Wild Western Scenes. J. B. Jones
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becoming irksome, for the sports of the field, particularly as he was now entirely recovered from the effects of his late disasters, and began to grow weary of wasting his ammunition in firing at a target, when there was an abundance of game in the vicinity.
"Whoop! Bingwood—Jowler!" cried he, leading the horses briskly forth. The dogs came prancing and yelping round him, as well pleased as himself at the prospect of a day's sport; and when Glenn came out they exhibited palpable signs of recognition and eagerness to accompany their new master on his first deer-hunt. Glenn stroked their heads, which were constantly rubbed against his hands, and his caresses were gratefully received by the faithful hounds. He had been instructed by Boone how to manage them, so as either to keep them at his side when he wished to approach the game stealthily, or to send them forth when rapid pursuit was required, and he was now anxious to test their sagacity.
When mounted, the young men set forward in a southern direction, the valley in which the ferryman's cabin was situated on one hand, and one about the same distance above on the other. But the space between them gradually widened as they progressed, and in a few minutes both disappeared entirely, terminating in scarcely perceptible rivulets running slowly down from the high and level prairie. Here Glenn paused to determine what course he should take. The sun shone brightly on the interminable expanse before him, and not a breeze ruffled the long dry grass around, nor disturbed the few sear leaves that yet clung to the diminutive clusters of bushes scattered at long intervals over the prairie. It was a delightful scene. From the high position of our hero, he could distinguish objects miles distant on the plain; and if the landscape was not enlivened by houses and domestic herds, he could at all events here and there behold parties of deer browsing peacefully in the distance. Ringwood and Jowler also saw or scented them, as their attention was pointed in that direction; but so far from marring the sport by prematurely running forward, they knew too well their duty to leave their master, even were the game within a few paces of them, without the word of command.
"I see a deer!" cried Joe, at length, having till then been employed gathering some fine wild grapes from a neighbouring vine.
"I see several," replied Glenn; "but how we are to get within gun shot of them, is the question."
"I see them, too," said Joe, his eyes glistening.
"I have thought of a plan, Joe; whether right or wrong, is not very material, as respects the exercise we are seeking; but I am inclined to believe it is the proper one. It will at all events give you a fair opportunity of killing a deer, as you will have to fire as they run, and the great number of bullets in your musket will make you more certain to do execution than if you fired a rifle. You will proceed to yon thicket, about a thousand yards distant, keeping the bushes all the time between you and the deer. When you arrive at it dismount, and after tying your pony in the bushes where he will be well hid, select a position whence you can see the deer when they run; I think they will go within reach of your fire. I will make a detour beyond them, and approach from the opposite side."
"I'd rather not tie my pony," said Joe.
"Why? he would not leave you, even were he to get loose," replied Glenn.
"I don't think he would—but I'd rather not leave him yet awhile, till I get a little better used to hunting," said Joe, probably thinking there might be some danger to himself on foot in a country where bears, wolves, and panthers were sometimes seen.
"Can you fire while sitting on your pony?" inquired Glenn.
"I suppose so," said Joe; "though I never thought to try it yet."
"Suppose you try it now, while I watch the deer, and see if what I have been told is true, that the mere report of a gun will not alarm them."
"Well, I will," said Joe. "I think Pete knows as well as the steed, that shooting on him won't hurt him."
"Fire away, then," said Glenn, looking steadfastly at the deer. Joe fired, and none of the deer ran off. Some continued their playful sports, while others browsed along without lifting their heads; in all likelihood the report did not reach them. But Glenn heard a tremendous thumping behind, and on turning round, beheld his man quietly lying on the ground, and the pony standing about ten paces distant, with his head turned towards Joe, his ears thrust forwards, his nostrils distended and snorting, and his little blue eyes ready to burst out of his head.
Glenn heard a tremendous thumping behind.
Glenn heard a tremendous thumping behind.
"How is this, Joe?" inquired Glenn, scarce able to repress a smile at the ridiculous posture of his man.
"I hardly know myself," replied Joe, casting a silly glance at his treacherous pony; and after examining his limbs and finding no injury had been sustained, continued, "I fired as you directed, and when the smoke cleared away, I found myself lying just as you see me here. I don't know how Pete contrived to get from under me, but there he stands, and here I lie."
"Load your gun, and try it again," said Glenn.
"I'd rather not," said Joe.
"Then I will," replied Glenn, whose horsemanship enabled him to retain the saddle in spite of the straggles of Pete, who, after several discharges, submitted and bore it quietly.
Joe then mounted and set out for the designated thicket, while Glenn galloped off in another direction, followed by the hounds.
When Joe arrived at the hazel thicket, he continued in the saddle, and otherwise he would not have been able to see over the prairie for the tall grass which had grown very luxuriantly in that vicinity. There was a path, however, running round the edge of the bushes, which had been made by the deer and other wild animals, and in this he cautiously groped his way, looking out in every direction for the deer. When he had progressed about halfway round, he espied them feeding composedly, about three hundred paces distant, on a slight eminence. There were at least fifteen of them, and some very large ones. Fearful of giving the alarm before Glenn should fire, he shielded himself from view behind a cluster of persimmon bushes, and tasted the ripe and not unpalatable fruit. And here he was destined to win his first trophy as a hunter. While bending down some branches over head, without looking up, an opossum fell upon his hat, knocking it over his eyes, and springing on the neck of Pete, thence leaped to the ground. But before it disappeared Joe had dismounted, and giving it a blow with the butt of his musket it rolled over on its side, with its eyes closed and tongue hanging out, indicating that the stroke had been fatal.
"So much for you!" said Joe, casting a proud look at his victim; and then leaping on his pony, he gazed again at the deer. They seemed to be still entirely unconscious of danger, and several were now lying in the grass with their heads tip, and chewing the cud like domestic animals. Joe drew back once more to await the action of Glenn, and turning to look at the opossum, found to his surprise that it had vanished!
"Well, I'm the biggest fool that ever breathed!" said he, recollecting the craftiness imputed to those animals, and searching in vain for his game. "If ever I come across another, he'll not come the 'possum over me, I'll answer for it!" he continued, somewhat vexed. At this juncture Glenn's gun was heard, and Joe observed a majority of the deer leaping affrighted in the direction of his position. The foremost passed within twenty yards of him, and, his limbs trembling with excitement, he drew his gun up to his shoulder and pulled the trigger. It snapped, perhaps fortunately, for his eyes were convulsively closed at the moment; and recovering measurably by the time the next came up, this trial the gun went off, and he found himself once more prostrate on the ground.
"What in the world is the reason you won't stand still!" he exclaimed, rising and seizing the pony by the bit. The only answer Pete made was a snort of unequivocal dissatisfaction. "Plague take your little hide of you! I should have killed that fellow to a certainty, if you hadn't played the fool!" continued he, still addressing his pony while he proceeded to load his gun. When ready for another fire, he mounted again, in quite an ill humour, convinced that all chance of killing a deer was effectually over for the present, when, to his utter astonishment, he beheld the deer he had fired at lying dead before him, and but a few paces distant. With feelings of unmixed delight he galloped to where it lay, and springing