The wanderings and fortunes of some German emigrants

by Friedrich Gerstäcker

But when the latter got up, on the ensuing morning, he heard a shot at no great distance from him, and looked about everywhere for Sam; but Sam had started before daybreak, and shortly returned, panting under the weight of a splendid young deer, which he carried upon his shoulders.

This disgrace had to be wiped off. Von Schwanthal never could look any one in the face again, if that fellow scarcely got his rubbishing old gun out, before he returned laden with spoil, while he had been on the look-out during four entire days, and had not brought home so much as a claw. The time for exertion had arrived; the zealous hunter hardly gave himself time to swallow his breakfast, and hurried off as fast as his feet would carry him, right into the trackless thicket. But when arrived there, his sporting ardour cooled down considerably, for he reflected upon the hopeless condition of a person who should lose his way in those swamps; but his feeling of honour got the better of this thought; his entire reputation as a sportsman was at stake; he must kill something or other. He was well enough aware, though, that so close to the camp, where the game could hear the strokes of the axe, and the rasping of the saw, as well, if not better than he could himself, there was no chance; taking care, therefore, to keep the sun straight before him, he walked right on in that direction; he avoided no thicket, no fallen tree, but pressed on through the one, and climbed over the other, and soon found himself above his knees in water, in a swamp which spread itself out before him, and as far, at least, as he could see, was nowhere bounded by higher ground.

What was to be done now? Should he turn back, or endeavour to force his way through that desert of swamp, and catch a dreadful cold, if he got nothing else? Suddenly, he heard something splash to his right; immediately afterwards, a couple of dry boughs snapped, and yonder—yonder, scarce thirty yards distant from him—bounded a mighty stag, in an open place in the woods, where the water, too, seemed to be but a few inches in depth. For a moment, the hunter stood as if thunderstruck, for the whole had taken place so suddenly, so unexpectedly, that he could hardly recover himself; at last, however, he mechanically raised the gun to his shoulder, and pulled the trigger.

But, alas! in vain did he press the trigger till he almost pressed it down—no hammer fell—no discharge followed; the stag sprang about twenty yards further, and for some seconds more stood looking at the strange object in the water. Von Schwanthal pulled and pressed, till the perspiration stood in drops upon his forehead. But in vain; the hammers descended, it is true, but the piece did not go off—not so much as a cap even exploded. It was then that he recollected the unlucky "patent safety," which he had pushed forward whilst among the creeping plants and underwood; he quickly pushed it back, but the deer was, by this time, probably tired of waiting—Heaven knows how long!—to be shot at, and fled in rapid bounds into the thicket; and the two cracking shots which were now sent after him—alas, too late—only served to add wings to his already mighty bounds.

Schwanthal stood, and gazed after the stag, as he disappeared in the bush, and then down at his gun. He next seated himself upon the bough of a prostrate oak, which projected out of the water, took a screw-driver from his pocket, and very deliberately removed both of the safety-screws from the lock; wrapped them in a small piece of paper, and then went back to the nearest dry land, or rather, to that which was not covered with water, and trod them—without a syllable, without a single oath, but with such rage and determination—into the soft damp earth, that they had soon penetrated far into it; he then, giving them a last hearty farewell kick, said:—"So now, lie there till you rot—when I want you again, I'll let you know."

So far so good. Now the first thing was to re-load the gun; but what was to be done then? To wade further into the mud, or to turn back, and that without having accomplished his object? No, on no condition could he do that; the attempt, at least, must be made, and, besides, the sun shone so clearly and so cheerfully that, losing one's self was out of the question; so he cautiously stepped further and further through the silent, listening woods—further still, till at last he reached a small flat ridge, which traversed the swamp from east to west, and was itself dry.

If he should follow this he must leave the sun a little on his left, and it was very questionable whether he would afterwards find the right direction on his return. He determined, therefore, to remain on the watch where he was, where, of course, it was just as possible that a head of game might come right towards him, and where he would incur no danger of losing himself.

With a patience that would have done honour to a saint, hour after hour he stood there, immovable, and listened attentively, often breathlessly, when here and there a dry twig fell into the water, to the slightest noise, to the gentlest sound, to the most trifling rustling of the leaves. At last, however, the declining sun warned him of his return, and, although he could not conceal from himself that the best time for the movement of game was just beginning, yet he could not prevail on himself to remain there, and perhaps afterwards lose his way in the dark, for the sun was his only guide in the wilderness.

Chagrined, he slowly turned to quit the post he had hitherto kept; but—fresh horror!—whither? The sun, as he now for the first time considered, had been travelling through the sky during many long hours, and stood in a totally different quarter from that which it occupied in the morning. Should he now find his way back?—might he not turn off too much either to his right or left? The bare idea raised his hair on end. Snatching up the gun, he sprang in great haste over the narrow tongue of dry ground, and over the other side into the swamp again, in order not to lose any more valuable time, and waded, as fast as his feet would carry him, right through it, with such exertion and haste that the water often splashed right over him, and in less than a quarter of an hour's march he was completely wet through.