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CHAPTER XXXVI UNCLE BILLY MURCH'S
HAIR-RAISER At about
this time Tom and I were up
at the Murches' one evening to see Willis, and persuaded old Uncle
Billy,
Willis' grandfather, to tell us his panther story again. That panther
story was
a veritable hair-raiser; and we were never tired of hearing the old man
tell
it. Owing to our severe climate panthers were never very numerous in
northern
New England — not nearly so numerous as panther stories, in which the
"panther" is usually a Canadian lynx. Even at present we occasionally
hear of a catamount or an "Indian devil"; but perhaps the last real
panther was trapped and shot in the town of Wardsboro, Vermont, in
1875. There
can be no doubt whatever that it was a genuine panther, for its skin
and bones,
handsomely mounted, as taxidermists say, can be seen at any time in the
Museum
of Natural History in Boston. It is a fine specimen of the New England
variety
of the Felis concolor
and would
no doubt have proved an ugly customer to meet on a dark night. No doubt
there were panthers larger
than that one. According to Uncle Billy the Wardsboro panther was a
mere kitten
to the one that he once encountered when he was a boy of fourteen. Our
old
Squire, who then was fifteen years old, was with him and shared the
experience.
But try as we would, we never could induce him to tell the story. "You
get
Uncle Billy Murch to tell you about that," he would say and laugh.
"That's Uncle Billy's story; he tells it a little better every time,
and
he has got that catamount so large now that I am beginning to think
that it
must have been a survival of the cave tiger." Yet when pinned down to
it
the old Squire admitted that he was with Grandsir Billy on that night
and that
they did have an alarming experience with an animal that beyond doubt
was a
large and hungry panther. I must
have heard the story ten or
twelve times in all, and I recollect many of Grandsir Billy's words and
expressions. But the old man's vocabulary was "picturesque"; when he
was describing exciting events he was apt to drift into language that
was more
forceful than choice. It will be best therefore to give this account
substantially as years later — long after Grandsir Billy had passed
away — the
old Squire told it one afternoon when he and I were driving home
together from
a field day of the grange. It seems
that back in the days when
the county was first settled the pioneers found the ponds and streams
in
peaceful possession of an ancient trapper whom they called Daddy Goss.
Trapping
was his business; he did nothing else. Every fall and winter while he
was
tending his trap lines he used to stay for a week or a month at a time
at the
settlers' houses. Frequently the wife of a settler at whose house he
was
staying would have to take drastic measures to get rid of him; no
gentler
measures than taking his chair and his plate away from the table or
putting his
bundle of things out on the doorstep would move him. "As slow to take
the
hint as old Daddy Goss," came to be a local proverb. One
December while he was staying at
the Murch farm he fell sick with a heavy cold, and while he lay in bed
he
fretted constantly about his traps. At last he offered Billy Murch, who
was
then fourteen years old, half of all the animals that might be in them
if he
would go out and fetch them home. The line of traps, he said, began at
a large
pine-tree near the head of Stoss Pond and thence extended round about
through
the then unbroken forest for a distance of perhaps fifteen miles to a
birch-bark camp on Lurvey's Stream that the old trapper had built to
shelter
himself from storms two years before. Billy
wanted to go but his mother
would not consent to his going alone. So he talked the matter over with
the old
Squire, who was a year older than Billy, and offered him half the
profits if he
would accompany him; and the result was that the two boys took the old
man's
flintlock gun and set off at daylight the following morning. They were
not to
stop to skin any animals that they found in the traps, but were to make
bunches
of them and carry them home on their backs. The old trapper would not
trust
them either to skin the catch or to reset the traps. Since there were
only two
or three inches of snow on the ground, they did not have to use
snowshoes and
hoped therefore that they should return by evening. They found the
first trap
on Stoss Pond and from there followed the line without much difficulty,
for
Daddy Goss had made a trail by spotting trees with his hatchet.
Moreover, the
marten traps were "boxed" into spruce-trees at a height of two or
three feet from the ground and could easily be seen. There is
an old saying among trappers
that nothing catches game like a neglected trap; and that time at least
the
adage was correct. The boys found a marten in the second trap and found
others
at frequent intervals. What was remarkable, they found three minks, two
ermines
and a fisher in traps on high, hilly forest land. I think the old
Squire once
said that they took nineteen martens from the traps, of which there
were one
hundred and two. The boys
soon found themselves
loaded down with fur. Since they were to have half of what they brought
home,
they did not like to leave anything. So with an ever increasing burden
on their
backs they toiled on from trap to trap. Before night each was carrying
at least
forty and perhaps fifty pounds. They had brought thongs for tying the
animals together. Billy carried his bunch slung over the stock of the
gun,
which he carried over his shoulder. His comrade carried his on a short
pole. A
good many of the martens were still alive in the traps and had to be
knocked on
the head; the blood from them dripped from the packs on the snow
behind. Fifteen
miles is a long tramp for
boys of their age, and, since December days are short, it is not
astonishing
that the afternoon had waned and the sun set before they reached the
birch-bark
camp. From that place they would have to descend Lurvey's Stream for
two or
three miles to Lurvey's Mills, and then reach home by way of a wagon
road. Dusk
falls rapidly in the woods. By the time they reached the camp they
could barely
see the "blazes" on the tree trunks. They decided to kindle a fire
and remain at the camp till the next morning. Each began at once to
collect dry
branches and bark from the white birch-trees that grew along the
stream. It was not
until then that Billy
made a bad discovery. In those days there were no matches; for kindling
a fire
pioneers depended on igniting a little powder and tow in the pans of
their
flintlocks. But when Billy un-slung his pack of martens from the stock
of the
gun he found that the thong had somehow loosened the flint in the lock
and that
it had dropped out and was lost. Both boys were discouraged, for the
night was
chilly. They crept inside the camp, which was barely large enough to
hold two
persons. It was merely a boxlike structure only six feet square and
five feet
high; sheets of bark from the large white birch-trees were tied with
small,
flexible spruce roots to the frame, which was of light poles. The door
was a
small square sheet of bark bound to a little frame that would open and
shut on
curious wooden hinges. Though the camp was frail, it kept off the wind
and was
slightly warmer than it was outside. The boys found a couch of dry fir
boughs
inside, but the only cover for it was a dried deerskin and one of Daddy
Goss's
old coats. Meanwhile
full darkness had fallen;
and there would be no moon till late at night. An owl came circling
round and
whoop-hooed dismally. Billy said that he wished he were at home, and
his
companion admitted that he wished he were there also. They closed the
door and
then, lying down as close together as they could, put the two bunches
of fur at
their feet and covered themselves with the old coat and the deer hide.
But they
had scarcely lain down when crashes in the underbrush startled them,
and they
heard a great noise as of a herd of cattle running past. The old Squire
peeped
out at the door. "I guess it's deer," he said. "Something's
scared them." He lay
down again; but a few minutes
later they heard what sounded like a shriek a long way off up the
stream. Billy
started up. "Now what do you s'pose that was, Joe?" he exclaimed. "I — I
don't know." "It
sounded," said Billy,
"just as the schoolmistress did when she stepped on a snake last
summer." They sat
up to listen; pretty soon
they heard the noise again, this time much nearer. "It's
coming this way,
Joe!" Billy whispered. "What do you s'pose it is?" They
continued to listen, and soon
they heard a short, ugly shriek close by in the woods. "Joe, I'm
afraid that's a
catamount," Billy said unsteadily. The old
Squire picked up the useless
gun and sat with it in his hands. For some time there were no more
outcries;
but after a while they heard the crumpling of snow and the snapping of
twigs
behind the camp. Some large animal was walking round; several times
they heard
the sough of its breath. "Joe, I'm
scared!" Billy
whispered. The old
Squire was frightened also,
but he opened the door a crack and peered out. On
the snow under the birch-trees he could distinguish the dark form of a
large
panther. It had seen the door move and had crouched as if to spring. He
saw the
flash of two fiery eyes in the dim light and again heard the sough of
the
creature's breath before he clapped the door shut and braced the gun
against
it. But he had no confidence in the flimsy birch bark; so he got out
his
jackknife and bade Billy get out his. It did not occur to them that the
panther
had scented the freshly killed game and had followed the trail of it. The boys
passed dreadful hours of
suspense during that long, cold December night. More than once they
heard the
creature "sharpen its claws" on tree trunks, and the sound was by no
means cheerful. The brute seemed bent on remaining near the little
camp. I
remember that Grandsir Billy said that they heard it "garp" several
times; I suppose he meant yawn. The circumstance seems rather strange.
He said
that it "garped" like a big dog every time it sharpened its claws.
Yet it did not cease to watch the little inclosure. At last,
tired with watching the
boys fell asleep, a circumstance that is not strange perhaps when you
consider
they had, plodded fifteen miles that day and had carried heavy loads. They slept
for some time. From later
events the boys could infer what took place outside the hut. The
late-rising
moon swung up from behind the dark treetops. The panther had crept to
within a
few feet of the shack. Suddenly it crouched and sprang upon the roof of
the
little camp! When it struck the flimsy roof, the boys woke up. For an
instant
the whole frail structure shook; then it reeled and partly collapsed.
The boys
sprang up, and as they did so a big paw with claws spread burst through
the
roof and came down between them! The claws opened and closed as the paw
moved
to and fro. Billy's face was scratched slightly, and Joe's jacket was
ripped.
Joe then seized the paw with both hands and tried to hold it. The roof
swayed
and trembled and, for a moment, seemed about to fall; then the panther
withdrew
its paw, and the boys heard the creature leap off and bound away. Hunters
say that if a panther misses
its first spring it will not try again. That may sometimes be true; but
in this
case the panther went off a short distance among the trees and after a
few
minutes crept forward as if to spring again. Terribly excited, the boys
peered
out at it and waited. They could not close the door of the camp. The
whole
structure had lurched to one side, and several sheets of bark had
fallen from
the light frame. Billy wanted to rush out and run, but his comrade,
fearful
lest the panther should chase them, held him back. Now for
the first time it occurred
to Joe that he might divert the creature's attention by throwing out
some of
the dead martens. Cutting one of them loose, he slung it as far as he
could
into the woods. Immediately the panther stole forward, seized the
carcass of
the little animal in its mouth and ran off. But before long it
returned, and
then Joe threw out a second marten, which the panther carried off.
After the
boys had thrown out two more martens, the panther did not return, and
they saw
nothing more of it. As soon as day dawned they crept forth from their
shattered
camp, hastened down the stream and reached home with their trapped
animals. The first
time I heard Grandsir
Billy tell the story he said that the panther was as large as a
yearling steer.
Later he declared that it was the size of a two-year-old steer; and I
have
frequently heard him say that it was as large as a three-year-old! The
old
Squire said it was as large as the largest dog he ever saw. |