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- 2026-01-30T20:48:15.153Z
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- 7869
- text
- CHAPTER LVII.
THE SECOND HUNT IN THE MOUNTAINS
Fair dawned, over the hills of Martair, the jocund morning of our hunt.
Everything had been prepared for it overnight; and, when we arrived at
the house, a good breakfast was spread by Shorty: and old Tonoi was
bustling about like an innkeeper. Several of his men, also, were in
attendance to accompany us with calabashes of food; and, in case we met
with any success, to officiate as bearers of burdens on our return.
Apprised, the evening previous, of the meditated sport, the doctor had
announced his willingness to take part therein.
Now, subsequent events made us regard this expedition as a shrewd
device of the Yankee’s. Once get us off on a pleasure trip, and with
what face could we afterward refuse to work? Beside, he enjoyed all the
credit of giving us a holiday. Nor did he omit assuring us that, work
or play, our wages were all the while running on.
A dilapidated old musket of Tonoi’s was borrowed for the doctor. It was
exceedingly short and heavy, with a clumsy lock, which required a
strong finger to pull the trigger. On trying the piece by firing at a
mark, Long Ghost was satisfied that it could not fail of doing
execution: the charge went one way, and he the other.
Upon this, he endeavoured to negotiate an exchange of muskets with
Shorty; but the Cockney was proof against his blandishments; at last,
he intrusted his weapon to one of the natives to carry for him.
Marshalling our forces, we started for the head of the valley; near
which a path ascended to a range of high land, said to be a favourite
resort of the cattle.
Shortly after gaining the heights, a small herd, some way off, was
perceived entering a wood. We hurried on; and, dividing our party, went
in after them at four different points; each white man followed by
several natives.
I soon found myself in a dense covert; and, after looking round, was
just emerging into a clear space, when I heard a report, and a bullet
knocked the bark from a tree near by. The same instant there was a
trampling and crashing; and five bullocks, nearly abreast, broke into
View across the opening, and plunged right toward the spot where myself
and three of the islanders were standing.
They were small, black, vicious-looking creatures; with short, sharp
horns, red nostrils, and eyes like coals of fire. On they came—their
dark woolly heads hanging down.
By this time my island backers were roosting among the trees. Glancing
round, for an instant, to discover a retreat in case of emergency, I
raised my piece, when a voice cried out, from the wood, “Right between
the ’orns, Paul! right between the ’orns!” Down went my barrel in range
with a small white tuft on the forehead of the headmost one; and,
letting him have it, I darted to one side. As I turned again, the five
bullocks shot by like a blast, making the air eddy in their wake.
The Yankee now burst into view, and saluted them in flank. Whereupon,
the fierce little bull with the tufted forehead flirted his long tail
over his buttocks; kicked out with his hind feet, and shot forward a
full length. It was nothing but a graze; and, in an instant, they were
out of sight, the thicket into which they broke rocking overhead, and
marking their progress.
The action over, the heavy artillery came up, in the person of the Long
Doctor with the blunderbuss.
“Where are they?” he cried, out of breath.
“A mile or two h’off, by this time,” replied the Cockney. “Lord, Paul I
you ought to’ve sent an ’ailstone into that little black ’un.”
While excusing my want of skill, as well as I could, Zeke, rushing
forward, suddenly exclaimed, “Creation! what are you ’bout there,
Peter?”
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