“You always had a weakness for fruit, Abe!” remarked Amos.
“I remembered this yer track, and, follering the hedge down, I felt where the path had been worn, and, parting the quince luikeys with my hand, made a stoop forrard. My gum!—there were a click, and a yell which I ripped out, and nex’ thing I knowed somethin’ got me sore fast by the right leg in the thin of the ankle. It were a tiger trap—that’s what, and sot with teeth. Lor’ love yer! I can feel the pain of it in my leg now when I think of it, though it were over twenty-seven year ago. One iron fang scramped my shin-bone, and the back one druv clean through the flesh, while the sides of the mouth pressed in so that the blood were stopped, and the foot seemed to belong to someone else. I tell you all the blood in my body jes’ run down to the tight place to find out what the trouble was, and came rushing back with the news up to my head with a touch of fire all along. Then that held-fast leg began to throb and throb, and a hundred thousand little hammers began a-hammering all up my backbone, while cold spasms went quivering through me and outer the top of my head. I jes’ let go yell on yell, until a faintness came over me, and the sound leg which had been all on a tremble gave way, and I sot down. The wrench were terrible, and I jes’ grit my teeth, and held on till the weakness went off, when I shifted the trap a bit.”
“Why didn’t you ease the spring?”
“Why don’t a bird fly when its wing’s broken? Ease the spring! Jes’ you put your foot in this yer trap, and see if you can get the spring down with thirty pound o’ iron at the end of your foot and your muscles all turned to water—to liquid fire—with the pain of the hold. All I could do was to rub my knee and yell and bite at the quince leaves, and dig my fingers inter the flesh. After a time I found my voice ain’t got no carrying power; it came out in a hoarse whisper, and I seed if the people at the house hadn’t yeard my first call they wouldn’t catch any cry for help I could give now; so I jes’ groaned for comfort, same’s if I were a trapped tiger growling through the night. My head were tossing about from side to side like the pendulum of a clock, and one of these side swings I noticed the glare of something bright close by. I jes’ noticed it as if ’twere something of no account; for, if all the stars in heaven had taken to swinging at the ends of golden threads it wouldn’t have mattered to me as much as the flame of a tallow candle sputtering in a horn lantern. Well, each time I swung my head I seed these yer bright spots without seeing them—if you know what I mean?—when I were held still for a moment by a sound. I looked, and I saw then that they were eyes staring at me, which blinked as I stared, and turned away, then sought my face ag’in, and, narrering to a thin green slit, so looked at me. What do ye think it were?”
“A pig, of course, waiting for you to move,” said Topper.
“You can tell a pig by his grunt,” said Abe, pointedly. “Who ever seed a pig with green eyes flaming through half-closed lids? It were a tiger,” and Abe took his pipe out and impressively spat at a black-beetle that was fussily moving on a ball of earth with its hindlegs.
“A tiger?”
“Yes, sirrees! It were that—sitting down on his hams like a big dog within two yards of me. No, I were not skeered, for the burning pain in my head and the throbbing in my shin-bone didn’t give room for fear of that kind—and the tiger, he seemed to know what were up, for after a while he stretched himself out on his stummick, and yawned till I could see the gleam of his teeth. Well, I went on groanin’ and tossin’ my head, and rubbin’ my knee-cap, and chewin’ up the quince leaves, every now and then taking a look at the big crittur lying stretched in the dark with his eyes opening and shutting like’s if you moved the slide over a bull’s-eye lantern when he rolled over on his back and reached out a claw for me, like a kitten playing with a leaf. He hooked a claw inter the trousers of my well leg, and the jerk on it gave him a schreik, for he let out a growl and jumped away, looking back at me over his shoulder. Then he slunk away, but bymby when I looked ag’in he were standing up against the fence with his nose jes’ peeping round, and his near eye squintin’ at me through a hole in the leaves. That give me a queer feeling—for the beggar’d come up so sly, and I lit out a yell this time which stuck in my throat. The pain made me feel faint inside, an’ I jes’ closed my eyes. Soon’s the tiger saw I wern’t looking he jes’ poked his nose up ag’in the trap, and I yeard him licking the iron where the blood had run. Then I felt on my sound leg the pressure of his body, and yeard the snarly purr of him. Then he began licking at my trousers where the trap held fast, and I opened my eyes. The weight of his body held my leg down, and one of his paws were right into my weskit; and, blow me, if he didn’t begin shovin’ it inter my body, and opening and shutting his claws like a pleased cat, while the jar of his purring ran up through my bones, and his big tongue were rasping at my trousers. A sort o’ stupor, don’t-care-what-he-does feeling come over me, and with it the burning in the pain left my brain, and the hammering at my bones dropped away inter jes’ a sort of tired feeling. Nex’ minute I felt his tongue on my flesh—for he’d worn a hole right through them cord tweeds I were wearin’. At the taste of the blood then he purred louder than ever, and shuved his paw quicker and harder into my stummick, until I gasped for breath. Then he drew fresh blood, and his purr went inter a savage growl, while, the weight of his body lightened on my leg. I tell you, that growl brought back my luv for life in a moment. I saw that crittur would in his eagerness take a bite at my leg—then the game would be up. What d’ye think I did?”
“Began to jaw,” said Topper; “and he bolted with his tail down.”
“Jobbed him with a knife back of the head,” suggested Long Jim.