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twg_000012582100 | bidding him follow, went out of the store. He led him and Joe towards a large pine-tree, at the root of which there was a low mound, carefully covered with green turf. Pointing to it, the Yankee store-keeper said with some emotion-- "There he lies, poor fellow; and a better, more kind-hearted, or honester man, never dr... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582101 | into the airth." In compliance with the request of Frank, who was deeply moved, Jeffson told how that, after the departure of his friends, the poor German's spirits sank; and while he was in this state, he was prevented from rallying by a severe attack of dysentery which ended in his death. "I trust that he was not pre... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582102 | poverty at the last," said Frank. "He would have been," replied the Yankee, "if he had been allowed to have 'is own way; for, being unable to work, of course he ran out o' gold-dust, and nothing would persuade him to touch the nugget you left in my charge. I hit upon a plan, however, which answered very well. I | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582103 | supplied him all through his illness with everything that he required to make him as comfortable as could be, poor fellow, tellin' him it was paid for in full by a friend of his, whose name I couldn't and wouldn't mention. `Jeffson,' says he, startin' up like a livin' skeleton, and lookin' at me so serious with his hol... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582104 | `Jeffson, if it bees _you_ dat give me de tings, I vill not have dem. I vill die first. You is poor, an' ve cannot expect you keep all de dyin' miners vor noting.' "`Well,' says I, `I won't go for to say I'm over rich, for times _air_ raither hard just now; but it ain't _me_ as is the | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582105 | friend. I assure you I'm paid for it in full, so you make your mind easy.' "With that he lay down an' gave a long sigh. He was exhausted, and seemed to have dismissed the subject from his mind, for he never spoke of it again." "I rather suspect," said Frank, "that you did not tell him the exact truth." | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582106 | "I guess I did," replied the Yankee. "Who, then, was the friend?" "Yourself," said Jeffson, with a peculiar smile. "I intend to keep payment of it all off your nugget, for you see it _is_ a fact that we ain't in very flourishing circumstances at present; and I knew you would thank me for not deserting your friend in hi... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582107 | distress." "You did quite right," said Frank earnestly; "and I thank you with all my heart for your kindness to poor Meyer, as well as your correct estimate of me." Frank did not forget that his own resources were at a low ebb just then, and that he had been counting on the nugget for the payment of his expenses | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582108 | to the coast, and his passage to England, but he made no mention of the fact. His comrade, Joe Graddy, however, could not so easily swallow his disappointment in silence. "Well," said he, turning his quid from one cheek to the other--for Joe was guilty of the bad habit of chewing tobacco,--"well, it's not for the likes... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582109 | put my opinion contrairy to yourn, an' in coorse it's all very right that our poor messmate should have been looked arter, an I'm very glad he wos. Notwithstandin', I'm bound for to say it _is_ raither okard as it stands, for we're pretty nigh cleaned out, an' have got to make for the coast in the rainy season, w'ich, | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582110 | it appears to me, is very like settin' sail in a heavy gale without ballast." "Come, Joe," interposed Frank, "we're not quite so hard up as that comes to. There is a little ballast left,--sufficient, if we only turn to, and wash out a little more gold, to take us home." "Sorry to hear you're in such a fix," said | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582111 | Jeffson, still regarding his friends with a peculiar smile on his cadaverous countenance; "but I think I can get ye out of it. See here," he added, leading them to another grave not far distant from that of Meyer; "can you guess who lies under the sod there? He was a friend of yours; though perhaps you would scarcely h... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582112 | acknowledged him had he been alive. You remember Bradling--" "What! our old travelling companion!" exclaimed Frank. "The same." "Why, I saved his life only a few days ago." "I know it," said Jeffson, "He came here late one night, all covered with blood; and, flinging himself down on a bench in my store, said that he wa... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582113 | so he was, I guess,--all riddled with bullets, none of which, however, had given him a mortal wound; but he had lost so much blood by the way that he had no chance of recovering. I did my best for him, poor fellow, but he sank rapidly. Before he died he told me how you had saved him from being | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582114 | scragged, and said that he wanted to make you his heir." "Poor fellow," said Frank with a sad smile, "it was a kind expression of gratitude that I did not expect of him, considering his reputation." "I s'pose," said Joe Graddy, with a sarcastic laugh, "that you'll be goin' to set up your carriage an' four, an' make me ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582115 | coachman, mayhap?" "I think I may promise that with safety," replied Frank. "Indeed you may," said Jeffson, "for Bradling has been one of the most successful diggers in Bigbear Gully since you left it, and has made his fortune twice over. The value of gold-dust and nuggets left by him in my charge for you is about nine... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582116 | which, I believe, is nigh twenty thousands pounds sterling of your money." "Gammon!" exclaimed Joe. "You are jesting," said Frank. "That I am not, as you shall see, if you will come with me to the store. When he felt sure that he was dying, Bradling asked me to call together a few of the honest and trustworthy men in | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582117 | the diggings. I did so, and he told us the amount of his gatherings, and, after explaining how you had helped him in his hour of need, said that he took us all solemnly to witness that he left you his heir. He got one of the miners to write out a will for him and signed it, after which | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582118 | he directed us to a tree, under which, he said, his gold was hid. We thought at first that he was raving, but after he was dead we went to the tree, and there, sure enough, we found the gold, just as he had described it, and, on weighing it, found that it amounted to the sum I have named--so, | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582119 | Mr Allfrey, I guess that I may congratulate you on your good fortune. But come, I will show you the will and the witnesses." Saying this he led them into the store, where he showed the will to Frank and Joe, who were at first sceptical, and afterwards began to doubt the evidence of their senses. But when the witnesses | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582120 | were called, and had confirmed Jeffson's statements, and, above all, when the bags of gold-dust and nuggets were handed over to him, Frank could no longer question the amazing fact that he had suddenly come into possession of a comfortable fortune! Need we say, reader, that he insisted on sharing it with Joe Graddy, wi... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582121 | the rescue of Bradling could not have been effected? and need we add that the two friends found their way to the sea-coast as quickly as possible, and set sail for England without delay? We think not. But it may be as well to state that, on his arrival in England, Frank found his old uncle in a very sour | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582122 | condition of mind indeed, having become more bilious and irascible than ever over his cash-books and ledgers,--his own special diggings--without having added materially to his gold. When Frank made his appearance, the old gentleman was very angry, supposing that he had returned to be a burden and a bore to him, but, on... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582123 | his feelings towards his _successful_ nephew were wonderfully modified and mollified! It was very difficult at first to convince him of the truth of Frank's good fortune, and he required the most incontestable proofs thereof before he would believe. At length, however, he was convinced, and condescended to offer his ne... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582124 | build a house somewhere hereabouts, and live beside you." "You could not do better," said the old gentleman, who became suddenly and wonderfully amiable! "And I don't intend to bother myself with business, uncle." "Quite right, my boy; you have no occasion to do so." "But I intend to devote much of my time to painting.... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582125 | said the tractable old gentleman. "And a good deal of it, also," continued Frank, "to the consideration of the cases of persons in sickness and poverty." "H'm! a most laudable purpose, though it has always appeared to me that this is a duty which devolves upon the guardians of the poor. Nevertheless the intention is cr... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582126 | am surprised to hear you, who are so young, and can have seen so little of poverty or sickness, talk of giving much of your time to such work." "You are wrong, uncle, in supposing that I have seen little. During my wanderings in foreign lands I have seen much, very much, of poverty and sickness, and have felt something | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582127 | of both, as my friend Joe Graddy can testify." Joe, who was sitting by, and had been listening to the conversation with much interest, bore testimony forthwith, by stoutly asserting that "that was a fact," and slapping his thigh with great vehemence, by way of giving emphasis to the assertion. "The fact is, sir," conti... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582128 | your nephy has gone through a deal o' rough work since he left home, an' I'm free for to say has learned, with myself, a lot o' walooable lessons. He has made his fortin at the gold-mines, kooriously enough, without diggin' for it, an' has come for to know that it's sometimes possible to pay too high a price for | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582129 | that same metal, as is proved by many an' many a lonely grave in the wilds of Californy. Your nephy an' me, sir, has comed to the conclusion that distributin' gold is better than diggin' for it, so we intends to set up in that line, an' hopes that your honour will go into pardnership along with us." Mr Allfrey, | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582130 | senior, received Joe's invitation with a benignant and patronising smile, but he did not accept it, neither did he give him any encouragement to suppose that he sympathised with his views on that subject. There is reason to believe, however, that his opinions on this head were somewhat modified in after years. If repor... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582131 | the force of that text in Scripture which says, that as it is certain man brings nothing into the world, so he takes nothing out of it, and that therefore it was the wisest policy to do as much good with his gold as he could while he possessed it. Acting on these convictions, it is said, he joined the | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582132 | firm of Allfrey and Graddy, and, making over his cash-books and ledgers to the "rising generation," fairly and finally, like his new partners, renounced his ancient habit of digging for gold. THE END. | 33 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582133 | Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England THE DOG CRUSOE AND HIS MASTER, BY R.M. BALLANTYNE. CHAPTER ONE. THE BACKWOODS SETTLEMENT--CRUSOE'S PARENTAGE AND EARLY HISTORY--THE AGONISING PAINS AND SORROWS OF HIS PUPPYHOOD, AND OTHER INTERESTING MATTERS. The dog Crusoe was once a pup. Now do not, courteous reader, toss yo... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582134 | have told _you_ that." You know very well that you have often seen a man above six feet high, broad and powerful as a lion, with a bronzed shaggy visage and the stern glance of an eagle, of whom you have said, or thought, or heard others say, "It is scarcely possible to believe that such a man was once | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582135 | a squalling baby." If you had seen our hero in all the strength and majesty of full-grown doghood, you would have experienced a vague sort of surprise had we told you--as we now repeat-- that the dog Crusoe was once a pup--a soft, round, sprawling, squeaking pup, as fat as a tallow candle, and as blind as a bat. But | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582136 | we draw particular attention to the fact of Crusoe's having once been a pup, because in connection with the days of his puppyhood there hangs a tale. This peculiar dog may thus be said to have had two tails--one in connection with his body, the other with his career. This tale, though short, is very harrowing, and, as ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582137 | intimately connected with Crusoe's subsequent history, we will relate it here. But before doing so we must beg our reader to accompany us beyond the civilised portions of the United States of America--beyond the frontier settlements of the "far west," into those wild prairies which are watered by the great Missouri riv... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582138 | the Pawnees, the Sioux, the Delawares, the Crows, the Blackfeet, and many other tribes of Red Indians, who are gradually retreating step by step towards the Rocky Mountains as the advancing white man cuts down their trees and ploughs up their prairies. Here, too, dwell the wild horse and the wild ass, the deer, the buf... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582139 | men and brutes alike, wild as the power of untamed and ungovernable passion can make them, and free as the wind that sweeps over their mighty plains. There is a romantic and exquisitely beautiful spot on the banks of one of the tributaries above referred to--a long stretch of mingled woodland and meadow, with a magnifi... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582140 | gem in its green bosom--which goes by the name of the Mustang Valley. This remote vale, even at the present day, is but thinly peopled by white men, and is still a frontier settlement round which the wolf and the bear prowl curiously, and from which the startled deer bounds terrified away. At the period of which we wri... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582141 | valley had just been taken possession of by several families of squatters, who, tired of the turmoil and the squabbles of the then frontier settlements, had pushed boldly into the far west to seek a new home for themselves, where they could have "elbow room," regardless alike of the dangers they might encounter in unkn... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582142 | who dwelt there. The squatters were well armed with axes, rifles, and ammunition. Most of the women were used to dangers and alarms, and placed implicit reliance in the power of their fathers, husbands, and brothers to protect them--and well they might, for a bolder set of stalwart men than these backwoodsmen never tro... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582143 | to the use of the rifle and the axe from infancy, and many of them had spent so much of their lives in the woods, that they were more than a match for the Indian in his own peculiar pursuits of hunting and war. When the squatters first issued from the woods bordering the valley, an immense herd of wild | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582144 | horses or mustangs were browsing on the plain. These no sooner beheld the cavalcade of white men, than, uttering a wild neigh, they tossed their flowing manes in the breeze and dashed away like a whirlwind. This incident procured the valley its name. The newcomers gave one satisfied glance at their future home, and the... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582145 | log huts forthwith. Soon the axe was heard ringing through the forests, and tree after tree fell to the ground, while the occasional sharp ring of a rifle told that the hunters were catering successfully for the camp. In course of time the Mustang Valley began to assume the aspect of a thriving settlement, with cottage... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582146 | together in the midst of it. Of course the savages soon found it out, and paid it occasional visits. These dark-skinned tenants of the woods brought furs of wild animals with them, which they exchanged with the white men for knives, and beads, and baubles and trinkets of brass and tin. But they hated the "Pale-faces" w... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582147 | their encroachments had at this time materially curtailed the extent of their hunting grounds, and nothing but the numbers and known courage of the squatters prevented these savages from butchering and scalping them all. The leader of this band of pioneers was a Major Hope, a gentleman whose love for nature in its wild... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582148 | life for a life in the woods. The major was a first-rate shot, a bold, fearless man, and an enthusiastic naturalist. He was past the prime of life, and, being a bachelor, was unencumbered with a family. His first act on reaching the site of the new settlement was to commence the erection of a block-house, to which the ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582149 | might retire in case of a general attack by the Indians. In this block-house Major Hope took up his abode as the guardian of the settlement,--and here the dog Crusoe was born; here he sprawled in the early morn of life; here he leaped, and yelped, and wagged his shaggy tail in the excessive glee of puppyhood, and from ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582150 | wooden portals of this block-house he bounded forth to the chase in all the fire, and strength, and majesty of full-grown doghood. Crusoe's father and mother were magnificent Newfoundlanders. There was no doubt as to their being of the genuine breed, for Major Hope had received them as a parting gift from a brother off... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582151 | from Newfoundland itself. The father's name was Crusoe; the mother's name was Fan. Why the father had been so called no one could tell. The man from whom Major Hope's friend had obtained the pair was a poor, illiterate fisherman, who had never heard of the celebrated "Robinson" in all his life. All he knew was that Fan... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582152 | named after his own wife. As for Crusoe, he had got him from a friend, who had got him from another friend, whose cousin had received him as a marriage gift from a friend of _his_; and that each had said to the other that the dog's name was "Crusoe," without reasons being asked or given on either side. On | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582153 | arriving at New York the major's friend, as we have said, made him a present of the dogs. Not being much of a dog fancier, he soon tired of old Crusoe, and gave him away to a gentleman, who took him down to Florida, and that was the end of him. He was never heard of more. When Crusoe, junior, | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582154 | was born, he was born, of course, without a name. That was given to him afterwards in honour of his father. He was also born in company with a brother and two sisters, all of whom drowned themselves accidentally, in the first month of their existence, by falling into the river which flowed past the block-house,--a cala... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582155 | in consequence of their having gone out without their mother's leave. Little Crusoe was with his brother and sisters at the time, and fell in along with them, but was saved from sharing their fate by his mother, who, seeing what had happened, dashed with an agonised howl into the water, and, seizing him in her mouth, b... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582156 | in a half-drowned condition. She afterwards brought the others ashore one by one, but the poor little things were dead. And now we come to the harrowing part of our tale, for the proper understanding of which the foregoing dissertation was needful. One beautiful afternoon, in that charming season of the American year c... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582157 | family of Sioux Indians to the Mustang Valley, and pitched their tent close to the block-house. A young hunter stood leaning against the gate-post of the palisades, watching the movements of the Indians, who, having just finished a long "palaver" or "talk" with Major Hope, were now in the act of preparing supper. A fir... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582158 | green sward in front of the tent, and above it stood a tripod, from which depended a large tin camp-kettle. Over this hung an ill-favoured Indian woman, or squaw, who, besides attending to the contents of the pot, bestowed sundry cuffs and kicks upon her little child, which sat near to her playing with several Indian c... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582159 | the fire. The master of the family and his two sons reclined on buffalo robes, smoking their stone pipes or calumets in silence. There was nothing peculiar in their appearance. Their faces were neither dignified nor coarse in expression, but wore an aspect of stupid apathy, which formed a striking contrast to the count... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582160 | an amused spectator of their proceedings. The youth referred to was very unlike, in many respects, to what we are accustomed to suppose a backwoods hunter should be. He did not possess that quiet gravity and staid demeanour which often characterise these men. True, he was tall and strongly made, but no one would have c... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582161 | frame indicated grace and agility rather than strength. But the point about him which rendered him different from his companions was his bounding, irrepressible flow of spirits, strangely coupled with an intense love of solitary wandering in the woods. None seemed so well fitted for social enjoyment as he; none laughed... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582162 | eye; yet for days together he went off alone into the forest, and wandered where his fancy led him, as grave and silent as an Indian warrior. After all, there was nothing mysterious in this. The boy followed implicitly the dictates of nature within him. He was amiable, straightforward, sanguine, and intensely _earnest_... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582163 | as sailors have it, "with a will." When there was good cause to be grave, no power on earth could make him smile. We have called him boy, but in truth he was about that uncertain period of life when a youth is said to be neither a man nor a boy. His face was good-looking (_every_ earnest, candid face | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582164 | is) and masculine; his hair was reddish-brown, and his eye bright blue. He was costumed in the deerskin cap, leggings, moccasins, and leathern shirt common to the western hunter. "You seem tickled wi' the Injuns, Dick Varley," said a man who at that moment issued from the block-house. "That's just what I am, Joe Blunt,... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582165 | a broad grin to his companion. "Have a care, lad; do not laugh at 'em too much. They soon take offence; an' them Red-skins never forgive." "But I'm only laughing at the baby," returned the youth, pointing to the child, which, with a mixture of boldness and timidity, was playing with a pup, wrinkling up its fat visage i... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582166 | smile when its playmate rushed away in sport, and opening wide its jet-black eyes in grave anxiety as the pup returned at full gallop. "It 'ud make an owl laugh," continued young Varley, "to see such a queer pictur' o' itself." He paused suddenly, and a dark frown covered his face as he saw the Indian woman stoop quick... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582167 | catch the pup by its hind-leg with one hand, seize a heavy piece of wood with the other, and strike it several violent blows on the throat. Without taking the trouble to kill the poor animal outright, the savage then held its still writhing body over the fire in order to singe off the hair before putting it into the | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582168 | pot to be cooked. The cruel act drew young Varley's attention more closely to the pup, and it flashed across his mind that this could be no other than young Crusoe, which neither he nor his companion had before seen, although they had often heard others speak of and describe it. Had the little creature been one of the ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582169 | Indian curs, the two hunters would probably have turned from the sickening sight with disgust, feeling that, however much they might dislike such cruelty, it would be of no use attempting to interfere with Indian usages. But the instant the idea that it was Crusoe occurred to Varley he uttered a yell of anger, and spra... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582170 | a bound that caused the three Indians to leap to their feet and grasp their tomahawks. Blunt did not move from the gate, but threw forward his rifle with a careless motion, but an expressive glance, that caused the Indians to resume their seats and pipes with an emphatic "Wah!" of disgust at having been startled out of... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582171 | by a trifle, while Dick Varley snatched poor Crusoe from his dangerous and painful position, scowled angrily in the woman's face, and, turning on his heel, walked up to the house, holding the pup tenderly in his arms. Joe Blunt gazed after his friend with a grave, solemn expression of countenance till he disappeared; t... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582172 | and shook his head. Joe was one of the regular out-and-out backwoods hunters, both in appearance and in fact--broad, tall, massive, lion-like,--gifted with the hunting, stalking, running, and trail--following powers of the savage, and with a superabundance of the shooting and fighting powers, the daring and dash of the... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582173 | expression almost at all times was a compound of seriousness and good-humour. With the rifle he was a good, steady shot; but by no means a "crack" one. _His_ ball never failed to _hit_, but it often failed to kill. After meditating a few seconds, Joe Blunt again shook his head, and muttered to himself; "The boy's bold ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582174 | he's too reckless for a hunter. There was no need for that yell, now--none at all." Having uttered this sagacious remark, he threw his rifle into the hollow of his left arm, turned round, and strode off with a long, slow step towards his own cottage. Blunt was an American by birth, but of Irish extraction, and to an at... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582175 | ear there was a faint echo of the _brogue_ in his tone, which seemed to have been handed down to him as a threadbare and almost worn-out heirloom. Poor Crusoe was singed almost naked. His wretched tail seemed little better than a piece of wire filed off to a point, and he vented his misery in piteous squeaks as the | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582176 | sympathetic Varley confided him tenderly to the care of his mother. How Fan managed to cure him no one can tell, but cure him she did, for, in the course of a few weeks, Crusoe was as well, and sleek, and fat as ever. CHAPTER TWO. A SHOOTING MATCH AND ITS CONSEQUENCES--NEW FRIENDS INTRODUCED TO THE READER--CRUSOE AND H... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582177 | CHANGE MASTERS. Shortly after the incident narrated in the last chapter, the squatters of the Mustang Valley lost their leader. Major Hope suddenly announced his intention of quitting the settlement, and returning to the civilised world. Private matters, he said, required his presence there--matters which he did not ch... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582178 | reside among them. Go he must, and, being a man of determination, go he did; but before going he distributed all his goods and chattels among the settlers. He even gave away his rifle, and Fan, and Crusoe. These last, however, he resolved should go together; and as they were well worth having, he announced that he woul... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582179 | to the best shot in the valley. He stipulated that the winner should escort him to the nearest settlement eastward, after which he might return with the rifle on his shoulder. Accordingly, a long level piece of ground on the river's bank, with a perpendicular cliff at the end of it, was selected as the shooting ground,... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582180 | appointed day, at the appointed hour, the competitors began to assemble. "Well, lad, first as usual," exclaimed Joe Blunt, as he reached the ground and found Dick Varley there before him. "I've bin here more than an hour lookin' for a new kind o' flower that Jack Morgan told me he'd seen. And I've found it too. Look he... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582181 | you ever see one like it before?" Blunt leaned his rifle against a tree, and carefully examined the flower. "Why, yes, I've seed a-many o' them up about the Rocky Mountains, but never one here-away. It seems to have gone lost itself. The last I seed, if I remimber rightly, wos near the head-waters o' the Yellowstone Ri... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582182 | where I shot a grizzly bar." "Was that the bar that gave you the wipe on the cheek?" asked Varley, forgetting the flower in his interest about the bear. "It was. I put six balls in that bar's carcase, and stuck my knife into its heart ten times afore it gave out; an' it nearly ripped the shirt off my | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582183 | back afore I was done with it." "I would give my rifle to get a chance at a grizzly!" exclaimed Varley, with a sudden burst of enthusiasm. "Whoever got it wouldn't have much to brag of," remarked a burly young backwoodsman, as he joined them. His remark was true, for poor Dick's weapon was but a sorry affair. It missed | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582184 | fire, and it hung fire, and even when it did fire it remained a matter of doubt in its owner's mind whether the slight deviations from the direct line made by his bullets were the result of _his_ or _its_ bad shooting. Further comment upon it was checked by the arrival of a dozen or more hunters on the scene | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582185 | of action. They were a sturdy set of bronzed, bold, fearless men, and one felt, on looking at them, that they would prove more than a match for several hundreds of Indians in open fight. A few minutes after, the major himself came on the ground with the prize rifle on his shoulder, and Fan and Crusoe at his heels--the | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582186 | latter tumbling, scrambling, and yelping after its mother, fat and clumsy, and happy as possible, having evidently quite forgotten that it had been nearly roasted alive only a few weeks before. Immediately all eyes were on the rifle, and its merits were discussed with animation. And well did it deserve discussion, for ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582187 | on the western frontier. It was shorter in the barrel and larger in the bore than the weapons chiefly in vogue at that time, and, besides being of beautiful workmanship, was silver-mounted. But the grand peculiarity about it, and that which afterwards rendered it the mystery of mysteries to the savages, was, that it ha... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582188 | the other flint--so that, when caps failed, by taking off the one set of locks and affixing the others, it was converted into a flint-rifle. The major, however, took care never to run short of caps, so that the flint locks were merely held as a reserve in case of need. "Now, lads," cried Major Hope, stepping up to the | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582189 | point whence they were to shoot, "remember the terms. He who first drives the nail obtains the rifle, Fan, and her pup, and accompanies me to the nearest settlements. Each man shoots with his own gun, and draws lots for the chance." "Agreed," cried the men. "Well, then, wipe your guns and draw lots. Henri will fix the ... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582190 | it is." The individual who stepped, or rather plunged forward to receive the nail was a rare and remarkable specimen of mankind. Like his comrades, he was half a farmer and half a hunter. Like them, too, he was clad in deerskin, and was tall and strong--nay, more, he was gigantic. But, unlike them, he was clumsy, awkwa... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582191 | a bad shot. Nevertheless Henri was an immense favourite in the settlement, for his good-humour knew no bounds. No one ever saw him frown. Even when fighting with the savages, as he was sometimes compelled to do in self-defence, he went at them with a sort of jovial rage that was almost laughable. Inconsiderate reckless... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582192 | characteristics, so that his comrades were rather afraid of him on the war-trail or in the hunt, where caution, and frequently _soundless_ motion, were essential to success or safety. But when Henri had a comrade at his side to check him he was safe enough, being humble-minded and obedient. Men used to say he must have... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582193 | lucky star, for, notwithstanding his natural inaptitude for all sorts of backwoods life, he managed to scramble through everything with safety, often with success, and sometimes with credit. To see Henri stalk a deer was worth a long day's journey. Joe Blunt used to say he was "all jints together, from the top of his h... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582194 | his moccasin." He threw his immense form into the most inconceivable contortions, and slowly wound his way, sometimes on hands and knees, sometimes flat, through bush and brake, as if there was not a bone in his body, and without the slightest noise. This sort of work was so much against his plunging nature, that he to... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582195 | it, but when, through hard practice and the loss of many a fine deer, he came at length to break himself in to it, he gradually progressed to perfection, and ultimately became the best stalker in the valley. This, and this alone, enabled him to procure game, for, being short-sighted, he could hit nothing beyond fifty y... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582196 | or a barn door. Yet that same lithe body, which seemed as though totally unhinged, could no more be bent, when the muscles were strung, than an iron post. No one wrestled with Henri unless he wished to have his back broken. Few could equal and none could beat him at running or leaping except Dick Varley. When Henri ran | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582197 | a race even Joe Blunt laughed outright, for arms and legs went like independent flails. When he leaped, he hurled himself into space with a degree of violence that seemed to insure a somersault--yet he always came down with a crash on his feet. Plunging was Henri's forte. He generally lounged about the settlement, when... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582198 | his back, apparently in a reverie, and when called on to act, he seemed to fancy he must have lost time, and could only make up for it by _plunging_. This habit got him into many awkward scrapes, but his herculean power as often got him out of them. He was a French-Canadian, and a particularly bad speaker of the | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
twg_000012582199 | English language. We offer no apology for this elaborate introduction of Henri, for he was as good-hearted a fellow as ever lived, and deserves special notice. But to return. The sort of rifle practice called "driving the nail," by which this match was to be decided, was, and we believe still is, common among the hunte... | 60 | gutenberg | unknown |
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