Gaut Gurley; Or, the Trappers of Umbagog: A Tale of Border LifeThompson, Daniel P. (Daniel Pierce)
General
Gaut Gurley; Or, the Trappers of Umbagog: A Tale of Border Life
Thompson, Daniel P. (Daniel Pierce)
Frontier and pioneer life -- Fiction; Maine -- Fiction; Trappers -- Fiction
This proposal meeting the ready approval of the young man, the two took
their rifles, and proceeded to the foot of the eminence in question, which
they found to be a steep, conical hill, rising abruptly three or four
hundred feet above the general level of the surrounding forest, with a
small, pointed apex, from which some tornado had hurled every standing tree
except a tall, slender green pine, that shot up eighty or ninety feet, as
straight as a flagstaff, from the centre. After a severe scramble up the
steeps, in some places almost perpendicular, they at length reached the
summit, and commenced leisurely walking round the verge, looking down on
the variegated wilderness, which, with its thousand dotted hills and
undulating ridges, lay stretched in cold solitude around them. With only a
general glance, however, over the surrounding forests, the gaze of the
hunter was anxiously lifted upwards, to study the omens of the heavens. The
sun, by this time, was scarcely visible beneath the cold, lurid haze which
had for some hours been gradually stealing over it; while around the
horizon lay piled long, motionless banks of leaden clouds, thick and heavy
enough evidently to be dark, but yet of that light, dead, glazed, uncertain
hue, which the close observer may have often noted as the precursor of
winter-storms. After a long and attentive survey of every visible part of
the heavens, the hunter, with an ominous shake of the head, dropped his
eyes to the ground, and said:
"I was right, but didn't want to believe it when I got up this morning; and
the wild geese are right. We are on the eve of winter, and our best hope is
that it may come gently. But even that favor, I greatly fear, we shall not
be permitted to realize."
"Well, sir, with that view of the case, in which I am inclined to concur,
what do you propose now?" asked Claud.
"Why, I propose, seeing we have all the fur pelts we took from the traps
yesterday put up in packs, and have left nothing in our upper camp of any
consequence,--I propose, that, instead of going back to our nearest marked
line, as we talked of, we strike directly across the woods, by the nearest
route, to our lake camp; or, if you are willing to put up with two or three
miles additional travel, we will steer so as to take the upper camp of your
father and Carvil in our way. We might find them there, perhaps."
"Then let us steer for their camp; I can stand the jaunt. But can you
determine the direction to be taken to strike it?"
"Nearly, I think. Their camp, you know, is on the neck or connecting piece
of river, between two long ponds, lying about southwest of us. I rather
expected to be able to get a glimpse of one of those ponds from the
hilltop, but find I can't. I presume I could, however, from the top of this
pine tree."
"Yes, but to climb it would be a long, and perhaps dangerous task, would it
not?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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