Harper's Round Table, May 7, 1895 Part 4

"I--I--" she faltered.

"You!" thundered her cousin. "Never! What do you mean?"

"Milly didn't mean to say that," interposed Peggy. "She was probably going to say she couldn't tell who it is. It is an a.s.sumed name, we suppose, Cousin Appolina."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "IS NOT MILLICENT CAPABLE OF SPEAKING FOR HERSELF?"]

"Is not Millicent capable of speaking for herself?" inquired Miss Briggs, severely. "Since when did she lose the power of speech?"

The girls shook in their shoes, and held their peace.

"What are these things?" continued this terrible person, picking up the poems disdainfully, and again putting her lorgnette to her eyes: "'Ode to a Firefly,' 'Sonnet on the Caterpiller,' 'Some Lines to a Beggar Child.' Faugh! Who is the fool that is guilty of all this?

But--but--what have we here?"

It had come, then! For this is what Miss Appolina read, but not aloud:

"Who is a dame of high degree?

Who's always scolded little me?

Who is a sight strange for to see?

Miss Appolina B.

"Who cannot with her friends agree?

Who loves to feed on cakes and tea?

Who prides herself on her pedigree?

Miss Appolina B.

"Who'll soon set sail across the sea?

Who will not take her cousins three?

Who is an ancient, awful she?

Miss Appolina B."

Miss Briggs looked from one to the other of the girls. The hum of the fair went on.

"I will buy all of these poems," she said in a voice which filled their souls with terror; "count them, and tell me the amount. And I wish to see you both to-morrow morning at ten o'clock."

Wondering, Millicent obeyed.

Peggy turned and fled.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

SNOW-SHOES AND SLEDGES.

BY KIRK MUNROE.

CHAPTER XIX.

A BATTLE WITH WOLVES.

The remainder of the journey up the Tananah was uneventful, but so long that the new year was well begun ere the sledge party left it and turned up the Gheesah branch, which flows in from the east. An Indian guide, procured at the last village by the promise of a pound of tobacco for his services, accompanied them on their four days' journey up this river, and to the summit of the bleak wind-swept divide, five hundred feet above timberline. This gave the dogs a hard pull, though Jalap Coombs insisted upon lightening their load by walking; nor from this time on would he again consent to be treated as an invalid.

The summit once pa.s.sed, they plunged rapidly down its farther side and into the welcome shelter of timber fringing a tiny stream, whose course they were now to follow. Their guide called it the Tukh-loo-ga-ne-lukh-nough, which, after vain attempts to remember, Phil shortened to "Tough Enough." Jalap Coombs, however, declared that this was not a "sarc.u.mstance" to the names of certain down-East streams among which he was born, and to prove his a.s.sertion began to talk glibly of the Misquabenish, the Keejimkoopic, the Kas.h.a.gawigamog, the Kahwcambejewagamog, and others of like brevity, until Phil begged him to take a rest.

That night, while the camp was buried in the profound slumber that followed a day of unusually hard work, and the fire had burned to a bed of coals, the single long-drawn howl of a wolf was borne to it with startling distinctness by the night wind. As though it were a signal, it was answered from a dozen different directions at once. The alert dogs sprang from their snowy beds with bristling crests and hurled back a challenge of fierce barkings; but this, being an incident of nightly occurrence, failed to arouse the tired sleepers.

Within a few minutes the dread howlings had so increased in volume that they seemed to issue from scores of savage throats and to completely encircle the little camp. If was as if all the wolves of the forest, rendered desperate by famine, had combined for a raid on the supper of provisions so kindly placed within their reach. Nearer and nearer they came, until their dark forms could be seen like shadows of evil omen flitting among the trees and across the open moonlit s.p.a.ces.

The dogs, at first eager to meet their mortal foes, now huddled together, terrified by overwhelming numbers. Still the occupants of the camp slept, unconscious of their danger. Suddenly there came a rush, an unearthly clamor of savage outcry, and the sleepers were roused to a fearful wakening by a confused struggle within the very limits of the camp and over their rec.u.mbent forms. They sprang up with yells of terror, and at the sound of human voices the invaders drew back, snapping and snarling with rage.

"Timber wolves!" shouted Serge. "Your rifle, Phil! Quick!"

Emboldened by this re-enforcement, the dogs advanced to the edge of the camp s.p.a.ce, but with low growls in place of their former defiant barkings.

Phil was trembling with excitement; but Serge, steady as a rock, was throwing the No. 4's from the double-barrel and reloading with buckshot, at the same time calling to Chitsah to pile wood on the fire, and to the other Indians not to fire until all were ready. Jalap Coombs seized an axe, and forgetful of the bitter cold, was rolling up his sleeves, as though he proposed to fight the wolves single-handed. At the same time he denounced them as pirates and b.l.o.o.d.y land-sharks, and dared them to come within his reach.

"Are you ready?" cried Serge. "Then fire!" And with a roar that woke the forest echoes for miles, the four guns poured their contents into the dense black ma.s.s, that seemed just ready to hurl itself for a second time upon the camp.

With frightful howlings the pack scattered, and began to gallop swiftly in a wide circle about the fire-lit s.p.a.ce. One huge brute, frenzied with rage, leaped directly toward the camp, with gleaming eyes and frothing mouth. Ere a gun could be levelled, Jalap Coombs stepped forward to meet him, and with a mighty swinging blow his heavy axe crushed the skull of the on-coming beast as though it had been an egg-sh.e.l.l. Instantly the dogs were upon him, and tearing fiercely at their fallen enemy.

With the first shot Phil's nervousness vanished, and as coolly as Serge himself, he followed with levelled rifle the movements of the yelling pack in their swift circling. At each patch of moonlit s.p.a.ce one or more of the fierce brutes fell before his unerring fire, until every shot of his magazine was exhausted.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "NOW," CRIED SERGE, "ALL MAKE A DASH TOGETHER!"]

"Now," cried Serge, "we must scatter them. Every man take a firebrand in each hand, and all make a dash together."

"Yelling," added Jalap Coombs.

"Yes, yelling louder than the wolves themselves."

The plan was no sooner proposed than adopted. Musky, Luvtuk, big Amook, and the rest, inspired by their master's courage, joined in the a.s.sault, and before that fire-bearing, yelling, on-rus.h.i.+ng line of humanity and dogs the gaunt forest raiders gave way and fled in all directions.

The whole battle had not lasted more than five minutes, but it resulted in the death of nineteen wolves, six of which were despatched by the sailor-man's terrible axe after the fight was over, and they, more or less wounded, were slinking away toward places of hiding. But the dogs found them out, and they met a swift fate at the hands of Jalap Coombs.

As he finally re-entered the camp, dragging the last one behind him, he remarked, with a chuckle: "Waal, boys, I ruther guess our boat's 'high line' this time, and I'm free to admit that this here wolf racket beats most kinds of fis.h.i.+ng, for genuine entertainment, onless it's fis.h.i.+ng for sharks, which is exciting at times. I'm pleased to have met up with this school, though, for it's allers comforting to run across fresh proofs of my friend old Kite Roberson's knowingness. He useter say consarning the critters, Kite did, that wolves was sharks and sharks was wolves, and that neither of 'em warn't no fit playthings for children, which it now seems to me he were correct, as usual."

"He certainly was," replied Phil, who, leaning on his rifle, was thoughtfully regarding the s.h.a.ggy beast that Kite Robinson's friend had just dragged into camp. "But aren't these uncommonly big wolves? I never knew they grew so large."

"They don't generally," answered Serge; "but these are of the same breed as the great Siberian wolves, which, you know, are noted as being the largest and fiercest in the world."

"I don't wonder now that the dogs were frightened," continued Phil, "for this fellow looks twice as big as Amook--and he's no puppy. But, I say, Serge, you're an awfully plucky chap. As for myself, I must confess I was so badly rattled that I don't believe I should have even thought of a gun before they were on us a second time."

"If they had made a second rush, not one of us would be alive to talk about it now," remarked Serge, soberly; "and it was only the promptness of our attack that upset their plans. In dealing with wolves it is always safest to force the fighting; for while they are awful bullies, they are cowards at heart, like all bullies I ever heard of."

"Captain Duff, for instance," said Phil, with a reminiscent smile. Then he added, "Anyhow, old man, you got us out of a bad sc.r.a.pe, for it isn't every fellow who would know just how to deal with a pack of wolves, especially when awakened from a sound sleep to find them piling on top of him."