A gentle pioneer : $b Being the story of the early days in the new westBlanchard, Amy Ella
General
A gentle pioneer : $b Being the story of the early days in the new west
Blanchard, Amy Ella
Frontier and pioneer life -- Ohio River Valley -- Juvenile fiction
There was no trap-door to the little loft, but Agnes laid the ladder
across it, hoping that, though the rungs would give the creature
something to clutch, it would perhaps prevent him from doing more.
After a while the leaping ceased, and the wolf, sitting on his haunches
below there, snarled and showed his teeth; but now Agnes, being
satisfied that he could not reach her, felt her fear subsiding, and the
situation, instead of being exciting, became rather tiresome. She was
missing the fun at the M’Cleans’. She wondered how much longer she was
to be kept prisoner by this ugly creature. He did not seem disposed
to go away. Perhaps he would keep her there all day. Wolves were not
apt to come around in the daytime, especially at this season, though
at night it was safer to shut windows and doors against them. This one
must have been pursued by some hunter, and had come suddenly upon the
cabin. Agnes peered down at him from between the rungs of the ladder,
and thought he was a very unattractive brute as he sat there with his
red tongue lolling out. “I’d like your hide, you ugly beast,” she said,
“but I don’t want you to get mine. I think I’ll drag my bed across the
ladder, and then if he can’t see me, perhaps he will go away.”
This proceeding, however, seemed only to increase the wolf’s ambition
to get upstairs, for he flung himself madly into the air and once came
so near that Agnes’s heart stood still. Yet he came no nearer, and the
long day wore on--a doleful day indeed. Agnes could not expect any one
to come to her assistance, for her father, knowing her intention of
going to the M’Cleans’, had taken his lunch with him and had gone to
the aid of Johnny McCormick, like the rest of the men in the settlement.
It was late in the afternoon that Agnes at last heard some one call
“Agnes! Agnes! Nancy Kennedy, where are you?” Then there was the sudden
crack of a rifle. The girl pulled aside the bearskin which made her bed
and peeped below. On the floor lay the gray form of the wolf, and over
it stood Archie M’Clean. “Agnes, oh, Agnes,” he cried, “are you hurt?”
From above came the answer: “No, I am quite safe. I’ll put the ladder
back and come down. I am so glad you have killed that horrible wolf. He
has kept me up here all day. How did you happen to come?” she asked,
when she was safe by Archie’s side.
“We wondered why you didn’t come as you promised, and Jeanie said she
was afraid something had happened, so when I came out for the cows, I
stopped to see.”
“And found the wolf. Well, he has kept me a prisoner all day besides
eating up my father’s supper.”
“Never mind, his skin will be very comfortable for you on the floor.”
“Oh, but it’s yours; you killed him.”
“I think you deserve it, for you kept him there all day so I could kill
him when I came along.”
“That’s one way of putting it,” said Agnes, laughing.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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