XXI.
A SWIM FOR A DEER.
“Yes, Capting, the bar war lower, I tell you—why, bless your soul, honey, they war not only powerful thick, but some on ’em war as big as common-sized horses, I do reckon; cause why, nobody ever had hunted ’em, you see. In the winter time the overflow, and in the summer time the lakes and snakes, bayous and alligators, musketoes and gallinippers, buffalo-gnats and sand-flies, with a small sprinkle of the agur and a perfect cord of congestive, prevented the Ingins from gwine through the country! Oh no; the red skins would rather hunt the fat turkey and deer in the Azoo hills and pine lands t’other side of the Pearl river, to killin’ fat bar on the Creek or Sunflower.”
“Well, Jim, I think they were right; you must then have been among the first hunters in the country.”
“Yes, I do reckon when I first went into that country, from the Azoo Hills to the Mississippi, there never had been but mighty few hunters. Why thar ar places thar now whar the deer ar tame as sheep, and whar the bar don’t care for nobody! Fact! ask Chunkey!”
“That is very remarkable; what is the cause?”
“ ’Cause they’ve never been hunted; no, Sir: never hearn the crack of a rifle nor the yelp of a dog; why thar ar more nor a hundred lakes and brakes in them diggins, that hain’t never been pressed by no mortal ’ceptin’ varmints. You know more nor half the country is overflowed in the winter, and t’other half, which is a darned sight the biggest, is covered with cane, palmetto and other fixins;—why it stands to reason, and in course no man ever had hunted ’em.—Why, Sir, when I first went to the Creek—”
“Let the Creek run, Jim; tell us about the bear!”
“Well, Sir, the bar war very promiscuous indeed, and some of the old hees war mighty mellifluous, I tell you. I had no sens about bar then, but thar warn’t no cabin or camp in the whole settlement, and in course I soon larnt thar natur by livin’ ’mongst ’em. A bar, Capting, an old he bar, ain’t no candidate or other good-natured greenhorn to stand gougin’ and treatin’. Oh no, he ain’t, but he’s as ramstugenous an animal as a log-cabin loafer in the dog days, jist about, and if a stranger fools with him he’ll get sarved out in no time.
“Well, let’s licker. A bar is a consaity animal, but as far as his sens do go he’s about as smart as any other animal; arter that, the balance is clear fat and fool. I have lived ’mongst ’em, and know ther natur. I have killed as many as seven in a day, and smartly to the rise of sixty in a season. Arter I’d been on the Creek about two months, up comes the Governor and Chunkey; the Governor ’tended like he wanted to see how I come on with the clearin’; but, Sir, he were arter a spree, and I knoe’d it, or why did he bring Chunkey? Everything looked mighty well; the negers looked fat and slick as old Belcher in catfish season. I’d done cut more nor two hundred acres of cane, and had the rails on the ground. I’d done—”
“Come, Jim, keep the track!”