The Sportsman's Club in the Saddle

by Harry Castlemon

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d as soon sit here as anywhere else,” was the reply. “If you had any claim we wouldn’t say a word. It isn’t the twenty-five dollars we care for. If you were in need of it we would give it to you gladly; but you might as well understand, first as last, that you can’t bully us out of our rights. If you don’t get anything to eat until we surrender one of these scalps to you, you’ll be hungry—that’s a fact.”

This speech was delivered with the utmost good nature, but the Club knew, and so did Bayard and his men, that it was quite useless to argue the matter further. The actions of the latter indicated that they did not intend to waste any more time in words, but had made up their minds to try what virtue there was in their muscles; for they took off their caps, rolled up their sleeves, and made other preparations to attack the Club and drive them from the field. “Come on, fellows,” exclaimed Bayard; “and every time you put in a blow think of that boat-race, and of the election that was carried against us by fraud.”

“I really believe there’s going to be a skirmish here,” said Perk, rising to his feet and drawing himself up to his full height. “Now let me tell you something: I am going to take the two biggest of you and knock your heads together. Pitch in.”

Bayard and his men, not in the least intimidated by this threat, took Perk at his word. They set up a yell and sprang forward like a lot of young savages; but before they had made many steps they were suddenly checked by an unlooked-for incident that happened just then. A score of hounds in full cry burst from the woods, and leaping the fence came dashing into the thicket, following the trail of the panthers. A half-dozen horsemen, two of whom were Mr. Gaylord and Uncle Dick, and the rest negroes, followed close at their heels, and at the sight of them the ardor of Bayard and his men cooled directly. They paused in their headlong rush, and, acting with a common impulse, caught up their coats, retreated quickly to their horses, and mounted with all possible haste. When they found themselves safe in their saddles their courage returned, and while the others contented themselves with shaking their fists at the members of the Club, Seth stopped to say a parting word to them.

“You haven’t seen the last of us, my young friends!” he exclaimed, in a very savage tone of voice. “In less than two days one of you will find himself——”

Just then Bayard’s heavy glove came across Seth’s mouth with a sounding whack, and the latter’s horse starting off with the others carried him out of sight, to the great disappointment of the Club, who had listened eagerly to his words, hoping to obtain some clue to the plans Bayard had laid against them. They found out in due time what those plans were, and in a way that one of their number, at least, did not like.

“What’s the matter here, boys?” cried Uncle Dick, reining in his horse with a jerk. “You did not come to blows with those—well, I declare!”

Uncle Dick did not finish what he had to say. He glanced down at the game and opened his eyes in amazement, and so did Mr. Gaylord; and for a few seconds neither of them spoke. Eugene, however, was very talkative, and while his father and uncle were examining the panthers, he entertained them with a glowing description of the manner in which the Club had accomplished their destruction and told what had passed between them and Bayard.

“I wouldn’t have anything to do with those fellows,” said Mr. Gaylord, when Eugene had finished his story. “I would keep out of sight and hearing of them as much as I possibly could. They are a hard lot, and as you have been unfortunate enough to incur their enmity, they will seek every opportunity to be revenged upon you. Bob,” he added, turning to one of the negroes, “put these animals on your mule, and take them to the house. Come, boys, you have done enough for one day.”

The Club mounted their horses, and, accompanied by Mr. Gaylord and Uncle Dick, rode toward the house, the negroes and the hounds bringing up the rear. The panthers were left on the floor of the gin-house, and two of the negroes were instructed how to remove and stretch the skins so that they could be preserved; for Uncle Dick, who was very proud of the exploit the boys had performed, although he had had but little to say about it, declared that they ought to have something to remember that morning’s hunt by, and announced that it was his intention to send the skins to a taxidermist in New Orleans, and have them stuffed and mounted.