Wild Western Scenes | Page 7

from the lips of nearly every one present.
"Huzza--revenge! I'll have revenge, huzza!" cried Joe, throwing round
his hat.
"You will join us?" inquired Boone, turning to Glenn.
"Yes," replied Glenn; "I came hither provided with the implements to
hunt; and as such is to be principally my occupation during my sojourn
in this region, I could not desire a more happy opportunity than the
present to make a beginning. And as it is my intention to settle near the
ferry on the opposite shore, I am pleased to find that I shall not be far
from one whose acquaintance I hoped to make, above all others."
"And you may not find me reluctant to cultivate a social intercourse,
notwithstanding men think me a crabbed old misanthrope," replied
Boone, pressing the extended hand of Glenn. They then separated for
the night, retiring to the tents that had been provided for them.
It was not long before a comparative silence pervaded the scene. The

fierce yelpings of the watch-dogs gradually ceased, and the howling
wolf was but indistinctly heard in the distance. The katydid and
whippoorwill still sang at intervals, and these sounds, as well as the
occasional whirlpool that could be heard rising on the surface of the
gliding stream, had a soothing influence, and lulled to slumber the
wandering mortals who now reclined under the forest trees, far from
the homes of their childhood and the graves of their kindred. Glenn
gazed from his couch through the branches above at the calm, blue sky,
resplendent with twinkling stars; and if a sad reflection, that he thus lay,
a lonely being, a thousand miles from those who had been most dear to
him, dimmed his eye for an instant with a tear, he still felt a
consciousness of innocence within, and resolving to execute his vow in
every particular, he too was soon steeped in undisturbed slumber.

CHAPTER II.
Boone hunts the bear--Hounds and terriers--Sneak Punk, the Hatchet-
face--Another stump--The high passes--The bear roused--The chase--A
sight--A shot--A wound--Joe--His meditations--His friend, the
bear--The bear retreats--Joe takes courage--He fires--Immense
execution--Sneak--The last struggle--Desperation of the bear--His
death--Sneak's puppies--Joe.
By the time the first streaks of gray twilight marked the eastern horizon,
Boone, at the head of the party of hunters, set out from the encampment
and proceeded down the river in the direction of the place where Joe
had been so roughly handled by Bruin. All, with the exception of Glenn
and his man, being accustomed to much walking, were on foot. Glenn
rode his white steed, and Joe was mounted on his little black pony. The
large hounds belonging to Boone, and the curs, spaniels, and terriers of
the emigrants were all taken along. As they proceeded down the river,
Boone proposed the plan of operations which was to guide their
conduct in the chase, and each man was eager to perform his part,
whatever it might be. It was arranged that a portion of the company
should precede the rest, and cross the level woodland about two miles
in width, to a range of hills and perpendicular cliffs that appeared to

have once bounded the river, and select such ravines or outlets as in
their opinion the bear would be most likely to pass through, if he were
indeed still in the flat bottom-land. At these places they were to station
themselves with their guns well charged, and either await the coming of
the animal or the drivers; the first would be announced by the yelping
of the dogs, and the last by the hunters' horns.
Glenn and one or two others remained with Boone to hunt Bruin in his
lair, while Joe and the remainder of the company were despatched to
the passes among the hills. There was a narrow-featured Vermonter in
this party, termed, by his comrades, the Hatchet-face, and, in truth, the
extreme thinness of his chest and the slenderness of his limbs might as
aptly have been called the hatchet-handle. But, so far from being unfit
for the hardy pursuits of a hunter, he was gifted with the activity of a
greyhound, and the swiftness and bottom of a race-horse. His name was
Sneak Punk, which was always abbreviated to merely Sneak, for his
general success in creeping up to the unsuspecting game of whatsoever
kind he might be hunting, while others could not meet with such
success. He had been striding along some time in silence a short
distance in advance of Joe, who, even by dint of sundry kicks and the
free use of his whip, could hardly keep pace with him. The rest were a
few yards in the rear, and all had maintained a strict silence, implicitly
relying on the guidance of Sneak, who, though he had never traversed
these woods before, was made