BEN COMEE HEAP BIG PALEFACE—TRAPPING BOB-CATS IN PRIMEVAL WOODS

When we arrived at camp we had something to eat. Rogers came to us and questioned Amos, first as to the number of troops at Fort Ticonderoga, and how they were arranged, and afterward he inquired about his adventures. When Amos told how Morin rushed in and freed Major Putnam, Rogers said:—

"Morin? I know him well. I scalped him and carved my name on his breast with my knife."

"Well, I wished you h-hadn't. Then he m-might have given us something to eat."

Rogers turned and went off.

"Ugh! I don't like that man. You remember the time Lord Howe was k-killed. Well, that day I saw Rogers hit a poor wounded Frenchman on the head with his hatchet. It was the meanest thing I ever saw done by a white man, and I can't abide him."

"No, he's cruel and hard as nails. I wish John Stark was the commander of the Rangers. He has all Rogers's good points as a fighter, is a better man, and has better judgment. He never makes mistakes."

"Hello!" said Amos. "There's old Captain Jacob. I thought I'd n-never want to see an Injun again. But it's kind of good to see the old fellow. I wonder what makes him seem different from the Injuns on the other side."

"Probably because he's a Christian Indian."

"I guess not. I d-don't think his religion struck in very deep, and it don't worry him much. And when you come to that, they say those French Indians are Christian Indians too. I n-never noticed m-much religion about them. I guess we like him because he's on our side and shows his good points to us, and those other Injuns are agin us and show their ugly natures. It makes all the difference in the world whether the Injun's with you or agin you."

I had been feeling bad about the Indian that I wrestled with. He was such a fine fellow. How Jonas Parker would have delighted in him. Just a bundle of steel springs. There must have been a great deal that was good in a man like that.

I walked over to Captain Jacob, and said: "I had a wrestle with an Indian in that Fort Anne fight, Captain Jacob, and I killed him. I'm sorry, for he was a fine fellow."

"Yes, I heard! Big fight. Big Injun."

"Well, I should like to show those Indians that I thought well of him, and want also to do something for his wife and children, if he has any. Now, I have ten Spanish dollars. I should like to buy some present, and send it to them, and tell them how much I thought of him and that I'm sorry I killed him."

"Oh, yes! Me send Injun. Me send what you call 'em—Injun flag of truce. Me send presents. Tell 'em you heap sorry. Me tell 'em you think him heap big Injun."

"That's it. That's the talk, Captain Jacob. Here's the ten dollars. Buy what you think are the right presents for his wife and children, and I shall be much obliged to you."

"All right! Me do it!"

Some days later, Captain Jacob came to me and said:—

"All right, Ben Comee. Me send Injun. He see them Injuns. He give 'em your words. Injuns feel heap proud. They say that Injun, him big chief of Canawaugha Injuns. His name Gray Wolf. Best man they have. They feel glad you think heap of him. My Injun give 'em presents for his squaw and children. Give 'em rum, tobacco, and chocolate."

"Rum, tobacco, and chocolate?"

"Yes, heap rum, heap tobacco, heap chocolate!"

"Well, that was a mighty good idea, Jacob. There's lots of comfort in all three of those things. But I should never have thought of giving them to the widow and the orphans."

"Injuns ask, 'What that man's name?' 'Ben Comee in Captain Rogers's company. They give my Injun, pipe, wampum, and powder horn with carving on it for you.' They say: 'Ben Comee heap big paleface to kill Gray Wolf. We think as much of his scalp as of Captain Rogers's or John Stark's.'"

Edmund and Amos, who were standing near by, grinned, and Edmund said:—

"You seem to be pretty popular with those Indians, Ben. Don't get stuck-up over it."

"I don't see anything very funny about it, and hope that all three of us shall pass through the fiery furnace, like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, without a hair of our heads being touched."

While we were being whipped by the French at Ticonderoga, another army under General Amherst and General Wolfe was besieging the fortress of Louisburg, on the island of Cape Breton. That army had good generals; and on the 28th of August we heard that the fortress had surrendered. Edmund came out of Rogers's hut. We were waiting for him.

"Come along with me. Louisburg has fallen, and I've got to take some orders to the officers, about to-night. The four companies of Rangers with that army did well. Rogers is mightily pleased over it, and is going to celebrate their good behaviour. Rangers to be at the breastworks at six, and fire a salute. There's going to be high jinks to-night. I've got to go in here and see Stark."

The regiments were all under arms at the breastworks at six o'clock. It was the King's birthday, and the Royal Artillery began with a royal salute of twenty-one guns. Then the regiments fired in turn, till all had fired three times. After that the ranks were broken, and the fun began.

More good news came soon after, and this time our own army had a success. For Colonel Bradstreet with two thousand men had set out on an expedition against Fort Frontenac, and early in September he sent back word that he had taken and destroyed the fort.

These victories put new life into our men, and they became cheerful, and did not continually harp on our defeat.

Through Hector and Donald we came to know the men of the Black Watch well, and spent much of our leisure time with them, listening to their tales of cattle-lifting and of fighting in the Border.

Most of their talk was about the Rebellion of 1745, for the regiment was largely made up of Highlanders that had been "out" with Charlie. And when they drank the King's health, it was to King James they drank, and not to King George.

Their conversation was very interesting to Edmund and to me, for our family had lived together like a clan in Lexington, and the older people still kept certain Scotch customs and used queer expressions. As the Highlanders talked, a strange feeling would occasionally come over us, as if we had led that life and seen those sights at some dim, remote period.

In our own camp with the Rangers we heard stories of adventures in the woods with Indians, bears, and lucivees.

Old Bill McKinstry said, "I wish we had some good strong traps, and we could go off and trap bob-cat."

"And why shouldn't we have traps? What am I a blacksmith for? Just find me some old iron, and I will get the use of the armourers' forge."

They procured the iron, and I made eight big traps with strong jaws and a chain for each trap.

McKinstry, John Martin, Amos, and I got a furlough for a week, and so did Hector Munro, whom we asked to go with us. We packed up our traps and provisions on an Indian sled.

The winter had set in. The river was frozen over, and the snow was deep. We fastened on our rackets and started to the southwest, where there was little likelihood that we should be disturbed by Indians. We went down the river, and turned off into a path that led to the west, and followed it till well into the afternoon, when we came to a good-sized pond. On the way, we shot several rabbits with which to bait the traps. McKinstry killed a hedgehog, which he said was just what he wanted. We chose a place where there were a couple of good-sized saplings, some twelve feet apart in a level and sheltered spot, not far from the pond.

We cleared away the brush behind them, and fastened a pole from one tree to the other, some eight feet from the ground. Then we cut a number of long poles, and laying one end of them on the cross pole, and the other on the ground, made the skeleton of a lean-to hut. McKinstry had built a fire. He threw the hedgehog into it, and let him stay till the quills were well singed. Then he pulled him out and tied a string to him.

"What are you doing that for?"

"For a scent. I'll show you."

McKinstry and I set out with the traps and bait, leaving our companions to cut fir boughs, with which to thatch the roof and sides of the hut, and make a bed. He held the hedgehog up by the string, and we walked down to the pond, and along the edge of it.

"There's tracks enough, Ben. Must be game here. I'll scoop out a little snow, and you open the trap, and lay it in the hollow. Now, we'll cover it with twigs and leaves, to hide it. Cut up a rabbit, and lay the pieces on the twigs for bait. Bring me that log over there, and I'll fasten it to the chain for a clog. He'd gnaw, or pull his foot off, if we tied the trap to a tree. He'll haul the clog along, but he won't get many miles with it. Now we'll drag the hedgehog round, and the burnt quills will make a strong scent on the snow. That will do. We'll go on and pull the hedgehog through the snow behind us. When the animals strike that trail, they'll be apt to follow it to a trap."

We set all our traps along the edge of the pond, at quite a distance from each other; and at the last trap, cut up the hog, and baited the trap with it.

When we got back to camp, we found the roof and sides of the hut well thatched with boughs, and a good thick layer of them on the ground for a bed. The boys had collected a lot of wood, and piled it up near by. In front of the hut was a fire, at which Martin was baking some rye and Injun bread, and frying a large mess of pork.

When we had eaten our supper, it was solid comfort to sit in our hut, after our long day's work, to look at the fire blazing in front, to feel the heat, and watch the smoke curl up through the tree. On the further side of the fire they had built up a wall of green logs, so that the heat was thrown into the hut. We were snug and warm.

"Boys," said McKinstry, "when we get through with this war, you must come to the Amoskeag Falls, and visit your old friends. We've got some fine men there,—one's a great wrestler. I don't think your Jonas Parker could have stood up very long against him. His name is John McNeil. He is six feet six inches high, and used to be strong as a bull. He is a North of Ireland man, and had a quarrel with some big Injun over there, who came along on horseback, and struck at him with his whip. John pulled him off his horse, gave him a pounding, and had to leave the country. He settled at the Falls, and no man, white or red, could stand up against him for a minute. His wife, Christie, is a good mate to him, a big, brawny woman. One day a stranger came to the house and asked: 'Is Mr. McNeil at home?'

"'No,' says Christie; 'the gude man is away.'

"'That's a pity; for I hear that McNeil is a very strong man, and a great wrestler; and I've come a very long distance to throw him.'

"'Troth, man,' says she, 'Johnny is gone. But I'm not the woman to see ye disappointed, and I think if ye'll try me, I'll thraw ye myself.'

"The man didn't like to be stumped by a woman and accepted the challenge. Christie threw him, and he cleared out without leaving his name."

"That's a braw couple," says Hector. "I hope there were no quarrels in that household."

"No, indeed; as nice, peaceable, and respectable a couple as you could find in the whole Province. It's a fine sight to see the old man and his wife seated in front of the fire, smoking their pipes, and their big sons around them."

"I'd like to see them. But what I do want to see is a panther or catamount. There's very little game left in Lexington. Now and then a bear, but the catamounts went long before my day. I suppose you have killed them."

"Yes, I've killed some; but Martin's brothers did about the best thing in that way that I know of. Tell them about it, Martin."

"All right. We lived on the Merrimac, at a ferry that they called after us, Martin's Ferry. Father died when we were little chaps. Mother was strong, and we got along farming, hunting, and running the ferry. One day in winter, when I was about thirteen years old, my brothers, Nat and Ebenezer, went up to Nott's Brook, to see if they could find some deer yarded in the swamp. They came on a big track, followed it, and saw a catamount eating a deer it had killed. Nat had an axe, and Eben a club. Nat said, 'Let's kill him, Eben.'

"'All right. It's a pretty slim show, but I'm in for it. How'll we do it?'

"'You go up in front of him and shake your club to take his attention, and I'll creep up behind and hit him with the axe.'

"'I don't think there's much fun shaking a club in a panther's face; but if you're sure you'll kill him, I'll try it.'"Eben walked up in front with his club, and Nat crept up behind. When the cat saw Eben, it growled and switched its tail round, and raised up the snow in little clouds. It lay there with its paws on the deer and its head raised, growling at Eben, who felt pretty shaky. Nat crept up behind the cat and gave it a blow with his axe that cut its backbone in two."

"That was an awful p-plucky thing to do."

"It was a most unfortunate thing for my mother."

"How's that?"

"Why, it made me just wild to go bear-hunting with them. I kept plaguing mother to let me go. She used to say, 'Pshaw, boy, you'd run if you saw a bear.' One night I had been pestering her worse than usual. She left the room, and soon after I heard something bumping round outside. The door flew open, and in walked a bear, which came at me, growling. I grabbed a pine knot that was handy and hit the beast on the head, and over it rolled. The bearskin fell off, and there lay my mother stretched out on the floor. I was afraid I had killed her, and ran and got a pail of water and threw it on her. She came to, and sat up in a kind of a daze.

"'What's the matter? Have I been in the river?'

"'No, mother, you played you was a bear, and I hit you over the head; I'm awful sorry.'

"'Don't say a word more, Johnny. Don't say a word more. I was an old fool. Serves me right.'

"She got up, threw the bearskin in the corner, and went about her work. In the morning I asked her again if I could go bear-hunting with the boys.

"She put her hands on her hips, looked at me, and laughed to herself, and then she said:—

"'Yes, Johnny, you can go. But be sure and take a club with you. I think you'll be a great help.'"

Just as Martin had finished his story we heard a series of the most terrific screeches and caterwauls.

"Heavens and earth, man," said Hector, "what's that? That must be the father of all cats.""That's just what he is, and you'll think so to-morrow when you see him. That is, if he don't get away. That's what we call a bob-cat. The French call them lucivees; and he's the biggest cat in the country, except the catamount. It's just as well to leave him alone over-night. We don't want to go fooling round him in the dark."

"Weel, mon, generally speaking I have nae fear of a cat; but if this one has claws and teeth like his screech, I think we'd better defer our veesit till the morrow. And it's surprising to me how comfortable we all are out here in the forest in the dead of winter. 'Deed, if Donald and I were out here alone, we'd be freezing; and here we are as happy as kings."

"Yes, and a bagpiper at hand with his music."

"Now, Benny, don't run the bagpipes down. They're a grand instrument. Our friend down there does very well in his way; but he hasna the science. And I was thinking that all we'll be wanting is a little gude peat in the fire. The peat makes a bonny fire. We're no so wasteful of wood as you are."

"Well, Hector, we burn peat in our fires at Lexington, too."

"Then you're more civilized than I thought."

"Oh, all we really lack are the bagpipes and some of those second-sight men and Scotch ghosts, who foretell what is going to happen. It's strange some of them didn't tell Nabby Crombie he ought to take his cannon with him when he attacked Ticonderoga."

"We kenned more about Ticonderoga than you think, Comee. Didn't every mother's son in the Black Watch know that our major, Duncan Campbell, would meet his death there? He had his warning years ago."

"A wise man don't do anything great if he tells a soldier that he's likely to be killed some time. But as you seem to think there is something remarkable in your story, you'd better give us a few solid facts. We might not look at it just as you do."

"Duncan Campbell was the laird of Inverawe Castle in the Highlands, and with us was called, from his estate, Inverawe. One evening he heard a knocking at his door, and, opening it, saw a stranger with torn clothes and his hands and kilt smeared with blood. He said that he had killed a man in a quarrel and that men were after him in order to slay him. He asked for shelter. Inverawe promised to conceal him. The man said, 'Swear it on your dirk,' and Inverawe did so. He hid the man in a secret room in his castle. Soon after there was a knocking at his gate, and two men entered.

"'Your cousin Donald has just been murdered, and we are looking for the murderer.' Inverawe couldna go back on his oath, and said he kenned naught of the fugitive; and the men kept on in pursuit. He lay down in a dark room, and went to sleep. Waking up, he saw the ghost of his cousin Donald by his bedside, and heard him say:—

"'Inverawe! Inverawe! Blood has been shed. Shield not the murderer.' When the morning came, he went to the man and told him he could conceal him no longer.

"'You have sworn on your dirk,' the man replied. The laird didna know what to do. He led the man to a mountain, and hid him in a cave, and told him he wouldna betray him.

"The next night his cousin Donald appeared to him again, and said, 'Inverawe! Inverawe! Blood has been shed. Shield not the murderer.'

"When the sun came up, Inverawe went to the cave, but the man was gone. That night the ghost appeared again, a grewsome sight, but not so stern. 'Farewell! Farewell! Inverawe!' it said. 'Farewell till we meet at Ticonderoga.'

"Inverawe joined the Black Watch. They were hunting us down in the Highlands, after we had been out with Charlie. When this war came on, the King granted us a pardon if we would enlist; and right glad we were to get out of the country. We reached here and learned that we were to attack Ticonderoga. All of us knew the story. When we reached there, the officers said: 'This is not Ticonderoga. This is Fort George.' On the morning of the battle, Inverawe came from his tent, a broken man, and went to the officers, ghastly pale. 'I have seen him. You have deceived me. He came to my tent last night. This is Ticonderoga; I shall die to-day.'""But he didn't die that day," said Martin. "He was hit in the arm, and didn't die till ten days after."

"If you're going to split straws about it," said McKinstry, "the ghost didn't tell him he would be killed there. He got his death wound, at any rate; that was near enough. A good deal better guess than you could make. Between the yelling of that bob-cat and Hector's grisly story, we're likely to have a good night's sleep. I think we'd better frighten the ghosts off, and then turn in."

In the morning, Hector, Amos, and I wanted to go to the traps at once to examine them; but Martin said, "It may be hours before we get back, and if you were to start without your breakfast, you might be calling yourselves pretty hard names later in the day."

We cooked breakfast, and after we had eaten it, took our guns, and went to the pond. Our first trap was gone; but there was a big trail where the clog had been dragged through the snow and bushes.

We followed it for nearly half a mile, till Martin stopped us and said, "There he is."

We looked into a clump of bushes, and saw a pair of fierce blue eyes, which looked like polished steel. As we gazed, they seemed to grow larger and flash fire.

"'Deed, mon," said Hector, "a more wicked pair of eyes I never saw."

Martin raised his gun and fired at the bob-cat; but though he wounded it, the cat jumped at us, pulling the clog after it. McKinstry gave it another shot, which knocked it over. It died hard.

When the animal was dead, we examined it. It was over three feet long and about two feet high. Its tail was about six inches long. Its head was about as big as a half-peck measure. Its ears were pointed, with little black tassels at the ends. It had whiskers on its cheeks and smellers like a cat. The fur was gray, except that on the belly, which was white.

Hector was looking at its claws, which were nearly two inches long.

"McKinstry, what do these animals eat?"

"Well, if you were alone here in the woods, I think likely they'd eat a Scotchman.""I was a thinking that same thing myself."

We skinned the bob-cat, and cut off some of his flesh with which to bait the trap, and then we carried the trap back, and set and baited it again.

We found nothing in our other traps till we came to the spot where the seventh one had been, and that had disappeared.

We followed the trail, and finally saw the cat on a stump among some bushes. McKinstry shot it. It jumped at us, but fell dead.

It was like the other, and weighed something over thirty pounds, though it looked much heavier on account of its long fur.

We skinned it, and set and baited the trap again. The last trap had not been touched.

As we were going back, Amos said: "What a p-pity Davy Fiske c-couldn't have been with us. He'd have talked of this all his life."

"Well, the only difference is, that Amos Locke will, instead."

Just before we left the pond, we saw that an animal had turned in on our tracks, and had followed them up toward the camp.

"That's a black cat or fisher," said Martin. "His tracks look like a little child's. I'd like to get him, for a black cat's fur is worth something."

The tracks kept along with ours, and when we got to the camp, we found that he had eaten up one of three partridges we had left there.

"I'll fix him," said McKinstry, and the next day he brought up a trap and set it near the hut, and baited it with partridge. The following day, while we were away, the black cat came again, passed by our trap and bait, and though there was a fire burning, went to the hut and ate some baked beans which were there. He made two more calls on us, but scorned the trap.

On the second day out, Martin shot a deer, so that we had plenty of fresh meat; and we cut holes in the ice on the pond and caught pickerel.

When the week was up, we had eight bob-cats and an otter. We packed our traps and skins on the sled, started back, and reached Fort Edward in the evening.

Edmund had been unable to go with us on this trip, as Major Rogers was at Albany, and Edmund's duties as adjutant kept him in camp.