The Path of Duty, and Other StoriesCaswell, Harriet S. (Harriet Sophia)
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The Path of Duty, and Other Stories
Caswell, Harriet S. (Harriet Sophia)
Country life -- Fiction; Family -- Fiction; Friendship -- Fiction; Pastoral fiction; Short stories
to pass the night, and all the stories I had ever heard of bears, wolves
and other wild animals rushed across my mind, and filled me with terror.
I would have given the world, had it been at my disposal, to have been
safely at home; and it was only the dread of being laughed at, which
prevented me from begging my brothers to take me there. And when
darkness had entirely settled over the earth, and the night-owls set up
their discordant screams, my fears reached a climax. I had never before
listened to their hideous noise, and had not the slightest idea of what
it was. I had often heard old hunters speak of a wild animal, called the
catamount, which they allowed had been seen in the Canadian forests
during the early settlement of the country. I had heard this animal
described as being of large size, and possessing such strength and
agility, as enabled them to spring from the boughs of one tree to those
of another without touching the ground, and at such times their savage
cries were such as to fill the heart of the boldest hunter with terror.
I shall never forget the laugh which my grown-up brothers enjoyed at my
expense when trembling with terror, I enquired if they thought a
catamount was not approaching among the tree-tops. "Do not be alarmed,"
said they, "for the noises which frighten you so much proceeds from
nothing more formidable than owls." Their answer, however, did not
satisfy me, and I kept a sharp look-out among the branches of the
surrounding trees lest the dreaded monster should descend upon us
unawares. Old Rufus was boiling sap, half a mile from us, and it was a
joyful moment to me, when he suddenly approached us, out of the
darkness, saying, "Well boys don't you want company? I have got my sap
all boiled in, and as I felt kinder lonesome, I thought I would come
across, and sleep by your shanty fire." The old man enquired why I
seemed so much terrified, and my brothers told him that I would persist
in calling a screech-owl, a catamount. Old Rufus did not often laugh,
but he laughed heartily on this occasion, and truly it was no wonder and
when he corroborated what my brothers had already told me, I decided
that what he said must be true. His presence at once gave me a feeling
of protection and security and creeping close to his side on the cedar
boughs which formed our bed, while the immense fire blazed in front of
our tent, I soon forgot my childish fears, in a sound sleep which
remained unbroken till the morning sun was shining brightly above the
trees. But it was long before I heard the last of the night I spent in
the bush; and as often as my brothers wished to tease me, they would
enquire if I had lately heard the cries of a catamount? Time passed on
till I grew up, and leaving the paternal home went forth to make my own
way in the world. Old Rufus still resided in R. When a child I used to
fancy that he would never seem older than he had appeared since my
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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