AN UNPLEASANT COMPANION.
"Say, Jack, the shellbarks are droppin' thick down in Big Woods. Whata chance for a fellow to lay up a bushel or two before the crowd getsdown there in the morning."
"Wouldn't it, though, Ned!" I replied wistfully, for if there wasanything I had a fondness for, it was shellbarks.
We were trudging home to our dinner, for Ned and I lived close to theschoolhouse, much to the envy of some less fortunate pupils who broughttheir noonday meal with them in tin pails. It was a late SeptemberFriday, and a soft golden haze lay on hillside and woodland, and thequail were whistling in the furrows; and, as Ned spoke, I could see inmy mind's eye just how Big Woods would look that afternoon with thesoft sunlight slanting through the trees, and glimmering on the quietwaters of the creek.
"Well, Jack, will you go?" said Ned abruptly.
"You mean will I play truant?" I asked, a little startled.
"Yes; there's no danger, Jack; we'll tell the teacher we had to stayhome to cut corn."
At first, I resisted Ned's appeal. I had played truant once before, along time ago, and the memory of the punishment that I received in thewoodshed at home was still strongly impressed on my memory.
But this, I thought, was an exceptional case, I badly wanted a bushelor two of shellbarks, and I knew full well that, unless they weregathered that afternoon, they wouldn't be gathered at all; for brightand early the next morning all the boys in the neighborhood would bedown in Big Woods, armed with clubs and baskets and sacks, and even thesquirrels would stand a poor show after that invasion.
In our selfishness, we never thought that other people might have afondness for shellbarks as well as ourselves. So, after a little morepleading on Ned's part, I gave in, and we agreed to meet down at thefoot of our orchard, as soon as dinner was over, for Ned lived rightacross, on the next farm. In a corner of the barn, I found my oldchestnut club, a hickory stave, well coiled with lead at the top.Shoving this under my jacket, so no prying eyes could see it, I joinedNed at the meeting-place, and off we went in high spirits for theYellow-breeches.
It was a good mile to Big Woods, for we had to circle away down toHake's Mill to get across the creek, but we felt well repaid for ourtrouble when we arrived there. The fallen nuts lay thick amid the deadleaves, and up on the half-naked trees the splitting hulls hung inclusters, willing to drop their burden at the least rustle of thebreeze.
We heaped the shellbarks in great piles, ready to stow away in Ned'sbig wheat bag; and, when the ground was cleaned up pretty well, and theleaves had been thoroughly raked, we turned our attention to a closecluster of trees that stood close by the creek. These nuts wereunusually large, and thin-shelled. The hulls were cracked apart, butvery few nuts lay on the ground, so I hauled out my club, and drove itfairly into the heart of the tree. A shower of nuts came down, with amerry clatter that gladdened our hearts; but the club, striking thetrunk of the tree, bounded sideways and lodged in the crotch of a limboverhanging the creek, some twenty or thirty feet above the water.
Here was a dilemma. I didn't want to lose that club, for it had donegood service in past autumns, and had gone through a great manyhairbreadth escapes.
If we tried to dislodge it by hurling sticks or stones, it would fallinto the water, and just at that point the creek was very deep, andmoreover, as popular tradition held, a treacherous undertow existedwhich would render the recovery of the club impossible.
"Climb the tree, Jack," said Ned; "that's your only chance."
I was always considered a pretty good climber, so, after a littlehesitation (for this was an unusually difficult tree), I started up theslippery trunk, and, with Ned's friendly aid, pulled myself among thelower limbs.
It was an easy matter to reach the particular bough that I wanted, butthen came the tug. I was half-inclined to give up the whole thing andgo down to the ground, but Ned kept egging me on so confidently that Idetermined to go through with it.
Straddling the limb, I took a firm hold with both hands in front of me,for no other boughs were close enough to be grasped, and thus inch byinch I moved cautiously forward.
The branch creaked and groaned, and at last began to bend in such analarming fashion that I stopped short.
There was the club, not four feet away now, and far below I could seethe quiet waters of the creek, wrinkling the reflected foliage as adropping nut or stray leaf rippled the surface.
"You're nearly there, now," cried Ned, with hearty encouragement; "justa little more, Jack, and you'll have it.
"But the limb will break," I called down.
"No, it won't," he insisted, "don't be afraid."
That settled it. I wasn't afraid, and Ned should know it.
I took a firmer grip on the bough, and slid forward half a foot.
Crack, crack,--the big branch slowly began to split, and as I made afrantic effort to crawl back, a strange noise from the bushy part ofthe tree overhead turned my gaze upward.
It's a wonder my hair didn't turn white that very instant, for what Isaw was a big, tawny wild-cat, with blazing eyes and quivering claws,crouched on a narrow limb. I knew the animal was going to spring, andI tried to shout as loudly as I could, but my tongue stuck to the roofof my mouth, and the only sound I made was an odd cry that caused Nedto laugh, for he couldn't see what was the matter from where he stood.
Then like a streak the brute plumped down on my back, and with atremendous splash, limb, wildcat, and myself went into the creek.
I heard Ned shout, as the water closed over me, and then everythingbecame dark.
I rose to the surface terribly frightened, for, sad to relate, I hadnever learned to swim, and Ned could do very little in that direction.Instead of clutching at the empty air, as most drowning persons do, Icaught hold of something substantial; and when the water was out of myeyes and out of my stomach, for I had swallowed about a pint, I sawthat I was hanging to the bushy end of the broken limb. That was allvery well, but the next thing I observed was not so pleasant, for sixfeet distant, on the thick part of the branch, sat the wild-cat,apparently none the worse for his fall. His sharp claws were driveninto the bark, and he was calmly licking his dripping fur. Meanwhilethe current was sweeping us down stream, and Ned was running along thebank in a sad state of fright and excitement. My back began to hurtpretty badly, and I discovered that my face was torn and bleeding inone or two places, though whether this was caused by the fall or by thewild-cat I did not know.
"Swim, Jack, let go and swim," shouted Ned, and then, rememberingperhaps that I was unable to follow his instructions, he suddenlyturned and ran back through the woods at the top of his speed, insteadof making any effort to help me.
I was badly scared before, and now, when I saw, as I supposed, my lasthope vanish, I began to shout for help as loudly as I could.
But at the very first cry the wild-cat lifted his head, and emitted avicious snarl. As I howled louder than ever, he advanced a foot or twoalong the limb, ripping off the bark, and fixing his big glaring eyessavagely on my face.
I was terrified into silence, and, as soon as I ceased shouting, thebrute stopped and coolly proceeded to lick his fur again.
Apparently, he did not object to my presence so long as I remainedquiet. The worst of it was that my end of the branch was pretty fardown in the water, and threatened every moment to carry me entirelyunder the surface.
In this precarious situation, I drifted down the creek, until the benddrew near that sweeps round to Hake's Mill. Here the country was alittle more open, and a farmhouse came into sight over the brow of ahill.
There was a chance of rescue, and in spite of my previous experience, Idecided to try it, for my limbs were becoming chilled, and I knew Icould not hold on much longer.
"Help! Help!" I cried with might and main. No answer came back, butbefore I could shout a third time the wild-cat uttered a snarl, andbegan creeping toward me, inch by inch, and lashing the water fiercelywith his tail. Lower and lower sank the branch, until
my shoulderswere submerged, and still the beast kept advancing.
I continued to shout, but no welcome voice responded, only empty echoesfloating back from the hills.
Then I must have given up all hope, for I remember wondering vaguelywhat had become of Ned, and what they were doing in school, and whethermy absence was noticed or not.
The cold water was rippling about my neck now, and the wild-cat was soclose that I could note the horrible colors of the glaring eyes, andfeel the hot breath in my face. I wondered how it would feel whenthose two rows of needle-like teeth met in my flesh; and then, before Icould think any more, a deafening report filled my ears, and, throughthe cloud of smoke that rolled over the creek, the wild-cat boundedhigh in air, and fell into the water with a loud splash. That was allI remembered then. The next thing I knew, I was lying in a grassyhollow, alongside the creek, while Ned and an old farmer bent over me,and threw water in my face. Ned's desertion was explained. He had cutoff the bend in the creek by running over the hill, and, accompanied bythe farmer, who happened to be down in the woods hunting rabbits, theyhad arrived just in time to shoot the wild-cat and drag me out of thewater. That was the last time I played truant. I didn't lose my shareof the shellbarks, for Ned went down early the next morning and gotthem, but I did lose the chestnut club, and what was worse, in spite ofmy sore back, I spent a very unpleasant quarter of an hour out in thewoodshed, just two days later, and Ned, I am happy to say, passedthrough the same edifying experience.
The Jungle Fugitives: A Tale of Life and Adventure in India Page 27
