[Hunting Day.]
NOTHING in the memory of the early settler remains more vivid than the chase. Fresh in our memory is our boyhood days, when “hunting day” would come, generally on Saturday unless that was “muster day”. You may think that we hunted most of the time, but that is a mistake. We could not take the time, but one day in the week was regular “hunting day”. All was stir and bustle very early in the morning, the Father and the two big boys would see that their guns were well loaded and in good fix and bullets in each pouch, and as soon as it was light enough the long ox-horn was taken down and taken outside the door, and then the excitement grew more intense, for as soon as the long blast “t-o-o-o-o-t” was given every hound would stand on his hind feet and see which could holler the loudest, and big, little, old and young would come to the door to take part in the jubilee, even the baby would slap his little hands and holler, for he knew there was something up. Then away to the woods and little glades they would go. Then we would stand out and listen with almost breathless silence, but we didn’t have to listen very long, for directly, hark! the long-drawn-out “b-o-o” was heard. “Oh, they have struck a cold trail, that is ‘old Pomp’” “Maybe a coon.” But directly he would begin to warm up on his subject, and “Muse” and “Joler” would fall in, and directly, all at once, all would turn loose, pups and all. “Oh! its a deer, they have jumped it up.” Then they would fairly make the woods ring for awhile; and when we would hear the crack of the faithful rifle we knew that meant fresh venison, for we knew that to miss a shot was not their style.
[Peter Huffman.]
PETER HUFFMAN was an orphan boy, and he had an odd, careless way that made people laugh. Almost every day Peter would do something so odd, and so droll, and so unexpected, that he kept up fun for the whole neighborhood; and he didn’t seem to know or care what the people said. But Peter was so honest and so industrious, and so good-hearted, and so unpretending that they all liked him. When Peter was nearly grown, he worked for John Crocker all one summer for a nice yoke of work cattle, and by the time he had the cattle paid for winter was coming on, he had fallen in love with a real good girl by the name of Mima Brewer; and her folks were wealthy, but Peter did not know that that made any difference, and so he went to see Mima and found that he was very welcome. Now he goes to work to make a sled to take Mima sleigh-riding, but before he got his sled done Sunday came, and a good snow, and Mima wanted to go to her Uncle’s, about four miles. Now Peter had no horse or sleigh; now what was to be done? Mima wanted to go and she must not be disappointed; and Peter borrowed a one-horse sleigh and went and yoked up his cattle, and got an old pair of harness and put them on “Tom” the near ox, and put him in the shafts, and “Jerry” had nothing to do but walk along at the side, and Peter and Mima got in the sleigh and they went there and back in good order. Peter soon got his sled done and he went and got license and he and Mima got in the sled and went and got married and went to work and soon they were raising more horses, more cattle, sheep and hogs than anybody around there, and soon they had a good farm, good house and barn, and next, they was riding in the finest carriage in that country, and the people that laughed at them when they took their first sleigh-ride had to walk.