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
Like the gliding of a fish, shrinking away from sight, the light canoe,
under the invisible impulse of the dexterously handled oar of the
trapper, passed noiselessly away, and disappeared in the darkness. But,
long before the expectant officer, who had been vainly listening for
some sound, either of the going or the coming of the absent canoe, had
thought of its return, it was again at his side, with the anticipated
addition to its occupants.
“Here is the man, to speak for himself,” said the trapper, putting out
a hand to guard off and prevent the canoes from grazing.
“Well, Mr. Phillips,” said the sheriff, in the same cautious under-tone
by which all their communications had been graduated, “we are all
looking to you,--what is your report?”
“In the first place, that he is here.”
“Where?”
“Sixty or seventy rods to the north of us, in a secure retreat up among
the rocks, about a dozen rods from the shore.”
“Are you sure of that?”
“Yes.”
“How did you make the discovery?”
“I will tell you. When I came over, I struck down to the lake, nearly
abreast the lower end of the ridge, and cautiously moved along the
shore, upwards, in search of the suspected boat; without discovering
it, however, till I came to the rocky pass I have alluded to, a short
distance above here; when, peering out into the approaching darkness, I
caught sight of it run under a treetop lying partly in the water. Your
boats had not got on there; and thinking, if I took the boat out on to
the water, as I had proposed, he might discover the loss too soon, take
the alarm, and conclude to escape through the woods round the upper
lakes, I varied my plan, and stationed myself back a few rods, to see
if he would not come down to escape by his canoe. I had trailed him to
the top of this rocky eastern slope, before I struck down to the lake,
and knew he must be somewhere near; so I cocked my rifle, for instant
use, and stood ready for his approach. And in a short time I caught the
sound of his movements, sliding cautiously down the rocky steeps from
the spot above, where I suspected he had housed himself. But, before he
reached the bottom of the short ravine he must come down, or could be
seen where I stood, a dry stick unluckily broke under my foot, and the
sound, as I perceived at once, brought him to a stand. And, though he
did not know, and don’t know yet, whether the sound was caused by the
step of man or beast, yet he soon seemed to think it safest to retreat;
and my ear could distinctly trace his movements, as he clambered and
pulled himself along back up the ledges to his retreat. I then went
down to the shore; and perceiving, from the slight agitation of the
water and the faint sound of its gurgling under oars, that you had got
on to the ground, I stole down the shore a piece, and gave the signal,
as you heard.”
“Are you familiar with the place where you think he lies concealed?”
“Yes, nearly as much so as with my own door-yard.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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