“Here’s the other,” cried Curtis; and a second lynx, somewhat smaller than the first, was tossed ashore. “It’s the greatest wonder to me that they didn’t make mince-meat of Bert, and I believe they would have done it if he hadn’t been so handy with that pop-gun of his.”
“Well, that pop-gun had proved itself to be a pretty good shooter,” returned Bert, complacently. “You see, Don, I was beating a coppice in which Hutton told me I would be likely to flush a grouse or two, and Hutton himself was on the other side of the ridge. All on a sudden I felt a thrill run all through me, and there right in front of me, and not more than ten feet away, was this big lynx. Of course he heard me coming, but as he was making a meal off a grouse he had just killed, he didn’t want to leave it. He humped up his back, spread out his claws, showed his teeth and spit just like a cat; and believing that he was going to jump at me, I knocked him over, giving him a charge of number eight shot full in the face. It killed him so dead that he never stirred out of his tracks, but he looked so ugly that I was afraid to approach him. While I was thinking about it, I happened to cast my eyes a little to the right, and there was his mate looking at me over a log. I gave him the other barrel, and he came for me.”
“Good gracious!” exclaimed Don, looking first at his brother’s slender figure and then at the dead luciver’s strong teeth and claws. Bert was too frail to make much of a fight against such weapons as those.
“But the luciver didn’t get him,” chimed in Hutton, “although he made things lively for him for a little while. I heard the rumpus, and knowing that Bert had got into trouble, I ran over the ridge to take a hand in it. When I got into the thicket there was Bert, making good time around trees, over logs and behind stumps, and the luciver was close at his heels, following him by scent and hearing, as I afterward learned, and not by sight, for Bert’s shot had blinded him. While I was watching for a chance to fire at him, Bert, who was trying his best to load his gun as he ran, managed to shove in a cartridge, and after that the matter was quickly settled.”
“Don got the moose, but I had the excitement,” added Bert.
The young hunters ate a hearty supper that night, but they slept well after it, for they did not go to bed till they had cut up the moose, and hung the quarters out of reach of any prowling lucivu that might happen to come that way. The habits of this animal and those of the moose afforded them topics for conversation long after they sought their blankets, and the sun arose before they did.
Stowing the heavy carcass in their cranky little canoes and transporting it to the lodge occupied the better portion of the day, but they were not too tired to await the return of the fire-hunters, who set out at dark in quest of deer. They returned at midnight and reported that they had “shone the eyes” of two which they could have shot if they had been so disposed; but being sportsmen instead of butchers they could not see any sense in shooting game they could not use. About the time they began to look for the teamsters, who had been engaged to return on a certain day and carry them and their luggage back to Dalton, they would begin fire-hunting in earnest, and procure a supply of venison for the club-dinner, which was to be eaten before the Southern boys went home.
The days passed rapidly, and every one brought with it some agreeable occupation. Curtis and the other Dalton boys took care to see that the time did not hang heavily upon the hands of the guests, and were always thinking up something new for them. The teamsters came as they promised, and found four fine deer waiting for them. The next morning the wagons were loaded, the foremost one being crowned by the antlers of Don’s moose, to show the people along the road that one of their number had gained renown while they had been in the woods, and the homeward journey was begun.
If time would permit we might tell of some interesting incidents that happened in connection with the club dinner, which came off on the evening of the last day that Don and his companions spent in Dalton. To quote from some of the boys who sat down to it, “the spread was fine,” so were the toasts, speeches and songs, and Don Gordon had abundant opportunity to talk to the owner of the eyes and the curls that had haunted him every day of the long month he spent at the lodge. He would have been glad to stay in Dalton always. He said he was coming back, but the excuse he gave was that he wanted another trial at glass-balls with the champion. Perhaps his friends believed that that was his only reason for desiring to return, and perhaps they didn’t. At any rate they looked very wise, and exchanged many a significant wink with one another.
“Good by, boys,” said Egan, when the stage-coach drew up in front of Mr. Curtis’s door the next morning. “We are indebted to you for a splendid time, and we should like a chance to reciprocate. Curtis is going to spend a month with me next fall, and I should be delighted to have you come with him. Don, Bert and Hop will be there too, and we’ll make it as pleasant as we can for you.”