Part 5 (2/2)
The fox, however, had not halted here, but emerging into a small meadow, had crossed into a close copse of young firs and elders, in whose midst a huge stump, whitened and splintered, rose some twenty-five feet into the air.
Peter groaned audibly. ”That old fox mean as debbil. Know that place no good. No hollow tlee, only brush and thick branch. Fox get under loot, and eat, watch twenty way at once: well, I try, any way.”
Ben and La Salle hastily pa.s.sed around the woods surrounding the glade, until they reached the opposite side of the motte to that which Peter was now entering. Noticing that only a narrow s.p.a.ce of open ground intervened at one point, Davies crept noiselessly down to the very edge of the underbrush, about sixty yards from La Salle.
He had scarcely drawn himself up from his crouching position, when a magnificent black fox crossed the opening almost at his very feet, followed by the light axe of the Indian, which, thrown with astonis.h.i.+ng force and precision, pa.s.sed just above the animal, and was buried almost to the helve in a small tree not a yard from Davies's head.
Flurried out of his usual good judgment, Ben drew both triggers, with uncertain aim, and the fox, swerving a little, pa.s.sed him like a shot.
La Salle, springing forward through the narrow belt of woods, saw the frightened animal a score of rods off, making across the fields for the Western Bar. A fence bounded the field some six score yards away, under which the fox must pa.s.s, and whose top rail, scarce three feet above the level, marked the necessary elevation to allow for the ”drop” of the tiny missiles used. La Salle felt that all depended on his aim, and that his nerves were at the utmost tension of excited interest; but he forced himself to act with deliberate prompt.i.tude at a moment when the most feverish haste would have seemed interminable dallying. Steadily the ponderous tube was levelled in line of the fleeing beast, until the beaded sight rested on the top rail above him. An instant the heavy weapon seemed absolutely without motion; then the report crashed through the forest, and the snow-crust was dashed into impalpable powder by a hundred riddling pellets.
The shot was fired just as the fox sprang up the slight embankment on which, as is usual, the line of fence was placed. For an instant he seemed to falter, then leaped the top rail, and disappeared beyond the enclosure.
Peter and Davies had seen the shot, and with La Salle rushed forward to note its effect, although neither hoped for more than a wound whose bleeding would ultimately disable him, when patient tracking would secure his much-prized fur. As they ran to the fence they noted the deeply-cut scores in the icy crust which marked the first dropping shot, and Peter became loud in his praises of the weapon.
”I never see gun like that; at hundred yards you kill him, sure; but no gun ever kill so far as you fire. See there, shot strike dis stump. Hah!
there spot of blood on bank. d.a.m.n! here fox dead, sure enough.”
”Hurrah! the Baby forever for a long shot. Charley, old boy, shake hands on it. Peter, don't you wish you hadn't been so sure of killing him without our help?”
The thoughtless triumph of the young Englishman recalled the memory of his obstinate refusal to accept the proffered aid of the sportsmen to the mind of the poor Indian. Such a look of utter disappointment took the place of his joy at the successful shot, that La Salle could scarcely contain his sympathy.
”So it is always. White man win, Indian lose; white man get food, Indian starve; white man live, Indian die. Once, all this Indian land. No white people were here, and many Indians hunt and find enough. Now, the Indian must buy the wood which he makes into baskets. He cannot spear a salmon in the rivers. The woods are cut down, and the many s.h.i.+ps and guns frighten off the game.”
He looked a moment at the dead fox, smoothed its glossy fur with a hand that trembled with suppressed emotion, and then, with a curt ”good evening,” turned to go.
”I wish, Peter, you would come down to the house and skin this beast for me,” said La Salle. ”If you will do so carefully, and stretch it for drying in good style, I'll give you a pair of boots.”
Without a word the Indian seized the dead animal and strode ahead of them, like one who seeks in bodily fatigue a refuge from anguish of spirit.
”What will you give for such a skin, Davies?” asked La Salle.
”I will give you one hundred and fifty dollars for that one. It is the largest, finest, and blackest that I ever saw.”
”You have another gun like your own in your store at C.--have you not?”
”Yes, exactly like my own. I can only tell them apart by this curl in the wood of the stock.”
”What is she worth?”
”I will sell her to you for fifteen pounds.”
”That would be fifty dollars. Well, Ben, I'll tell you what, we must give Peter one half of the fox. I should never forgive myself if we didn't. I know he has been sick all summer, and his disappointment must be very hard to bear. Are you willing to give him half?”
<script>