Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. The Boy Hunters by Mayne Reid (ebook reader 8 inch txt) 📖
- Author: Mayne Reid
Book online «The Boy Hunters by Mayne Reid (ebook reader 8 inch txt) 📖». Author Mayne Reid
He did not rest long before a new thought, seemed to strike him. The ’possum was not so very high above the ground; perhaps he could spring up and seize her by the nose? It was at all events easy to make the trial. And with this intention he descended to the foot of the tree, and ran out to the spot over which she was hanging. But she was higher than he had calculated; and, like the fox with the grapes, after a few leaps he gave it up. He was resolved, however, to make her stand a siege; and, thinking he would be as comfortable where he was, he did not return to the tree, but sat down upon the grass, keeping his eyes fixed upon his antagonist.
All this while the old ’possum hung quietly upon her tail, holding the hare in her teeth. From the moment she had secured herself in her present position, she seemed to have no fear of her antagonist. On the contrary, her countenance exhibited the expression of a malicious laugh—and this was as evident to the spectators, as words could have made it. The cunning creature plainly enjoyed the chagrin she was causing to the “catamount.”
At intervals, however, the thought seemed to stray across her mind as to how it would all end: and then she assumed a graver look. The lynx, was determined—she saw that in his face—to make her stand a long siege. It would be, therefore, a question of patience and hunger. For the latter she was prepared; and, to enable her to endure it the better, she passed the hare into her hand-like fore-feet, and commenced tearing and eating it!
This was too much for the patience of the lynx. He could bear it no longer, but rose suddenly to his feet; and, with mane erect, rushed up the tree again, and out upon the branch where hung the opossum. This time, without stopping to calculate the danger, he sprang forward, throwing his fore-feet around the other’s hips, and seizing her tail in his teeth. The branch creaked, then broke, and both fell together to the earth!
For a moment the lynx seemed stunned by the fall; but, the next moment, he was “himself again.” He raised himself up; arched his back like a true cat; and, with a wild scream, pounced down upon the ’possum. He seemed to have forgotten the hare, which the other had dropped in her fall. Revenge was the passion that now raged strongest within him. Revenge caused him to forget that he was hungry.
The opossum, as soon as she came to the ground, had suddenly clewed herself up; and now presented the same appearance as when she first came upon the stage. Head, neck, limbs, and tail, were no longer visible—nothing but a round ball of thick, woolly hair! At this the catamount tugged with “teeth and toe-nails.” He worried it for not less than ten minutes, until he became weary. The ’possum was dead to all appearance; and this the other seemed to think,—or whether he did or not, at all events, he became tired, and left off worrying her. The sweeter morsel—the hare—was before his eyes; and this, perhaps, tempted him to desist, preferring to try his teeth for a while upon it. Leaving the ’possum at length, he turned round and seized upon the hare.
At this moment François let Marengo slip, and the whole party rushed forward with shouts.
The lynx, seeing his retreat cut off from the timber, struck out upon the prairie; but the great hound soon overtook him; and after a short but desperate fight, put an end to his poaching.
The young hunters in the pursuit had picked up the hare, which the lynx had dropped in his flight. When the chase was over they came back to the tree, with the intention of getting the dead ’possum, which they meant to cook for their supper. To their astonishment no ’possum was there—neither in the tree, nor the briar-patch beside it, nor anywhere! The sly creature had been “playing ’possum” throughout all that terrible worrying; and, finding the coast clear, had “unclewed” herself, and stolen off to her hiding-place under the roots of some neighbouring tree!
Nothing remained but the body of the lynx and the poor little carcass of the hare. The former none of our adventurers cared to eat, although it is often eaten both by the trappers and Indians—and the latter was so torn and chawed as to render it worthless. So, since no other game—not even a squirrel—could be found about the place, all four—Lucien, Basil, François, and Marengo, went to sleep—for the first time since the commencement of their journey—supperless!
They had plenty of meat for their breakfast though—such as it was—and came nigh paying dearly enough for it.
The three brothers slept lying along the ground within a few feet of one another. Their tent was gone, and, of course, they were in the open air. They were under a large spreading tree, and, wrapped in their blankets, had been sleeping soundly through the night. Day was just beginning to break, when something touched François on the forehead. It was a cold, clammy object; and, pressing upon his hot skin, woke him at once. He started as if a pin had been thrust into him; and the cry which he uttered awoke also his companions. Was it a snake that had touched him? François thought so at the moment, and continued to think so while he was rubbing his eyes open. When this feat was accomplished, however, he caught a glimpse of some object running off, that could not be a snake.
“What do you think it was?” inquired Basil and Lucien, in the same breath.
“A wolf, I think,” replied François. “It was his cold nose I felt. See! yonder it goes. See—see—there are two of them!”
François pointed in the direction in which the two animals were seen to run. Basil and Lucien looked, and saw them as well. They were about the size of wolves, but appeared to be quite black, and not like wolves at all. What could they be? They had suddenly passed into a darker aisle among the trees, and the boys had only caught a glimpse of them as they went in. They could still distinguish their two bodies in the shade, but nothing more. What could they be? Perhaps javalies? This thought, no doubt, occurred to the brothers, because of their late adventure with these animals.
“They are too large, and run too clumsily, for javalies,” said Lucien.
“Bears?” suggested François.
“No, no; they are not large enough for bears.”
All three were puzzled.
They had risen upon their hands and knees, disencumbered themselves of their blankets, and each had grasped his gun, which they always kept close by them when asleep.
They remained in this position, straining their eyes up the gloomy alley after the two black objects that had stopped about fifty yards distant. All at once the form of a man rose up before them, and directly in front of the animals. Instead of retreating from the latter, as the boys expected, the upright figure stood still. To their further astonishment, the two animals ran up to it, and appeared to leap against it, as if making an attack upon it! But this could not be—since the figure did not move from its place, as one would have done who had been attacked. On the contrary, after a while, it stooped down, and appeared to be caressing them!
“A man and two dogs,” whispered François; “perhaps an Indian!”
“It may be a man,” returned Lucien, also speaking in a whisper. “I know not what else it could be; but those are no dogs, or I never saw such.”
This Lucien uttered with emphasis and in a serious tone, that caused the brothers to draw closer to each other.
During all this time Marengo stood by, restrained by them from rushing forward. The dog had not awaked until the first cry of François roused him. He was wearied with the long gallop of the preceding days; and, like his masters, had been sleeping soundly. As all started almost simultaneously, a word from Basil had kept him in—for to this he had been well trained—and without a signal from him he was not used to attack any creature, not even his natural enemies. He therefore stood still, looking steadily in the same direction as they, and at intervals uttering a low growl that was almost inaudible. There was a fierceness about it, however, that showed he did not regard the strange objects as friends. Perhaps he knew what they were, better than any of the party.
The three mysterious creatures still remained near the same spot, and about fifty yards from the boys. They did not remain motionless though. The two smaller ones ran over the ground—now separating from the upright figure and then returning again, and appearing to caress it as before. The latter now and then stooped, as if to receive their caresses, and—when they were not by—as though it was gathering something from the ground. It would then rise into an upright position, and remain motionless as before. All their manoeuvres were performed in perfect silence.
There was something mysterious—awe-inspiring in these movements; and our young hunters observed them, not without feelings of terror. They were both puzzled and awed. They scarcely knew what course to adopt. They talked in whispers, giving their counsels to each other. Should they creep to their horses, mount, and ride off? That would be of no use; for if what they saw was an Indian, there were, no doubt, others near; and they could easily track and overtake them. They felt certain that the strange creatures knew they were there—for indeed their horses, some thirty yards off, could be plainly heard stamping the ground and cropping the grass. Moreover, one of the two animals had touched and smelt François; so there could be no mistake about it being aware of their presence. It would be idle, therefore, to attempt getting off unawares. What then? Should they climb into a tree? That, thought they, would be of just as little use; and they gave up the idea. They resolved, at length, to remain where they were, until they should either be assailed by their mysterious neighbours, or the clearer light might enable them to make out who and what these were.
As it grew clearer, however, their awe was not diminished; for they now saw that the upright figure had two thick strong-looking arms, which it held out horizontally, manoeuvring with them in a singular manner. Its colour, too, appeared reddish, while that of the small animals was deep black! Had they been in the forests of Africa, or South instead of North America, they would have taken the larger figure for that of a gigantic ape. As it was, they knew it could not be that.
The light suddenly became brighter—a cloud having passed off the eastern sky. Objects could be seen more distinctly, and then the mystery, that had so long held the young hunters in torturing suspense, was solved. The large animal reared up and stood with its side towards them; and its long pointed snout, its short
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