The Guerilla Chief, and Other Tales

“I knowd that I war beyond the reach o’ human help. Nothin’ but chance ked fetch livin’ critter within hearin’ o’ my voice. I seed the river plain enuf, an’ boats mout be passin’ up an’ down – both steam an’ flat – but I knowed that both was ’customed to steer along the opposite shore, to ’void the dang’rous eddy as sets torst the side I war on. The river, as ye see, young feller, are moren’ a mile wide at this place. The people on a passin’ boat wudn’t hear me; an’ if they did, they’d take it for some one a mockin’ o’ them. A man hailin’ a boat from the top o’ a cyprus tree! I knowd it ’ud be no use.

“For all that I made trial o’ it. Boats did come past, o’ all kinds as navigate the Massissippi; steamers, keel-boats, an’ flats. I hailed them all – hailed till I was hoarse. They must a heerd me. I’m sartain some o’ ’em did, for I war answered by shouts o’ scornful laughter. My own shouts o’ despair mout a been mistuk for the cries o’ a mocker or a madman.”

The hunter once more paused in his narrative, as if overpowered by the remembrance of those moments of misery. I remained silent as before – as before struck with the sublimity of thought, to which the backwoodsman was unconsciously giving speech.

Observing my silence he resumed his narration.

“Wal, strenger; I kim to the konclusion that I war trapped in that tree, an’ no mistake. I seed no more chance o’ gettin’ clur than kud a bar wi’ a two ton log across the small o’ his back. The only hope I hed war that the ole ooman ’ud be arter me, as she usooally is whensoever I’m missin’ for a spell. But that moutn’t be for a single night, nor two on ’em in succession. Beside, what chance o’ her findin’ me in a track o’ timmer twenty mile in sarcumference? That hope war only ’vanesccnt, an’ soon died out ’ithin me.

“It war just arter I had gin up all hope o’ being suckered by anybody else, that I begun to think o’ doin’ suthin’ for myself. I needed to do suthin’. Full thirty hours hed passed since I’d eyther ate or drunk, for I’d been huntin’ all the day before ’ithout doin’ eyther. I war both hungry an’ thusty – if anythin’, sufferin’ most from the last-mentioned o’ them two evils. I ked a swallered the muddiest water as ever war found in a puddle, an’ neyther frogs nor tadpoles would a deterred me. As to eatin’, when I thort o’ that, I kudn’t help runnin’ my eyes up’ards; an’ spite o’ the spurt I’d hed wi’ thar parents I ked a’ told them young baldies that thur lives war in danger.

“Possible, I mout a feeled hungrier an’ thustier than I did, if it hedn’t been for the fear I war in, ’bout the cyprus topplin’ over into the river. That hed kep me in sich a state o’ skeear as to hinder me from thinkin’ o’ moust anythin’ else. As the time passed, hows’ever, an’ the tree still kep its purpendicklar, I begun to b’lieve that the bank warn’t agoin to move any more. I ked see the water down below, through the branches o’ the cyprus, an’ tho’ it war clost by, thar ’peared to be a clanjamfery o’ big roott stickin’ out from the bank, as war like to keep the dirt firm agin the underminin’ o’ the current – leastwise for a good spell.

“Soon as I bekum satersfied o’ this, I feeled easier; an once more tuk to thinkin’ how I war to get down. Jess as afore, the thinkin’ warn’t to no purpiss. Thar war no way but to jump it, an’ I mout as well ha’ thort o’ jumpin’ from the top o’ a ’piscopy church steeple ’ithout gettin’ squashed. I gin the thing up in shur despurashun.

“By this time it hed got to be night; an’ as thar warn’t no use o’ my makin’ things wuss than they war, I looked about the cyprus to see ef thar war any limb softer than another, whar I ked lay my karkiss for a snoose.

“I found a place in one o’ the forks large enuf to lodge a full growd bar. Thar I squatted.

“I slep putty well, considerin’ thet the scratch the eagle had gin me had got to be soreish, an’ war wuss torst the mornin’. Beside, I warn’t quite easy in my mind ’bout the cavin’ in o’ the bank; an’ more’n once I woke wi’ a start thinkin’ I war being switched into the river. Nothin’ partickler happened till peep o’ day, an’ nothin’ very partickler then, ’ceptin’ that I feeled hungry enuf to eat a raw skunk. Jess at that minnit the young baldies war in bad kumpny. While I war thinkin’ o’ climbin’ up to the neest an’ ringin’ one o’ thar necks, I chanced to look out over the river. All at onest I see one o’ them big water-hawks —osparay they call ’em – plunge down an’ rise up agin wi’ a catfish in his claws. He hadn’t got twenty fut above the surface, when one o’ the old baldies – the hen it war – went shootin’ torst him like a streak o’ greased lightnin’. Afore he ked a counted six, I seed the she baldy comin’ torst the tree wi’ the catfish in her claws.

“‘Good,’ sez I to myself, ‘ef I must make my breakfast on the raw, I’d rayther it shed be fish than squab eagle.’

“I started for the neest. This time I tuk the purcaushun to unsheath my bowie, and carry it in my hand ready for a fight; an’ it warnt no idle purcaushun as it proved, for scace hed I got my head above the edge o’ the neest, when both the ole birds attackted me jess as before.

“The fight war now more evenly atween us; an’ the cunnin’ critters appeared to know it, for they kep’ well out o’ reach o’ the bowie, though floppin’ an’ clawin’ at me whenever they seed a chance. I gin the ole hen a prod thet cooled her courage considrable; an’ as for the cock, he warn’t a sarcumstance to her, for, as you knows, young feller, the cock o’ eagles is allers the hen bird.

“The fish war lyin’ in the bottom o’ the neest whar the hen had dropped it. It hadn’t been touched, ’ceptin’ by her claws whar she had carried it; and the young ’uns war too much skeeart durin’ the skrimmage to think o’ thar breakfast.

“I spiked the catfish on the blade o’ my bowie, an’ drawin’ it torst me, I slid back down the tree to the fork whar I had passed the night. Thar I ate it.”

“Raw?”

“Jess as it kum from the river. I mout a gin it a sort o’ a cookin’ ef I’d liked; for I hed my punk pouch wi’ me, an’ I ked a got firin’ from the dead bark o’ the cyprus. But I war too hungry to wait, an’ I ate it raw. The fish war a kupple o’ pound weight; an’ I left nothin’ o’ it but the bones, fins, an’ tail. The guts I gin to the young eagles, for a purpose I hed jess then.

“As ye may guess, I warn’t hungry any longer, but thar kumd upon me a spell o’ the durndest thust I ever sperienced in all my life. The fish meat made it wuss, for arter I had swallered it, I feeled as ef my inside war afire. It war like a pile o’ hickery sticks burnin’ in my belly, an’ bleezin’ up through my breast and jugglers. The sun war shinin’ full upon the river, an’ the glitterin’ o’ the water made things wuss, for it made me hanker arter it, an’ crave it all the more.

“Onest or twice I got out o’ the fork, thinkin’ I ked creep along a limb an’ drop down into the river. I shed a done so hed it been near enuf, tho’ I knowd I ked niver a swum ashore. But I seed the water war too far off an’ I hed to gie the idee up an’ go back to my den.

“’Twar o’ no use chawin’ the twigs o’ the cyprus. They war full o’ rozin, an ’ud only make the chokin’ worse. Thar war some green leaves o’ the fox-grape-vine, an I chawed all o’ them I ked lay my claws on. It dud some good; but my sufferins war a’most unbarable.

“How war I to get at the water o’ that river, that flowed so tauntinly jess out o’ reach? That war the queery that nixt occerpied me.

“I ’most jumped off o’ the tree when at last I bethort me o’ a way; for I did bethink me o’ one.

“I hed a piece o’ string I allers carries about me. ’Twar quite long enuf to reach the river bank, an’ let it down into the water. I ked empy my powder-horn and let it down. It wud fill, an’ I ked then draw it up agin. Hooray!

“I shouted that hooray only onest. On lookin’ for the horn I diskivered thet I hed left it on the ground, whar I hed tuk it off afore goin’ to sleep under the cyprus.

“I warn’t agoin’ to be beat in that easy way. Ef I had no vessel that wud draw water I hed my ole doeskin shirt. I ked let that down, soak it, an’ pull it up agin’.

“No sooner sayed than done. The shirt war peeled off, gathered up into a clew, tied to the eend o’ the string, an’ chucked out’ard.

“It struck a branch o’ the cyprus, an’ fell short.

“I tried agin, an’ agin, an’ over agin. The darned thing still fell short several feet from the bank o’ the river. It warn’t any fault o’ the cord. It war long enuf. It war the thick branches o’ the cyprus that gin me no chance to make a clur cast. I tried till I got dead tired of failin’ – till I seed the thing war impossible – an’ then I gin it up.

“I shed a felt dreadful at failin’ arter bein’ so cock sure o’ suckcess; but jess then I bethut me o’ another plan for reachin’ that preecious flooid. I’ve tolt ye ’bout my cuttin’ a lot o’ cane to make me a shake-down for sleepin’ on. Thar it still war, right under me – a hul cord o’ it.

“The sight o’ the long tubes surgested a new idee, which I warn’t long in puttin’ to practice. Takin’ the shirt out o’ its loop, I made the string fast to the heft o’ my bowie. I then shot the knife down among the cane, sendin’ it wi’ all my might, an’ takin’ care to keep the peint o’ the blade down’ards. It warn’t long afore I hed spiked up as much o’ thet ere cane as wud a streetched twenty yurds into the river.

“It tuk more time to manafacter the machine I intended makin’, which war a long tube as mout enable me to draw up the water o’ the stream. Thar war no eend o’ whittlin’ an’ punchin’ out the jeints, an’ then splicin’ the tubes one to the tother. But I knowd it war a case o’ life or death; an’ knowin’ thet, I worked on constant as a ole gin-hoss.

“I war rewarded for my patience. I got my blow-gun completed, an’ shovin’ it carefully out, takin’ the percaushun to gie it a double rest upon the branches, I hed the saterfaction to see its peint dippin’ down into the river.

“My mouth war applied to the other eend, an’ oh, golly! Thar warn’t no mint julep ever sucked through a straw, as tasted like the flooid that kim gurglin’ up through that ere cane. I thort I ked niver take the thing from my lips, an’ I feel putty sartin thet while I war drinkin’, the Massissippi must a fell a kupple o’ feet in the clur.”

“Ha! ha! ha!”

“Ye may larf, young fellar, an’ I’m glad to see ye in sech good spirits; but ye ant so elevated as I war. When I tuk my mouth from the cane, I feeled all over a new man, jess as ef I hed been raised from the dead, or dragged out o’ a consoomin’ fire.

“Wal, strenger, I haint yet got to the eend o’ my story – I s’pose you wish to hear the hul on it?”

“By all means – let me hear the finale.”

“I don’t know what ye mean by the finalley, but I’ll gie ye the wind-up o’ the affair; which preehaps are the most kewrious part o’ it.

“I lived in the fork of thet ere cyprus for six long days, occasionally payin’ a visit to the eagles’ necst, an’ robbin’ the young baldies o’ the food thar parents hed purvided for them. Thar diet war various, consistin’ o’ fish, flesh, an’ fowl, an’ o’ a konsequence so war mine. I hed all three for a change; sometimes a rabbit, sometimes a squrrel, with game to foller, sech as partridge, teal, an’ widgeon. I didn’t cook ’em at all. I war afraid o’ settin’ fire to the withered leaves o’ the tree, an’ burnin’ up the neest – which wud a been like killin’ the goose as laid the eggs o’ gold.

“I mout a managed that sort o’ existence for a longer spell, tho’ I acknowledge it war tiresome enuf. But it warn’t that as made me anxious to gie up, but suthin’ very diff’rent. I seed that the young baldies war every day gettin’ bigger. Thar feathers war comin’ out all over an’ I ked tell that it wudn’t be long till they’d take wing.

“When that time arrove whar shed I be? Still in the tree ov coorse; but whar war my purvision to cum from? Who wud supply me wi’ fish an’ flesh an’ fowl, as the eagles had done? Clurly ne’er a one. It war this thort as made me uneezy. I knew it war not likely I shed ever be diskivered now, since my ole ’ooman hedn’t made her appearance sooner; an’ as to any boat stoppin’ for my hail, thet trick I hed tried till I war a’most broken-winded – leastwise I hed kep’ hollerin’ every hour day arter day till my thrapple war as sore as a blister.

“I seed clarly thet I must do suthin’ to get down out o’ that tree, or die among its branches, an’ I spent all my spare time in thinkin’ what mout be did. I used to read in Webster’s spellin’-book that ‘needcessity are the mother o’ invenshun.’ I reckon old Web warn’t fur astray when he prented them ere words – anyways it proved true in the case o’ Zeb Stump, at the time he war stuck up in that cyprus.

“I hed noticed thet the two ole eagles bekim tamer and tamer as they got used to me. They seed thet I did no harm to thar chicks, ’ceptin’ so far as to abstrack from them a portion o’ thar daily allowance; but I allers took care to leave them sufficient for themselves, an’ as thar parents appeared to hev no diffeequlty in purvidin’ them wi’ plenty – unlike many parents in your country, as I’ve heerd, strenger – my pilferins didn’t seem much to distress them.

“They grew at last thet they’d sit on the one side o’ the neest, while I war peepin’ over the other!

“I seed thet I ked easily snare them, an’ I made up my mind to do thet very thing: for a purtickler purpus thet kumm’d into my head, an’ which promised to extercate me out o’ the ugly scrape I hed so foolishly got into.

“Wal, strenger, my idee war this. I hed noticed thet the eagles war both big birds, an’ strong i’ the wing. Everybody knows thet much. It thurfore occurred to me that I mout make them wings do me a sarvice, – otherways thet they mout carry me out o’ the tree.

“In coorse I didn’t intend they shed take me up i’ the air. There warn’t much danger o’ that. I only thort they mout sarve to break my fall like one o’ them things, parryshoots I b’lieve they call ’em, an’ the which I myself had seed onest in Noo Orleans, sent up into the air wi’ a cat and a coon in it.

“Arter I’d got my plan tol’ably well traced out, I sot about trappin’ the old eagles.

“In less ’n an hour’s time I hed both o’ ’em in my keepin’, wi’ thar beaks spliced to keep ’em from bitin’ me, an’ thar claws cropped clur off wi’ my bowie.

“I then strengthened the cord I hed used to draw up the canes, by doublin’ it half a dozen times, until it war stout enuf to carry my weight. One eend o’ it I looped round the legs o’ the eagles, gatherin’ all four into a bunch, whilst the other eend I made fast around my own karkiss, jess under the armpits.

“I did all this upon the lowest limb o’ the cyprus, whar I had fetched down the eagles.

“When all war ready, I drew my bowie from its sheath, and with its sharp peint I pricked both the baldies at the same time, so as to set them a-floppin. As soon as I seed thar four wings in full play, I slid off o’ the branch, directin’ myself torst the groun’ underneath.

“I ant very sartin as to what follered. I only recollex bein’ dragged through the branches o’ the cyprus, an’ the minnit arter plungin’ cochuck into the waters o’ the Massissippi. I shed most sartinly a been drowned ef that ere cord had broken, or the eagles had got loose. As it war, the birds kep’ beatin’ the water wi’ thar big wings, and in thet way hindered Zeb Stump from goin’ under.

“I’ve heerd o’ a woman they called Veenis bein’ drawed through the sea by a kupple o’ swans; but I don’t b’lieve they kud a drawed her at a quicker rate o’ speed than I war carried over the buzum o’ the Massissippi. In less than five minnits from the time I hed dropped out o’ the tree, I seed myself in the middle o’ the river and still scufflin’ on. I seed that the baldies war boun’ for the Arkansaw shore, an’ knowin’ that my life depended on thar reachin’ it, I offered no opposition to thar efforts, but lay still an’ allowed them to continue thar career.

“As good luck wud hev it, they had strength enuf left to complete the crossin’; an’ thar war another bit o’ good luck in the Arkansaw bank bein’ on a level wi’ the surface o’ the water; so that in five minnits arter, I foun’ myself among the bushes, the baldies still flutterin’ about me, as ef determined to carry me on over the great parairas o’ the West.

“I feeled that it war time to stop the steam, an’ take in sail; so clutchin’ holt o’ a branch, I brought the baldies to anchor. I war all out o’ breath, and it war some time afore I ked rekiver my legs, and release myself from my feathered kumpanyuns. I tuk good care not to let them go; though sartintly I owed them thet much for the sarvice they had done me, but jess then I bethort me o’ the Britisher at Grand Gulf – ah! you it war, ye say, young feller?”

“Certainly. And those are the eagles I purchased from Mrs Stump?”

“Them same birds, strenger. You shed a hed the young ’uns, but thar warn’t no chance ever ag’in to clomb thet cyprus, an’ what bekim o’ the poor critters arterward, I haint the most distant idee. I reckin they ended thar days in the neest, which ye still see up thar; an’ ef they did, I reckin the buzzarts wudn’t be long in makin’ a meal o’ ’em.”

With my eyes directed to the top of the tall cypress, and fixed upon a dark mass, resembling a stack of faggots, I listened to the concluding words of this queer chapter of “Backwoods Adventure.”