The Light in the Clearing: A Tale of the North Country in the Time of Silas WrightBacheller, Irving
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The Light in the Clearing: A Tale of the North Country in the Time of Silas Wright
Bacheller, Irving
New York (State) -- Fiction; Wright, Silas, 1795-1847 -- Fiction
We had only a moment's watch before a fine yearling buck came down to
the opposite shore and stood looking across the river. The Senator
raised his rifle and fired. The buck fell in the edge of the water.
"How shall we get him?" my friend asked.
"It will not be difficult," I answered as I began to undress. Nothing
was difficult those days. I swam the river and towed the buck across
with a beech withe in his gambrel joints. The hound joined me before I
was half across with my burden and nosed the carcass and swam on ahead
yelping with delight.
We dressed the deer and then I had the great joy of carrying him on my
back two miles across the country to the wagon. The Senator wished to
send a guide for the deer, but I insisted that the carrying was my
privilege.
"Well, I guess your big thighs and broad shoulders can stand it," said
he.
"My uncle has always said that no man could be called a hunter until he
can go into the woods without a guide and kill a deer and bring it out
on his back. I want to be able to testify that I am at least partly
qualified."
"Your uncle didn't say anything about fetching the deer across a deep
river without a boat, did he?" Mr. Wright asked me with a smile.
Leaves of the beeches, maples and basswoods--yellowed by frost--hung
like tiny lanterns, glowing with noonday light, above the dim
forest-aisle which we traveled.
The sun was down when we got to the clearing.
"What a day it has been!" said Mr. Wright when we were seated in the
wagon at last with the hound and the deer's head between his feet and
mine.
"One of the best in my life," I answered with a joy in my heart the like
of which I have rarely known in these many years that have come to me.
We rode on in silence with the calls of the swamp robin and the hermit
thrush ringing in our ears as the night fell.
"It's a good time to think, and there we take different roads," said my
friend. "You will turn into the future and I into the past."
"I've been thinking about your uncle," he said by and by. "He is one of
the greatest men I have ever known. You knew of that foolish gossip
about him--didn't you?"
"Yes," I answered.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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