really got to be put a stop to. let us wait until we are down by the river. we must hear all this quietly, lightning. four men can't talk as they walk." they soon gained a quiet spot away from the houses. "now tell us how it came about," the doctor said, "and while we are talking each of you keep his eyes and ears open. we have behaved like fools once, and let ourselves be overheard. we won't do it again." hugh told the whole story of the girls' abduction, and stated the determination arrived at by don ramon, not to attempt a pursuit, but to pay whatever ransom was demanded, and then to hunt the brigands down. "that is all very well," the doctor said; "but when they have once got the money, and you may be sure that it will be a very big sum, they will divide it and scatter; and there won't be one of them in the district twelve hours after the girls are given up." "but what is he to do, doctor?" sim howlett said. "he daren't move till he gets the gals. they would cut their throats sure if he did." "my idea was, sim," hugh said, "that if this is the work of the band in that house the doctor was telling me about this morning, we could be in hiding near it; and directly the men who take the girls back to their father return with the ransom, we could fall upon them, destroy the whole band, and get back the money." "we should want a big force to surround the place," sim replied; "and there would be no getting it there without being seen. you bet there are a score of them on the look-out, and their friends would bring them word, long before we got there, of such a force being on the way. besides, there is no surety that it is the place where the gals are, and, even if it is, the hull band may leave when they send the gals away. they may scatter all over the country, and meet again at night fifty miles off. another thing is, you may bet your boots there will be a lot of trouble about handing over that ransom, and they won't give 'em up until after they have got the money." "i see that there are all sorts of difficulties before us, sim, but i am sure you and the doctor will see some way out of it. i am deeply interested in rescuing these poor girls, and we are all interested in this band being wiped out before we start." "have you any plan at all?" the doctor asked. "you have had longer time to think this over than we have." "well, doctor, my idea was that we could start to-night and get to some place among the hills, where we could hide our horses a mile or two from this house where we suppose they are. we should lie quiet there to-morrow. the next evening we should make our way down, and try and ascertain for certain whether they are there, and see whether it is possible to carry them off. "of course that couldn't be attempted unless we are absolutely certain of being able to protect them. if we could get them out without being seen, we might try to do it. if it is not certain we could do that, and get off without being seen, i should say one of us should ride back next morning to don ramon and get him to bring up twenty or thirty of his men, or if not, a body of troops from the fort. we should guide them at night to a point as near the house as it would be safe for them to get. then we four could crawl down to the house. the moment we are in a position to protect the girls, that is to say if we can get into the room where they are kept, we will fire a pistol-shot out of the window as a signal. then we shall have to make as good a fight of it as we can till the others come up to help us. "you may be sure that the brigands will be all pretty well occupied with us, and the other party will be able to surround the house, and then rush in to our assistance." "that looks a good plan, by thunder!" sim howlett said. "what do you say, doctor?" "well, i think it might be worked somehow on those lines," the doctor agreed. "i don't think there is much danger for the ladies, because, if the brigands did come upon us when we were scouting, some of them would attack us, and the rest would carry the ladies off to some other hiding-place. i don't say if they were surrounded and saw no chance of escape they mightn't kill them out of revenge, but they would never do that until the last thing, because they would reckon, and truly enough, that as long as they are in their hands they have got the means of making terms for themselves. but to one thing i agree anyhow. let us get our horses and start at once. don't let us go together. we will meet at the first cross-road a mile to the west of the town. no one is likely to notice us going out. there are plenty of people who have come in from the country to this festa; besides, just at present they won't be watching us. they know what our plans are, and that we don't intend to start for another week, and they won't be giving a thought to us until this affair of the girls is settled. what do you say, sim?" "that is right enough," sim said; "but we must be careful about the roads, doctor. like enough they will have a man on every road going anywhere near the place, and perhaps miles away." "yes, we must make a big circuit," the doctor agreed. "strike the hills fifteen or twenty miles away from their place, and then work up through them so as to come down right from the other side." "shall i get some provisions at the hotel?" hugh asked. "no; we will attend to that. there are plenty of places open, and we will get what is wanted. now, do you and bill go back by yourselves; we will follow in a minute or two." [illustration] [illustration] chapter xviii. the brigands' haunt. by daybreak on the following morning hugh and his three companions were far among the hills. they had halted an hour before, and intended to wait until noon before pursuing their journey. they had already been eight hours in the saddle, and had travelled over sixty miles. they had halted in a little valley where there was plenty of grass for the horses, and after cooking some food lay down and slept until the sun was nearly overhead. fortunately, the two miners had traversed the country several times, and were able to lead them across the mountains, where otherwise it would have been impossible to find a way. after four hours' riding, on emerging from a valley the doctor said: "there, do you see that village three miles away? that is the village where we stopped. the gorge in which the house lies runs from the village in this direction. you cannot see it here: it is a sort of caã±on cut out ages ago by the water. the sides are nearly perpendicular; but at the upper end the bottom rises rapidly, and, as far as we could see from the spot from which we looked at it, there is no difficulty in getting down there. as you see, there are woods lying back to the left. we have got to come down at the back of them, and there is no chance of our being seen even if they have got men on the lookout on the high ground above the house. they will be looking the other way; they can see miles across the plain there. of course they have no reason to believe that anyone knows of their haunt; still, they are always on the look-out against treachery." "well, let's go on at a trot now, doctor. we shall be in the wood before sunset." when they reached the trees they dismounted, and led their horses until they perceived daylight through the trunks on the opposite side. "now we will finish the remainder of our dinner," the doctor said, "and talk matters over. we are about half a mile now from the end of the valley, and it is another half-mile down to the house. now, what are we going to do? are we all going, or only one?" hugh was silent. these men understood matters better than he did. "only one, of course," sim howlett said. "the others can come on to the top of the valley so as to lend a hand if he is chased; but it would be just chucking away lives for more than one to go. well, it is either you or me, doc." "why?" hugh asked. "i am quite ready to go, and i am sure bill is too. besides, this question of the young ladies is more my affair than yours, since you do not know them, and i certainly think i ought to be the one to go." "there is one reason agin it, lightning," sim said. "what you say is true, and if it came to running you could leg it a good bit faster than the doc. or me; but that don't count for much in the dark. it is creeping and crawling that is wanted more than running. the reason why the doc. or i must go is, you don't speak mexican, and we do. it ain't likely that the young ladies will be seen out in the verandah, and one can't go and look into each of the windows till we find the right one. we have got to listen, and that way we may find whether they are there, and if we are lucky, which room they are in. so you see it is for one of us to go." "i shall go, sim," the doctor said quietly. "i can walk as lightly as a cat. i haven't above half as much bulk to hide as you have, and i am cunning while you are strong, and this is a case where cunning is of more use than strength. so it is settled that i go; but you may as well give me your six-shooter. i may want twelve barrels." "i shall be sorry for the mexicans if you use them all, doc.," sim howlett said, handing over his pistol to the doctor. "i would rather go myself; but i know when you have once made up your mind to anything it ain't no sort of use argying." "that's right," the doctor said, putting the weapon into his belt. "well, there is just time for a pipe before i start. the sun has been down nearly half an hour, and the moon won't be up over those hills there for another hour, so we shall have it dark till i get well down into the valley, and the moon won't be high enough to throw its light down there afore i am back again." "a wonderful man is the doctor!" sim howlett said when, with noiseless step, he had made his way down into the upper end of the ravine. "you wouldn't think much of him to look at him. but, you bet, he has got as much grit as if he was ten times as big. see him going about, and you would say he might be one of them missionaries, or a scientific chap such as those as comes round looking after birds and snakes and such like. he sorter seems most like a woman with his low talk and gentle way, and yet i suppose he has killed more downright bad men than any five men on this side of missouri." "you don't say so!" hugh said in surprise. "yes, sir, he is a hull team and a little dog under the waggon, he is. he ain't a chap to quarrel; he don't drink, and he don't gamble, and he speaks everyone fair and civil. it ain't that; but he has got somethin' in him that seems to swell up when he hears of bad goings-on. when there is a real bad man comes to the camp where he is, and takes to bossing the show, and to shooting free, after a time you can see the doctor gets oncomfortable in his mind; but he goes on till that bad man does something out of the way--shoots a fellow just out of pure cussedness, or something of that kind--then he just says this must be put down, and off he goes and faces that bad man and gives him a fair show and lays him out." "you mean he doesn't fire until the other man is heeled, sim?" "yes, i mean that." "then how is it he hasn't got killed himself?" "that is what we have said a hundred times, lightning. he has been shot all over, but never mortally. one thing, his looks are enough to scare a man. somehow he don't look altogether arthly with that white hair of his--and it has been the same colour ever since i have known him--floating back from his face. he goes in general bareheaded when he sets out to shoot, and the hair somehow seems to stand out; not a bit like it does other times. i heard a chap who had been a doctor afore he took to gold-digging say his hair looked as if it had been electrified. then he gets as white as snow, and his eyes just blaze out. i tell you, sirree, it is something frightful to see him; and when he comes right into a crowded saloon and says to the man, as he always does say in a sort of tone that seems somehow to frizz up the blood of every man that hears it, 'it is time for you to die!' you bet it makes the very hardest man weaken. i tell you i would rather face judge lynch and a hundred regulators than stand up agin the doctor when his fit is on; and i have seen men who never missed their mark afore shoot wide of him altogether." "and he never misses?" royce asked. "miss!" sim repeated; "the doctor couldn't miss if he tried. i've never known his bullet go a hair's-breadth off the mark. it always hits plumb in the centre of the forehead. if there is more than one of them, the doc. turns on the others and warns them: 'git out of the camp afore night!' and you bet they git. he gives me a lot of trouble, the doc. does, in the way of nursing. i have put it to him over and over again if it is fair on me that he should be on his back three months every year, 'cause that is about what it's been since i have known him. he allows as it ain't fair, but, as he says, 'it ain't me, sim, i have got to do it; i am like a malay running a-muck--them's chaps out somewhere near china, he tells me, as gets mad and goes for a hull crowd--and i can't help it;' and i don't think he can. and yet you know at other times he is just about the kindest chap that breathes. he is always a-nussing the sick and sitting up nights with them, and such like. that is why he got the name of doctor." "he isn't a doctor really then?" hugh asked. "waal, lightning, all that's his secret, and ef he thinks to tell you, he can do it. i know he is the best mate a man ever had, and one of the best critters in god's universe, and that is good enough for me. i reckon he must be somewhere down among them mexikins by this time," he went on, changing the subject abruptly. "i almost wish one of us had gone with him," royce said, "so that if he should get found out we might make a better fight of it." "he ain't likely to get found out," sim said quietly, "and ef he does he kin fight his way out. i don't know what way the doctor will die, but i allowed years ago that it weren't going to be by a bullet. i ain't skeery about him. ef i had thought there wur any kind of risk, i would have gone with him, you bet." it was two hours before the doctor suddenly stood in the moonlight before them. they had been listening attentively for some time, but had not heard the slightest sound until he emerged from the shadow of the ravine. "well, doctor, are we on the right scent?" "the girls are there, sim, sure enough. now let us go back to the wood before we talk. we have been caught asleep once on this expedition, when we thought we were so safe that we needn't be on the watch, and i don't propose to throw away a chance again." they went back without another word to the wood. as soon as they reached it the doctor sat down at the foot of a tree, and lighted his pipe; the others followed his example. "well, there was no danger about that job," he began. "it seems not to have struck the fools that anyone was likely to come down from this end of the gulch. down at the other end they have got two sentries on each side upon the heights. i could see them in the moonlight. i reckon they have some more at the mouth of the valley, down near the village; but you may guess i asked no questions about it. i saw no one in the gulch until i got down close to the house. it is as strong a place as if it had been built for the purpose. it stands on a sort of table of rock that juts out from the hill-side; so that on three sides it goes straight down. there is a space round the house forty or fifty feet wide. "on the side where the rock stands out from the hill they have got a wall twelve feet high, with a strong gate in it. on that side of the house they have bricked all the windows up, so as to prevent their being commanded by a force on the hill-side above them, and all the windows on the ground-floor all round are bricked up too. i expect the rooms are lighted from a courtyard inside. so you see it is a pretty difficult sort of place to take all of a sudden. i could hear the voices of five or six men sitting smoking and talking outside the door, which is not on the side facing the hill, but on the other side. i guessed that when the house was built there must have been steps up from that side, for there is a road that runs along the bottom of the valley; so i crawled up and found that it was so. there had been a broad flight of steps there; they had been broken away and pulled down, still they were good enough for me. there were one or two blocks still sticking out from the rock, and there were holes where other blocks had been let in, and i made a shift to climb up without much difficulty till i got my eyes level with the top. "the moon hadn't risen over the brow, still it was lighter than i liked; but one had to risk something; so i first of all pulled myself up, crawled along the edge till i got round the corner, and then went up to the house and examined the windows on the other side, and then got back to the top of the steps and began to listen. i soon heard the girls were there. they had brought them straight there after they had carried them off. a man had started early the next morning with a letter to don ramon demanding ransom. he was expected back some time to-night. they had had news that so far the don was taking no steps to raise the country, though the news of the girls being carried off was generally known. i didn't hear what the sum named for the ransom was; but the men were talking over what they should each do with their share of it, and they reckoned that each would have seven or eight thousand dollars. "well, there wasn't anything new about this. the matter of interest to us was which was the room where the girls were. as the journey would have been of no sort of use if i could not find that out, there was nothing to do but to get up again and crawl along to the house. i had reckoned that i should most likely want my rope, and had wound it round my waist. there was a guard at the gate, so it was one of the sides i had to try. "i had learned from what the men said that most of the gang were away scattered all over the country down to el paso, so as to bring news at once if there was any search for the girls going on. the chief and his lieutenant were down in the village, and would ride in with the messenger who brought down ramon's answer. there was a guard inside the house, because the men at the fire said it was time for two of them to go and relieve them; but i guessed that otherwise the house was empty. i threw my rope over a balcony and climbed up, opened the fastening of the window with my knife, and went in. everything was quiet. i felt my way across the room to a window on the other side. i opened that and looked down into the courtyard. two or three lanterns were burning there, and i saw two men sitting on a bench that was placed across a door. they were smoking cigarettes, and had their guns leaning against the wall beside them. there was no doubt that was the room where the girls were. "it was on the opposite side of the courtyard to that where i was standing--that is, on the side of the house facing down the valley,--and was the corner room. "i had learned everything i wanted now, so i had nothing to do but to shut the window, slide down the rope, shake it off the balcony, and come back again; and here i am." "well done, doctor! you have succeeded splendidly. but what a pity we didn't all go with you. we could have cleared out that lot and rescued the girls at once." "you might not have gone as quietly as i did," the doctor said. "four men make a lot more noise than one, and at the slightest noise the seven men at the door would have been inside, the door bolted, and the first pistol shot would have brought in the guard at the gate, the four sentries on the height, and i expect as many more from the mouth of the valley. it would have been mighty difficult to break into the house with nine men inside and as many out; besides, it would never do to run risks; and even if we had done it, and hadn't found the girls with their throats cut, we should have had to fight our way up the valley to the horses, and a bullet might have hit one of them. no, no; this is a case where we have no right to risk anything. it's for the don to decide what is to be done. now we know all about it, and can lay it before him. lightning, you had better saddle up and ride with me. you must go, because he knows you, and will believe what you tell him. i must go, because he will want me to guide the force back here, so as to avoid any chance of their being seen on the way. the horses have done eighty miles since this time yesterday, so it's no use thinking of starting to-night. besides, there is no hurry. we will be off in the morning." after breakfast sim was about to saddle the doctor's horse, when royce said: "the doctor had better take my horse. he is miles faster than his own." the girths were tightened. the doctor, as he mounted, said to sim, "you will keep a sharp look-out over the house, and reckon up how many go in and come out. i expect if the don writes to say he will pay the money, a good many of those outside will come here." "we will keep our eyes open, doctor." "it may be two or three days before you hear of us, sim." "there is no hurry, doctor. there will be a lot of talk about how the ransom is to be paid afore anything is done." "do you mean to go back the same way we came?" hugh asked the doctor as they rode off. "no, there is no occasion for that. we will ride thirty miles or so along the foot of the hills, east, and then strike straight by road for el paso. it is about nine o'clock now. we shall be there by five o'clock. we won't go in together. i will wait on the road and come in by some other way after dark, or, what would be better, put up at josã©'s. you had better not go up to the don's until to-morrow morning. were you to go up directly you returned, the scoundrels who are watching both you and the don might suspect that your journey has had a connection with his business." next morning hugh arrived at don ramon's, having obtained another horse at the hotel. "why, where have you been, seã±or hugh?" don carlos exclaimed as the servant showed him into the room where they were at breakfast. "when i rode with my father into the town to give the alcalde notice, i went to the hotel and found that you were out. we sent over there three times yesterday and the day before, but they knew nothing of you. you had taken your horse and gone out the evening you returned, and had left no word when you would come back. we have been quite anxious about you, and feared that some harm had befallen you also. we were quite sure that you would not have left without telling us of your intentions." "no, indeed," hugh said. "i should have been ungrateful indeed for your kindness if i had left you in such terrible trouble; but before i tell you what i have been doing, please let me know what has happened here." "about mid-day, the day after my daughters had been stolen," don ramon said, "a horseman rode up. i saw him coming, and guessed he was the man we were expecting. he was shown in here, and carlos and myself received him. he handed me a letter. here it is. i will translate it: "'seã±or don ramon perales,--if you wish to see your daughters alive, you will, as speedily as possible, collect 200,000 dollars in gold and hand them over to the messenger i will send for them. when i receive the money your daughters shall be returned to you. i give you warning, that if any effort is made to discover their whereabouts, or if any armed body is collected by you for the purpose of rescue, your daughters will at once be put to death. signed ignatius guttiero.'" "and what did you reply, don ramon?" "i wrote that it would take some time to collect so great a sum in gold, but that i would send up to santa fã© at once, and use every effort to get it together in the shortest possible time. i demanded, however, what assurance i could have that after the money was paid my daughters would be returned to me. to that i have received no answer." "no, you could hardly get one before this morning," hugh said. "you look surprised, seã±or; but we have found out where they are hidden." "you have found that out!" the others cried in astonishment. "my companions and i," hugh said; "indeed, beyond riding a good many miles, i have had but little to do with the matter. the credit lies entirely with the two miners i spoke to you of, with whom i was going shortly to start on an expedition to a placer they know of." he then related the reason why the miners had suspected where the gang of brigands had their headquarters, and the steps by which they had ascertained that the girls were really there; and then explained the scheme that he and the doctor had, on their ride down, arranged for their rescue. don ramon, his wife, and son were greatly moved at the narrative. "you have, indeed, rendered us a service that we can never repay," don ramon said; "but the risk is terrible. should you fail it would cost you your lives, and would ensure the fate of my daughters." "we are in no way afraid about our own lives, don ramon; there are not likely to be more than twenty of these scoundrels there, and if we were discovered before we could get to your daughters we could fight our way off, i think. in that case, seeing that there were only four of us, they certainly would not throw away their prospect of a ransom by injuring their captives. they would suppose that we had undertaken it on our own account as a sort of speculation, and though, no doubt, they would remove your daughters at once to some other place, they would not injure them. you see, our plan is that the force we propose shall be at hand, shall not advance unless they hear three shots fired at regular intervals. that will be the signal that we have succeeded in entering your daughters' apartment, and that they are safe with us; in that case you will push forward at once to assist us. if, on the other hand, you hear an outbreak of firing, you will know that we have been discovered before we reached your daughters, and will retreat with your force silently, and return to el paso by the same route by which you went out, and you would then, of course, continue your negotiations for a ransom." "at any rate," don carlos said, "i claim the right of accompanying you. it is my sisters who are in peril, and i will not permit strangers to risk their lives for them when i remain safe at a distance. you must agree to that, seã±or." "i agree to that at once," hugh said. "i thought that it was probable that you would insist upon going with us; it is clearly your right to do so." "it must not be attempted," don ramon said gravely, "if in any way i can recover my daughters by paying the ransom. the risk would be terrible, and although two hundred thousand dollars is a large sum, i would pay it four times over rather than that risk should be run. the question is, what guarantee the brigands will give that they will return their captives after they have received the money. i shall know that soon; we will decide nothing until i receive the answer." "would it not be well, seã±or, for you to go over to arrange with the officer in command of the fort for twenty or thirty men to start with you at a moment's notice. if you decide to make this attempt to rescue your daughters the sooner we set about it the better, that is, if you intend to take troops instead of a party of your own men." "i have already seen the commandant," don ramon said; "he is a personal friend, and rode over here directly he heard the news, and offered to place the whole of his force at my disposal should i think fit to use it." at this moment a servant entered, and said that a man wished to see don ramon. the mexican left the room, and returned in a minute with a letter. it was brief: "seã±or, if you want your daughters back again you must trust us; we give no guarantees beyond our solemn pledge. you will tell my messenger on what day you will have the money ready, and do not delay more than a week; he will come again to fetch it. see that he is not followed, for it will cost your daughters their lives if an attempt is made to find out where he goes. your daughters will be returned within twenty-four hours of your sending out the money." "we will try your plan, seã±or," don ramon said firmly. "i would not trust the word of these cut-throats, or their oaths even, in the smallest matter, and assuredly not in one such as this. what shall i say in reply to this letter?" "i should write and say that, although their conditions are hard, you must accept them, but that you doubt whether you can raise so large a sum of gold in the course of a week, and you beg them to give ten days before the messenger returns for it, and you pledge your honour that no attempt whatever shall be made to follow or to ascertain the course he takes." don ramon wrote the letter, and took it down to the hall, where the messenger was waiting, surrounded by servants, who were regarding him with no friendly aspect. "there is my answer," don ramon said as he handed the letter to the man. "tell your leader i shall keep my word, and that i trust him to keep his. "now, seã±or hugh, will you give me the details of your plan. how do you propose that the troops are to be close at hand when required without their presence being suspected?" "the doctor's idea was this, seã±or. that you should this morning send a letter by a servant to the commandant. will you tell him that you believe you have a clue to your daughters' hiding-place, but that everything depends upon the troops getting near the spot without suspicion being excited. will you beg him to maintain an absolute silence as to any movements of the troops until to-night, and to issue no orders until the gates are shut and all communication closed. will he then order an officer and twenty men to be ready at four o'clock in the morning to start under the guidance of a miner who will to-night arrive at the fort bearing your card. "this will, of course, be the doctor. request the officer to place himself absolutely in his hands. our plan is that they shall keep the other side of the river, travel some thirty miles up, and then halt until nightfall. at that point they would be as far off from the brigands' hiding-place as they are here, and if the fact that a detachment has started becomes known to the friends of the brigands, it will not be suspected that there is any connection between their journey and the affair with your daughters. after nightfall they will start again, cross the river, and meet you and myself at one o'clock, near the village of ajanco. thence we shall go up into the hills, rest there all day, and come down upon the gulch where the brigands' haunt lies." "that sounds an excellent plan, seã±or; but how do you propose that we shall get away without being noticed to-morrow evening?" "the doctor and i agreed that the best plan you could adopt would be to ride over and see your banker the first thing in the morning. that will seem perfectly natural. then in the evening, after dark, you and don carlos should again ride down to him. you will naturally take at least four of your men down with you as a guard. you will leave your horses with them when you enter the banker's. you will then pass through his house, and at once leave by the back entrance, wrapped in your cloaks. you will then proceed to a spot half a mile out of the town, where juan, who you say knows the country, will be waiting with your horses, and i also will be there. "the people who are watching you--and you will certainly be watched--will naturally suppose that you are at the banker's. at ten o'clock he will come to the door and tell your men to return home with your horses and to bring them back at ten in the morning, as you and your son will sleep there. even should anything be suspected--which is hardly likely--the scoundrels would have no clue whatever as to the direction you will have taken, as, at any rate, you will have had two hours' start before they can begin to think that anything is wrong." "that is a capital plan, seã±or. you keep on adding to our already deep obligations to you." everything was carried out in accordance with the arrangements. hugh returned at once to el paso, and in the evening the doctor mounted his horse and rode to the fort. the next day passed quietly, and as soon as it became dark hugh went out to the stable, saddled his horse without seeing any of the men about the yard, and rode off in the direction of don ramon's, and then, making a circuit of the town, arrived at the spot where juan was waiting with the horses. they had been placed in a thicket a short distance from the road so as to be unobserved by anyone who might happen to pass. hugh took his post close to the road, and an hour later don ramon and his son came up. the horses were at once brought out, and they mounted and rode off, juan riding ahead to show the way. they maintained a fast pace, for at one o'clock they were to meet the troops at the appointed place. they arrived a quarter of an hour before the time, and ten minutes after the hour heard the tramping of horses. the doctor was riding ahead, and halted when he came up to the group. "has all gone well, lightning?" he asked. "excellently, as far as we know." "this is lieutenant mason, who is in command of the troops," the doctor said as a figure rode forward. "lieutenant mason, this is don ramon perales." "you are punctual, seã±or," the officer said. "i have orders to place myself and my men entirely at your disposal. i think we had better have half an hour's halt before we go further. we have ridden fast, and you must have ridden faster, as your guide told me you were not to leave el paso until eight o'clock, and i presume we have a good deal farther to go to-night." "another twenty miles," the doctor said. "the moon will be getting higher, and we shall want all her light. it will do no harm if we halt an hour, lieutenant, and eat our supper while the horses are eating theirs." during the halt the doctor had a long talk with juan, who came from this part of the country, and knew it well. when they mounted, instead of riding through the town, they struck off by a by-path before they reached it. three hours later they were deep among the hills, and then again halted, after turning off from the track they had been following, into a ravine. the girths were loosened, and the horses allowed to graze, and the men, wrapping themselves in cloaks or blankets, were soon asleep, a sentry being placed at the entrance to the ravine. at ten o'clock all were on their feet. fires were lighted and breakfast cooked, and then, following mountain paths, they rode until two in the afternoon, at which time they reached the valley from which the party had before made their way down to the wood near the ravine. at dusk they again mounted and rode on to the wood. they were met at the edge of the trees by sim howlett and royce. "i was expecting you to-night, boys," sim said. "we looked out for you last night, but didn't reckon as you could possibly do it." "have you any news of my daughters?" don ramon asked eagerly. "nary a word," sim replied. "bill and me have never had our eyes off the house from sunup to sundown. lots of fellows have come and gone on horseback. of course we cannot answer for what has been done after nightfall, but we reckon there is about thirty men there now, not counting those they may have in the village and the sentries down by the mouth of the valley. i calkilate the best part of the gang is there now. the chiefs would like to keep them under their eye. they will think the only thing they have got to be afraid of is treachery. i suppose matters stand as they did when you left, doc.?" "just the same. we four and don carlos are to go on and get at the ladies. when we are in there safe three pistol shots are to be the signal. then don ramon and the soldiers are to come down and surround them." don ramon had been very anxious to accompany the party, but the doctor had positively refused to take him with them. "it would add greatly to our risks," he said, "and do no good. if we can get to your daughters, don ramon, we five can keep the fellows at bay until you come up, easily enough. i believe we could thrash the lot, but it is no good taking chances; but anyhow, we can keep them off. i would rather have gone without your son, but as lightning has passed his word, there is nothing more to be said. on a job like this the fewer there are the better. each man after the first pretty nearly doubles the risk." by this time the troopers had dismounted and fastened their horses to the trees. meat that had been cooked in the morning, and biscuits were produced from their haversacks. when the meal had been eaten the soldiers lit their pipes, while their officer proceeded with hugh and the others to the lower end of the wood and walked on to the head of the ravine. "there are the lights!" hugh said. "ah! i see they have lighted a fire on the terrace, bill." "i expect they are pretty crowded in the house," bill said; "but they go in to sleep. sim and i have been down near the house twice, and though we were not quite close we were able to make pretty sure that except one sentry there and another at the gate, the rest all go in." "how far are we to go down?" the officer asked. "well, i would rather you did not go down at all," sim howlett said. "you can get down there from here in ten minutes after you start if you look spry, and i am desperately afraid some of your men might make a noise, which they would hear certain if everything was quiet. there is no fear of their being heard when the firing once begins down there; but if one of them fell over a rock and his gun went off before we had done our part of the affair, there would be an end of the whole business." "that is what i think, sim," the doctor agreed. "we have said all along we might get the ladies out by ourselves, but again we mayn't be able to get them off at all. but we can defend them easy enough if we can get into their room. five minutes won't make any difference about that, and it is everything to avoid the risk of noise until we get at them. if they discover us before we get there we just fall back fighting. they will think that we are only a small party, and the ladies will be none the worse." "if you think that is the best way we must agree to it," don ramon said; "but we shall have a terrible time until we get to you." "don't you be afeard," sim howlett said. "the doctor, me, lightning, and bill could pretty well wipe them out by ourselves, and we reckon on our six-shooters a sight more than we do on the soldiers." [illustration] [illustration] chapter xix. a fight and a rescue. soon after sunset the five men started. the doctor was of opinion that it was better not to wait until the brigands had retired to rest. "of course we cannot begin operations," he said, "until all is quiet; but as long as the men are sitting round the fires smoking and singing they will keep a very careless guard, and any noise we make will pass unobserved. when they once get quiet the sentries will begin to listen, but until then we might almost walk up to their fires without being observed." it was necessary to move slowly and cautiously, lest they should fall over a rock or stump; but the doctor led the way and the others followed close behind him. twenty minutes' stealthy walking took them to the spot whence the doctor had before reconnoitred the house. a fire blazed on the terrace, and some fifteen men were sitting or lying round it. the light fell upon bottles and glasses. one of the party was playing upon a mandoline and singing, but few of the others were attending to him, a noisy conversation plentifully sprinkled with spanish oaths being kept up. "the room where your sisters are confined," the doctor said to don carlos, "is round the other side of the house. i did not mean to begin until all were asleep, but they are making such a noise down there that i do think it will be best to move at once, and if possible to let your sisters know that we are here. so we will work quietly round to that side; they had no sentry there last time, but they may have to-night." after twenty minutes of cautious movement, they reached the foot of the rock on which the house stood. the doctor had brought out from el paso a small grapnel and rope. the former had been carefully wrapped round with strips of cloth so as to deaden any sound. it was now thrown up, and at the second attempt became firmly fixed above. "do you mount first, lightning," he said to hugh. "when you get up lie quiet for a minute or two. when you have quite assured yourself that all is clear give the rope a shake. we others will come up one by one. let each man when he gets to the top lie down." don carlos followed hugh, and the others soon joined them. "you see that light there," the doctor said to don carlos. "that is your sisters' room. as i told you, the windows on the ground floor are all blocked up, but three or four bricks have been left out just at the top of each, for the sake of light and air. now, sim and you had better go together; he will stand against the wall, and if you climb on to his shoulders i think you can just about reach that hole, pull yourself up, and look in. i need not tell you to be as silent as possible, for there may be someone in with them. if they are alone tell them what we are going to do. see whether there are any bars inside the brickwork. i am afraid there are sure to be, the spanish houses most always have bars to the lower windows. royce, you and i will go to the right-hand corner of the house; you go to the left, lightning. if you hear anyone coming give a low hiss as a warning, then we must all lie down close to the wall. it is so dark now that unless a man kicks against us he won't see us. if he does touch one of you, he is likely to think that it is one of his own party lying down there for a sleep; but if he stoops over to see who it is, you have got either to stab him or to grip him by the throat, so that he can't shout. now, i think we all understand." the five men crawled cautiously to their respective stations. "now, young fellow," sim said to don carlos, "if, when you are mounted on my shoulders, you find you cannot reach the hole, put your foot on my head. you won't hurt me with them moccasins on. directly you have got your fingers on the edge give a little pat with your foot to let me know, and i will put my hands under your feet and help hoist you up. you can put a biggish slice of your weight on me; when i am tired i will let you know. i will lean right forward against the wall--that will help you to climb up. now!" when he stood up on sim's shoulders the young mexican found that he could reach the opening. getting his fingers firmly upon it, he gave the signal, and with sim's aid had no difficulty in raising himself so that he could look into the room. two candles burned upon the table, and by their light he could see the girls stretched on couches. "hush, girls, hush!" he said in a low voice. "it is i, carlos! silence, for your lives!" the two girls sprang to their feet. "did you hear it, nina?" the elder exclaimed in a low voice. "yes; it was the voice of carlos. we could not both have been dreaming, surely!" "i am up here at the opening," carlos said. "we are here, girls, a party to rescue you; but we must get in beside you before we are discovered, or else harm might come to you. wait a moment," he broke in, as the girls in their delight were about to throw themselves upon their knees to return thanks to the virgin, "i am being held up here, and must get down in an instant. i can see that there is a grating to the window. is it a strong one?" "yes, a very strong one." "very well; we will saw through it presently. do you keep on talking loudly to each other to drown any noise that we may make. that will do, sim; you can let me down now." "now, young fellow," sim said as soon as don carlos reached the ground, "you go along and tell bill royce to come here and help. the doctor will go on keeping watch. then go to the other end and send lightning here, and you take his place. he is better for work than you are." sim was soon joined by royce and hugh. he had already set to work. "these bricks are only adobe," he said. "my knife will soon cut through them." in a very few minutes he had made a hole through the unbaked bricks. "seã±oritas," he said in mexican, "place a chair against this hole and throw something over it, so that if any one comes it won't be observed." the men worked in turns with their keen bowies, and in half an hour the hole was large enough for a head and shoulders to pass through. "now for the files, lightning. you may as well take the first spell, as you have got them and the oil." it took two hours' work to file through the bars. just as the work was finished sim said, "you had better fetch the lad, lightning. send him through first." "don't you think, doctor," hugh said when they were gathered round the hole, "that we might get the girls off without a fight at all?" "i doubt it," the doctor said. "the men have just gone in except two who are left as sentries, and the night is very still. they would be almost sure to hear some of us, and if they did the girls might get shot in the fight. still, it might be worth trying. as soon as you get in, don carlos, begin to move the furniture quietly against the door." all this time the girls had been singing hymns, but their prudence left them as their brother entered the room. they stopt singing abruptly and threw themselves into his arms with a little cry of joy. almost instantly there was a loud knock at the door. "what are you doing there? i am coming in," and the door was heard to unlock. carlos threw himself against it. "fire the signal, doctor!" sim exclaimed, as he thrust hugh, who was in the act of getting through the hole, into the room, as he did so three shots were fired outside. the instant hugh was through he leaped to his feet and ran forward. the pressure against the door had ceased, the man having, in his surprise at the sound of the shots, sprung back. hugh seized the handle of the door so that it could not be turned. "pile up the furniture," he said to don carlos. "get into the corner of the room, seã±oritas; they will be firing through the door in a moment." by this time a tremendous din was heard in the house. as yet none of the brigands knew what had happened, and their general impulse was to rush out on the terrace to hear the cause of the shots. the doctor had followed hugh closely into the room, the hole being large enough to admit of his getting through without any difficulty. royce followed immediately, and, as he got through, sim howlett's pistol cracked out twice, as the sentries ran round the corner of the house, their figures being visible to him by the light from the fire. then he thrust himself through the opening. the instant he was through he seized one of the cushions of the couches and placed it across the hole by which he had entered. several attempts had been made to turn the handle of the door, but hugh held it firmly, while the doctor and carlos moved the couches and chairs against it. "here, doctor, you watch this hole; i will do that work," sim said. they worked as silently as possible, and could hear through the opening at the top of the window the sound of shouts and oaths as a number of men ran past on the terrace. then one voice shouted angrily for silence. "there is no one here," he said. "martinez, go in and fetch torches. what has happened? what have you seen, lopez?" "i have seen nothing," the voice replied. "i was lying close to the door when domingo, who was on guard at the seã±oritas' door, said something, then almost directly three shots were fired outside. i jumped up and unfastened the door and ran out. martos and juan, who were on guard outside, were just running across. i heard two more shots fired, and down they both fell. i waited a moment until all the others came out, and then we ran round the corner together. as far as i see there is nobody here." "mille demonios!" the first speaker exclaimed; "it must be some plot to get the girls away. perez, run in and ask domingo if he heard any sounds within. open the door and see that the captives are safe." there was a pause for a minute, and then perez ran out. "domingo cannot open the door," he said. "they are moving the furniture against it, and the handle won't turn; he says there must be something wrong there." "fool! what occasion is there to say that, as if anyone could not see there was something wrong. ah! here come the torches. search all round the terrace, and ask whoever is on guard at the gate whether he has heard anything. we will see about breaking down the door afterwards." there was a pause, and then the men came back again. "there is no one on the terrace. nobody has been through the gate." then there was a sudden, sharp exclamation. "see here, vargas, there is a hole here. the bricks have been cut through." a fresh volley of oaths burst out, and then the man in authority gave his orders. "perez, do you and martinez take your post here. whether there is one or half a dozen inside they can only crawl out one at a time. you have only got to fire at the first head you see. the rest come inside and break open the door. we will soon settle with them." "that is much better than i expected," the doctor said. "we have gained nearly five minutes. now let them come as soon as they like. bill, will you stop at this end and guard this cushion. when the fight begins they may try to push it aside and fire through at us. let the upper end lean back a little against this chair. yes, like that. now, you see, you can look down, and if you see a hand trying to push the cushion aside, put a bullet through it; don't attend to us unless we are badly pressed and call for you." there was now a furious onslaught made on the door from the outside, heavy blows being struck upon it with axes and crowbars. "now, sim, you may as well speak to them a little," the doctor said. "when you have emptied your colt, i will have a turn while you are loading." the noise of the blows was a sufficient indication to sim where the men wielding the weapons were standing. he had already recharged the two chambers he had emptied, and now, steadily and deliberately, he fired six shots through the panels of the door, and the yells and oaths told him that some of them had taken effect. there was a pause for a moment, and then the assault recommenced. the wood gave way beneath the axes and the door began to splinter, while a number of shots were fired from the outside. the doctor, however, was stooping low, and the others stood outside the line of fire, while bill at his end was kneeling by the cushion. the doctor's revolver answered the shots, and when he had emptied his pistol hugh took his place. by the furious shouts and cries without there was no doubt the fire was doing execution. but the door was nearly yielding, and, just as hugh began to fire, one of the panels was burst in. the lock, too, had now given, the piece of wood he had jammed into it having fallen out. the mexicans, however, were unable to force their way in owing to the steady fire of the besieged, who had extinguished their candles, and had the advantage of catching sight of their opponents through the open door, by the light of the torches without. the besieged shifted their places after each shot, so that the mexicans fired almost at random. for ten minutes the fight had raged, when there was a sudden shout, followed by a discharge of firearms without. a cheer broke from the defenders of the room, and a cry of despair and fury from the mexicans. the attack on the door ceased instantly, but a desperate struggle raged in the courtyard. this went on for three or four minutes, when the mexicans shouted for mercy and the firing ceased. then don ramon's voice was heard to call, "where are you? are you all safe?" there was a shout in reply. then the furniture was pulled away and the splintered door removed, and as don ramon entered, his daughters, who had remained quietly in the corner while the fight went on, rushed into his arms. the success of the surprise had been complete. the man on guard at the gate had left his post to take part in the struggle going on in the house, and the officer in command of the troops had gained the terrace unobserved. he at once surrounded the house, and the two men outside the opening had been shot down at the same moment that he, with a dozen of his men, rushed into the courtyard and attacked the mexicans. none of these had escaped. eighteen had fallen in the house, four had been killed outside, and twelve had thrown down their arms, and were now lying bound hand and foot in charge of the troops. [illustration: besieged by brigands.] no sooner had don ramon assured himself that his daughters were safe and uninjured, than he turned to their rescuers and poured out his hearty thanks. they were not quite uninjured. bill had escaped without a wound: don carlos was bleeding from a pistol ball which had grazed his cheek: sim howlett's right hand was disabled by a ball which had taken off his middle finger, and ploughed its way through the flesh of the forearm; hugh had a bullet in the shoulder: the doctor's wound was the only serious one, he having been hit just above the hip. one of the soldiers had been killed, and five wounded while fighting in the court-yard. leaving don ramon and his son to question the girls as to what had befallen them, and to tell them how their rescue had been brought about, the others went outside. "let's have a blaze, lieutenant." sim said. "most of us want dressing a bit, and the doctor is hit very hard. let us make a good big fire out here on the terrace, then we shall see what we are doing. we were in a smother of gunpowder smoke inside." the officer gave an order, and the soldiers fetched out billets of wood from the store and piled them on the fire on the terrace, and soon a broad sheet of flame leaped up. "now, then, let us look at the wounds." sim went on. "let us lift you up and make you a little comfortable, doctor. i am afraid that there is no doing anything with you till we get you down to the town. all you have got to do is to lie quiet." "and drink, sim." "ay, and drink. i am as thirsty myself as if i had been lost on an alkali plain. bill, will you get us some drink, plenty of water, with just a drop of spirit in it; there is sure to be plenty in the house somewhere." royce soon returned with a large jar of cold water and a bottle of spirits. "only a few drops of spirits. sim, if you don't want to get inflammation in that hand of yours." "what had i better do for it, doctor?" "well, it will be better to have that stump of the middle finger taken out altogether. i could do it for you if i could stand and had a knife of the right shape here. as it is, you can't do better than wrap your hand up in plenty of cloths, and keep them wet, and then put your arm in a sling. what's yours, lightning?" "i am hit in the shoulder, doctor. i don't think that it is bleeding now." "well, you had better get bill to bathe it in hot water, then lay a plug of cotton over the hole, and bandage it up; the doctor at the fort will get the ball out for you as soon as you get down there. he is a good man, they say, and, anyhow, he gets plenty of practice with pistol wounds at el paso." royce did his best for his two friends. then they all sat quietly talking until the young officer came out from the house. "we have been searching it from top to bottom," he said. "there is a lot of booty stored away. i want you to have a look at the two leaders of these scoundrels; they have both been shot. don ramon said that he believed they were the murderers of his son, and that two of you might recognize them if they were, as you did a horse trade with them." hugh and royce followed him to the other side of the house, where the bodies of the brigands who had fallen had been brought out and laid down. two soldiers brought torches. "i have no doubt whatever that these are the men," hugh said after examining the bodies of the two leaders, who were placed at a short distance from the rest. "them's the fellows," royce said positively, "i could swear to them anywhere." "they are notorious scoundrels," the officer said, "and have for years been the scourge of new mexico. they were away, for a time, two years ago. we had made the place so hot for them that they had to quit. we learned that from some of their gang whom we caught. they were away nearly a year; at least they were quiet. i suppose they carried on their games down in texas, till they had to leave there too; and then thinking the affair had blown over they returned here. there has been a reward of ten thousand dollars for their capture anytime for the last five years. properly that ought to be divided between you, as it is entirely your doing that they have been caught; but as the reward says death or capture, i suppose my men will have to share it with you." "that is right enough," sim howlett said. "it will give us three or four hundred dollars apiece, and that don't make a bad week's work anyhow. when are you thinking of starting back, lieutenant, and what are you going to do with this house here?" "i shall set fire to the house after we have got everything out of it. i guess it has been a den of brigands for the last ten years. i have sent four men down to keep guard at the mouth of the valley, and i expect we shall get all their horses in the morning. they must be somewhere about here. the prisoners will ride their own, and that will leave us twenty or more for carrying down the best part of the plunder. there is a lot of wine and other things that they have carried off from the haciendas that they plundered. i will send those down in carts with an escort of four of my men." "then i think we had better get a bed in one of the carts, and send my mate here down upon it. he has got a bullet somewhere in the hip, and won't be able to sit a horse." "we will send him off the first thing in the morning," the officer said. "there is one of my own wounded to send down that way too." "i will go with them as nurse," sim said. "get the cart to go straight through without a halt, lieutenant. the sooner my mate is in the hands of your doctor the better." "i will see about it now," the lieutenant said; "no time shall be lost. i will send a sergeant and four men down to the village at once to requisition a cart and bring it here. it will be much better for them travelling at night. i will tell the men i send as escort to get hold of another cart in the morning and send them straight on." "thank you, lieutenant. that will be the best plan by far." don ramon now came out from the house, and joined the group. "in the name of my children, their mother, and myself, i thank you most deeply, seã±ors, for the noble way in which you have risked your lives for their rescue. had it not been for you, god knows whether i should have seen my daughters again, for i know that no oaths would have bound those villains, and that when they had obtained the ransom they would never have let my daughters free to give information that would have led to their capture. i shall always be your debtor, and the only drawback to my pleasure is that three of you have been wounded." "the doctor here is the only one wounded seriously," sim howlett said. "my hand and arm will soon heal up, and the loss of a finger is no great odds anyway. i don't suppose lightning's shoulder will turn out worse than my arm. as for the doctor, he is hit hard, but he has been hit hard so many times, and has pulled through it, that i hope for the best." "seã±or hugh," don ramon said, "it was indeed a fortunate day for me when i questioned you concerning my son's horse, for it was to your advice and to your enlisting your friends on my behalf that i owe it chiefly that my daughters are with me this evening. i must leave it to their mother to thank you as you deserve." two hours later the doctor and one of the wounded soldiers were placed on a bed laid at the bottom of a cart, and started under the escort of two soldiers, sim howlett accompanying them. as the girls had expressed the greatest disinclination to remain in the house where they had been prisoners and where so much blood had just been shed, they with the rest of the party returned with a sergeant and six soldiers carrying torches up the valley to the wood, where the horses had been left. here two fires were soon blazing, and the girls were not long before they were asleep, wrapped in blankets that had been brought up from the house. the following morning hugh and royce handed over their horses for the use of the girls, who were both accomplished horsewomen, and, mounting the horses of sim and the doctor, they started with don ramon, his son, and daughters. fifteen miles before they got to el paso they passed the cart with the wounded men, and hugh said he would ride into the fort to ensure the doctor being there when they arrived. royce and he accompanied don ramon and his party to the gate of the hacienda, which they reached just at sunset. the mexican was warm in his entreaties to hugh to become his guest until his wound was healed, but he declined this on the ground that he should be well cared for at the fort, and should have the surgeon always at hand. "i shall be over the first thing in the morning to see you," don carlos said. "i shall want my own face strapped up, and i warn you if the doctor says you can be moved i shall bring you back with me." royce accompanied hugh to the fort. the commandant was highly gratified when he heard of the complete success of the expedition, and still more so when he learned that the two notorious brigands for whom he and his troopers had so often searched in vain were among the killed. hugh was at once accommodated in the hospital, and the surgeon proceeded to examine his wound. it was so inflamed and swollen with the long ride, he said, that no attempt could be made at present to extract the ball, and rest and quiet were absolutely necessary. two hours later the cart arrived. the doctor was laid in a bed near that of hugh, the third bed in the ward being allotted to sim howlett. the doctor's wound was pronounced by the surgeon to be a very serious one. it was some days before, under the influence of poultices and embrocations, the inflammation subsided sufficiently for a search to be made for the bullet in hugh's shoulder. the surgeon, however, was then successful in finding it imbedded in the flesh behind the shoulder-bone, and, having found its position, he cut it out from behind. after this hugh's progress was rapid, and in a week he was out of bed with his arm in a sling. the doctor, contrary to the surgeon's expectations, also made fair progress. the bullet could not be found, and the surgeon, after one or two ineffectual attempts, decided that it would be better to allow it to remain where it was. the stump of sim's finger was removed the morning after he came in, and the wound had almost completely healed by the time that hugh was enabled to leave the hospital, a month after entering it. don ramon and his son had ridden over every day to inquire after the invalids, and had seen that they were provided with every possible luxury, and he carried off hugh to the hacienda as soon as the surgeon gave his consent to his making a short journey in the carriage. donna maria received him as warmly as if he had been a son of her own, and he had the greatest difficulty in persuading her that he did not require to be treated as an invalid, and was perfectly capable of doing everything for himself. for a fortnight he lived a life of luxurious idleness, doing absolutely nothing beyond going over in the carriage every day to see how the doctor was going on. hugh saw that he was not maintaining the progress that he had at first made. he had but little fever or pain, but he lay quiet and silent, and seemed incapable of making any effort whatever. sim howlett was very anxious about his comrade. "he don't seem to me to try to get well," he said to hugh. "it looks to me like as if he thought he had done about enough, and was ready to go. if one could rouse him up a bit i believe he would pull round. he has gone through a lot has the doctor, and i expect he thinks there ain't much worth living for. he just smiles when i speak to him, but he don't take no interest in things. do you get talking with me when you go in, lightning, and asking about what we have been doing, and i will tell you some of the things he and i have gone through together. maybe that may stir him up a bit." "how long have you known him, sim?" "i came across him in '49. i came round by panama, being one of the first lot to leave new york when the news of gold came. i had been away logging for some months, and had come down at the end of the season with six months' money in my pocket. i had been saving up for a year or two, and was going to put it all in partnership with a cousin of mine, who undertook the building of piers and wharves and such like on the hudson. well, the first news that met me when i came down to new york was that jim had busted up, and had gone out west some said, others that he had drowned hisself. i was sorry for jim, but i was mighty glad that i hadn't put my pile in. "waal, i was wondering what to start on next when the talk about gold began, and as soon as i larned there were no mistake about it i went down to the wharf and took my passage down to the isthmus. i had been working about three months on the yuba when i came across the doctor. i had seen him often afore we came to speak. if you wur to see the doctor now for the first time when he is just sitting quiet and talking in that woman sort of voice of his and with those big blue eyes, you would think maybe that he was a kind of softy, wouldn't you?" "i dare say i might, sim. i saw him for the first time when he came up with you to take my part against that crowd of mexicans. there didn't look anything soft about him then, and though i was struck with his gentle way of talking when i met him afterwards i knew so well there was lots of fight in him that it didn't strike me he was anything of a softy, as you say." "no? waal, the doctor has changed since i met him, but at that time he did look a softy, and most people put him down as being short of wits. he used just to go about the camp as if he paid no attention to what wur going on. sometimes he would go down to a bit of a claim he had taken up and wash out the gravel, just singing to himself, not as though it wur to amuse him, but as though he did not know as he wur singing, in a sort of curious far-off sort of voice; but mostly he went about doing odd sorts of jobs. if there wur a man down with the fever the doctor would just walk into his tent and take him in hand and look after him, and when he got better would just drift away, and like enough not seem to know the man the next time he met him. "waal, he got to be called softy, but men allowed as he wur a good fellow, and was just as choke-full of kindness as his brain would hold, and, as he walked about, any chap who was taking his grub would ask him to share it, for it was sartin that what gold he got wouldn't buy enough to keep a cat alive, much less a man. waal, it was this way. i got down with fever from working in the water under a hot sun. i hadn't any particular mates that time, and wur living in a bit of a tent made of a couple of blankets, and though the boys looked in and did any job that wur wanted i wur mighty bad and went off my head for a bit, and the first thing i seen when i came round was softy in the tent tending me. ef he had been a woman and i had been his son he couldn't have looked after me tenderer. "i found when i began to get round he had been getting meat for me from the boys and making soups, but as soon as i got round enough to know what was going on i pointed out to him the place where i had hid my dust, and he took charge of it and got me what was wanted, till i picked up and got middling strong again. as soon as i did softy went off to look after someone else who was bad, but i think he took to me more than he had to anyone else, for he would come in and sit with me sometimes in the evening, and i found that he wurn't really short of wits as people thought, but would talk on most things just as straight as anyone. he didn't seem to have much interest in the digging, which wur about the only thing we thought of; but when i asked him what he had come to the mining camps for, if it wasn't to get gold, he just smiled gently and said he had a mission. "what the mission wur he never said, and i concluded that though he was all there in other things his brain had somehow got mixed on that point, onless it wur that his mission was to look after the sick. waal, we were a rough lot in '49, you bet. lynch-law hadn't begun, and there wuz rows and fights of the wust kind. our camp had been pretty quiet ontil someone set up a saloon and gambling shop, and some pretty tough characters came. that was just as i wur getting about agin, though not able to work regular. it wurn't long before two fellows became the terror of the camp, and they went on so bad that the boys began to talk among themselves that they must be put down; but no one cared about taking the lead. they had shot four fellows in the first week after they came. "i hadn't seen softy for ten days. he had been away nussing a woodman as had his leg broke by the fall of a tree. i was sitting outside my tent with a chap they called red sam. we had a bottle of brandy between us, when them two fellows came along, and one of them just stooped and took up the bottle and put it to his lips and drank half of it off, and then passed it to the other without saying by your leave or anything. red sam said, 'well, i'm blowed!' when the fellow who had drunk whipped out his bowie--six-shooters had hardly come in then--and afore red sam could get fairly to his feet he struck him under the ribs. waal, i jumped up and drew my bowie, for it wur my quarrel, you see. he made at me. i caught his wrist as the knife was coming down, and he caught mine; but i wur like a child in his arms. i thought it wur all over with me, when i heard a shout, and softy sprang on the man like a wild cat and drove his knife right into him, and he went down like a log. "the other shouted out an oath and drew. softy faced him. it wur the strangest sight i ever seen. his hat had fallen off, and his hair, which wur just as white then as it is now, fell back from his face, and his eyes, that looked so soft and gentle, wur just blazing. it came across me then, as it have come across me many a time since, that he looked like a lion going to spring; and i think buckskin, as the man called himself, who had often boasted as he didn't fear a living thing, was frighted. they stood facing each other for a moment, and then softy sprang at him. he was so quick that instead of buckskin's knife catching him, as he intended, just in front of the shoulder and going straight down to the heart, it caught him behind the shoulder, and laid open his back pretty near down to the waist. "but there wur no mistake about softy's stroke. it went fair between the ribs, and buckskin fell back dead, with softy on the top of him. waal, after that it wur my turn to nuss the doctor, for no one called him softy after that. he wur laid up for over a month, and i think that letting out of blood did him good and cleared his brain like. when he got well he wur just as you see him now, just as clear and as sensible a chap as you would see. why, he has got as much sense as you would find in any man west of missouri, and he's the truest mate and the kindest heart. i have never seen the doctor out of temper, for you can't call it being out of temper when he rises up and goes for a man; that is his mission. he has never got that out of his head, and never will ontil he dies. "he can put up with a deal, the doctor can; but when a man gits just too bad for anything, then it seems to him as he has got a call to wipe him out, and he wipes him out, you bet. you don't want lynch-law where the doctor is: he is a judge and a posse all to himself, and for years he was the terror of hard characters down in california. they was just skeered of him, and if a downright bad man came to a camp and heard the doctor wur there, he would in general clear straight out agin. he has been shot and cut all over, has the doctor, and half a dozen times it seemed to me i should never bring him round agin. "it ain't no use talking to him and asking him why he should take on hisself to be a jedge and jury. when it's all over he always says in his gentle way that he is sorry about it, and i do think he is, and he says he will attend to his own business in future; but the next time it is just the same thing again. there ain't no holding him. you might just as well try to stop a mountain lion when he smells blood. at such times he ain't hisself. if you had once seen him you would never forget it. there wur a british painting fellow who wur travelling about taking pictures for a book. he wur in camp once when the doctor's dander rose, and he went for a man; and the britisher said arterwards to me as it were like the bersek rage. i never heard tell of the berseks; but from what the chap said i guessed they lived in the old time. waal, if they wur like the doctor i tell you that i shouldn't like to get into a muss with them. no, sir." "do you know what the doctor's history is, sim?" "yes, i do know," he said, "but i don't suppose anyone else does. maybe he will tell you some day if he gets over this." "oh! i don't want to know if it is a secret, sim." "waal, there ain't no secret in it, lightning; but he don't talk about it, and in course i don't. it is a sort of thing that has happened to other men, and maybe after a bit they have got over it; but the doctor ain't. you see he ain't a common man: he has got the heart of a woman, and for a time it pretty nigh crazed him." [illustration] [illustration] chapter xx. the avenger. hugh told the coachman to go back to the hacienda, and to return for him late in the afternoon, and then went in with sim. the doctor smiled faintly as hugh sat down beside him and asked how he was getting on. "i am getting on, lad," he said. "i reckon i shall be there before long." hugh affected to misunderstand him. "you must pick up strength," he said, "or we shall never carry out that expedition among the apaches, you know." "if you wait for that you will wait a long time," the doctor said quietly. "i hope not," hugh said cheerily. "by the way, sim, you told me you would tell me some of your adventures in the early days of california. i am interested in that, because i had an uncle there. he was ten years or so out there." "what was his name, lightning?" sim asked. "his name was will tunstall." an exclamation burst from both his hearers. "your uncle!" sim exclaimed. "waal, that beats all, and to think that we should have been all this time together and never known that. is your name tunstall too?" "yes, hugh tunstall." "to think now, doctor!" sim said; "and we never knowed him except as hugh or lightning, and he is will tunstall's nephew. why, lad, bill--english bill we called him--was a mate of ours, and a better mate men never worked with." "you are like him, lad," the doctor said in a voice so different from that in which he had before spoken that hugh quite started. "i thought you reminded me of someone, and now i know. it was english bill. he was just as tall and as straight as you are, and laughed and talked just as you do. i wonder, sim, we didn't notice it at once. well, well, that is strange!" hugh was greatly surprised. it was indeed strange that he should have met these two mates of his uncle. stranger still that they should have entertained such evident affection for a man who seemed to him to differ in character so widely from them. he was surprised, too, at the doctor's remarks about his resemblance to his uncle, for he could see no likeness whatever. "well," he said, "i should have had no idea that i was like my uncle. i think you must have forgotten his figure. he is tall and muscular certainly, but he is much darker than i am, and, i think, altogether different." the doctor and sim looked at each other with astonishment. "there must be some mistake," sim said. "do you say your uncle is alive now?" "certainly i do," hugh replied, in turn surprised. "ah! then, it isn't the same man," sim said. "our bill tunstall was killed ten years ago. it is odd, too; tunstall ain't a common name, at least not in these parts. if you had ever said your own name before i should have noticed it, and asked you about it; but royce always called you lightning, or hugh, and one may know men here for years by the name they have got without ever thinking what name they might be born with." "is tunstall a common name in england, lightning?" the doctor asked. "no, i don't think so, doctor. i never met any others. we came from the north of england, from cumberland." "so did english bill," sim said. "never heard tell of a chap that came out from there of that name, a tall, straight, strong fellow like you? he must have come out before you wur born, though, of course, we didn't know him for years afterwards." "my uncle came out here before i was born," hugh said; "but i never heard of anyone else of the same name doing so; still, if your friend is dead, of course it isn't the same, for my uncle is alive. at least he was two years ago. he is strong, and active, and well knit; but he is not as tall as i am by two inches, i should say." "lift me up in bed, sim," the doctor said excitedly. "how long ago did your uncle return?" "over six years ago," hugh replied, surprised at this strange excitement upon the part of a man who, ten minutes before, had seemed to have no further interest in anything. "six years ago, sim? you hear that; six years ago!" "gently, doctor, gently; what are you driving at?" sim asked, really alarmed at his mate's excitement. the doctor paid no attention to him. "and he had been a great many years away? went away as a boy, and when he came back was so changed they wouldn't have known him?" "yes, that was so," hugh said, more and more surprised. "you hear that, sim? you hear that?" the doctor exclaimed sharply. "i hear it, mate, but do you lie down. you are not strong enough to be exciting yourself like this, though i am blamed if i can see what it is about." "what did he go home for?" the doctor asked, still unheeding sim. "he went home because my father had died, and he came in for a considerable property, and he was one of my guardians." "do you hear that, sim?" the doctor cried in a loud shrill voice that was almost a scream; "do you see it all now?" "just you run and call the surgeon, lightning; the doc's going clear off his head." "stop!" the doctor said, as hugh was about to hurry off. "if sim wasn't that thick-headed he would see what i see. give me a drink." hugh handed him a glass of lemonade, which he tossed off. "now, then, sim, haven't i told you this young fellow was like someone, though i couldn't mind who. don't you see it is our mate, english bill?" "yes, he is like him," sim said, "now you name it. he is a bit taller, and his figure is loose yet, but he will widen out ontil he is just what bill wur." "like what his uncle was," the doctor broke in; "don't you see, sim, his uncle was our mate." "but how can that be, doctor? don't you hear him say as his uncle is alive in england, and didn't we bury poor bill?" "you've heard hugh say what his uncle came home for. what was bill going home for, sim?" "ah!" sim exclaimed suddenly, as a light flashed across him, "it was just what lightning has been saying. his brother was dead, and he was going home to be guardian to his nephew; and because he had come into an estate." "quite so, only he never went, sim; did he?" "no, certainly he never went, doc. there is no doubt about that." "but somebody did go," the doctor said, "and we know who it was. the man who killed him and stole his papers." an exclamation of astonishment broke from hugh, while sim exclaimed earnestly: "by thunder, doctor, but you may be right! i reckon it may be as you say, though how you came to figure it out beats me. that must be it. we never could make out why he should have been killed. he had money on him, but not enough to tempt the man as we suspected." "suspected? no! the man we knew did it," the doctor broke in. "you see now, lightning, how it is. it was known in camp that our mate had come into an estate in england. he said good-bye to us all and started, and his body was found a few miles away. we felt pretty sure of the man who had done it, for he was missing. he was a gambler. bill had been pretty thick with him for some time, and i allow the fellow had got the whole story out of him, and knew the place he was going to, and knew where it was, and had wormed a whole lot out of him that might be useful to him. then he killed him, and wasn't seen any more in these parts. i searched for him for a year up and down california, and nevada, and new mexico, and down into northern mexico, but i never came across his track. if i had got as much as a sign which way he had gone, i would have hunted him down all over the world; but there was not a sign from the day he had left the camp. nobody ever heard of him again. i found out he had a wife down in southern california, a mexican girl, and i went down there to hunt her out, but she had gone too--had left a few days after he had disappeared. now we are on his track again, sim. i guess in a week i will be up, and you and i will go straight off with this young fellow to england, and see this thing out. lay me down now. i must be quiet for a bit. take lightning out and talk it over with him, and tell the cook to let me have some strong soup, for i have got to get out of this as soon as possible." "can all this be true, sim, do you think?" hugh said; "or is the doctor light-headed? do you think it is possible that the man who murdered my uncle is the one who has taken his place all these years." "it is gospel truth, lightning. at least it is gospel truth that your uncle was murdered here, for there can't be no doubt that your uncle bill tunstall and our mate is the same man; but i can't say whether the one as you thought was your uncle is the one that killed him. your description is like enough to him. tell me a little more about him." "he is rather dark, with a moustache but no whiskers; he has a quiet manner; he is slight, but gives you the idea of being very strong. he has very white well-made hands. he shows his teeth a little when he smiles, but even when i first knew him i never liked his smile; there was something about it that wasn't honest. and he brought over with him a mexican wife." "that's him," sim said in a tone of conviction; "you have just described him. he has a light sort of walk like a cat, and a tigerish way with him all over. there ain't a doubt that is the man. and what is the woman like?" "she has always been very kind and good to me," hugh said. "no aunt could have been kinder. i am awfully sorry for her, but i hated the man. that was why i left england. i came into the room one day and found that he had knocked his wife down, and i seized him. then he knocked me down, and i caught up the poker. i was no match for him then in strength. then he drew a pistol, but i hit him before he could aim; and as he went down his head came against a sharp corner of a piece of furniture, and i thought that i had killed him, so i bolted at once, made my way to hamburg, and crossed to new york. that is how i came to be here." "has he got much of the property, lad?" "he has got what was my uncle's share," hugh replied. "now that i know who he is i can understand things. i could not understand before. if i had died before i came of age he would have had the whole of the property. he used to get the most vicious horses he could find for me to ride, and i remember now when we were in switzerland together he wanted to take me up mountains with him, but my aunt wouldn't let me go. then he offered to teach me pistol-shooting, but somehow he dropped that, and my aunt taught me herself. i think she must have stopped him. thinking it all over now, i feel sure that he must have intended to kill me somehow, and that she managed to save my life. there were often quarrels between them, but she didn't seem to be afraid of him. i think that she must have had some sort of hold over him." "waal, there is one thing," sim said after a pause; "i believe this here discovery has saved the doctor's life. he had made up his mind that he had done with it, and wasn't going to try to get better. now, you see, he is all eagerness to get on this fellow's scent. if he had been a blood-hound he could not have hunted the country closer than he did for that thar tarnal villain. he had an idee it wur his business to wipe him out, and when the doctor gets set on an idee like that he carries it out. it will pull him round now, you see if it don't." "i do hope so, indeed, sim," hugh said warmly. "the doctor is a wonderful fellow, and if it hadn't been for him we should never have arrived at this discovery. well, i am glad. of course i am sorry to hear that my uncle was murdered, but as i never saw him that does not affect me so much; but i am glad to hear that this man whom i hated, a man who ill-treated his wife and who spent all his time at horse-racing and gambling, is not my uncle, and has no right to a share in the property that has been in our family for so many years. i only hope that this excitement will not do the doctor any harm." "i am sure that it will do him good," sim said confidently; "but it wur strange to see a man who looked as if he wur just dying out wake up like that; but that has always been his way; just as quiet as a woman at most times, but blazing out when he felt thar wur a great wrong, and that it wur his duty to set it right. i can tell you now what i know about his story. now he knows you are english bill's nephew he won't mind your knowing. waal, his story ain't anything much out of the way. there are scores who have suffered the like, but it didn't have the effect on them like it did on the doctor. "he is really a doctor trained and edicated. he married out east. he wur a quiet little fellow, and not fit to hustle round in towns and push hisself forward; so he and his wife came round and settled in californy somewhere about '36. thar wurn't many americans here then, as you may guess. he settled down in the south somewhere a hundred miles or so from los angeles. he had some money of his own, and he bought a place and planted fruit trees and made a sort of little paradise of it. that is what he told me he lived on, doctoring when it came in his way. there wur some rich mexicans about, and he looked after most of them; but i guess he did more among the poor. he had four children, and things went on peaceable till '48. then you know gold was discovered, and that turned californy upside down. "it brought pretty nigh all the roughs in creation there. they quarrelled with the mexikins, and they quarrelled with the injuns, and there was trouble of the wust kind. "there was gangs of fellows as guessed they could make more money by robbing the miners than they could by digging for gold, and i reckon they was about right; and when they warn't robbing the miners they was plundering the mexikins. waal, i never heard the rights of it, the doctor never could bring hisself to talk about that, but one day when he had been twenty miles away to visit a patient, he came back and found his place burned down, and his wife and the four children murdered. he went off his head, and some of the people as knew him took him down to los angeles, and he wur a year in the madhouse thar. he wur very quiet. i believe he used ter just sit and cry. "after a time he changed. he never used to speak a word, but just sot with those big eyes of his wide open; with his face working, as if he seen an enemy. waal, after a year he got better, and the mexikins let him out of that madhouse. someone had bought his place, and the money had been banked for him. he took it and went off. he never got to hear who the gang wur as had been to his house. i think the idee comes to him ever since when he comes across a really bad man, that he wur one of that lot, and then he goes for him. it is either that, or he believes he has got a sort of special call to wipe out bad men. as i told you, he is always ready to do a kindness to anyone, and ef he has killed over a score or more of the wust men in californy, i guess he has saved five times as many by nussing them when they are ill, only he will never give them medicine. one of his idees is that if he hadn't gone on doctoring, he wouldn't have been away when that gang came to his house, and that is why he will never do anything as a doctor again. he is just a nuss, he says, and nothing more. "now, don't you go for to think, lightning, that the doctor is the least bit mad, because he ain't, and never have been since i first knew him, and i should like to see the man as would say that he wur. he is just as sensible as i am; that ain't saying much; he is ten times as sensible. he always knows the right thing to do, does the doctor, and does it. he air just an ornary man, with heaps of good sense, and just the kindest heart in the world, only when thar is a regular downright bad man in the camp, the doctor takes him in hand all to hisself." "but, sim, i thought you were going about this gold business, this placer, directly the doctor was able to move." "that has got to wait," sim said. "maybe some day or other, when this business of yours is over, i may come back and see about it; maybe i won't. ef the doctor is going to england with you, i am going; that is sartin. besides, even if i would let him go alone, which aren't likely, maybe his word wouldn't be enough. one witness wouldn't do to swear that this man who has stepped into your uncle's shoes ain't what he pretends to be; but if thar is two of us can swear to him as being symonds the gambler, it'll go a long way. but you may have trouble even then. anyhow, don't you worry yourself about the gold-mine. like enough we should all have been wiped out by the red-skins ef we had tried it. now i will just look in and see how the doctor is afore you go." sim returned in two minutes, saying that the doctor had drank a bowl of soup, and had told the orderly who brought it that he was going to sleep, as he wanted to get strong, being bound to start for a journey in a week's time. as the carriage was not to return until late, hugh started to walk over to don ramon's, as he wanted to think over the strange news he had heard. "your friend is better, i hope," the seã±ora said as he entered, "or you would not have returned so soon." "he is better, seã±ora. we have made a strange discovery that has roused him up, and given him new life, while it has closely affected me. with your permission i will tell it to you all." "is it a story, seã±or hugh?" the younger girl said. "i love a story above all things." "it is a very curious story, seã±orita, as i am sure you will agree when you hear it; but it is long, therefore, i pray you to make yourselves comfortable before i begin." as soon as they had seated themselves, hugh told the story of the flight of his uncle as a boy, of his long absence and return; of the life at home, and the quarrel that had been the cause of his own flight from home; and how he had that day discovered that his companions in their late adventure had been his uncle's comrades and friends; and how, comparing notes, he had found that his uncle had been murdered, and that his assassin had gone over and occupied his place in england. many exclamations of surprise were uttered by his auditors. "and what are you going to do now, seã±or?" "i am going to start for home as soon as the doctor is well enough to travel. i should have been willing to have first gone with them upon the expedition upon which we were about to start when your daughters were carried off, but sim howlett would not hear of it." "i intended to have had my say in the matter," don ramon said, "and have only been waiting to complete my arrangements. i have not hurried, because i knew that until your companion died or recovered, you would not be making a move. i am, as you know, seã±or, a very wealthy man, wealthy even for a mexican, and we have among us fortunes far surpassing those of rich men among the americans. in addition to my broad lands, my flocks and herds, i have some rich silver mines in mexico which alone bring me in far more than we can spend. the ransom that these brigands set upon my daughters was as nothing to me, and i would have paid it five times over had i been sure of recovering them; but, you see, this was what i was not sure of, and the fact that they had not asked more when they knew how wealthy i was, in itself assured me that they intended to play me false, and that it was their intention to keep them and to continue to extort further sums. "you and your friends restored my daughters to me. now, seã±or hugh, you are an english gentleman, and i know that you would feel the offer of any reward for your inestimable services as an insult; but your three companions are in a different position, two are miners and one is a vaquero. i know well that in rendering me that service, there was no thought of gain in their minds, and that they risked their lives as freely as you did, and in the same spirit, that of a simple desire to rescue women from the hands of scoundrels. that, however, makes no difference whatever in my obligation towards them. "my banker yesterday received the sum in gold that i directed him to obtain to pay the ransom, and i have to-day given him orders to place three sums of 25,000 dollars each at their disposal, so that they need no longer lead their hard and perilous life, but can settle down where they will. i know the independence of the americans, seã±or, but i rely upon you to convince these three men that they can take this money without feeling that it is a payment for their services. they have given me back my daughters at the risk of their lives, and they must not refuse to allow me in turn to make them a gift, which is but a small token of my gratitude, and will leave me still immeasurably their debtor." "i will indeed do my best to persuade them to accept your gift, don ramon, and believe that i shall be able to do so. the doctor is a man of nearly sixty, and howlett is getting on in years, and it would be well indeed for them now to give up the hard life they have led for so long. as to bill royce, i have no doubt whatever. i have heard him say many a time that his greatest ambition is to settle down in a big farm, and this will enable him to do so in a manner surpassing anything he can ever have dreamt of." "and now, seã±or, about yourself. what you have just told us renders it far more difficult than i had hitherto thought. we have talked it over, i, my wife, carlos, and my daughters. i knew that you were a gentleman, but i did not know that you were the heir to property. i thought you were, like others of your countrymen, who, seeing no opening at home, had come out to make your way here. what we proposed was this. to ask you whether your inclinations had turned most to cattle breeding or to mining. in either case we could have helped you on the way. had you said ranching, i would have put you as manager on one of my largest ranches on such terms that you would in a few years have been its master. had you said mining, i would have sent you down to my mine in mexico there to have first learned the nature of the work, then to have become manager, and finally to have been my partner in the affair. but now, what are we to do? you are going home. you have an estate awaiting you, and our intentions have come to naught." "i am just as much obliged to you, seã±or, as if you had carried them out," hugh said warmly, "and i thank you most deeply for having so kindly proposed to advance my fortunes. had i remained here i would indeed have accepted gratefully one or other of your offers. as it is i shall want for nothing, and i can assure you i feel that the small share i took in the rescue of your daughters is more than repaid by the great kindness that you have shown me." the next day hugh explained to two of his friends the gift that don ramon had made them. bill royce, to whom he first spoke, was delighted. "jehosaphat!" he exclaimed, "that is something like. i thought when the judge here paid us over our share of the reward for the capture of those brigands, that it was about the biggest bit of luck that i had ever heard of; but this beats all. that don ramon is a prince. well, no more ranching for me. i shall go back east and buy a farm there. there was a girl promised to wait for me, but as that is eight years ago, i don't suppose she has done it; still when i get back with 25,000 dollars in my pocket, i reckon i sha'n't be long before i find someone ready to share it with me. and you say i can walk right into that bank and draw it in gold?" "yes, you can, bill, but i shouldn't advise you to do it." "how am i to take the money, then, lightning?" "the bank will give you an order on some bank in new york, and when you get there you can draw the money out as you like." sim howlett received the news in silence. then he said: "waal, hugh, i don't see why we shouldn't take it; as don ramon says it isn't much to him, and it is a big lump of money to us. i would have fought for the gals just as willing if they had been _peã³ns_; but seeing as their father's got more money than he knows what to do with, it is reasonable and natural as he should want to get rid of the obligation to us, and anyhow we saved him from having to pay 200,000 dollars as a beginning, and perhaps as much as that over and over again, afore he got them back. we had best say nothing to the doctor now his mind is set on one thing, and he is going to get well so as to carry it out; when that job is over it will be time enough to tell him about this. i am beginning to feel too stiff for work, and the doc. was never any good that way, and he is getting on now. i shall be able to persuade him when the time comes, and shall tell him that if he won't keep his money, i shall have to send back mine. but he is too sensible not to see, as i do, that it is reasonable on the part of the don, and if he don't want it hisself, he can give it to a hospital and share mine with me. i reckon we shall hang together as long as we both live; so you can tell the don it is settled, and that though we had no thought of money, we won't say no to his offer." now that the doctor had made up his mind to live, he recovered with wonderful rapidity, and in a fortnight was ready to travel. hugh took leave of don ramon and his family with great regret; they were all much affected at parting with him, and he was obliged to promise that if ever he crossed the atlantic again he would come and pay them a visit. prince went back to his old stable, for the party were going to travel down the rio grande by boat. at matamoras, the port at its mouth, they went by a coasting steamer to galveston, and thence by another steamer to new york. here royce left them, and the other three crossed by a cunarder to liverpool. the quiet and sea-voyage quite restored the doctor, who was by far the most impatient of them to get to the journey's end. they had obtained a compete rig-out of what sim called store-clothes at new york, though hugh had some difficulty in persuading him to adopt the white shirt of civilization. on arriving hugh wrote to mr. randolph saying that he had news of very great importance to communicate to him, but that he did not wish to appear at carlisle until he had seen him, and therefore begged him to write and make an appointment to meet him at kendal on the third day after he received the letter. the answer came in due time. it was short and characteristic: "my dear hugh, i am delighted to hear that you are back in england again. you behaved like a fool in going away, and an even greater one in staying away so long. however i will give you my opinion more fully when i see you. i am very glad, for many reasons, that you have returned. i can't think what you want to say to me, but will arrive at kendal by the train that gets in at 12 o'clock on thursday next." when mr. randolph got out of the train at kendal, hugh was awaiting him on the platform. "bless me! is this you?" he exclaimed, as the young fellow strode up to him. "you were a big lad when you left, but you are a big man now, and a tunstall all over." "well, i have been gone nearly three years, you see, mr. randolph, and that makes a difference at my age. i am past nineteen." "yes, i suppose you are, now i think of it. well, well, where are we to go?" "i have got a private sitting-room at the hotel, and have two friends there whom i want to introduce you to; when i tell you that they have come all the way with me from mexico to do me a service, they are, you will acknowledge, friends worth having." "well, that looks as if there were really something in what you have got to say to me, hugh; men don't take such a journey as that unless for some strong reason. what are your friends? for as i have no idea what you have been doing these three years, i do not know whether you have been consorting with princes or peasants." "with a little of both, mr. randolph; one of my friends is a californian miner, and as good a specimen of one as you can meet with; the other is a doctor, or rather, as i should say, has been a doctor, for he has ceased for some years to practise, and has been exploring and mining." "and they have both come over purely for the sake of doing you a service?" mr. randolph asked, elevating his eyebrows a little. "simply that, mr. randolph, strange as it may appear to your legal mind. however, as this is the hotel where we are putting up, you won't be kept much longer in a state of curiosity." "sim and doctor, this is my oldest friend and trustee, mr. randolph. mr. randolph, these are my two very good friends, doctor hunter and mr. sim howlett." in the states introductions are always performed ceremoniously, and the two men shook hands gravely with the lawyer. "i said, mr. randolph," hugh went on, "that they were my good friends. i may add that they were also the good friends of my late uncle, william tunstall." "of your late uncle, hugh! what are you thinking about? why, he is alive and well; and more's the pity," he muttered to himself. "i know what i am saying, mr. randolph. they were the dear friends of my late uncle, william tunstall, who was foully murdered in the town of sacramento, in california, on his way to san francisco, in reply to your summons to return to england." mr. randolph looked in astonishment from one face to another as if to assure himself that he heard correctly, but their gravity showed him that he was not mistaken. "will tunstall murdered in california!" he repeated; "then who is it that--" "the man who murdered him, and who, having possessed himself of his letters and papers, came over here and took his place; a gambler of the name of symonds. my friend obtained a warrant from the sheriff at sacramento for his arrest on this charge of murder, and for upwards of a year dr. hunter travelled over california and mexico in search of him. it never struck them that it was anything but a case of murder for the money he had on him. the idea of the step symonds really took, of personating the man he had murdered, never occurred to them. we met in new mexico, and were a considerable time together before they learned that my name was tunstall, for out there men are known either by their christian names or by some nickname. then at once they said they had years before had a mate of the same name, and then gradually on comparing notes the truth came out." "well--well--well--well!" mr. randolph murmured, seating himself helplessly in a chair; "this is wonderful. you have taken away my breath; this is amazing indeed; i can hardly take it in yet, lad. you are sure of what you are saying? quite sure that you are making no mistake?" "quite certain. however, the doctor will tell you the story for himself." this the doctor proceeded to do, narrating the events at cedar gulch; how the murder had been discovered, and the body identified; how a verdict of wilful murder against some person unknown had been returned by a coroner's jury; how he and sim howlett had gone down to sacramento, and how they had traced the deed to the gambler symonds. "there can be no doubt," mr. randolph said when he concluded, "that it is as you say, and that this man is william tunstall's murderer." "and we shall be able to bring him to justice, shall we not?" hugh asked. "that was why i wanted you to meet me here, so that we could arrange to arrest him before he had any suspicion of my return." "ah! that is a different thing altogether, hugh. the evidence of your two friends and the confirmation that can doubtless be obtained from sacramento as to the existence of the gravestone erected to william tunstall, and of the finding of the coroner's court, will no doubt enable us to prove to the satisfaction of the courts here that this scoundrel is an impostor. but the murder case is different. "in the first place you would have to bring forward the charge, and give your evidence in the united states, and obtain an application for his extradition. british law has no jurisdiction as to a murder committed in a foreign country. having set the united states authorities in action, you would return here and aid in obtaining an order from a magistrate here for that extradition; the evidence of your friends would doubtless be sufficient to induce a magistrate to grant such an order, then he would be taken over to the states, and, i suppose, sent down to california to be tried there. your friends here will be best able to judge whether any jury out there would convict a man for a murder committed eight or ten years ago, unless the very strongest evidence was forthcoming. "it would be next to impossible to obtain the evidence of those people, the waiters and others, from whom your friends gleaned the facts that put them upon the trail of symonds, and without that evidence there is no legal proof that would hang a man. morally, of course, there would seem to be no doubt about it. he and you were in the mining camp together, he knew the object for which will tunstall was leaving for england, and that he was entitled to considerable property on arriving here. he followed him down to sacramento, or at any rate he went down at that time. they were together drinking; there your uncle was found murdered; this man appeared here with the letters that your uncle carried, and obtained possession of the estate. "it is a very strong chain of evidence, and were every link proved might suffice to hang him here; but at present you have no actual proof that symonds ever was in sacramento with him, or was the man he was drinking with; and even could you find the waiters and others, it is very unlikely that there would be any one to identify him after all this time. symonds' counsel would argue that there was no proof whatever against his client, and he would, of course, claim that symonds knew nothing about the murder, but that he afterwards obtained the papers from the man who really committed the murder, and that the idea of coming over to england and personating tunstall then for the first time occurred to him. so i think you would find it extremely difficult to get a verdict out in california merely on the evidence of these two gentlemen, and of my own that he was possessed of a letter i wrote to tunstall. but in any case, if you decide to have him arrested on the charge of murder, you will have to go back to california to set the law in motion there, to get the state authorities to apply to the supreme authorities of the united states to make an application to our government for his arrest and extradition. you must do all this before he has any idea that you have returned, or at any rate before he knows that you have any idea of his crime; otherwise he will, of course, fly, and we shall have no means of stopping him, and he might be in fiji before the application for his arrest was received here." hugh and his companions looked helplessly at each other. this was an altogether unexpected blow. they had imagined they had but to give their evidence to ensure the arrest, trial, and execution of william tunstall's murderer. the doctor's fingers twitched, and the look that sim howlett knew so well came into his eyes. he was about to spring to his feet when sim touched him. "wait, doctor," he said. "we will talk about that afterwards." "then what do you advise, mr. randolph?" hugh asked after a long pause. "i should say that for the present we should content ourselves with arresting him on the charge of impersonation, and of obtaining possession of your uncle's estate by fraud. i think the proof we now have, in the evidence of these two gentlemen, and in this copy of the finding of the coroner's jury, will be quite sufficient to ensure his conviction, in which case he will get, i should say, seven years' penal servitude--perhaps fourteen--for although he will not be charged with that offence, the conviction that he murdered your uncle in order to obtain possession of the estate cannot but be very strong in the mind of the judge. yes, i should think he would give him fourteen years at least. we may, of course, want some other evidence that can be obtained from sacramento, such as an official copy of the record of the proceedings at the coroner's inquest; but that would be a matter for counsel to decide. my own opinion is, that the evidence of these two gentlemen that the william tunstall who corresponded with your father, received my letter informing him of the will, and left the mining camp on his way to england, and was murdered on his way to sacramento, was the real william tunstall, will be quite sufficient. "it is a very lucky thing for you, by the way, hugh, that there were provisions in your father's will, that if william tunstall died without issue his half of the property came back to you, for that clause has effectually prevented him from selling his estate, which he would have done long ago had it been possible to do so. to my knowledge he has tried over and over again, and that clause has always prevented it. he has raised a little money on his life interest, but that will of course have no claim on the estate now. now, what do you say? it is for you to decide. in the one case you will have an enormous amount of trouble, and you may finally fail in getting an american jury to find this man guilty of the murder; and in any case, if they do find him so, they will not execute him for a murder committed so long ago, and it is probable that he will get off with imprisonment for life, and may be acquitted altogether. on the other hand, if you have him arrested at once here, on the charge of impersonation and fraud, he is morally certain of getting a sentence which, at his age, will be pretty nearly equivalent to imprisonment for life." "i certainly think that is the best plan," hugh agreed. "don't you think so?" he asked, turning to the others. "i think so," sim howlett said at once; and even the doctor, though less readily, agreed. since his last illness he had changed a good deal. he had no longer fits of abstraction, and was brighter and more cheerful than sim howlett had ever seen him before. the loss of blood and the low fever that had brought him to death's door had apparently relieved his brain of a load that had for years oppressed it. "let it be so," he said reluctantly. "had we met out in the west it would have been different; but as it is, perhaps it is best." late that evening the party proceeded to carlisle, and early the next morning mr. randolph went with the others to one of the county magistrates, and, after laying all the facts before him, obtained a warrant for the arrest of john symonds alias william tunstall. "i must congratulate you, mr. tunstall," the magistrate said to hugh after he had signed the warrant, "upon your discovery. this scoundrel has been a disgrace to your name. he has been for years a consorter with betting men and blacklegs, and stands in the worst odour. it is said that he has mortgaged his life interest in the estates and completely ruined himself." mr. randolph nodded. "yes, i believe he is pretty well at the end of his tether, and at any moment he might be turned out of byrneside." "well, there is an end to all that," the magistrate said, "and the men who have proved themselves even sharper rogues than he is, will be disappointed. i am sorry for the person who has passed as your aunt, for i know that she is spoken well of by the people in the neighbourhood, and i fancy she has had a very hard time of it with him; but of course she must have been his accomplice in this impersonation of your uncle." "i am sorry for her, very sorry," hugh said. "she was always most kind to me, and i have reason to believe that she did all in her power to protect me from him. you see at my death he would have inherited the whole property, and we now know that he was not a man to stick at anything. i am sure that she acted in fear of him." "i have private reasons for believing so too," mr. randolph said; "for, unless i am greatly mistaken, she has deposited a document that, in case of her death, would have exposed the whole plot, in the hands of some legal friends of mine. however, we will not occupy your time any longer, but will start at once with a couple of constables to execute this warrant." returning to carlisle mr. randolph secured the services of two constables, and hiring vehicles they started at once for byrneside. on arriving there mr. randolph said to the servant, "announce me to mr. tunstall. do not say that i am not alone." following him closely they went across the hall, and as he opened the door and announced mr. randolph the others entered. the man was standing on the hearth-rug. the woman looked flushed and excited. they were evidently in the midst of a quarrel. symonds looked up in angry surprise when the party entered. "do your duty," mr. randolph said to one of the constables. "_john symonds, i arrest you under a warrant on the charge of impersonation and fraud._" a deep mexican oath burst from the lips of the man, then he stood quiet again. "who dares bring such a charge against me?" he asked. "i do," hugh said, stepping forward; "and these are my witnesses, men who knew you at cedar gulch, and who identified the body of my murdered uncle." "traitress!" symonds exclaimed in mexican, and in an instant his arm was stretched out and there was a report of a pistol. "and she sent you out!" he exclaimed, turning to hugh, but as he was in the act of again raising his arm there was the report of another pistol, and he fell shot through the brain. the others stood stupefied at the sudden catastrophe, but the doctor said quietly, "i saw his hand go behind him, and knew he was up to mischief. i ought not to have waited, it is always a mistake to wait in these cases." hugh sprang forward towards the woman who had been kind to him, but she had fallen back in her chair. the gambler's bullet had done its work; it had struck her on the temple, and death had been instantaneous. the excitement in the county when the news spread of what had taken place at byrneside was great indeed, and the revelations made before the coroner's jury greatly added to it. they returned a verdict that "lola symonds had been wilfully murdered by john symonds, and that the latter had come by his death at the hands of frank hunter, who had justifiably shot at and killed him while opposing by armed means the officers of the law, and that no blame attaches to the said frank hunter." when all was over, hugh was warmly congratulated by the gentlemen who had come in to be present at the inquest, upon his recovery of the whole of his father's estate, and upon his escape from the danger he had certainly run at the hands of the murderer of his uncle. he was much affected by the death of the woman he still thought of as his aunt, and the document that she deposited at the lawyers' in london showed how completely she had acted under fear of her husband, and that she had knowingly risked her life to save his. the doctor and sim howlett remained for a fortnight with him at byrneside. he had urged upon them to make it their home for a while and to settle near him; but at the end of that time the doctor said to him one evening: "sim and i have talked matters over, hugh, and we have made up our minds. i have heard from him that we are each the owners of 25,000 dollars. i should not have taken it had i known it at the time, but i should not like to hurt the don's feelings by sending it back now, and perhaps it will do more good in my hands than in his. so sim and i are going back to california. we shall buy a place near the spot where i lived many years ago--sim tells me he has told you the story--and there we shall finish our days. when we die the money will go to charities. that is our plan, lad. we shall find plenty to help, and what with that and a little gardening our time will be well occupied, and sim and i will have plenty in the past to look back upon and talk about." and so a week later they sailed. hugh went with them to liverpool and saw them off, and then travelled for a time on the continent, for byrneside was repugnant to him after the tragedy that had been enacted there. on his return he went down to norfolk and stayed for some time with luscombe, and the visit was so pleasant that it was repeated whenever he happened to be in england. three years later he crossed the atlantic again. he traversed the states more easily now, for the railway across was almost completed. after spending a month in california with the doctor and sim howlett, whom he found well and happy, he visited don ramon at el paso. there had been changes here, for both don carlos and his two sisters were married, and all insisted upon his being their guest for a time. his first visit after his return to england was again to norfolk. it was a short but important one, and on its termination he went back to byrneside to give orders for many changes and alterations that were to be made with all speed in view of the coming of a new mistress. it had for some time past been apparent to luscombe that the remark he had laughingly made years before on the banks of the canadian was likely to bear fruit, and that his sister phillis constituted no small portion of the attraction that brought hugh down to norfolk. indeed, before leaving for the states hugh had chatted the matter over with him. "of course, you have seen, luscombe, how it has been. i shall be three-and-twenty by the time i get back, which is quite young enough for a man to talk about marriage. as soon as i do i shall ask phillis." "just as well to wait, hugh. it seems to me that you and phillis pretty well understand each other; but i don't see any use in engagements till one can fix a date for the marriage, and as you have made up your mind to go on this trip, it will save you both a lot of trouble in the way of writing to leave it alone until you come back. it is a horrid nuisance to keep on writing letters when you are travelling. besides, you know, the governor has strong ideas against early marriages, and will think you quite young enough then, and so i should say leave it as it stands." and so hugh had left it; but it is doubtful whether he had left phillis quite in ignorance of what would be said on his return. at any rate no time was required by her before giving an answer to the question when it was put, and two months later the marriage took place. many as were the presents that the bride received, they were thrown completely into the shade by that which arrived as a joint gift from don ramon and his family a few days before the wedding, being sent by their order from tiffany's, the great jeweller of new york. it consisted of a case of jewellery of extraordinary value and magnificence and was, as mr. luscombe, senior, remarked, suitable rather for a princess of royal blood than for the wife of a cumberland squire. the return of mr. and mrs. tunstall after the termination of their honeymoon to byrneside was hailed with great rejoicing by the tenantry, who were happy to know that the old state of things had at last returned, and that a resident landlord with an english wife would in future be established in the family mansion. the end. typography by j. s. cushing & co., boston. presswork by berwick & smith, boston. "wherever english is spoken one imagines that mr. henty's name is known. one cannot enter a schoolroom or look at a boy's bookshelf without seeing half-a-dozen of his familiar volumes. mr. henty is no doubt the most successful writer for boys, and the one to whose new volumes they look forward every christmas with most pleasure."--_review of reviews._ a list of books for young people ... by ... g. a. henty gordon stables g. m. fenn robert leighton s. baring-gould harry collingwood kirk munroe rosa mulholland f. frankfort moore alice corkran, etc. published by charles scribner's sons 153 to 157 fifth avenue new york g. a. henty's popular stories for boys new volumes for 1897-98 mr. henty, the most popular writer of books of adventure in england, adds three new volumes to his list this fall--books that will delight thousands of boys on this side who have become his ardent admirers. with frederick the great a tale of the seven years' war. with 12 full-page illustrations. 12mo, $1.50. the hero of this story while still a youth entered the service of frederick the great, and by a succession of fortunate circumstances and perilous adventures, rose to the rank of colonel. attached to the staff of the king, he rendered distinguished services in many battles, in one of which he saved the king's life. twice captured and imprisoned, he both times escaped from the austrian fortresses. the story follows closely the historic lines, and no more vivid description of the memorable battles of rossbach, leuthen, prague, zorndorf, hochkirch, and torgau can be found anywhere than is here given. woven in this there runs the record of the daring and hazardous adventures of the hero, and the whole narrative has thus, with historic accuracy, the utmost charm of romance. a march on london a story of wat tyler's rising. with 8 full-page illustrations by w. h. margetson. 12mo, $1.50. the story of wat tyler's rebellion is but little known, but the hero of this story passes through that perilous time and takes part in the civil war in flanders which followed soon after. although young he is thrown into many exciting and dangerous adventures, through which he passes with great coolness and much credit. brought into royal favor he is knighted for bravery on the battlefield, and saving the lives of some wealthy merchants, he realizes fortune with his advancement and rank. new light is thrown on the history of this time and the whole story is singularly interesting. with moore at corunna. a story of the peninsular war. with 12 full-page illustrations by wal paget. 12mo, $1.50. a bright irish lad, terence o'connor, is living with his widowed father, captain o'connor of the mayo fusiliers, with the regiment at the time when the peninsular war began. upon the regiment being ordered to spain, terence received a commission of ensign and accompanied it. on the way out, by his quickness of wit he saved the ship from capture and, instead, aided in capturing two french privateers. arriving in portugal, he ultimately gets appointed as aid to one of the generals of a division. by his bravery and great usefulness throughout the war, he is rewarded by a commission as colonel in the portuguese army and there rendered great service, being mentioned twice in the general orders of the duke of wellington. the whole story is full of exciting military experiences and gives a most careful and accurate account of the various campaigns. "no country nor epoch of history is there which mr. henty does not know, and what is really remarkable is that he always writes well and interestingly."--_new york times._ at agincourt a tale of the white hoods of paris. with 12 full-page illustrations by walter paget. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. the story begins in a grim feudal castle in normandie, on the old frontier between france and england, where the lad guy aylmer had gone to join his father's old friend sir eustace de villeroy. the times were troublous and soon the french king compelled lady margaret de villeroy with her children to go to paris as hostages for sir eustace's loyalty. guy aylmer went with her as her page and body-guard. paris was turbulent and the populace riotous. soon the guild of the butchers, adopting white hoods as their uniform, seized the city, and besieged the house where our hero and his charges lived. after desperate fighting, the white hoods were beaten and our hero and his charges escaped from the city, and from france. he came back to share in the great battle of agincourt, and when peace followed returned with honor to england. on the irrawaddy a story of the first burmese war. with 8 full-page illustrations by w. h. overend. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. the hero having an uncle, a trader on the indian and burmese rivers, goes out to join him. soon after war is declared by burmah against england and he is drawn into it. his familiarity with the burmese customs and language make him of such use that he is put upon sir archibald campbell's staff. he has many experiences and narrow escapes in battles and in scouting. with half-a-dozen men he rescues his cousin who had been taken prisoner, and in the flight they are besieged in an old ruined temple. his escape and ultimate successful return to england show what a clear head with pluck can do. with cochrane the dauntless a tale of the exploits of lord cochrane in south american waters. with 12 full-page illustrations by w. h. margetson. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. the hero of this story, an orphaned lad, accompanies cochrane as midshipman, and serves in the war between chili and peru. he has many exciting adventures in battles by sea and land, is taken prisoner and condemned to death by the inquisition, but escapes by a long and thrilling flight across south america and down the amazon, piloted by two faithful indians. his pluck and coolness prove him a fit companion to cochrane the dauntless, and his final success is well deserved. "boys like stirring adventures, and mr. henty is a master of this method of composition."--_new york times._ a knight of the white cross a tale of the siege of rhodes. with 12 full-page illustrations by ralph peacock, and a plan. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. gervaise tresham, the hero of this story, joins the order of the knights of st. john, and leaving england he proceeds to the stronghold of rhodes. subsequently, gervaise is made a knight of the white cross for valor, while soon after he is appointed commander of a war-galley, and in his first voyage destroys a fleet of moorish corsairs. during one of his cruises the young knight is attacked on shore, captured after a desperate struggle, and sold into slavery in tripoli. he succeeds in escaping, however, and returns to rhodes in time to take part in the splendid defence of that fortress. altogether a fine chivalrous tale of varied interest and full of noble daring. the tiger of mysore a story of the war with tippoo saib. with 12 full-page illustrations by w. h. margetson, and a map. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. dick holland, whose father is supposed to be a captive of tippoo saib, goes to india to help him to escape. he joins the army under lord cornwallis, and takes part in the campaign against tippoo. afterwards, he assumes a disguise, enters seringapatam, the capital of mysore, rescues tippoo's harem from a tiger, and is appointed to high office by the tyrant. in this capacity dick visits the hill fortresses, still in search of his father, and at last he discovers him in the great stronghold of savandroog. the hazardous rescue through the enemy's country is at length accomplished, and the young fellow's dangerous mission is done. through russian snows a story of napoleon's retreat from moscow. with 8 full-page illustrations by w. h. overend, and 3 maps. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. the hero, julian wyatt, after several adventures with smugglers, by whom he is handed over a prisoner to the french, regains his freedom and joins napoleon's army in the russian campaign, and reaches moscow with the victorious emperor. then, when the terrible retreat begins, julian finds himself in the rear guard of the french army, fighting desperately, league by league, against famine, snow-storms, wolves, and russians. ultimately he escapes out of the general disaster, after rescuing the daughter of a russian count; makes his way to st. petersburg, and then returns to england. a story with an excellent plot, exciting adventures, and splendid historical interests. "here we have mr. george henty--the boys' own author."--_punch._ wulf the saxon a story of the norman conquest. by g. a. henty. with 12 full-page illustrations by ralph peacock. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. the hero is a young thane who wins the favor of earl harold and becomes one of his retinue. when harold becomes king of england wulf assists in the welsh wars, and takes part against the norsemen at the battle of stamford bridge. when william of normandy invades england, wulf is with the english host at hastings, and stands by his king to the last in the mighty struggle. altogether this is a noble tale. wulf himself is a rare example of saxon vigor, and the spacious background of stormful history lends itself admirably to heroic romance. beric the briton a story of the roman invasion. by g. a. henty. with 12 full-page illustrations by w. parkinson. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. this story deals with the invasion of britain by the roman legionaries. beric, who is a boy-chief of a british tribe, takes a prominent part in the insurrection under boadicea: and after the defeat of that heroic queen (in a.d. 62) he continues the struggle in the fen-country. ultimately beric is defeated and carried captive to rome, where he is trained in the exercise of arms in a school of gladiators. such is the skill which he there acquires that he succeeds in saving a christian maid by slaying a lion in the arena, and is rewarded by being made librarian in the palace, and the personal protector of nero. finally he escapes from this irksome service, organizes a band of outlaws in calabria, defies the power of rome, and at length returns to britain, where he becomes a wise ruler of his own people. when london burned a story of the plague and the fire. by g. a. henty. with 12 full-page illustrations by j. finnemore. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. the hero of this story was the son of a nobleman who had lost his estates during the troublous times of the commonwealth. instead of hanging idly about the court seeking favors, cyril shenstone determined to maintain himself by honest work. during the great plague and the great fire, which visited london with such terrible results, sir cyril was prominent among those who brought help to the panic-stricken inhabitants. this tale has rich variety of interest, both national and personal, and in the hero you have an english lad of the noblest type--wise, humane, and unselfish. "ask for henty, and see that you get him."--_punch._ the dash for khartoum a tale of the nile expedition. by g. a. henty. with 10 full-page illustrations by john schã¶nberg and j. nash. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. in the record of recent british history there is no more captivating page for boys than the story of the nile campaign, and the attempt to rescue general gordon. for, in the difficulties which the expedition encountered, in the perils which it overpassed, and in its final tragic disappointments, are found all the excitements of romance, as well as the fascination which belongs to real events. bonnie prince charlie a tale of fontenoy and culloden. by g. a. henty. with 12 full-page illustrations by gordon browne. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. the adventures of the son of a scotch officer in french service. the boy, brought up by a glasgow bailie, is arrested for aiding a jacobite agent, escapes, is wrecked on the french coast, reaches paris, and serves with the french army at dettingen. he kills his father's foe in a duel, and escaping to the coast, shares the adventures of prince charlie, but finally settles happily in scotland. under drake's flag a tale of the spanish main. by g. a. henty. with 12 full-page illustrations by gordon browne. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. a story of the days when england and spain struggled for the supremacy of the sea. the heroes sail as lads with drake in the pacific expedition, and in his great voyage of circumnavigation. the historical portion of the story is absolutely to be relied upon, but this will perhaps be less attractive than the great variety of exciting adventure through which the young heroes pass in the course of their voyages. with wolfe in canada or, the winning of a continent. by g. a. henty. with 12 full-page illustrations by gordon browne. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. mr. henty here gives an account of the struggle between britain and france for supremacy in the north american continent. the fall of quebec decided that the anglo-saxon race should predominate in the new world; and that english and american commerce, the english language, and english literature, should spread right round the globe. "mr. henty is one of the best of story-tellers for young people."--_spectator._ by pike and dyke a tale of the rise of the dutch republic. by g. a. henty. with 10 full-page illustrations by maynard brown, and 4 maps. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. in this story mr. henty traces the adventures and brave deeds of an english boy in the household of the ablest man of his age--william the silent. edward martin, the son of an english sea-captain, enters the service of the prince as a volunteer, and is employed by him in many dangerous and responsible missions, in the discharge of which he passes through the great sieges of the time. by england's aid or, the freeing of the netherlands (1585-1604). by g. a. henty. with 10 full-page illustrations by alfred pearse, and 4 maps. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. the story of two english lads who go to holland as pages in the service of one of "the fighting veres." after many adventures by sea and land, one of the lads finds himself on board a spanish ship at the time of the defeat of the armada, and escapes only to fall into the hands of the corsairs. he is successful in getting back to spain, and regains his native country after the capture of cadiz. in the heart of the rockies a story of adventure in colorado. by g. a. henty. with 8 full-page illustrations by g. c. hindley. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. from first to last this is a story of splendid hazard. the hero, tom wade, goes to seek his uncle in colorado, who is a hunter and gold-digger, and he is discovered, after many dangers, out on the plains with some comrades. going in quest of a gold mine the little band is spied by indians, chased across the bad lands, and overwhelmed by a snowstorm in the mountains. by right of conquest or, with cortez in mexico. by g. a. henty. with 10 full-page illustrations by w. s. stacey, and 2 maps. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. with the conquest of mexico as the ground-work of his story, mr. henty has interwoven the adventures of an english youth. he is beset by many perils among the natives, but by a ruse he obtains the protection of the spaniards, and after the fall of mexico he succeeds in regaining his native shore, with a fortune and a charming aztec bride. "no living writer of books for boys writes to better purpose than mr. g. a. henty."--_philadelphia press_. true to the old flag a tale of the american war of independence. by g. a. henty. with 12 full-page illustrations by gordon browne. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. a graphic and vigorous story of the american revolution, which paints the scenes with great power, and does full justice to the pluck and determination of the soldiers during the unfortunate struggle. the lion of st. mark a tale of venice in the fourteenth century. by g. a. henty. with 10 full-page illustrations by gordon browne. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. a story of venice at a period when her strength and splendor were put to the severest tests. the hero displays a fine sense and manliness which carry him safely through an atmosphere of intrigue, crime, and bloodshed. he contributes largely to the victories of the venetians at porto d'anzo and chioggia, and finally wins the hand of the daughter of one of the chief men of venice. the lion of the north a tale of gustavus adolphus and the wars of religion. by g. a. henty. with 12 full-page illustrations by john schã¶nberg. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. in this story mr. henty gives the history of the first part of the thirty years' war. the issue had its importance, which has extended to the present day, as it established religious freedom in germany. the army of the chivalrous king of sweden was largely composed of scotchmen, and among these was the hero of the story. in greek waters a story of the grecian war of independence (1821-1827). by g. a. henty. with 12 full-page illustrations by w. s. stacey, and a map. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. deals with the revolt of the greeks in 1821 against turkish oppression. mr. beveridge and his son horace fit out a privateer, load it with military stores, and set sail for greece. they rescue the christians, relieve the captive greeks, and fight the turkish war vessels. "mr. henty's books never fail to interest boy readers."--_academy._ with clive in india or, the beginnings of an empire. by g. a. henty. with 12 full-page illustrations by gordon browne, and a map. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. the period between the landing of clive in india and the close of his career was eventful in the extreme. at its commencement the english were traders existing on sufferance of the native princes; at its close they were masters of bengal and of the greater part of southern india. the author has given a full account of the events of that stirring time, while he combines with his narrative a thrilling tale of daring and adventure. the young carthaginian a story of the times of hannibal. by g. a. henty. with 12 full-page illustrations by c. j. staniland, r.i. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. there is no better field for romance-writers in the whole of history than the momentous struggle between the romans and carthaginians for the empire of the world. mr. henty has had the full advantage of much unexhausted picturesque and impressive material, and has thus been enabled to form a striking historic background to as exciting a story of adventure as the keenest appetite could wish. for the temple a tale of the fall of jerusalem. by g. a. henty. with 10 full-page illustrations by s. j. solomon, and a colored map. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. mr henty here weaves into the record of josephus an admirable and attractive story. the troubles in the district of tiberias, the march of the legions, the sieges of jotapata, of gamala, and of jerusalem, form the impressive setting to the figure of the lad who becomes the leader of a guerrilla band of patriots, fights bravely for the temple, and after a brief term of slavery at alexandria, returns to his galilean home. through the fray a story of the luddite riots. by g. a. henty. with 12 full-page illustrations by h. m. paget. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. the story is laid in yorkshire at the commencement of the present century, when the high price of food induced by the war and the introduction of machinery drove the working-classes to desperation, and caused them to band themselves in that wide-spread organization known as the luddite society. there is an abundance of adventure in the tale, but its chief interest lies in the character of the hero, and the manner in which he is put on trial for his life, but at last comes victorious "through the fray." "the brightest of all the living writers whose office it is to enchant the boys."--_christian leader._ captain bayley's heir a tale of the gold fields of california. by g. a. henty. with 12 full-page illustrations by h. m. paget. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. a frank, manly lad and his cousin are rivals in the heirship of a considerable property. the former falls into a trap laid by the latter, and while under a false accusation of theft foolishly leaves england for america. he works his passage before the mast, joins a small band of hunters, crosses a tract of country infested with indians to the californian gold diggings, and is successful both as digger and trader. in freedom's cause a story of wallace and bruce. by g. a. henty. with 12 full-page illustrations by gordon browne. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. relates the stirring tale of the scottish war of independence. the hero of the tale fought under both wallace and bruce, and while the strictest historical accuracy has been maintained with respect to public events, the work is full of "hairbreadth 'scapes" and wild adventure. a jacobite exile being the adventures of a young englishman in the service of charles xii. of sweden. by g. a. henty. with 8 full-page illustrations by paul hardy, and a map. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. sir marmaduke carstairs, a jacobite, is the victim of a conspiracy, and he is denounced as a plotter against the life of king william. he flies to sweden, accompanied by his son charlie. this youth joins the foreign legion under charles xii., and takes a distinguished part in several famous campaigns against the russians and poles. condemned as a nihilist a story of escape from siberia. by g. a. henty. with 8 full-page illustrations. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. the hero of this story is an english boy resident in st. petersburg. through two student friends he becomes innocently involved in various political plots, resulting in his seizure by the russian police and his exile to siberia. he ultimately escapes, and, after many exciting adventures, he reaches norway, and thence home, after a perilous journey which lasts nearly two years. "mr. henty is one of our most successful writers of historical tales."--_scotsman._ in the reign of terror the adventures of a westminster boy. by g. a. henty. with 8 full-page illustrations by j. schã¶nberg. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. harry sandwith, a westminster boy, becomes a resident at the chateau of a french marquis, and after various adventures accompanies the family to paris at the crisis of the revolution. imprisonment and death reduce their number, and the hero finds himself beset by perils with the three young daughters of the house in his charge. after hair-breadth escapes they reach nantes. there the girls are condemned to death in the coffinships, but are saved by the unfailing courage of their boy-protector. st. george for england a tale of cressy and poitiers. by g. a. henty. with 8 full-page illustrations by gordon browne. crown 8vo, $1.50. no portion of english history is more crowded with great events than that of the reign of edward iii. cressy and poitiers; the destruction of the spanish fleet; the plague of the black death; the jacquerie rising; these are treated by the author in "st. george for england." the hero of the story, although of good family, begins life as a london apprentice, but after countless adventures and perils becomes by valor and good conduct the squire, and at last the trusted friend of the black prince. a chapter of adventures or, through the bombardment of alexandria. by g. a. henty. with 6 full-page illustrations by w. h. overend. crown 8vo, $1.25. a coast fishing lad, by an act of heroism, secures the interest of a shipowner, who places him as an apprentice on board one of his ships. in company with two of his fellow-apprentices he is left behind, at alexandria, in the hands of the revolted egyptian troops, and is present through the bombardment and the scenes of riot and blood-shed which accompanied it. held fast for england a tale of the siege of gibraltar. by g. a. henty. with 8 full-page illustrations by gordon browne. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. this story deals with one of the most memorable sieges in history--the siege of gibraltar in 1779-83 by the united forces of france and spain. with land forces, fleets, and floating batteries, the combined resources of two great nations, this grim fortress was vainly besieged and bombarded. the hero of the tale, an english lad resident in gibraltar, takes a brave and worthy part in the long defence, and it is through his varied experiences that we learn with what bravery, resource, and tenacity the rock was held for england. "among writers of stories of adventures for boys mr. henty stands in the very first rank."--_academy._ for name and fame or, through afghan passes. by g. a. henty. with 8 full-page illustrations by gordon browne. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. an interesting story of the last war in afghanistan. the hero, after being wrecked and going through many stirring adventures among the malays, finds his way to calcutta and enlists in a regiment proceeding to join the army at the afghan passes. he accompanies the force under general roberts to the peiwar kotal, is wounded, taken prisoner, carried to cabul, whence he is transferred to candahar, and takes part in the final defeat of the army of ayoub khan. orange and green a tale of the boyne and limerick. by g. a. henty. with 8 full-page illustrations by gordon browne. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. the record of two typical families--the davenants, who, having come over with strongbow, had allied themselves in feeling to the original inhabitants; and the whitefoots, who had been placed by cromwell over certain domains of the davenants. in the children the spirit of contention has given place to friendship, and though they take opposite sides in the struggle between james and william, their good-will and mutual service are never interrupted, and in the end the davenants come happily to their own again. maori and settler a story of the new zealand war. by g. a. henty. with 8 full-page illustrations by alfred pearse. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. the renshaws emigrate to new zealand during the period of the war with the natives. wilfrid, a strong, self-reliant, courageous lad, is the mainstay of the household. he has for his friend mr. atherton, a botanist and naturalist of herculean strength and unfailing nerve and humor. in the adventures among the maoris, there are many breathless moments in which the odds seem hopelessly against the party, but they succeed in establishing themselves happily in one of the pleasant new zealand valleys. a final reckoning a tale of bush life in australia. by g. a. henty. with 8 full-page illustrations by w. b. wollen. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. the hero, a young english lad, after rather a stormy boyhood, emigrates to australia and gets employment as an officer in the mounted police. a few years of active work on the frontier, where he has many a brush with both natives and bush-rangers, gain him promotion to a captaincy, and he eventually settles down to the peaceful life of a squatter. "mr. henty's books are welcome visitors in the home circle."--_daily news._ the bravest of the brave or, with peterborough in spain. by g. a. henty. with 8 full-page illustrations by h. m. paget. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. there are few great leaders whose lives and actions have so completely fallen into oblivion as those of the earl of peterborough. this is largely due to the fact that they were overshadowed by the glory and successes of marlborough. his career as general extended over little more than a year, and yet, in that time, he showed a genius for warfare which has never been surpassed. the dragon and the raven or, the days of king alfred. by g. a. henty. with 8 full-page illustrations by c. j. staniland, r.i. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. in this story the author gives an account of the fierce struggle between saxon and dane for supremacy in england, and presents a vivid picture of the misery and ruin to which the country was reduced by the ravages of the sea-wolves. the hero, a young saxon thane, takes part in all the battles fought by king alfred. he is driven from his home, takes to the sea, and resists the danes on their own element, and being pursued by them up the seine, is present at the long and desperate siege of paris. facing death or, the hero of the vaughan pit. a tale of the coal mines. by g. a. henty. with 8 full-page illustrations by gordon browne. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. "facing death" is a story with a purpose. it is intended to show that a lad who makes up his mind firmly and resolutely that he will rise in life, and who is prepared to face toil and ridicule and hardship to carry out his determination, is sure to succeed. the hero of the story is a typical british boy, dogged, earnest, generous, and though "shamefaced" to a degree, is ready to face death in the discharge of duty. by sheer pluck a tale of the ashanti war. by g. a. henty. with 8 full-page illustrations by gordon browne. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. the author has woven, in a tale of thrilling interest, all the details of the ashanti campaign, of which he was himself a witness. his hero, after many exciting adventures in the interior, is detained a prisoner by the king just before the outbreak of the war, but escapes, and accompanies the english expedition on their march to coomassie. "mr. henty might with entire propriety be called the boys' sir walter scott."--_philadelphia press._ the cat of bubastes a story of ancient egypt. by g. a. henty. with 8 full-page illustrations. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. a story which will give young readers an unsurpassed insight into the customs of the egyptian people. amuba, a prince of the rebu nation, is carried with his charioteer jethro into slavery. they become inmates of the house of ameres, the egyptian high-priest, and are happy in his service until the priest's son accidentally kills the sacred cat of bubastes. in an outburst of popular fury ameres is killed, and it rests with jethro and amuba to secure the escape of the high-priest's son and daughter. one of the 28th a tale of waterloo. by g. a. henty. with 8 full-page illustrations by w. h. overend, and 2 maps. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. the hero of this story, ralph conway, has many varied and exciting adventures. he enters the army, and after some rough service in ireland takes part in the waterloo campaign, from which he returns with the loss of an arm, but with a substantial fortune. sturdy and strong or, how george andrews made his way. by g. a. henty. with 4 full-page illustrations. crown 8vo, $1.00. the history of a hero of everyday life, whose love of truth, clothing of modesty, and innate pluck, carry him, naturally, from poverty to affluence. george andrews is an example of character with nothing to cavil at, and stands as a good instance of chivalry in domestic life. tales of daring and danger by g. a. henty. with 2 full-page illustrations. crown 8vo, 75 cents. containing five stories, varied in scene and character, but all of adventurous interest and telling of youthful heroism under dangerous and trying circumstances on land and on sea. yarns on the beach by g. a. henty. with 2 full-page illustrations. crown 8vo, 75 cents. this book should find special favor among boys. the yarns are spun by old sailors, and are admirably calculated to foster a manly spirit. "surely mr. henty should understand boys' tastes better than any man living."--_the times._ st. bartholomew's eve a tale of the huguenot wars. by g. a. henty. with 12 full-page illustrations by h. j. draper, and a map. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. the hero, philip fletcher, is a right true english lad, but he has a french connection on his mother's side. this kinship induces him to cross the channel in order to take a share in that splendid struggle for freedom known as the huguenot wars. naturally he sides with the protestants, distinguishes himself in various battles, and receives rapid promotion for the zeal and daring with which he carries out several secret missions. it is an enthralling narrative throughout. redskin and cow-boy a tale of the western plains. by g. a. henty. with 12 full-page illustrations by alfred pearse. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. the central interest of this story is found in the many adventures of an english lad who seeks employment as a cow-boy on a cattle ranch. his experiences during a "round-up" present in picturesque form the toilsome, exciting, adventurous life of a cow-boy; while the perils of a frontier settlement are vividly set forth in an indian raid, accompanied by pillage, capture, and recapture. the story is packed full of breezy adventure. with lee in virginia a story of the american civil war. by g. a. henty. with 10 full-page illustrations by gordon browne, and 6 maps. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. the story of a young virginian planter, who, after bravely proving his sympathy with the slaves of brutal masters, serves with no less courage and enthusiasm under lee and jackson through the most exciting events of the struggle. he has many hairbreadth escapes, is several times wounded, and twice taken prisoner; but his courage and readiness and, in two cases, the devotion of a black servant and of a runaway slave whom he had assisted bring him safely through all difficulties. through the sikh war a tale of the conquest of the punjaub. by g. a. henty. with 12 full-page illustrations by hal hurst, and a map. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. percy groves, a spirited english lad, joins his uncle in the punjaub, where the natives are in a state of revolt. when the authorities at lahore proclaim war percy joins the british force as a volunteer, and takes a distinguished share in the famous battles of the punjaub. by robert leighton "mr. leighton's place is in the front rank of writers of boys' books."--_standard._ the golden galleon illustrated, crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. this is a story of queen elizabeth's time, just after the defeat of the spanish armada. mr. leighton introduces in his work the great sea-fighters of plymouth town--hawkins, drake, raleigh, and richard grenville. olaf the glorious by robert leighton. with 8 full-page illustrations by ralph peacock. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. this story of olaf, king of norway, opens with his being found living as a bond-slave in esthonia, and follows him through his romantic youth in russia. then come his adventures as a viking, his raids upon the coasts of scotland and england, and his conversion to christianity. he returns to norway as king, and converts his people to the christian faith. wreck of "the golden fleece" the story of a north sea fisher-boy. by robert leighton. with 8 full-page illustrations by frank brangwyn. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. the hero is a parson's son who is apprenticed on board a lowestoft fishing lugger. the lad suffers many buffets from his shipmates, while the storms and dangers which he braved are set forth with intense power. the thirsty sword a story of the norse invasion of scotland (1262-63). by robert leighton. with 8 full-page illustrations by alfred pearse, and a map. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. this story tells how roderic macalpin, the sea-rover, came to the isle of bute; how he slew his brother in rothesay castle; how the earl's eldest son was likewise slain; how young kenric now became king of bute, and vowed vengeance against the slayer of his brother and father; and finally, how this vow was kept, when kenric and the murderous sea-rover met at midnight and ended their feud in one last great fight. the pilots of pomona a story of the orkney islands. by robert leighton. with 8 full-page illustrations by john leighton, and a map. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. halcro ericson, the hero, happens upon many exciting adventures and hardy experiences, through which he carries himself with quiet courage. the story gives a vivid presentation of life in these far northern islands. by kirk munroe the "white conquerors" series with crockett and bowie or, fighting for the lone star flag. a tale of texas. with 8 full-page illustrations by victor pã©rard. crown 8vo, $1.25. the story is of the texas revolution in 1835, when american texans under sam houston, bowie, crockett, and travis, fought for relief from the intolerable tyranny of the mexican santa aã±a. the hero, rex hardin, son of a texan ranchman and graduate of an american military school, takes a prominent part in the heroic defense of the alamo, the terrible scenes at golead, and the final triumph at san jacinto. the historical side of the story has been carefully studied and its localities rendered familiar by a special trip to texas, undertaken by the author for that purpose within a year. through swamp and glade a tale of the seminole war. by kirk munroe. with 8 full-page illustrations by victor pã©rard. crown 8vo, $1.25. in this new story mr. munroe opens to view an exceedingly interesting period of american history--the period of the seminole war in florida. coacoochee, the hero of the story, is a young indian of noble birth, the son of philip the chieftain of the seminoles. he is a boy at the time of the beginning of the seminole troubles and grows up to lead his tribe in the long struggle which resulted in the indians being driven from the north of florida down to the distant southern wilderness. it is full of strange adventure, of stirring incident and rapid action. at war with pontiac or, the totem of the bear. a tale of redcoat and redskin. by kirk munroe. with 8 full-page illustrations by j. finnemore. crown 8vo, $1.25. a story of old days in america, when detroit was a frontier town and the shores of lake erie were held by hostile indians under pontiac. the hero, donald hester, goes in search of his sister edith, who has been captured by the indians. strange and terrible are his experiences; for he is wounded, taken prisoner, condemned to be burned, and contrives to escape. in the end there is peace between pontiac and the english, and all things terminate happily for the hero. one dares not skip a page of this enthralling story. the white conquerors a tale of toltec and aztec. by kirk munroe. with 8 full-page illustrations by w. s. stacey. crown 8vo, $1.25. this story deals with the conquest of mexico by cortes and his spaniards, the "white conquerors," who, after many deeds of valor, pushed their way into the great aztec kingdom and established their power in the wondrous city where montezuma reigned in barbaric splendor. by harry collingwood the log of a privateersman by harry collingwood. with 12 full-page illustrations by w. rainey, r.i. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. in the war between napoleon and the british, many privateers were sent out from england to seize and destroy the french merchant vessels. on one of these george bowen went as second mate. long distance duels at sea, fights at close quarters, fierce boarding attacks, capture and recapture, flight and pursuit, storm and wreck, fire at sea and days without food or water in a small boat on the ocean, are some of the many thrilling experiences our hero passed through. the log of "the flying fish." a story of aerial and submarine peril and adventure. by harry collingwood. with 12 full-page illustrations by gordon browne. crown 8vo, $1.00. in this story the aim of the author has been, not only to interest and amuse, but also to stimulate a taste for scientific study. the missing merchantman by harry collingwood. with 6 full-page pictures by w. h. overend. crown 8vo, $1.00. a fine australian clipper is seized by the crew; the passengers are landed on one deserted island, the captain and a junior officer on another; and the young hero of the story is kept on board to navigate the ship, which the mutineers refit as a private vessel. after many adventures ned succeeded in carrying off the ship, and in picking up the captain and the passengers. the congo rovers a tale of the slave squadron. by harry collingwood. with 8 full page illustrations by j. schã¶nberg. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. the scene of this thrilling tale is laid on the west coast of africa among the slavers. the rover's secret a tale of the pirate cays and lagoons of cuba. by harry collingwood. with 6 full-page illustrations by w. c. symons. crown 8vo, $1.00. the hero of "the rover's secret," a young officer of the british navy, narrates his peculiar experiences in childhood and his subsequent perils and achievements. the pirate island a story of the south pacific. by harry collingwood. illustrated by 8 full-page pictures by c. j. staniland and j. r. wells. olivine edges. crown 8vo, $1.50. this story details the adventures of a lad who was found in his infancy on board a wreck, and is adopted by a fisherman. going to sea, he forms one of a party who, after being burned out of their ship, are picked up by a pirate brig and taken to the "pirate island," where they have many thrilling adventures. by professor a. j. church lords of the world a story of the fall of carthage and corinth. by professor a. j. church. with 12 full-page illustrations by ralph peacock. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. the scene of this story centres in the destruction of carthage by the romans. the young hero is captured by the romans, but wearing the dress of his twin sister, escapes death. entering the army of carthage he is in the thick of the long conflict and passes through many thrilling adventures. he is present at the final scene, and that awful catastrophe is most vividly told. the story is full of valuable historical details and the interest never flags. two thousand years ago or, the adventures of a roman boy. by professor a. j. church. with 12 full-page illustrations by adrien marie. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. the hero is a young roman who has a very chequered career, being now a captive in the hands of spartacus, again an officer on board a vessel detailed for the suppression of the pirates, and anon a captive once more, on a pirate ship. by s. baring-gould grettir the outlaw a story of iceland. by s. baring-gould. with 10 full-page illustrations by m. zeno diemer, and a colored map. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. no boy will be able to withstand the magic of such scenes as the fight of grettir with twelve bearserks, and the wrestle with karr the old in the chamber of the dead. by f. frankfort moore highways and high seas cyril harley's adventures on both. by f. frankfort moore. with 8 full-page illustrations by alfred pearse. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. the story belongs to a period when highways meant post-chaises, coaches, and highwaymen, and when high seas meant privateers and smugglers. under hatches or, ned woodthorpe's adventures. by f. frankfort moore. with 8 full-page illustrations by a. forestier. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. in rescuing another lad from drowning, ned woodthorpe is taken on board a convict ship. after a series of exciting events the convicts and crew obtain the mastery. ultimately the ship is recaptured and ned and his friends escape from their troubles. by george manville fenn "mr. fenn is in the front rank of writers for boys."--_liverpool mercury._ dick o' the fens a romance of the great east swamp. by george manville fenn. with 12 full-page illustrations by frank dadd. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. dick o' the fens and tom o' grimsey are the sons of a squire and a farmer living on the edge of one of the vast fen wastes, and their adventures are of unusual interest. shooting and fishing experiences are introduced in a manner which should stimulate the faculty of observation, and give a healthy love for country life; while the record of the fen-men's stealthy resistance to the great draining scheme is full of the keenest interest. the ambushes and shots in the mist and dark, the incendiary fires, and the bursting of the sea-wall, are described with mr. fenn's wonted skill in the management of mystery. brownsmith's boy by george manville fenn. with 6 page illustrations. crown 8vo, $1.00. the career of "brownsmith's boy" embraces the home adventures of an orphan, who, having formed the acquaintance of an eccentric old gardener, accepts his offer of a home and finds that there is plenty of romance in a garden, and much excitement even in a journey now and then to town. in a half-savage lad he finds a friend who shows his love and fidelity principally by pretending to be an enemy. in "brownsmith's boy" there is abundance of excitement and trouble within four walls. yussuf the guide being the strange story of travels in asia minor. by george manville fenn. with 8 full-page illustrations by john schã¶nberg. crown 8vo, $1.00. deals with the stirring incidents in the career of a lad who has been almost given over by the doctors, but who rapidly recovers health and strength in a journey through asia minor. the adventures are many, and culminate in the travelers being snowed up for the winter in the mountains, from which they escape while their captors are waiting for the ransom that does not come. the golden magnet a tale of the land of the incas. by george manville fenn. with 12 full-page pictures by gordon browne. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. the tale of a romantic lad, who leaves home to seek his fortune in south america by endeavoring to discover some of that treasure which legends declare was ages ago hidden by the peruvian rulers and priests, to preserve it from the spanish invaders. he is accompanied by a faithful companion, who does true service, and shows the greatest courage during the strange and exciting adventures which befall them. by george manville fenn "mr manville fenn may be regarded as the successor in boyhood's affections of captain mayne reid."--_academy._ nat the naturalist a boy's adventures in the eastern seas. by george manville fenn. illustrated by 8 full-page pictures by george browne. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. nat and his uncle dick go on a voyage to the remoter islands of the eastern seas, and their adventures there are told in a truthful and vastly interesting fashion. the descriptions of mr ebony, their black comrade, and of the scenes of savage life, are full of genuine humor. quicksilver or, a boy with no skid to his wheel. by george manville fenn. with 10 full-page illustrations by frank dadd. crown 8vo, $1.25. dr. grayson has a theory that any boy, if rightly trained, can be made into a gentleman and a great man; and in order to confute a friendly objector decides to select from the workhouse a boy to experiment with. he chooses a boy with a bad reputation but with excellent instincts, and adopts him, the story narrating the adventures of the mercurial lad who thus finds himself suddenly lifted several degrees in the social scale. the idea is novel and handled with mr. fenn's accustomed cleverness. devon boys a tale of the north shore. by george manville fenn. with 12 full-page illustrations by gordon browne. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. the adventures of sep duncan and his school friends take place in the early part of the georgian era, during the wars between england and france. the scene is laid on the picturesque rocky coast of north devon. fishermen, smugglers, naval officers, and a stern old country surgeon play their parts in the story, which is one of honest adventure, with the mastering of difficulties in a wholesome manly way, mingled with sufficient excitement to satisfy the most exacting reader. mother carey's chicken her voyage to the unknown isle. by george manville fenn. with 8 full-page illustrations. crown 8vo, $1.00. a stirring story of adventure in the eastern seas, where a lad shares the perils of his father, the captain of the merchant ship _the petrel_. "jules verne himself never constructed a more marvelous tale. it contains the strongly marked features that are always conspicuous in mr. fenn's stories--a racy humor, the manly vigor of his sentiment, and wholesome moral lessons."--_christian leader._ by george manville fenn "no one can find his way to the hearts of lads more readily than mr. fenn."--_nottingham guardian._ bunyip land the story of a wild journey in new guinea. by george manville fenn. with 6 full-page illustrations by gordon browne. crown 8vo, $1.25. "bunyip land" is the story of an eminent botanist, who ventures into the interior of new guinea in his search for new plants. years pass away, and he does not return; and though supposed to be dead, his young wife and son refuse to believe it; and as soon as he is old enough young joe goes in search of his father, accompanied by jimmy, a native black. their adventures are many and exciting, but after numerous perils they discover the lost one, a prisoner among the blacks, and bring him home in triumph. in the king's name or, the cruise of the _kestrel_. by george manville fenn. illustrated by 12 full-page pictures by gordon browne. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. "in the king's name" is a spirited story of the jacobite times, concerning the adventures of hilary leigh, a young naval officer in the preventive service off the coast of sussex, on board the _kestrel_. leigh is taken prisoner by the adherents of the pretender, amongst whom is an early friend and patron who desires to spare the lad's life, but will not release him. the narrative is full of exciting and often humorous incident. menhardoc a story of cornish nets and mines. by george manville fenn. with 6 full-page illustrations by c. j. staniland, r.i. crown 8vo, $1.00. the scene of this story is laid among the granite piles and tors of cornwall. adventures are pretty plentiful, but the story has for its strong base the development of character of the three boys. the sketches of cornish life and local coloring are based upon experience in the bay, whose fishing village is called here menhardoc. this is a thoroughly english story of phases of life but little touched upon in boy's literature up to the present time. patience wins or, war in the works. by george manville fenn. with 6 full-page illustrations. crown 8vo, $1.00. a graphic narrative of factory life in the black country. the hero and his three uncles set up "a works," but find that the workmen are determined to have no new-fangled machinery. after a series of narrow escapes and stirring encounters, the workmen by degrees find that no malice is borne against them, and eventually a great business is built up, and its foundation laid on the good will of the men. by dr. gordon stables a naval cadet a story of adventure by sea. by gordon stables, m.d., c.m. illustrated, crown 8vo, $1.25. for life and liberty a story of battle by land and sea. by gordon stables, m.d., c.m. with 8 full-page illustrations by sidney paget. 12mo, $1.50. the story of an english boy who runs from home and joins the southern army in the late civil war. he is accompanied by his chum, who enters the navy, and their various adventures in the great conflict are set forth with great vigor and are unfailing in interest. to greenland and the pole a story of adventure in the arctic regions. by gordon stables, m.d., c.m. with 8 full-page illustrations by g. c. hindley, and a map. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. the unfailing fascination of arctic venturing is presented in this story with new vividness. the author is himself an old arctic voyager, and he deals with deer-hunting in norway, sealing in the arctic seas, bear-stalking on the ice-floes, the hardships of a journey across greenland, and a successful voyage to the back of the north pole. westward with columbus by gordon stables, m.d., c.m. with 8 full-page illustrations by alfred pearse. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. the hero of this story is columbus himself. his career is traced from boyhood onward through the many hazardous enterprises in which he was at various times engaged. the narrative deals chiefly, however, with the great naval venture which columbus conducted across the atlantic, and which resulted in the discovery of the american continent. 'twixt school and college a tale of self-reliance. by gordon stables, m.d., c.m. with 8 full-page illustrations by w. parkinson. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. the hero is presented by his father with an outlying cottage and garden on the farm, and the gift is turned to pleasant account as a place of residence for a whole menagerie of pets dear to the heart of most healthy-minded boys. stories of adventure by sea and land wulfric the weapon thane the story of the danish conquest of east anglia. by charles w. whistler. with 6 illustrations by w. h. margetson. crown 8vo, $1.25. a tale in which is set forth:--how wulfric saved the danish warrior's life; how he fought in the viking ship; how he was accused falsely; how he joined king eadmund, as his weapon-thane; how he fought for the king; and how he won the lady osritha and brought her to his home. tommy the adventurous the story of a brother and sister. by s. e. cartwright. with 3 illustrations. crown 8vo, $1.00. thorndyke manor a tale of jacobite times. by mary c. rowsell. with 6 full-page illustrations by l. leslie brooke. crown 8vo, $1.25. thorndyke manor is an old house near the mouth of the thames which is convenient, on account of its secret vaults and situation, as the basis of operation in a jacobite conspiracy. its owner finds himself suddenly involved in the closest meshes of the plot. he is conveyed to the tower, but his innocence is triumphantly proved by his sister. traitor or patriot a tale of the rye house plot. by mary c. rowsell. with 6 full-page pictures. crown 8vo, $1.25. "a romantic love episode, whose true characters are life-like beings, not dry sticks, as in many historical tales."--_graphic._ hal hungerford or, the strange adventures of a boy emigrant. by j. r. hutchinson. with 4 full-page illustrations by stanley berkeley. crown 8vo, $1.00. "there is no question whatever as to the spirited manner in which the story is told; the death of the mate of the smuggler by the teeth of the dog is especially effective."--_london spectator._ sir walter's ward a tale of the crusades. by william everard. illustrated by walter paget. crown 8vo, $1.25. "a highly fascinating work, dealing with a period which is always suggestive of romance and deeds of daring."--_schoolmaster._ cousin geoffrey and i by caroline austin. with 6 full-page illustrations by w. parkinson. crown 8vo, $1.25. the only daughter of a country gentleman finds herself unprovided for at her father's death, and for some time lives as a dependent. she finally makes a brave attempt to earn her own livelihood, and she succeeds in doing this. hugh herbert's inheritance by caroline austin. with 6 full-page illustrations by c. t. garland. crown 8vo, $1.25. "a story that teaches patience as well as courage in fighting the battles of life."--_daily chronicle._ stories of adventure by sea and land sou'wester and sword by hugh st. leger. with 6 full-page illustrations by hal hurst. crown 8vo, $1.50. "as racy a tale of life at sea and war adventure as we have met with for some time."--_london athenã¦um._ with the sea kings a story of the days of lord nelson. by f. h. winder. with 6 full-page illustrations by w. s. stacey. crown 8vo, $1.50. an english lad thought to become a lord high admiral like his hero, nelson, so he ran away from home and joined a privateer. after taking part in the capture of a french frigate, he was captured by corsairs and sold into slavery. he escaped, and his subsequent bravery in a sea fight brought him an interview with nelson, and promotion. the captured cruiser or, two years from land. by c. j. hyne. with 6 full-page illustrations by f. brangwyn. crown 8vo, $1.25. this realistic story of modern naval warfare deals with the capture, during the recent war between chili and peru, of an armed cruiser. the heroes and their companions break from prison in the harbor of valparaiso, board this warship in the night, overpower the watch, escape to sea, and, after marvelous adventures, lose the cruiser near cape horn. the loss of john humble what led to it, and what came of it. by g. norway. with 8 full-page illustrations by john schã¶nberg. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. john humble, an orphan, is sent to sea with his uncle, the captain of the _erl king_, but in the course of certain adventures is left behind at portsmouth. he escapes to a norwegian vessel, which is driven from her course and wrecked. the survivors experience the miseries of a long sojourn in the arctic circle, but ultimately they succeed in making their way home again. hussein the hostage or, a boy's adventures in persia. by g. norway. with 8 full-page illustrations by john schã¶nberg. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. a narrative of the adventures of the young prince hussein and his faithful follower, askar, in their endeavor to free their oppressed tribe from the persian yoke. a prisoner of war a story of the time of napoleon bonaparte. by g. norway. with 6 full-page illustrations by robert barnes, a.r.w.s. crown 8vo, $1.25. "more hairbreadth escapes from death by starvation, by ice, by fighting, etc., were never before surmounted."--_the guardian._ a stout english bowman being a story of chivalry in the days of henry iii. by edgar pickering. with 6 illustrations. price, $1.25. in press-gang days by edgar pickering. with 6 full-page illustrations by w. s. stacey. crown 8vo, $1.25. "it is of marryat we think as we read this delightful story; for it is not only a story of adventure with incidents well conceived and arranged, but the characters are interesting."--_london academy._ an old-time yarn wherein is set forth divers desperate mischances which befell anthony ingram and his shipmates in the west indies and mexico with hawkins and drake. by edgar pickering. illustrated with 6 full-page pictures drawn by alfred pearse. crown 8vo, $1.25. "excellent is the description of mexico and of the dungeons of the inquisition, while don diego polo is a delightful mixture of bravery and humor, and his rescue of the unfortunate prisoners is told with great spirit."--_london guardian._ silas verney a tale of the time of charles ii. by edgar pickering. with 6 full-page illustrations by alfred pearse. crown 8vo, $1.25. "mr. pickering reels off the narrative with spirit, rather reminding us of mr. stevenson in such books as 'kidnapped.'"--_london times._ an ocean outlaw a story of adventure in the good ship margaret. by hugh st. leger. with 6 page illustrations by wm. rainey, r.i. crown 8vo, $1.25. this is a breezy sea-yarn in which the reader is made acquainted with jimmy ducks, cabin-boy aboard the good ship _margaret_. for little jimmy is a tip-top sailor-man in the making merry in fair weather, handy in a gale, and a hero at cutlass work, and all his cleverness was needed when he and his messmates came to tackle the ocean outlaw and his castaway crew. gold, gold, in cariboo a story of adventure in british columbia. by clive phillipps-wolley. with 6 full-page illustrations by g. c. hindley. crown 8vo, $1.25. ned corbett and his companion, steve chance, set out with a pack-train in order to obtain gold on the upper reaches of the frazer river. many difficulties lie in their path, but after innumerable adventures, and a life-and-death struggle with the arctic weather of that wild region, they find the secret gold mines for which they have searched. his first kangaroo an australian story for boys. by arthur ferres. with 6 illustrations by p. b. s. spener. crown 8vo, $1.25. a champion of the faith a tale of prince hal and the lollards. by j. m. callwell. with 6 full-page illustrations by herbert j. draper. crown 8vo, $1.50. this story deals with the merry escapades of prince hal and his favorite. sir john oldcastle. then the narrative deepens when the prince ascends the throne as henry v., while his old comrade becomes a lollard and a champion of the new faith. as such, sir john oldcastle endures many hardships, but finally is captured by treachery and burnt at the stake. the wigwam and the war-path stories of the red indians. by ascott r. hope. illustrated by gordon browne. crown 8vo, $1.00. "mr. hope's 'wigwam and war-path' is notably good; it gives a very vivid picture of life among the indians."--_spectator._ the seven wise scholars by ascott r. hope. illustrated by gordon browne. square 8vo, $1.50. young travellers' tales by ascott r. hope. with 6 full-page illustrations by h. j. draper. crown 8vo, $1.25. "possess a high value for instruction as well as for entertainment. his quiet, level humor bubbles up on every page."--_daily chronicle._ robinson crusoe new edition. with 100 illustrations by gordon browne. crown 8vo, $1.00. gulliver's travels new edition. with 100 illustrations by gordon browne. crown 8vo, $1.00. some stories of adventure "hallowe'en" ahoy! or, lost on the crozet islands. by hugh st. leger. with 6 page illustrations. crown 8vo, $1.50. an exciting story of shipwreck and adventure in the south atlantic. the _hallowe'en_ is found a derelict with only a girl on board, and after many experiences it is sailed to england. reefer and rifleman a tale of the two services. by j. percy groves. illustrated. crown 8vo, $1.25. the search for the talisman a tale of labrador. by henry frith. illustrated. crown 8vo, $1.25. famous discoveries by sea and land illustrated. crown 8vo, $1.00. stories of the sea in former days narratives of wreck and rescue. illustrated. crown 8vo, $1.00. from the clyde to the jordan by hugh callan. with 30 illustrations and a map. crown 8vo, $1.50. an interesting story of a bicycle trip through europe and palestine. under the black eagle by andrew hilliard. illustrated. crown 8vo, $1.00. the adventures of a young english lad who was imprisoned in russia and sent to siberia, from which he escaped across asia. jack o'lanthorn a tale of adventure. by henry frith. illustrated. crown 8vo, $1.00. the war of the axe or, adventures in south africa. by j. percy groves. illustrated. crown 8vo, $1.00. tales of captivity and exile by w. b. fortescue. illustrated. crown 8vo, $1.00. historical stories a thane of wessex being a story of the great viking raids into somerset. by charles w. whistler. illustrated. crown 8vo, $1.25. brothers in arms a story of the crusades. by f. bayford harrison. illustrated. crown 8vo, $1.00. two gallant rebels a story of the great struggle of la vendee. by edgar pickering. illustrated. crown 8vo, $1.25. stories of old renown tales of knights and heroes. by ascott r. hope. illustrated. crown 8vo, $1.25. stirring events of history illustrated. crown 8vo, $1.00. adventures in toyland by edith king hall. with 8 colored plates and 72 other illustrations by alice b. woodward. square 8vo, $2.00. the story of what a little girl heard and saw in a toy shop. to tell the king the sky is falling by sheila e. braine. with 85 illustrations by alice b. woodward. square crown 8vo, $1.75. a most original fairy tale, in which henny penny, ducky daddles, and other old friends are met. the whispering winds and the tales that they told. by mary h. debenham. with 25 illustrations by paul hardy. crown 8vo, $1.00. "we wish the winds would tell us stories like these."--_london academy._ things will take a turn by beatrice harraden, author of "ships that pass in the night." illustrated. 12mo, $1.00. it is the story of a sunny-hearted child, rosebud, who assists her grandfather in his dusty, second-hand bookshop. naughty miss bunny her tricks and troubles. by clara mulholland. illustrated. crown 8vo, 75 cents. "this naughty child is positively delightful."--_land and water._ unlucky a fragment of a girl's life. by caroline austin. illustrated. crown 8vo, 75 cents. a touching story of an unlucky girl at odds with her stepmother. laugh and learn the easiest book of nursery lessons and nursery games. by jennett humphreys. charmingly illustrated. square 8vo, $1.25. "one of the best books of the kind imaginable, full of practical teaching in word and picture, and helping the little ones pleasantly along a right royal road to learning."--_graphic._ some books for girls =nell's school days.= a story of town and country. by h. p. gethen. with 4 illustrations. price, $1.00. =violet vereker's vanity.= by annie e. armstrong. with 6 illustrations by g. d. hammond. crown 8vo, $1.25. the story of a girl with one weakness, which she finally overcame. =three bright girls.= a story of chance and mischance. by annie e. armstrong. with 6 full-page illustrations by w. parkinson. crown 8vo, $1.25. "among many good stories for girls this is undoubtedly one of the very best."--_teachers' aid._ =a very odd girl.= life at the gabled farm. by annie e. armstrong. with 6 full-page illustrations by s. t. dadd. crown $1.25. "we can heartily recommend the book, for it is not only bright and interesting, but also pure and healthy in tone and teaching."--_the lady._ =white lilac=: or, the queen of the may. by amy walton. illustrated. crown 8vo, $1.00. by margaret parker =for the sake of a friend.= a story of school life. illustrated. crown 8vo, $1.00. a bright story of two good girl friends. =a daughter of erin.= by violet g. finny. with 4 illustrations. price, $1.00. =under false colors.= a story from two girls' lives. by sarah doudney. with 6 full-page illustrations by g. g. kilburne. crown 8vo, $1.25. a story which has in it so strong a dramatic element that it will attract readers of all ages and of either sex. the incidents of the plot, arising from the thoughtless indulgence of a deceptive freak, are exceedingly natural, and the keen interest of the narrative is sustained from beginning to end. =miss willowburn's offer.= by sarah doudney. illustrated. crown 8vo, $1.00. "sarah doudney has no superior as a writer of high-toned stories; pure in style, original in conception, and with skilfully wrought-out plots."--_christian leader._ =the secret of the old house.= a story for children. by evelyn everett green. with 4 full-page illustrations by l. leslie brooke. crown 8vo, $1.00. "tim, the little jacobite, is a charming creation."--_academy._ by m. corbet-seymour =a girl's kingdom.= illustrated. crown 8vo, $1.00. olive and her story will receive welcome from all girls. =dulcie king=: a story for girls. illustrated. crown 8vo, $1.00. "an extremely graceful, well-told tale." a girl's loyalty by frances armstrong. with 8 illustrations by john h. bacon. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. helen grant received from her grandfather on his death-bed a secret message. this influenced her whole life, but she was loyal to her trust and to her friends. a fair claimant being a story for girls. by frances armstrong. with 8 full-page illustrations by gertrude d. hammond. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. an exciting story of a young girl, the rightful heir to a large fortune, who has been kept out of it, but who most honorably regains it, after much trial and difficulty. the clever miss follett by j. k. h. denny. with 12 full-page illustrations by gertrude d. hammond. crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.50. the story of a great fortune and its attendant train of misfortunes. the heiress of courtleroy by anne beale. with 8 page illustrations by t. c. h. castle. crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, $1.50. "miss anne beale relates how the young 'heiress of courtleroy' had such good influence over her uncle as to win him from his intensely selfish ways in regard to his tenants and others."--_london guardian._ a true cornish maid by g. norway. with 6 full-page illustrations by j. finnemore. crown 8vo, $1.25. a story of the cornish coast when the press-gang brought terror into all its seaports, and smuggling was an everyday practice. the heroine of the tale is sister to a young fellow who gets into trouble in landing a contraband cargo and shooting the officer in charge of the press-gang. girl neighbors or, the old fashion and the new. by sarah tytler. with 8 full-page illustrations by c. t. garland. crown 8vo, $1.00. "'girl neighbors' is a pleasant comedy, not so much of errors as of prejudices got rid of, very healthy, very agreeable, and very well written."--_london spectator_. by alice corkran =down the snow stairs.= or, from good-night to good-morning. by alice corkran. with 60 character illustrations by gordon browne. square crown 8vo, olivine edges, $1.25. "a gem of the first water, bearing upon every one of its pages the signet mark of genius.... all is told with such simplicity and perfect naturalness that the dream appears to be a solid reality. it is indeed a little pilgrim's progress."--_christian leader._ =margery merton's girlhood.= by alice corkran. with 6 full-page illustrations by gordon browne. crown 8vo, $1.25. the experience of an orphan girl who in infancy is left by her father, an officer in india, to the care of an elderly aunt residing near paris. =meg's friend.= by alice corkran. with 6 full-page illustrations by robert fowler. crown 8vo, $1.25. meg has been brought up by a woman who abuses the trust. she is removed to a lady's school and is ultimately taken into the house of a mysterious benefactor who proves to be her grandfather. after a long separation she once more meets the friend of her childhood. =adventures of mrs. wishing-to-be.= by alice corkran. with 3 full-page pictures in colors. crown 8vo, 75 cents. a book of charming fairy tales in which cinderella, little bo-peep, and other old friends appear. =joan's adventures= at the north pole and elsewhere. by alice corkran. illustrated. crown 8vo, 75 cents. a beautiful dream-land story. by rosa mulholland =banshee castle.= illustrated. crown 8vo, $1.50. the story of three bright and lively young girls who fall heir to an old castle in the west of ireland. their struggles to live in it on little money, and their strange experiences, are deeply interesting. =four little mischiefs.= illustrated. crown 8vo, 75 cents. "a charming bright story about real children."--_watchman._ =giannetta.= a girl's story of herself. illustrated. crown 8vo, $1.50. "extremely well told and full of interest."--_academy._ =hetty gray=: or, nobody's bairn. illustrated. crown 8vo, $1.00. "hetty is a delightful creature, piquant, tender, and true."--_london world._ =the late miss hollingford.= illustrated. crown 8vo, 75 cents. this story was a special favorite of charles dickens, and the title was chosen by him. by mrs. r. h. read =dora=: or, a girl without a home. illustrated. crown 8vo, $1.25. "it is no slight thing to get a story so pure and healthy as this."--_academy._ charles scribner's sons =153-157 fifth ave., new york.= * * * * * * transcriber's note: inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have been preserved (for example, both redskin and red-skin). obvious typographical errors have been corrected. 