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
To return to camp, take their cold and comfortless breakfast, and
decide on the now hard alternatives of remaining where they were,
to await the event of the storm, without provisions, and with their
imperfect means of protection from the rigor of the elements, or
of starting off through the cumbering snow beneath their feet, and
the driving tempest above their heads, with the hope of reaching
head-quarters by land, before another night should overtake them, was
but the work of half an hour. To remain, with the foretaste of the past
and the prospects of the future, was a thought so forbidding that none
of them could for a moment entertain it; and to set out to travel by
land, with such prospects, over the mountains, by the long, winding
route on the eastern side of the lake,--which was the only one left to
them, and which could not be less than fifteen miles in extent,--was
a scarcely less forbidding alternative. But it must be adopted. So,
gathering in their steel traps and iron utensils, they buried them
all, except their lightest hatchet, under a log, that they should not
be encumbered with more weight than was absolutely necessary; snugly
packing up the few peltries they had taken since Gaut Gurley had been
round and putting the scanty remains of their food into their pockets,
for a lunch on the way, they set forth on their formidable undertaking.
Led on and guided by the calm and resolute hunter,--who at different
times had been over the whole way, and in whose skill and discretion,
as a woodsman, for conducting them by the nearest and easiest route,
they all had undoubting confidence,--they vigorously made their way
onwards through the accumulating snows and natural obstructions of the
forest; now threading the thickets of the valleys; now skirting the
sides of the hills; now crossing deep ravines; and now climbing high
mountains in their toilsome march. And, though the storm seemed to rage
more and more fiercely with the advancing hours of the day,--whirling
clouds of blinding snow in their faces, hurling the decayed limbs and
trunks of the older tenants of the wood to the earth around them,
in the fury of its blasts, and rattling and creaking through the
colliding branches of the writhing green trees, as it swept over the
wilderness,--yet, for all these difficulties of the way and commotions
of the elements, they faltered not, but continued to move forward in
stern and moody silence, hour after hour, in the footsteps of their
indomitable leader, until they reached the extreme eastern point of
the lake, where their destination required them to turn round it, in a
sharp angle to the west. Here, at the suggestion of their leader, who
made the encouraging announcement that the worst half of their journey
was accomplished, they made a halt, under the lee of a sheltering
mountain, for rest and refreshment. And, sitting down on a fallen tree,
from whose barkless trunk they brushed off the snow, they took out
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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