Wild Sports In The Far West. Gerstaecker Frederick
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Название: Wild Sports In The Far West

Автор: Gerstaecker Frederick

Издательство: Public Domain

Жанр: Зарубежная классика

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СКАЧАТЬ occupied in breaking up a deer that I had shot, a lad of about thirteen or fourteen, with a fowling-piece on his shoulder, came to help me, and showed that he was by no means an unskilled hand. We packed the two legs and the back in the skin, and bore it between us to the abode of the youth, only a few miles distant, where I decided on passing the night. I have met, in all parts of America, with a number of very worthy, amiable people, as also with some very bad characters: this is to be expected in a country with such a mingled population; but here, in this solitude, I found a family not to be surpassed in worth and amiable qualities in any part of the world. An old man, with trembling hands, sat by the fire, and though many winters had bleached his locks, his rosy cheeks showed that he was still strong and hearty. Opposite sat a noble-looking matron, considerably younger than her husband, but still of great age. By her side was a young and pretty woman of the neighborhood, whose husband had taken a journey to the north on business. Three stout, blooming youths came in one after the other from shooting, bringing four wild turkeys.

      I was already far enough advanced in English to be able to take part in the conversation, the educated American being very indulgent to foreigners in this respect. We sat talking together till about ten o’clock. The young wife had just received a letter from her husband, which she read through and through ten times over. She had been very unfortunate in Arkansas. The doctors had killed three of her children, and she herself was suffering from inflamed eyes through their ignorance. The fact is, that there is no sufficient authority to control their practice in these new States, and every quack who chooses may call himself doctor. They prescribe calomel for every disorder, and decayed teeth, inflamed eyes, spongy gums, and shattered health are the universal consequences.

      My next night was passed at a Kentucky-man’s, who had settled here. He had about a dozen dogs in his house, and he willingly made one over to me, which, according to his account, was a capital dog for hunting wild turkeys, running them to a tree, so that they could be more easily shot.

      Lounging along the road, I saw, at a good distance in front of me, a buck quietly feeding right in the path, and, rather distrusting the good education of my dog, I fastened him to a tree with my pocket-handkerchief and the string of my powder-horn. The buck continued feeding unsuspiciously, till I came within about eighty-five paces from him, when, as I had the wind at my back, he scented my approach, and bounded over a fallen tree to gain the thicket; my buck shot flew after him, but I must have fired low, for at about 150 paces he began to limp with his hind leg. By this time my dog must have thought that he had played the mere spectator long enough, and having bitten through the powder-horn string, he bounded after the deer with my handkerchief about his neck, and neither deer, dog, nor handkerchief have I ever seen since.

      About sunset I arrived at a house where I purposed to pass the night, and had placed my hand on the fence to jump over, when I saw the mistress of the house sitting before the door, occupied with her children’s heads in a way that suppressed all inclination to speak on my part. I turned away, resolving rather to pass the night in the forest than with such a family; yet this alternative was unnecessary, for before dark I reached the dwelling of a man who had fought under Washington in the war of independence; of course he was very old, but he moved about with considerable vigor.

      On the following evening I came to the Little Red river. It was growing dark, but a man was still at work on the other side. I called to him, asking where I could pass. He answered: “You see that house there?” By his accent I knew that he was a German, and asked again, in good Saxon: “What house?” He replied again, in a mixture of German and English, and in a tone of vexation at having forgotten his pure mother tongue: “Go a little way down the river, and you will find a canoe.” We were already good friends, although divided by the river. I found the canoe, paddled over, and went to the nearest house, before which a number of people were standing, and amongst them the owner, Von G., formerly an officer in the army, now an industrious farmer, and zealous sportsman. He possessed two slaves, and was well contented with his new condition. He kindly offered me a bed in his house. In the evening the German came in, whose acquaintance I had made on the banks of the river. He was a very worthy, though rather an eccentric man. He must have been equally pleased with me, for he insisted that I must not think of going away so soon, but must come and pass some days with him in order to see the country. Having nothing to hurry me, I willingly accepted his kind invitation, and went on the following day to his house, where he made me quite at home. He had a nice little wife, and five strong healthy children.

      In the afternoon it began to rain. Travelling was not to be thought of; even had I wished it, these kind people would not have let me go. We chatted away till deep in the night, and it did me a world of good to be able to converse again to my heart’s content in my mother tongue. My host was a Rhenish Bavarian, named Hilger, a builder by trade, and by no means uneducated.

      On the next day we had a visit from a neighbor, a man of about thirty-five, with a short green shooting jacket, and a German rifle; but his accent betrayed him to be no German. Hilger addressed him by the name of Turoski. He was a Polish officer, who sought and found in America security against the political persecutions that he would have been exposed to in Europe. He was unmarried, and a little ten-year-old daughter of Hilger’s minded his house. This child was often alone for days and nights together in Turoski’s log-house, miles away from other habitations; yet she cared nothing whether it was the storm or the wolves that howled round the hut.

      After a short conversation, Turoski proposed that I should come and stay with him. I passed some very agreeable days with these estimable men, sometimes with one, sometimes with the other. To give my reader an idea of the bachelor-life of an American backwoodsman, I will describe one of the nights that I passed at Turoski’s. Hilger’s daughter had gone home to visit her parents, who lived three miles off, and we two were alone. The Pole’s dwelling was nothing but a simple rough log-house, without any window, and all the chinks between the logs were left open, probably to admit fresh air. Two beds, a table, a couple of chairs, one of them with arms, some iron saucepans, three plates, two tin pots, one saucer, several knives, and a coffee-mill, formed the whole of his furniture and kitchen utensils. A smaller building near the house contained the store of meat for the winter. There was a field of four or five acres close to the house, and another about a quarter of a mile off on the river. He had some good horses, a great many pigs, quantities of fowls, and several milch cows.

      Being deeply interested in our conversation, we forgot to prepare any supper, and it was not till the cold made itself felt that we went to bed. It may have been about half-past twelve, when Turoski woke up, and swore by all the saints, that he could lie no longer in bed for ravenous hunger, and that he must have something to eat, even if it were a piece of raw meat. I laughed, and told him to draw his hunger-belt tighter, but he jumped up and gave me no more rest. We made up the fire, which was nearly burnt out, and then held a council as to what we should cook. We had shot nothing, the bread was all gone, and we had eaten our last bit of pork for dinner. What was to be done? Turoski decided the point. The Indian corn of last harvest was in a small building in a field by the river; I was to go and fetch an armful, while he would prepare something in the mean time. The night was dark as pitch; I was often obliged to feel with my feet for the path like a blind man, that I might not lose myself in the forest. When, in the course of half an hour, I returned with the maize, Turoski had killed one of the fowls that were roosting on a low tree, plunged it in hot water, and while he cleaned it I fried the corn; then, while the fowl was being grilled, I ground the corn in the coffee-mill, which by no means reduced it to the consistence of flour. I moistened the grist with water, added a little salt, made a cake of it about three-quarters of an inch thick, and set it in a saucepan cover to bake. So far so good; but I wanted a couple of eggs. There was a kind of shed attached to the house, in which leaves of Indian corn, plucked green, and then dried, were kept as fodder, and here the hens came to lay their eggs. Turoski crept in, and feeling about, soon came to a nest with five, of which he brought away only two, having broken the others in his hurry. Coffee was then made, and we had a very good supper, or rather breakfast, for it was now past two o’clock. But we were not yet to repose in safety; the monster log of hickory, that we had laid on the hearth, flared up and set fire to the chimney: Turoski mounted on the roof, while СКАЧАТЬ