Wild Western Scenes: A Narrative of Adventures in the Western Wilderness, Wherein the Exploits of Daniel Boone, the Great American Pioneer are Particularly DescribedJones, J. B. (John Beauchamp)
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Wild Western Scenes: A Narrative of Adventures in the Western Wilderness, Wherein the Exploits of Daniel Boone, the Great American Pioneer are Particularly Described
Jones, J. B. (John Beauchamp)
Boone, Daniel, 1734-1820 -- Fiction; Western stories; Wilderness areas -- Fiction
“If you’re so crazy after asafoetida,” said he, looking down at the
fiercely staring animals again, “I’ll give you a taste, just to see
what you’ll do.” He took a small portion of the gum which he had
retained, and rubbed it over a piece of paper that he found in his
pocket. He then dropped the paper in their midst. They sprang upon it
simultaneously, and in an instant it vanished, Joe knew not whither.
“Hang me, if I couldn’t pepper a half-dozen at a shot when they all
rush up together so close, if I wasn’t afraid of being kicked down.
I’ll be teetotally smashed if I don’t fix and try it, any how!” said
he, pulling out a strong leather string from his pocket, one end of
which he attached firmly to a small limb of the tree, and the other he
tied as tightly round the wrist of his left arm. He then pulled out his
bandanna, and likewise made his musket fast to a bough. “Now, my
snapping beauties,” he continued, “I’m mistaken if I don’t give you a
dose of blue pills that’ll do your business in short order.” Saying
this, he tore off another piece of paper, and rubbing on the gum,
dropped it down as near as possible to the spot where he wished the
wolves to cluster together. No sooner did it fall than the whole gang
sprang upon it, and he fired with precision in their midst. Joe did not
look to see what execution was done. He was dangling in the air and
whirling round and round at a rapid rate, like a malefactor suspended
from the gallows, with the exception that his neck did not suffer, and
he cried out most lustily for assistance. When the cloud of smoke that
enveloped him cleared away a little, and he became better acquainted
with his critical situation, his yells increased in rapidity and
violence. His condition was truly perilous. The small bough to which he
had attached himself had not sufficient strength to bear him up when
his feet slipped from the larger one below, and it was now bent down a
considerable distance, and that too in a divergent direction from his
recent foothold, and unfortunately there was no limb of the tree of any
strength within his reach. His legs hung within six feet of the surface
of the snow. The discharge had killed four or five of the wolves, but,
undismayed, the remainder assailed him the more furiously. The most
active of them could easily spring as far up as his feet! Never was
terror more strongly depicted in the human face than it was displayed
in Joe’s when he saw the whole pack rushing towards him! They sprang up
with fearful snarls and yells. Joe yelled likewise, and doubled his
knees up to his chin. They missed his feet by several inches, and were
borne out fifteen or twenty feet to one side by the impetus of the
leap. It was by a mighty effort that he thus avoided them, and no
sooner had they passed under him than his legs again dangled downward.
In a moment they whirled round and were again rushing at their victim.
Once more Joe screamed, and drew up his legs while they passed under
him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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