With Boone on the frontier

It was a moment of extreme peril, and none could have realized it better than did these two young pioneers. They had often heard of the rage of a wounded buck, and had heard of how one old friend of Harry’s family had once been gored to death in scarcely more time than it takes to tell it.

“Run, Joe, run!” came from Harry. “Don’t let him strike you!”

For one instant Joe had been of a mind to stand his ground and finish the loading of his gun. But now he saw that there would not be time in which to prime the weapon, and he made a rush behind some of the nearest bushes.

The buck came on and struck the bushes with terrific force, almost reaching the youth in spite of the thickness of the growth. Joe leaped further back and then ran for the rocks upon which Harry was standing.

“He means business, doesn’t he?” the young pioneer gasped.

“Yes, and you want to look out for his prongs,” answered Harry.

He, too, had been trying to reload his gun, but had not as yet been able to attend to the priming.

Again the buck turned, and, having disentangled himself from the bushes, rushed toward the rocks.

“Jump!” called Joe, and made a leap to the ground in the rear.

Instead of doing as his chum had done, Harry made a leap for a nearby tree and caught hold of one of the bottom branches. His weight, however, proved to be too much for the branch, and it sagged down to within four feet of the ground.

Once on the rocks the buck stared at first one boy and then the other, as if trying to decide which he should attack first. Then he saw Harry clutching the branch, and made a leap straight in that direction.

But Harry was not to be caught thus easily, and sliding around he faced the buck, still holding on to the limb with both hands.

Again there was a rush, and this time, instead of striking the bushes, the animal came pell-mell into the end of the tree branch. There was a quiver and a crash, and the branch snapped into pieces, hurling Harry backward almost against the tree trunk.

The buck could easily have followed Harry to the trunk, and have there finished him, but for one reason, and that was, when the crash came a part of the tree limb caught the animal directly in the mouth. This is a sensitive part, even in an old buck of the deer tribe, and the animal lost no time in pulling back to clear himself of this new difficulty.

But the buck still had his eye on Harry, and rushing around the broken tree branch he prepared for another plunge forward.

As soon as the animal turned from him to Harry, Joe lost no time in finishing the loading of his gun. With the weapon now properly primed he leaped around to a position where he could get a good shot at the buck.

Again the animal came forward, straight for Harry, who, in trying to leap to the opposite side of the tree, had slipped and fallen.

Crack! It was Joe’s rifle that spoke up, and this time the boy’s aim was all that could be desired. The buck received the ball straight in the heart and leaped high in the air. Down he came with a crash, directly at Harry’s side and lay still, stone-dead.

As the buck fell Harry tried to roll out of the way, thinking there might still be some life left in the animal. Joe drew his hunting knife and leaped in.

“Is he—he dead?” panted Harry.

“Yes,” was Joe’s slow answer. “That shot fixed him.”

For fully half a minute both youths stood by the side of the fallen game, surveying the animal with interest. Harry was trembling slightly, and Joe was several shades paler than his usual color.

“He’s a big one, isn’t he?” said Joe at length.

“Yes, Joe, and I reckon we both had a close shave, eh?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t want another such fight, do you?”

“Not at quite such close quarters,” came from Joe. He bent lower. “I must have taken him right through the heart.”

“Three deer! What will the folks say to that?”

“I reckon they’ll think it is something wonderful.”

“Well, it is wonderful for boys. I never heard of it being done before. But don’t let us brag.”

“That’s right, I hate bragging. But, say, let us get home with the meat at once. Then, if we want to, we can go fishing this afternoon.”

This plan was agreed on, and then came the question of how best to get the deer home. All told, there were several hundreds of pounds of venison in the pile, no light load to be dragged a distance of over a mile.

“Let us each take a deer on a drag at first,” said Joe. “We can come back for the buck later.”

“But some wild beast may make way with the buck. We don’t want to lose him after all the trouble we had in bringing him down.”

“Let us haul him up into the tree.”

They looked around, and close at hand found a convenient limb, over which they threw a bit of rope one of the boys had brought along. Soon the buck was tied to the rope and hoisted a distance of eight feet from the grass.

When this task was finished, the boys cut two drags, and on the top of each fixed one of the deer. Then both started for the cabin, each dragging his load behind him.

The way was rough and long before the cabin came into view, the boys were more than tired of hauling the tree limbs with their dead weights along. But the thought of how the good news of the hunt would be received by their folks kept them up, and at last they came in sight of the home in the little clearing, and raised a shout which was at once answered by Ezra Winship, who came from the kitchen, gun in hand.

“Well, by the great pewter candlestick!” cried Mr. Winship. “Is it possible! Two deer, and each as plump as one would wish. You’ve certainly had luck, boys.”

The shouting now brought Mr. Parsons from a neighboring bit of brush, and Mrs. Parsons and the girls from the house, and all gazed in admiration at the game.

“How many shots for each?” questioned Mr. Parsons.

“Only one for each,” answered Harry proudly. “Joe brought down that one, and I brought down this.”

“You’ve done well, lads, mighty well—in fact, no old hunters could do better.” And Peter Parsons’ face showed his pleasure.

“How many deer were there?” asked Ezra Winship.

“Six, and a magnificent old buck,” answered Joe.

“Oh, why didn’t you try for the buck?” cried Harmony. “I’d like to have a pair of prongs for your coats and hats to hang on.”

“The deer meat is best,” said Mrs. Parsons. “’Tis likely to be very sweet and tender.”

“Yes, but we got the old buck after all,” said Joe, and he could scarcely disguise the tone of triumph in his voice.

“Got the buck?” came from the lad’s father and several of the others.

“Yes,” said Harry. “Joe shot him right through the heart.”

“But not until Harry had wounded him in the leg with a pistol shot,” came quickly from Joe.

And then the two boys had to tell the particulars of the brief hunt. But they did not tell how closely they had been in danger of death, being afraid that if they told all they might be kept from going on another hunt in the future.

“Boys, you are regular hunters and no mistake,” said Peter Parsons warmly. “Three at once! Winship, it is wonderful!”

“You are right,” answered Ezra Winship. “These deer are of good size, and from what they say of the buck he must have been in his prime.”

“Then we’ll have the hat and coat rack after all,” said Harmony brightly.

“And three good rugs in addition,” came from Cora.

Neither Mr. Parsons nor Mr. Winship advised letting the buck hang in the tree too long, and both volunteered to go after the game. But the boys preferred to go after it themselves, after they had had a short rest. While they were resting, Mrs. Parsons treated them to some fresh sugared corn cookies she had just made, while Cora brought them each a glass of nice birch beer of their own make. In those days beer made of birch, spruce, and various roots was a common drink.

Leaving their fathers to dress and cut up the venison brought in, Joe and Harry set out on the return to the hunting ground. Neither expected to see any more game that day, yet each had loaded his gun, and Harry his pistol in addition, and the weapons were carried in such a fashion that they could be brought into use at short notice if required.

“If we go fishing this afternoon, I wonder if we’ll have such luck as we had hunting,” remarked Harry, as they strode forward in the direction of the brook.

“You mustn’t expect too much good luck all at once,” responded his chum with a short laugh. “Besides, with so much meat we won’t want so much fish.”

“I’ll never expect to bring down a larger buck, shall you?”

“Hardly. Yet we are both young, and there is no telling what luck we’ll have before we die.”

“Tell you what,” went on Harry, after a pause. “What fine times we could have if only—if only my sister and your mother were with us.” His voice sank low as he finished.

“Yes, Harry, whenever I think of them it takes the fun right out of everything,” answered Joe; and then both boys heaved a long sigh.

“If we only knew where to look for them.”

“That’s it. But father is going on a hunt soon, with your father and old Pep Frost and some others. Let us hope they’ll get news of some kind.”

“Speaking of Pep Frost puts me in mind of some news he brought in yesterday. He says that things are getting hot down Boston way between the citizens and King George’s officials, and almost everybody is speaking of war. I wonder if it will really come to that?”

“I shouldn’t be surprised. What is the use of our paying taxes if we aren’t to get anything for doing it? I think we ought to be allowed to run this country as we please.”

“If war comes it may make more trouble out here. The French and the Indians who used to train with them wouldn’t like anything better than to give us a rub.”

“The French won’t do much—they are quite friendly now. But it might be an excuse for another Indian uprising. They hate it like poison to see us occupying these lands.”

“Colonel Boone says he is going to stick here no matter what comes. And I reckon he’ll keep his word.”

“Well, we’ll all stand by him. There is nothing else to do. We are too far away from any other fort to look for aid from such a quarter. We’d have to fight to a finish.”

So talking, the two boys hurried on through the woods and along the brook where the deer had first been sighted. The sun was now fairly high in the heavens, and the day promised to be an unusually warm one.

At last they reached the tree from which the carcass of the big buck had been suspended. Both stared up into the branches in wide-eyed amazement.

The carcass of the buck was gone.