The Demon Trapper of Umbagog: A Thrilling Tale of the Maine ForestsThompson, Daniel P. (Daniel Pierce)
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The Demon Trapper of Umbagog: A Thrilling Tale of the Maine Forests
Thompson, Daniel P. (Daniel Pierce)
Frontier and pioneer life -- Fiction; Maine -- Fiction; Trappers -- Fiction
wind, even in their mountain-hemmed nook, was whirling in fierce and
fitful eddies about their camp, and shrilly piping among the strained
branches of the vexed forest around; while its loud and awful roar, as
it careered along the sides of the distant mountains, told with what
strength and fury the storm was commencing over the country at large.
In the situation in which the company now found themselves, neither
sleep, comfort, nor quiet were to be expected for the remainder of the
night. They therefore piled high the wood on their fire, and gathered
round the hot blaze, to protect them from the cold, that had now not
only grown more intense, but become doubly difficult to withstand, from
the force with which it was brought by the driving blasts in contact
with their shivering persons. And thus,--in alternately turning their
backs and fronts to the fire, while standing in one place, and often
shifting places from one side of the fire to the other; in now taking
refuge within their camp when the constantly veering gusts bore the
smoke and flame outward, and then fleeing out of it when the stifling
column was driven inward; but finding no peace nor rest anywhere,
among those shifts and commotions of the battling elements,--they
wore away the long and comfortless hours of that dreary night, till
the return of morning light, which, after many a vain prayer for its
speedier appearance, at length gradually broke over the storm-invested
wilderness.
As soon as it was light enough to see objects abroad, or see them as
well as they can ever be discerned through the fast-falling snow of
such a driving storm, Phillips and Carvil sallied out through the snow,
already eight inches deep, and made their way down to the nearest
shore of the lake, about a quarter of a mile distant, to ascertain
the condition of the water before embarking upon it in their canoes,
as they had designed to do immediately after breakfast. On reaching
the shore, they found the narrow bay, before mentioned as forming the
estuary of the two rivers on which they had been located, comparatively
calm, though filled with congealing snow and floating ice from the
rivers. But all beyond the line of the two points of land inclosing the
bay was rolling and tumbling in wild commotion, madly lashing the rocky
headlands with the foaming waters, and resounding abroad over the hills
with the deep, hoarse roar of the tempest-beaten breakers of the ocean.
“Do you see and hear that?” exclaimed Phillips, pointing to the lake.
“Yes, yes; but what was that I just caught a glimpse of, out there in
the offing, to the right?” hastily cried Carvil.
They both peered forward intently; and the next moment they saw a
canoe, containing a single rower, low bending to his oar, shoot by the
northern headland with the speed of an arrow, strike obliquely out of
the white line of rolling waves into the bay, and make towards the
point where they stood.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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