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
"O, that is all settled," answered the latter, putting on his pack, and
buttoning up, preparatory to an immediate start. "I caught glimpses of both
the ponds, noted all the hilltops, ridges, and other noticeable landmarks,
in the line between here and there, and can lead you as straight as a gun
to the spot, for which we will now be off; and the sooner the better, as it
is fast growing colder and colder, and the whole heavens are every moment
growing more dark and dubious."
They then, after making their way down the precipitous side of the hill to
its western foot, struck off, under the lead of the hunter, in a line
through the forest, preserving their points of compass, when none of their
general landmarks were visible, by noting the peculiar weather-beaten
appearance of the mosses on the north sides of the trees, and the usual
inclination of the tips of the hemlocks from west to east. And for the next
hour and a half, on, on they tramped, in Indian file, and almost unbroken
silence, making headway with their long, loping steps, notwithstanding the
obstructing fallen trees, brushwood, and constantly occurring inequalities
of the ground, with a speed which none but practised woodsmen can attain in
the forest, and which is scarcely equalled by the fastest foot-travellers
on the smooth and beaten highways of the open country.
At length they were gratified by an indistinct sight of some body of water,
gleaming dimly through the trees from some point in front; and the walk of
a few hundred yards more brought them out, as it luckily happened, directly
to the camp of which they were in search. It was, however, tenantless;
their companions had already departed; but the bed of live coals in the
usual place, from which the thin vapor was still perceptibly ascending,
showed that they could not have left more than an hour before. In glancing
into the deserted shanty, they descried a clean strip of white birch bark,
lying conspicuously on the ground, a few feet within the entrance. On
picking it up, they were soon enabled to read the following words, traced
with the charred end of a twig:
"Thinking something unusual to be brewing overhead, we
are off for the lake about 10 A. M. CARVIL."
"A very observing, considerate man, that Mr. Carvil," said the hunter,
still musingly keeping his eyes on the unique dispatch. "He is one of the
few book-learned men I have ever known, who could apply science to the
natural philosophy of the woods. I can see how justly he reasoned out this
case: knowing that we had some thought of a jaunt to Dead river this trip,
he judged we should notice the signs of the weather just as we did, and, as
it seems, _he_ did; and that, in consequence, when we got there, we should
decide on the nearest route back, which would bring us so near their camp
that we should be tempted to come to it; and so he left this notice for us
that they thought it wisdom to depart."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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