TIM AND TIP;
OR, THE ADVENTURES OF A BOY AND A DOG.
BY JAMES OTIS.
Chapter IX.
THE FAMOUS BEAR-HUNT.
When Tim went home with Bobby he saw Mr. and Mrs. Tucker, and from them received such a kindly greeting that he thought he must be remarkably good in order to repay them for their kindness! He was a happy boy when he went to bed that night, and made more so by seeing Tip stretched out on a rug by the side of the bed whenever he took the trouble to look that way.
On the first morning after Tim's arrival Mr. Tucker, without saying what his intentions were regarding the future of the homeless boy, told him and Bobby they could enjoy themselves after their own fashion for two weeks, at the end of which time school began. Therefore there was nothing to prevent the bear-hunt from taking place, unless it should be the failure of the bears to show themselves.
Bill Thompson was the first of the party to arrive at the rendezvous back of the shed, and almost before he spoke to the boys he made another and a more critical examination of Tip. Bill was not only eager for the fray, but he was thoroughly well armed. He had a murderous-looking carving-knife stuck in a belt that had been hastily made of a strip of black cloth, and in his hands he carried a small shot-gun, which he might have some difficulty in discharging, owing to the fact that he was obliged to carry the lock in his pocket.
When Bill's attention was called to this fact, he explained that he did not depend so much upon the gun to shoot with as he did for use as a club, with which the bear's brains could be easily dashed out. The knife was the weapon in which he put more dependence, and he proved that it was a good one by making shavings of fully half a shingle in less than five minutes.
This display of weapons and air of ferocity on Bill's face so pleased Tim and Bobby that they blamed themselves severely for not having made their own preparations for a fight. That oversight was quickly remedied, when Bobby produced an old army musket, the weight of which made him stagger, and a veteran revolver that had lain at the bottom of the ocean for nearly a year, and was now preserved by Bobby's father as an ornamental rather than a useful relic.
"You'll want the pistol, Tim," he said, as he handed that weapon to his friend, "'cause it'll be a good deal handier to fire when you're close up to the bear, an' you know you'll have to go pretty snug to him so's to keep Tip from eating the skin."
Bobby, with all possible precaution against accidents, loaded the army musket with the powder taken from six fire-crackers, and rammed home five or six small stones in place of bullets. He had no percussion-caps; but he felt certain he could discharge it as well by holding a lighted match at the nipple as if he had all the caps ever made. Owing to Bobby's mother's decided refusal to loan two of her carving-knives, they were obliged to get along without anything of that sort, and depend on the one carried by Bill to skin their game when it was killed.
The other hunters arrived in parties of twos and threes, and each new arrival thought it necessary to make another and more minute examination of Tip, in order to be certain that he was in the best possible condition for the hunt. Each of the new-comers was armed, but none could boast of having more destructive weapons than those carried by the three leaders.
Bill was anxious to start at once, in order, as he said, to get the skin nailed up on the barn before night; and as they were about to set out, Bobby exclaimed:
"Here! how do you s'pose we can get any bears if we let Tip go on ahead? Why, he'll rush off jest as soon as he sees one, an' we can't catch him before he eats 'em all up."
It was almost a shudder that ran through the party as they realized how near they had been to losing their game before it had been caught.
"What shall we do?" asked Bill, completely at a loss to arrange matters. And then, as a happy thought came to him, he cried, "I know now: we can take turns carryin' him."
A look of scorn came upon Bobby's face as this brilliant idea was given words, and he said, almost with a sneer:
"Now what a way that would be, wouldn't it? How do yer s'pose he could smell out the tracks if we didn't let him run on the ground?"
That one question made Bill Thompson feel very cheap indeed, for it showed plainly that he was not posted in bear-hunting, and he was anxious to be looked upon as one who knew all about it.
"What shall we do, then?" he asked, mournfully.
"We must tie a rope round his neck, so's we can hold him back."
Bill actually looked ashamed when this very simple plan was proposed, and he was angry with himself for not having been the first to think of it. But he saw a way to save his reputation.
"That's a good plan," he said, gravely, as if he had thought of it—before, but had not suggested it, hoping a better one would be proposed, "but you'll want more'n one rope. Why, if Tip should see a bear suddenly, he'd break the biggest rope we could get, an' go after him before we'd know anything."
Every boy there agreed with Bill, and they again regarded him as an experienced bear-hunter.
Bobby got two pieces of an old clothes-line, each about five yards long, and these were fastened securely around Tip's neck, while Tim and Bobby each held an end, with the understanding that if the dog struggled very hard to get away, the others of the party were to rush in and help hold him.
The party was ready for the start, and the precautions they took even before they were clear of the shadow of the wood-shed told that they did not intend to lose any game by carelessness. Tim and Bobby went in advance, leading Tip, who did not make the slightest effort to get away, and followed by Bill Thompson, carrying his gun in one hand and his knife in the other. Then came the remainder of the party, near or at a distance, as their fear of bears was much or little.
Although it could hardly be expected that any bear had been so venturesome as to cross a field almost in the centre of the town, Tip was encouraged to smell of the ground, and each of the boys was ready for an immediate attack before they were beyond the sound of Mrs. Tucker's voice.
The march to the edge of the grove was necessarily a slow one, for Tip, finding that he was encouraged to run from one side of the path to the other, did so to his heart's content, while the boys expected each moment to see him start off like a race-horse, and were ready to spring at once to the aid of Tim and Bobby.
If their caution was great before they left the field, it would be almost impossible to find a word to express their movements when they entered the woods. Every weapon was handled as though it was to be used at once, and the greater portion of the time every eye was fixed on Tip. But not once had he pulled at the ropes that held him; not once had he shown any desire to start away at any furious rate of speed. But after half an hour he suddenly smelled of the ground, and then started away on a run.
"He's after the bear now, sure," cried Bill Thompson, as he brandished his knife savagely, and swung his gun around so that it would be ready for use as a club.
At this startling announcement one or two of the boys who had been careful to keep well in the rear ran considerably slower, as if they were perfectly willing their companions should have all the glory and fight, while one of the party actually turned back, and went home.
On sped Tip, now really pulling on the ropes, and Bobby's face grew pale as he thought how rapidly he was being forced toward the dangerous and anxiously expected fight.
Tip, not understanding that two boys were obliged to follow directly behind him, and still hot on the scent of some animal, suddenly darted between a couple of trees standing very near each other.
It was impossible for both Tim and Bobby to pass through this narrow space together; but in their excitement they did not stop to think of that, and the consequence was that they both fell sprawling to the ground, while Tip was brought to a very sudden stop.
The dog seemed rather discouraged by the sudden check to his speed, and it was some time before he could be persuaded to start again. This second race had just begun, and the boys were growing eager again, when Bill Thompson shouted:
"There he is! there he is! Hold on to your dog now, an' let's get all ready before we rush in."
"Where is he?" "Where is he?" asked each one, as he halted and tried to distinguish the form of the animal in the direction pointed out by Bill; but none of them feeling quite as brave as they did a moment before.
"Look right there;" and Bill pointed to a certain spot in the woods where the trees grew thickest. "Now watch, an' you'll see him move."
It was possible to see some dark-colored body moving among the thick foliage, and there was no longer any doubt but that one of the animals they were in search of was very near to them.
A shade of fear came over the faces of quite a number of that hunting party then, and the most frightened-looking one was Bobby Tucker. He who had been so proud a few moments before because he had been given the post of honor was now perfectly willing that some one else should hold Tip when the expected rush was made, and he appeared to have suddenly lost all desire for the bear-hunt.
Bill Thompson now assumed the command of the party, and no one questioned his right to do so. The orders he gave were obeyed as promptly as could have been expected under the circumstances, and he began the delicate task of posting his men in those positions best calculated to bring out their fighting qualities.
Tim and Bobby, being nearer the dangerous animal than the others, were ordered to keep strict watch of the spot where the bear was last seen, and on no account to let him get away without their knowledge.
"Keep your eyes right on him," shouted Bill to the two who were preventing Tip from eating the bear. "The first minute he starts to run let Tip go, an' yell as loud as you can."
Then he ordered this boy behind a tree, and another into the branches, making such a warlike hubbub as probably was never before heard in those woods. Meanwhile Tip had concluded the best thing he could do was to take a rest, and he lay at full length under the tree, as if such an idea as chewing a bear had never entered his head.
Finally Bill made all his arrangements, and cautiously stepped a yard or two in advance, with both knife and gun ready for instant use.
"What do you think, Tim, had we better rush right in, or shall we throw a stone, an' let Tip catch him when he runs out?" he asked, in a whisper, as if he was afraid of scaring the beast after all the noise that had been made.
"Heave a stone in; that's the best way," said Bobby, quickly, not liking the idea of being one of the party who were to make the rush.
Nearly all the boys showed that they preferred the most peaceable way of commencing the fight, and Bill prepared to start the savage beast from his lair.
At first he was at a loss to know what to do with his weapons while he cast the stone that might do so much mischief: but finally he arranged it to his satisfaction by holding the knife under his left arm, so that it could be drawn readily, and by keeping the gun in his left hand.
"Now look out!" he shouted, "an' be ready to let Tip go when the bear comes out. All yell as loud as you can when I fire, so's to scare him."
Then Bill raised his hand, took deliberate aim at the centre of the clump of bushes, and threw the stone.
The instant he did so he grasped his knife, and the others set up such a cry as ought to have startled a dozen bears.
It was some seconds before any sign was made that the animal in hiding even knew the stone had been thrown, and then there was a movement in the bushes as if it had simply changed its position—nothing more.
Bill stood silent with astonishment; he had expected to see that bear come out of the bushes with a regular flying leap, and he was thoroughly disappointed.
"Better let Tip go in an' snake him right out," suggested Bobby, who was afraid Bill would again propose a charge by the party.
Bill looked at Tim to see what he thought of such a plan, and the dog's owner nodded his head in approval.
"Then all get ready, an' take the rope off his neck," shouted Bill, as he set his teeth hard because of the struggle that it was evident would come soon.
Having the most perfect faith in the ability of his dog to kill any animal not larger than an elephant, Tim cautiously untied the ropes. But Tip did not appear to be excited by the prospect; he did not even get up from the ground, but lay there wagging his stub tail as if he was playing at "thumbs up."
"Set him on!" cried Bill, tired of the inactivity; and Tim, now afraid his pet might be accused of cowardice, set him on with the most encouraging cries of "s't-aboy." But Tip, instead of running toward the bear, seemed to be bewildered by the noise, for all hands were shouting at him; he jumped to his feet, and ran round and round his master, as if asking what was wanted of him.
Tim grew nervous, more especially as he saw some of the boys who had appeared the most frightened when the stone was first thrown now smile, as if they were saying to themselves that Tip couldn't be so very much of a bear dog after all, if he was afraid to kill one that had been found for him.
Tim walked as near the bushes as he dared to go, pointed with his finger, and urged Tip to "go an' bring him out," but all to no purpose. The dog seemed willing enough, but it was evident he did not understand what was wanted of him. Then Tim picked up a piece of wood, and after showing Tip that he was to follow it, threw it in the direction of the supposed bear.
This time Tip understood, and he bounded into the thicket, while each one of the party almost held his breath in suspense, and grasped his weapons, ready for immediate use.
The moment Tip was hidden by the bushes he began to bark furiously, and there was no doubt but that the battle had commenced. Even Bill Thompson appeared to be a little timid, and he no longer advised a rush, even though there was a chance that the skin was being destroyed. However, he did suggest that Tim and Bobby should go in and put a rope around Tip's neck, so that he could be pulled away as soon as the bear was dead; but his advice was not taken, nor did there seem any chance it would be.
Once Bobby took deliberate aim in the direction of the noise made by Tip, and was just lighting a match to discharge the weapon, when Tim stayed his hand.
"You might kill Tip, an' then we'd have to fight the bear all by ourselves, 'cause Tip must have bit him some by this time, and made him mad."
No suggestion could have been made which would have stopped Bobby quicker, and he turned very pale at the thought of being deprived of Tip's protection, dropping his gun very quickly.
Just at this time, when all were growing nervous and excited, the sounds in the bushes told that the beast was at last being driven from its lair. Quite a number of the party lost all interest in the matter when they found they were to have a full view, and immediately retreated to a safe distance.
The crackling and crashing of the bushes told that some large animal was being driven out by Tip; and as they watched in breathless—perhaps frightened—anxiety, one of the causes of the commotion stalked out into view, while at the same time an exclamation of disgust and relief burst from Bill Thompson's lips:
"Gracious! it's only Bobby Tucker's cow."
And so it was. The bear had turned into a peaceful, rather sleepy-looking old cow, who had sought the shade of the bushes only to be driven from her cool retreat by Tip Babbige and a lot of noisy boys.
How brave they all were then, and how they laughed at each other's cowardice, declaring that they had only feared it might not be a bear after all! But they patted Tip's head, and spoke to him kindly, as if he had relieved them from some terrible peril, instead of only disturbing a cow.
After the first excitement attending the finding of the cow had subsided, the question arose as to the proper course to pursue, and it was decided that the bear-hunt must be continued, as it would not be at all the right thing to delay another day in nailing a skin to Bobby Tucker's father's barn.
This time the march was not made with so much caution, and Tip was allowed to roam about loose, in the hope that he might find the bear's trail more quickly. Bobby even proposed to shoot a squirrel; but this plan was quickly frowned down by Bill Thompson, who reminded him that he had no more powder, and that the bear might come upon them at the very moment when the gun was empty.
Tip ran on, joyous at having recovered his freedom, and in a short time was out of sight. Then the boys ceased even to keep a look-out for large animals, growing so careless as to watch the squirrels, hunt for birds' nests, and to act in every way unbecoming bear-hunters.
But suddenly they were roused into activity and excitement by furious, angry barking some distance away.
"He's caught one this time!" shouted Bill, as he drew his knife from his belt, and started forward rapidly, followed closely or afar off by the remainder of the party, according to their degree of courage.
As the scene of the conflict was reached, and it was positive that a fight was in progress, because Tip's barking had changed to short angry yelps, the greater portion of the party found that they were too tired to run any farther, and fell into such a slow pace that they could not arrive until the battle was over.
"I can see them!" shouted Bill, exultantly; "an' it ain't a very big bear, only a small one. Come on quick."
As the leaders of the party dashed into a small cleared space they saw Tip actually fighting, and this time it was no cow, but a small dark-colored animal, which, if it really was a bear, must have been a very young one.
Bill was not afraid of so small an animal, and he jumped forward with his knife; but Tim cried: "It's only a young one. Let's get him away from Tip, an' take him home alive."
He spoke too late to save the animal's life, for just then Tip gave the small bundle of fur a toss in the air, and when it came down it was dead.
Tim caught Tip by the neck to prevent any further attack on his part, and the boys gathered around the victim. It was no bear, but a woodchuck Tip had killed, as they all knew after a short examination, and the disappointment they felt at not having slain a bear was greatly lessened by the fact that they had really killed something.
How they praised and petted Tip then! Not a boy among them, from that moment, but believed he could have killed a bear as easily as he had killed the woodchuck, and Tim was happy.
That night there was a skin nailed on Bobby Tucker's father's barn, but it was not a bear-skin, and it was wofully cut and hacked, owing to Tip's teeth and Bill Thompson's very unscientific skinning.
[to be continued.]
[SPARROWS AND SQUIRREL IN MONTREAL.]
BY FRANK BELLEW.
THE SPARROWS AND THEIR ENEMY.
Very early one morning, as I was strolling along one of the quiet streets of Montreal, and feasting myself with the wonderful beauties of that most beautiful city, my attention was attracted by a great commotion going on among a flock of sparrows, which flew together from one place to another, sometimes alighting in the roadway of the street, and sometimes among the branches of the trees. At first I could see no cause for all this unusual fuss; but presently my eyes fell upon a little squirrel on the sidewalk, which seemed quite as much excited as the sparrows. If he ran along the street, the sparrows flew after him; if he stood still, the sparrows alighted, and faced him like a regiment of soldiers; if he scampered up the trunk of a tree, the sparrows collected in the branches above him, with a great chattering, until he ran down again, and then they followed him as before. The poor little fellow seemed fairly distracted, and I felt quite sorry for him. But then he was a thief. He had come down from the mountain at the back of the town to rob the sparrows' nests of their eggs, just like some Scottish Highland chief of old descending on the Lowlands to levy black-mail. What became of him I do not know, for after watching the encounter for ten or fifteen minutes I moved on. No doubt he was driven back to his mountain home a wiser and a better squirrel, having learned a lesson to content himself with vegetable diet, and not hanker after the luxuries of the city.
Many a country boy can draw a moral from this, if he chooses.
[CHILDREN OF BOHEMIA.]
BY LAURA LEDYARD.
The Daisies have come to town:
Perhaps here and there a new gown,
But mostly in tatters—oh, not that it matters;
Not one of them cares half a crown
If they are.
They'll pitch their small tents on your lawn,
And if you should bid them begone,
Will smile in your face with the sunniest grace,
And nod to you gayly next morn
If you scoff.
A happy-go-lucky young crew,
As merry as heaven is blue,
These gypsies of flowers will stay a few hours,
And then tell your fortunes for you,
And be off.
M. DE LESSEPS AND HIS CHILDREN.