Chapter 10
CHAPTER X. Among Friends. The animal had gone to the door and stood in a listening attitude. Someone's coming, said the boy, is everything snug. The three cast hurried glances around the room, then, shaking off a somewhat uneasy expression, the man stepped to the one and only window of the cabin.
James Warden Perch, he said dryly, and registered guide Hersey. Come and spine round. Bad luck to him. And he sulkily went back to the table. Presently there came a knocking at the door.
Come in, balled Lucas not inhospitably, and two men much smarter, cleaner, and more dapper looking than the red-haired man and his sons entered the cabin. Howdy, they said simultaneously as they stood their guns and snowshoes against the wall the two boxes vacated by the boys had assigned from their father. Then with an appearance of enjoyment, they dragged the boxes near the fire and stretched
out their hands to the blaze. Tilda Jane saw that they were staring in unmitigated astonishment at her, and with a feeling that she herself was out of the world, and in a place where passers-by were few and infrequent, she examined them in equal interest. Where'd you come from? asked the elder of them at last, fixing her with a pair of piercing
eyes. She got keeled over on the old road last night, spoke up Lucas, much to her relief, lost her way. Long gear found her, and he motioned toward Poacher, who was surveying the newcomers in cold curiosity.
Warden perched his attention being drawn to the dog, he stared at him earnestly, then turned to his companion. Ever see that animal before? Not near at hand, said the other with a slight sneer. Guess I've seen his hind legs and the tip of his tail once or twice.
Give some breakfast, said Lucas, who was imperturbably going on with his own. Warden Perch inspected the table. Not on bacon, haven't you got something more uncommon? We've got some beans in there, said Lucas, with a backward nod of his head toward a bag on the floor, coarse brown beans.
They might be a treat for ye, seeing in ye don't get much in hotels. Perch flushed angrily and opened his mouth as if to make a retort, then he drew a blank book from his pocket, and to calm himself ran his eye over the report he was making for the game commissioner of the state. Left Nexter 10.55 a.m. March 1st for Bluefield, March 2nd at Bareville 11.30 a.m.
Jim Green's camp lay clear at 4.35 p.m. March 3rd left camp at 7 a.m. Bill Emerson's camp 9.47 a.m. Reached Moose Yard on backside Fernberg Ridge 1.47 p.m. Three moose in yard.
Henry, he said lifting his head and abruptly addressing his companion, some of those poachers have mighty cute tricks. Henry nodded a cent. Those fellows at Hack MacTack station tried hard to fool us last week, cut the legs off the deer, then got a couple of bears' feet and had the bone of the bear's leg slipped
up under the skin on the leg of the deer. Then they put them up so slyly in three layers of bagging with nothing but bear's feet sticking out, but I caught on to those bear's legs and said the feet weren't big enough, so I had it opened and took the deer and the fellows to Mattawamkig, and I guess they think forty dollars apiece was just about enough for a fine.
Lucas and his sons burst out laughing and Tilda Jane shrewdly suspected by their amused faces and knowing glances that they had heard the story before. There was no love lost between these newcomers and her preservers, and Lucas and his sons would be glad when their callers left the cabin. But what was all this talk about deer?
Surely they did not kill the pretty creatures whom without having seen she loved. She cleared her throat and in a weak little voice addressed the game warden. Sir, I've got pictures in my geography of deer with branching horns. Does bad men kill them? Warden Perch gave her another alert glance.
Here was no confederate of poachers. Yes, he said severely. Bad men do kill them and dogs chase them, but mind this, young girl, poachers get nabbed in the long run. They slide for a time, but there's a trip up at the end, and they're dogs too.
I've shot three hounds this week for dog and deer. You've shot dogs? Repeated tilde-jane in a horrified tone and pressing gippy closer to her. If I didn't shoot them, they'd kill the deer, said the man irritably. Oh, murmured tilde-jane, here was one of the mysteries of nature that was quite beyond
her comprehension. The dog hunted the deer, and the man hunted the dog. The deer apparently was the weaker one, and she must inquire into the matter. What does bad men kill deer for? She asked timidly.
Haven't you ever eaten any deer meat? asked the warden. I didn't know it was good to eat, she said sadly. You haven't had any here in this cabin? I guess not.
Unless I might have eaten it when I was feinty. Lucas eyed her peculiarly, and the meaning of the warden's question and offensive manner burst upon her. That's a good man, she said indignantly, starting from her half-reclining position and pointing to Lucas.
I guess men that take little girls out of snow banks don't kill deer. Warden Perch laughed and rose from his seat. He had very little sentiment with regard to the animal creation. I calculate we'd better be moving, he said to the guide. Don't suppose we'd see anything to keep us here, unless we'd hang on for the big snowstorm
they say is coming. And that I expect you waiting for. And he looked at Lucas. Me and my son, said the latter coolly, is on our way to David Morse's lumber camp. Two of his hands had to come out, count a sickness.
We lay out to geth'ar this evening. Was late and startin' last night, and camped here. We'll have to get this little girl out. Thought you might undertake it, seein' as you've makin' for outside, I suppose. Get your own find out, said the warden severely.
It'll keep you out of mischief. Look here. If I find that dog of yours up to tricks, you know what I'll do. Shoot him on sight, said Lucas, stupin' and patting the animal who was pressin' close to him. But you'll never catch him, cause he ain't the sort of dog to be catched in any kind of mischief.
Hey, poacher? The guide went out, and the warden with a scowl followed, slamming the door after him. Lucas and his sons crowded to the window, to see their collars depart. And when they were fairly out of sight, they burst into relieved laughter, and noisily drew their boxes up to the fire. Say, Pop?
Ain't he mad? remarked Joe excitedly. Mad cause you're too cute for him. He'd give his teeth to fasten something on to you. Shut up, said his father, with a roll of his eye toward Tilda Jane. The girl was puzzled.
Lucas, who seemed a nice man, was treated as if he were not a friend to the deer, while the departed ones, whom she did not like at all, seemed to be their protectors. Who are these men? she asked curiously. Well, I'll tell you, said Lucas, taking two moose-ear skins from his pocket, and fitting them together to make a tobacco pouch. Them two is fancy game men. The warden and the guide likes to lounge in easy chairs round hotels, and tell of their doings in the woods, how the poachers tremble and run when they see them a-coming.
As a rule, they don't take to the woods, till they're drove to it by some complaint. Then their awful fears and growl and show their teeth, and run home. Nobody don't care nothing for them. Are there many men killing deer? asked the little girl falteringly. Many men? roamed Lucas.
Law me, what a question. Last year, little gal, there was awful heavy snow, eight foot deep in Franklin County. Seven foot in Somerset, Piscataquis, Penobscot, and Oroosta. What a year for big game. They couldn't get away. They was as helpless as sheep.
Storm came on storm, till we was walking up among the tree branches and knocking off the snow with a stick. Snow covered tracks and poachers took possession of the earth. They lived high in the lumber camps, Pop. Do you mind? said Zebedee, smacking his lips. When a fellow was starving, the smell just come out to meet him. You bet. Only you wasn't there to smell it, said his father sharply.
You mind that? You young ones takes to the woods too natural. He surveyed them with mingled pride and dissatisfaction, then came back to his reminiscences. I vom, that was a winter. But the deer would have starved if they hadn't been shot. For the snow was so deep that they couldn't get to their food. That their perch made a great flurry about getting in and driving six deer to a swamp where they could get green stuff.
But I don't believe a word of it. I believe he shot and ate them. Do you mind the deer that was dogged into our yard, Pop? exclaimed Joe. I saw him as they crossed the river, dogged not fifteen foot behind. And what became of that deer? asked Tilde Jane unsteadily. Lucas winked at his sons and concluded the story himself.
He run across our yard and among the bark pilers at Meek and Sons Tannery. When the animal come running down between the bark piles, some of the crew was for killing them. But I was working the hour and I wouldn't let them. He stayed round close to us all day and when any dog come in sniffed at him, he'd run up close and tremble and ask us to see fair play. You kill that deer exclaimed Tilde Jane bursting into tears.
Oh, why does God let men be so wicked? Sobs were almost tearing her little lean frame to pieces. She had not worked up gradually to a pitch of emotion, but had fallen immediately into it. And Lucas and his sons stared wonderingly at her. Poor little girl, she looked as if she had come through a sea of troubles.
And pity stirred in the man's rough but not unkindly breast. Shut up now. Shut up, Missy, he said soothingly. We did shoot that feller, but there weren't nowhere to keep him. But deer has been kept. Soft now.
And I'll tell ye of Seth Winthrop, who has a park and is a rich man. Last year when you couldn't go scarce five mile without seeing tracks of blood in the snow. Where someone had been slaughtering, a moose was chased near Winthrop's place. He was so deadbeat that he just stood and trembled. And one of Winthrop's men put a halter on him and led him to the barnyard and give him fodder and drink.
And that living young moose is in Winthrop's park today. And he weighs four hundred pounds. Tilde Jane was still sobbing and Joe nudged his father. Tell her about the bear, Pop. Now here's something that'll make you laugh, said Lucas kindly.
It's about a bad bear that went and got drunk. I was on a fishing trip and I had a jug of black strap with me. Know what that is, little gal? No, gasped Tilde Jane, who rather ashamed of her emotion was trying to sober herself. Well, it's the state domain name for rum and molasses mixed.
And you take it with you in case you get sick. There was some other men with me and they'd gone off in a boat on the lake. I had a gun. But upon my word, I didn't think of using it. I think out of gratitude to that bar for giving me such a treat, just as good as a circus.
Well, I must tell you how it happened. I didn't feel well that day. Had a kind of pain. And I was lying on the bank in the sun, fooling and wishing I was all right. But by and by, thinks I, I'll go to the camp and have a drink of black strap.
I was most thorough when I met a wicked thief bar coming out. Hours around, he was as tipsy as a tinker. He'd been at my black strap and I wish you could have seen him. He didn't know where he was at or where he wanted to be at. And he was jolly and friendly and seesawed round me and rolled and swaggered till I thought I'd die laughing.
My pain went like last year's snow. And I walked after that bar till he was out of sight. Just like a drunken man he was, making for home. And in the midst of all this foolery, having an idea of where he ought to go. I'd have given a good deal to see Mrs. Bar's face when he arrived.
And didn't those other fellers give it to me for not shooting him? I said I couldn't take a mean advantage of his situation. Tilda Jane's face was composed now and with a faint smile she reverted to the subject of the deer. Don't you feel bad when you're killing them? And they looks at you with their big eyes.
Look here, little gal. Don't you talk no more about them. Or you'll have me as much hearted as you be, said Lucas. Getting up and going to the window. At present I ain't got no feeling about deer.
Except that what's in the woods is ours. You just stand up and try your feet. It's gonna snow and I'd like to get you out of here. Did you ever try to teeter along on snowshoes? No sir, she said, getting up and walking across the room.
Lucas was anxiously surveying the sky. Here's like it was gonna snow any minute. The last thaw took the heft of it off the ground. You'd have never got in this fur if it hadn't. And we're bound to have another big fall.
It ain't fur to the road. And I guess you and Zebedee better start. Let me see you walk, Sissy. Tilted Jane tottered back to her seat. It's a smart trot home, observed Zebedee.
Do you think she could foot it? Pop, it's snowing now, said Joe, who had taken his father's place at the window. With almost incredible rapidity there had been a change in the weather. A small and sullen cloud had hidden the dreamy thoughtful sun. And out of the cloud came wheeling, choking gusts, bearing bewildered snowflakes up and down, hither and thither,
before allowing them to alight turbulently upon the quiet earth. That's quick, muttered Lucas philosophically. We'll have to put off opinions till it's over. And he again sat down by the fire. The wind tore around the small cabin furiously, seeking an entrance but finding none.
Outside, at least, he could have his will and his vengeance fell upon the sturdy young furs and spruces. Who at this fierce word of command threw off their burdens of snow and bent and swayed before his wrath as wildly as the most graceful hardwood saplings. The older trees bent more reluctantly. They had seen many winters, many storms, yet occasionally a grown burst from them,
as the raging breath of the wind monster blew around some decaying giant and hurling him to the ground. Tilda Jane pictured the scene with out and cowered closer to the fire. Gipy was on her lap, poacher beside her. And this man with his two boys, who at present personified her best friends in the world, were safe and warm in their shelter.
Her dark face cleared, and in dreamy content she listened to the string of hunting stories reeled off by the two boys, who without addressing her directly were evidently stimulated by the knowledge that here was an interested, appreciative, and brand new listener.
