The Camp in the Foot-Hills; or, Oscar on HorsebackCastlemon, Harry
General
The Camp in the Foot-Hills; or, Oscar on Horseback
Castlemon, Harry
Hunting -- Juvenile fiction; West (U.S.) -- Juvenile fiction
The wolfer’s cordiality, however, was all assumed for the occasion. If
Lish had acted out his feelings he would have abused Tom soundly for
being so long absent from camp, and, in his rage, he might have done
something even worse; but knowing that it would not be safe to say or do
too much just then, he bottled up his wrath, to be held in reserve until
some future occasion, and said cheerfully:
“Pard, ye’ve done fine; ye have so. An’ yer the green young feller that
wanted me to show ye how to pizen wolves! Ye know more about the
business now nor I do, an’ I’ve follered it a good many years. Now I
reckon ye must be a trifle tired arter packin’ all them skins so fur,
an’ if ye’ll cook the supper I’ll chop the wood.”
“What’s up, I wonder?” thought Tom, as he threw his hides down in one
corner of the lean-to. “He don’t speak that way to me unless he wants me
to do something for him. Well,” he added aloud, “where is it?”
“Whar’s what?” asked Lish.
“The deer, or whatever it was, that you shot. I heard the report of your
gun.”
“So ye did; but I didn’t get him. I missed him.”
Lish put a stop to the conversation by grabbing the axe and going at the
pile of fuel in front of the cabin as if he meant to do something; but
when he had cut a few sticks of half-decayed wood he was tired enough to
stop and rest.
“Say, pard,” he exclaimed, “I’ve been a prospectin’ to-day! The varmints
aint by no means as plenty about yere as they had ought to be, but I
know whar thar’s piles of ’em in a leetle valley ’bout ten miles deeper
into the hills. We want to go whar the wolves is, ye know; so to-morrow
mornin’ we’ll pack up bright an’ arly an’ dig out.”
“Oh, that’s what you want, is it?” thought Tom. “Well, I don’t care
where we go. I’ve got to endure your detestable company all winter, I
suppose, and I might as well be in one place as another. I shall not see
a happy day anywhere.”
“What do ye say, pard?” exclaimed Lish.
“I say all right,” was the indifferent reply.
That this was all the wolfer wanted was evident from his actions. He
threw down the axe, declaring that he was awful tired after his long
tramp, and picking out the warmest place beside the fire, he took
possession of it, leaving Tom to cook the supper and cut the wood
besides.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
A CLIMAX.
At daylight the next morning breakfast had been eaten, and the two
wolfers were on their way to their new hunting grounds, Lish leading his
pony, which was loaded with their outfit and the skins they had secured,
and Tom bringing up the rear.
If the latter had been as skilled in woodcraft as his brother was he
would not have been long in finding out that Lish had told him a
falsehood regarding his movements of the previous day.
There were no signs of a trail in the gorge which they followed from one
valley to the other, and that proved conclusively that the wolfer had
not been along there during the last twenty-four hours.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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