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CHAPTER VII
WOODLAND SPORTS – CANE-BRAKES – MY EXAMINATION BY THE SCHOOL COMMISSION

Turkey hunting with dogs – American aptitude for barter – Hard life in the woods – Ague – Wolves – Unhousing a bear – Number of widows in the swamps – Postal system in the back states – Comfortable quarters – My musical propensities – The Mississippi at Memphis – Cincinnati and its German inhabitants – Our pill-box manufactory – My speculations in reeds – Democrats in America – The candidates for schoolmastership – My examination – Another cane trip – Buffalo shooting.

The weather became worse every day. The cold north wind blew furiously through the leafless boughs of the gigantic trees. All crowded together round the warm hearth, and the European began to long for the solid walls and warm rooms of his native land; for the wind blows, on all sides, through the crevices of the American block-houses; and as they are without windows, the door must be left open the livelong day to admit the necessary light. Thus it may be imagined, that in spite of the enormous fire, the temperature is not even moderate. In addition, we had nothing to eat but bear’s flesh, three times a day; so I put on my thick flannel hunting-shirt, took my rifle, and made up my mind to shoot a turkey, whereat the dogs began bounding and barking for joy.

Turkey hunting with dogs is one of the most amusing and convenient sports in the world. As soon as the dogs find a gang, as they are called, they run amongst them, barking furiously; although a turkey can run fast, he cannot outrun a dog; – so by way of escape, he flies heavily to the nearest tree, generally seeking the highest branches, and looks inquisitively from his exalted station, on the dogs jumping and yelping round the trunk. It now requires some good management on the part of the sportsman, for should the turkey catch sight of him, he will fly away again. The best plan is to make as much noise as possible, and, if the party is large enough to surround the tree, or the gang, breaking through the bushes with loud shouts; and while the bird is confused by the strange noises, the sportsman, having got near enough, must slip behind a tree. Then it requires a steady hand and correct eye to hit, with a single ball, a turkey at the top of a tree, from 130 to 140 feet high; it is not absolutely necessary that he be killed outright, for if a wing is wounded, his heavy weight will infallibly kill him in his fall. A hen turkey weighs from nine to fourteen pounds; the cock from sixteen to twenty, and even twenty-four. I killed three, and returned heavily laden home.

On the 21st December came the last load from l’Anguille, and another attack of ague for me. This was altogether too much, – I decided on bidding adieu to the unhealthy swamps, and trying the hills, and on the 4th January put my plan in execution. Saint had taken a strong liking to my double-barrelled rifle, and repeatedly wished to exchange something for it. This system of exchange is quite a passion with the Americans; they will barter any thing – lands, houses, horses, cattle, guns, clothes, even to the shirt and boots they have on – or, if you prefer it, they are just as willing to sell. Saint had a very good long rifle, and we soon settled the matter, by my taking it, and a good sum into the bargain.

I soon found that I was no longer master of my former powers, as when I knew the word “tired” only by name. Frequent attacks of ague had robbed my muscles of their elasticity: with all my exertions, I could hardly accomplish more than twenty miles the first day, and had enough to do to make thirteen the next; in the evening, tired to death, I arrived at Von G.’s, on the Little Red river. Next day it came on to rain heavily, and I considered myself fortunate in having a good roof over my head. I remained with Von G. till the 9th, when I went to my old friend Hilger. I passed a few very pleasant weeks with him, helped the old fellow at his work now and then, but generally went out turkey shooting. I was treated as one of the family. But my restless spirit and desire for change, which drove me away from every place where I had made friends, would not allow me to remain here; I must away, for the peaceful life of the happy family caused me mournful thoughts: to escape them, I determined to return to the swamps, as in winter the danger was less imminent.

The Hilgers begged me to remain, but the spirit which possessed me was too strong for them, and I took a warm leave of them all; the children, however, would not hear of my departure, and the little three-year-old girl was only to be pacified by a promise that she should go with me. The dear little thing actually put on her bonnet, accompanied me for a quarter of a mile, and then her brother had to carry her home by force; my eyes moistened as she held forth her little hand, and called out my name.

On, on, without delay, till the evening of the 25th January saw me at Bay de View, a little river running between, and parallel to, the Cash and l’Anguille. I pitched my camp on one of the many old Indian sepulchral mounds there. Deer and turkeys were plentiful, but, like the little distiller, the idea of a buffalo hunt had got fixed in my head. So on the 27th I followed the course of the stream, through the wild forest, and at night, beside the crackling fire, gave myself up to troubled thoughts. I had become so used to forest life, that I seldom required the compass; in the level marshy land, with its straight gigantic trees, the traveller can easily find his way by paying attention to the moss, which grows much longer and fuller on the north side than on the south.

In a day or two it began to freeze; as the ground was covered with water, in many places knee deep, the noise I made in breaking the ice drove away all the game within hearing. On the 28th and 29th January, I could not get a shot, and lived on the remains of a turkey, and some maize I had in my pockets. On the 30th I had nothing but the maize, which I roasted and devoured with the greatest appetite; but instead of appeasing my hunger, it only served to excite it the more, and I began seriously to chew tender stems of sassafras, in order to have something in my stomach.

My baggage was no great burden to me. At White river I had exchanged my buffalo skin for a blanket – I had one spare shirt in my game-bag, with a pair of rather woful looking socks, a small cord, a bullet mould, and a few bits of lead; but my greatest incumbrance was the zither, which hung over my shoulder. Yet it fully repaid me for all my trouble, when I reposed by the fire after the day’s toil, and I never could have prevailed on myself to leave it in the lurch.

Towards evening, as, still suffering from raging hunger, I was looking out for a dry spot to sleep on, I felt it growing colder every moment; I made haste to light a good fire, and threw myself before it completely exhausted. A hard frost came on, and a little later I was delighted to see it begin to snow. I coiled myself up as well as I could and was soon asleep. I was awakened in the night by the frightful howling of the wolves, which probably had no better sport than myself, and I consoled myself with the idea that perhaps they were only half as hungry. I got up several times during the night to shake off the snow, and feed the fire with the large logs I had collected the evening before; so that, notwithstanding the severity of the cold, I enjoyed a comfortable warmth.

A bough breaking with the weight of snow, roused me out of my sleep, and when I pulled the blanket from my eyes they were nearly blinded by the bright reflection of the sun’s rays from the white surface. The snow suited my purposes very well; I rubbed my hands and face with it, till they were quite in a glow, and having no breakfast to cook, I was soon on the march. Though weakened by my long fast, my good night’s rest and reawakend hope inspired me with new force, and I lost no time in seeking something to appease my ravenous appetite, as I roamed at random under the heavily laden trees. The evening before, I had discovered, near my sleeping place, an overcup oak, bearing sweet acorns, some of which I gathered and devoured, so as not to leave my stomach entirely unemployed. This tree grows to a great size, but only in the marshes; – the leaves are small, and the acorn is covered by the cup, with the exception of a small opening at the top, whence the name. It is nearly round, and serves for food in case of need, being less bitter than the common sort. Bears are particularly fond of it.

I had not gone far from my bivouac when I came on the fresh trail of an old buck, which I followed up swiftly and silently through snow half a foot deep, passing several places where he had lain down. After following the track for about three hours, it became confused, but as I was forcing my way through a thickly tangled thorn-bush, the buck stood before me, looking at me with inquiring eyes. Ere I could clear myself of the good-for-nothing creepers, he was off again, leaving me to admire the immense leaps he had made in the commencement of his flight; his third leap had been over a bush from eight to nine feet high, and from the spot where he took off to that where he lighted was about twenty feet. I found that he had soon slackened his pace to a walk, so quickening my steps, I followed him cautiously. I saw him a second time standing in a thicket about a hundred paces off, and evidently on the look-out; I had no hopes of getting nearer, so took steady aim and fired: he gave a start on one side, then fled in wild haste through the thick jungle. I was now certain of him, so loaded quietly and walked to the spot where he had been standing. The snow was discolored with blood, and a broad stripe of large dark red spots pointed out the path he had taken.

Being somewhat exhausted by the sharp pace, and wishing to allow the poor beast to lie down in peace, I seated myself on a fallen tree. After half an hour’s rest, I followed him again; unfortunately he had made for the river, to lave his burning wound in its cool waves, and, having swum across, he was lying dead on the snow, on the other side, in a pool of blood.

Had I not been half starved, I should not have thought of venturing into the cold water; but necessity would admit of no hesitation. I bound together some logs of decayed wood, as floating lightest, laid on the raft my rifle, zither, blanket, hunting-shirt, powder-horn, gamebag, and shirt, and stepped into the icy-cold water. I kept on my lower garments, as they were already wet through from the small streams I had waded in the course of the chase. I dipped my head as soon as I could, and then swam across, pushing my raft before me.

Shivering with cold, I had some difficulty in making a fire, on account of the deep snow which covered every thing; – but I managed it at last with the help of my tomahawk; dried myself, and having laid some steaks on the fire, I devoured them ere they were well warmed through.

The exertion of the chase and the cold bath was too much for my weakened frame. I threw myself down by the fire, and soon felt another attack of ague. The shivering fit lasted full two hours, and seemed the worst I had ever experienced: it was succeeded by a hot fit, which made me forget ice and snow. Towards evening I was somewhat better, but not in condition to continue my journey; so I cleared away the snow, piled it up like a wall to keep off the wind, collected a good store of wood and slept calmly and sweetly through the night. Next day the ague had left me, but I felt very weak, and remained all day extended before my warm fire, enjoying my venison. Towards evening I took a little turn for the sake of exercise, and to see if I could get a shot, returning to my old quarters to sleep, and setting out next day for the long desired buffalo.

I struck off in a southerly direction, and had lounged along for about a couple of hours, when I came to a place where at least twenty of these creatures must have passed the previous night. I lost no time in following the broad trail of the herd down the bank of the river. After a time, the trail turned suddenly to the northward. As it grew dark, I lighted a good fire and laid down, having cleared away the snow. It was dreadfully cold. The wolves howled fearfully, but did not come near me.

After a good breakfast, I again followed up the trail, which ran zigzag and in all directions, and when I laid down again for the night I knew that I could not be very far from my prey. I slept under the shelter of a fallen tree, which kept off the wind, and the fire burnt brightly. About midnight, the wind changed from north-west to south-west, of which I did not much approve, for the sky foreboded a change. Dark masses of cloud assembled in the south, and the air became perceptibly warmer. I dreaded the consequences.

On the 5th of February it began to thaw, yet I would not all at once give up my hopes of the buffaloes, till several abortive attempts to find the trail convinced me of the fruitlessness of further pursuit. Shower followed shower. In a few hours all the beautiful snow had disappeared, leaving a waste of waters, in which no trail was visible.

I had now to ponder within myself what was best to be done, but the approaching night soon settled that matter. The darkness and pouring rain informed me that there was nothing to be attempted at present. A fire was out of the question, and I cowered under a half-fallen tree, to be sheltered as much as possible from the rain. I had some broiled venison in my bag, but felt no appetite, and passed a miserable night, shivering with cold. The wolves seemed almost tame, for some came within a few paces of me, and howled awfully. I was in such a state of despondency that I would not take the trouble to draw my knife, because I should have had to move; besides, in the humor I was in, it almost seemed that to be shaken by wolves till I was warm would have been rather pleasant than otherwise.

I did not close an eye the whole night, and longed eagerly for the first gleam of day, which at last broke gloomily through the dark forest.

The rain ceased, and a damp thin mist lay upon the swamp. I cut a slice of venison, and all my salt being expended, sprinkled it with powder, and ate it, cold and dry as it was.

The almost impenetrable swamps and the wretched weather, together with my long solitude, had considerably cooled my shooting propensities, and I resolved to seek human society. To get clear of the swamps as soon as possible, I directed my steps to the north-east, towards the St. Francis river, in hopes of finding letters from Cincinnati, or perhaps from home, at Strong’s post-office, as I had written for them to be forwarded there.

A few dry strips of land ran across the country from north to south, the intermediate spaces being about a foot or a foot and a half under water, with here and there channels three or four feet deep. Worn out and wretched as I felt from the frequent attacks of ague, I had twice to swim through the icy water, but the word “must” carried me through. In fact, I had the choice of that or perishing in the swamp. The first alternative was merely disagreeable, while the latter was highly objectionable; so I chose the former.

I passed the night by a warm fire, at which I roasted a turkey I had shot. It was at any rate an improvement on its predecessor, and my zither responded through the forest to the voices of the owls and wolves.

Next morning I resumed my north-east direction with fresh strength, and was not a little surprised about nine o’clock by a smell of smoke. Soon afterwards I came on the fresh remains of a fire. The impressions on the leaves showed clearly enough that only one person had lain there, and that he had four dogs with him. About twenty paces from the fire some grains of Indian corn were scattered about, and a tree showed signs that a horse, who had left unmistakable marks of his teeth in the bark, had been tethered there.

According to appearances, this person had not left his halting-place above an hour, and as the dew and hoar frost still lay on the leaves and grass, his trail towards the south-east was easily traceable. After following for a short distance, I heard a shot, hastened towards the sound, and came up just as the object of my search was mounting his horse. A broken-up deer was hanging to a tree, and four dogs came barking towards me. It turned out to be a man of the name of Pearce, a dweller in the neighborhood, with whom I was slightly acquainted. We greeted each other heartily, and were mutually delighted at the chance meeting, he assuring me that nothing could have given him greater pleasure than falling in with me, as he had discovered a tree a few days back in which the marks left it out of doubt that a bear must be concealed. He had killed the deer as he came along, and hung it up, intending to carry it home on his return. I readily accepted his proposal to join him, and we hastened towards Brushy lake, which we soon reached, but too far south; – so we had to go up the stream.

As we were both tired, we bivouacked early in the afternoon, on an elevated tract of land, and stretched ourselves comfortably before a warm fire. I had half a turkey remaining, and Pearce had bear, deer, and coffee, so I need hardly say that we made a good dinner.

We passed a quiet night, and the sun was well up before we commenced our march. About ten o’clock P. pointed out a large cypress close to the bank of the river, assuring me that the bear was there. The tree may have been about four feet in diameter, and there were very distinct traces of a bear’s claws in the bark. P. had intended to smoke out the sleeper; but that would have required much time, and as we were now two, and the tree was quite hollow at the base, we resolved to cut it down with our tomahawks. Securing the horse at a safe distance, we set to work, and the forest soon resounded with the strokes of our small axes. About two o’clock we paused to take a little refreshment; the dogs, meantime, tired of waiting, amused themselves in chasing rabbits and raccoons.

We had hardly recommenced our work, when P. cried, “Look out! the bear!” At the first word I had seized my rifle. The bear was down the tree like a flash of lightning; to fire, drop the gun, out knife, and at him, was the work of an instant for each of us; but he slipped off like an eel from between us, and our knives had nearly found a different sheath; so exactly had our shots fallen together, that neither knew the other had fired.

The bear, so discourteously roused from his winter sleep, could not at first make out the reason. But the approach of the dogs, attracted by the shots, soon caused him to take to flight. P., rifle in hand, threw himself on his horse, and galloped after them, I following, with my drawn knife, as fast as my legs would carry me. The bear, severely wounded, did not run far, and finding the dogs gaining on him, he took to a tree. P. sprang off his horse and loaded, and I came up just in time to see the bear, struck by his unerring ball, spring up, turn over, cling for a moment with both paws, then fall heavily to the ground. The dogs threw themselves on him, while we plunged our knives into his chest with a shout of joy. The first two balls had hit him in the flank, while the third from P.’s hand had lodged in his heart.

As it was too late in the day to travel further, we returned to the place where my rifle and some of P.’s things were left, collected wood, made a capital fire, and prepared a splendid supper. As P. had been some days in the woods, we had finished his coffee in the morning; so, by way of something hot to wash down the meat, I pulled up some sassafras roots, cut them up into small pieces, and made a very good substitute for tea.

Refreshed by our hard-earned meal, we enveloped ourselves in our blankets, and chatted together before the fire: P. telling me about the winter sleep of the bears. Towards the end of the year, they select a hollow tree for the purpose, scratching and biting the inside as smooth and clean as possible. This done, they descend into it, about Christmas time, tail downwards, and remain immovable, if not disturbed, till the end of February or middle of March, when they come out for a drink of water, returning to their retreat till the weather is mild, and they can gain their ordinary livelihood. Sometimes, instead of a tree, they select a cane-brake, breaking and biting off the canes to form a bed.

The nearest house lay about ten miles north-east from our bivouac, and through the worst part of the swamp; but once there, I had hopes of being able to walk on firm ground, instead of floundering through water and mud.

After some hours’ agreeable repose, both of us having risen to make up the fire afresh, and just laid down again, we were suddenly alarmed by a most tremendous crash, which made us start up. The tree which we had been hacking at, and then thought no more about, was overthrown by the rising wind; but this wind saved us, for as it blew in the opposite direction to our fire, the tree fell from us – otherwise we might have paid dearly for our carelessness. As it happened to fall across the river, it made a very good bridge for me on the following morning. The dogs had dropped their tails, and started off at the very first crack.

We were up with the day. P. packed his bear on the horse, and made me promise to come and see him when the swamps should be dry, to join in a buffalo hunt. Taking a hearty leave of him I set off to the north-east. After three hours’ marching up to the knees, and sometimes to the waist, in water, I came on the broad road leading to Memphis, and turned to the eastward. In the afternoon I arrived at S.’s old farm, and walked half a mile further, to sleep at McO.’s, dwelling with pleasure all the while on the hopes of a warm bed, a sound roof, and the society of fellow-creatures.

McO. gave me a warm reception, doing every thing to make me comfortable: his wife came in later, having taken a ride to pay a visit to a couple of widows. It is a remarkable fact that such a number of widows are found in the swamps. Wherever you go, you are sure to see one at the least, and I think “Mr. Weller” would have felt very uncomfortable in this part of the world. Doubtless the climate is better suited to women than to men, as the latter almost always die first.

We were merrily chatting by the cheerful fire when suddenly the doorway was darkened. I turned to look at the new comer, and who should it be but the Methodist preacher. One night later, and I should have been out of his reach.

As the sun rose I started, quite refreshed, and before sunset arrived at Strong’s post-office, on the St. Francis. Communication by letter would be impossible in the thinly settled Western States, did not one of the farmers undertake the office of post-master. One is appointed for each county, but their duties are not severe. A postman, or mail rider as he is called, traverses the county on horseback, sleeping at certain fixed stations. The mail rider from Memphis, in Tennessee, with a pack-horse in addition, carries the mail for Little Rock and Batesville to Strong’s post-office, about forty miles, taking back the return bags; from Strong’s, one rider goes to Batesville, and another to Little Rock. I found a letter from Vogel, requesting me to return to Cincinnati, and telling me that three letters had arrived for me from Germany.

The following morning found me on the other side of the St. Francis, traversing the swamp which Uhl and I had had such trouble to cross nine months ago. Although still soft and muddy, it was not quite so bad as on the previous occasion. I gained the banks of the lake about dusk, and hailed the ferryman. He was not the man who kept it when we first came here. As the sky looked suspicious, I decided on passing the night in the house. My host was a young man, with no one but a negro boy to attend him; yet there was society enough in front of the house, for on the spot where Uhl and I had bivouacked, three families were encamped, all bound for Texas.

As we were about to go to sleep, an old man came in, saying that he was not quite well, and could not bear the night air, and requesting permission to sleep in the house. On leave being granted, he spread his blanket before the fire, sat himself on it, and clasping his left knee with both hands, fixed his eyes steadfastly on the blazing logs. The negro boy sat in the chimney corner, staring at the old man, who at first took no notice of him, but after a time he turned suddenly towards him, saying, – “Here, good lad, I am subject to shocking bad dreams; if I begin to talk, and throw my arms about, will you give me a good shaking?” The boy nodded, and the old man became a much more important personage in his estimation. “But I sleep very sound, you must shake me well.” The boy nodded again. “If you do it well, I will give you sixpence.” The boy grinned as well as nodded. The man lay down on his blanket, and the boy watched him as a cat watches a mouse. I could not sleep, and turned and turned in vain; at length I heard a groan. I thought of the old fellow and his contract with the boy, and looked to see if the latter was awake. He was on his knees watching his charge with all his might. The man uttered some broken words, and raised both his arms. The boy had only waited for this; he had him by the shoulder in an instant, and shaking him with all his force, called out, “Master, master – open your eyes, master.” The man awoke, and saying, “Thank you,” was about to turn on the other side, which did not suit the boy: he shook him again. “I tell you I am awake; do you want to shake the soul out of me?” and he tried to get to sleep. But Sambo shook him again, so that he started up in a rage, asking, “What do you go on shaking me for, when I am wide awake?” The boy jumped back, frightened by the threatening expression of the old fellow, and said, trembling, “I – I – I – want that sixpence!” Altogether, it was too much for my gravity, and I burst into a roar of laughter; the two managed to settle their differences, and I soon afterwards fell asleep.

I was early on the march, and arrived towards evening at a neat comfortable looking house, surrounded by large fields of cotton and Indian corn, betokening the abode of a rich planter; on receiving a friendly affirmative to my inquiry for night quarters, I placed my rifle and game bag in the corner, and sat myself on an easy chair by the fire.

Strangers inquiring for night quarters must never suppose that they are to receive them gratuitously. The usual price for supper, bed, and breakfast – be the same good or bad – is half a dollar; but at Strong’s I had to pay a dollar, which was an imposition. The charge for a horse depends on the neighborhood, and the price of Indian corn. In the swamps it was half a dollar; in Oiltrove Bottom, only a quarter, corn being cheap there; further south, the charge was higher, and to the north-east again it was cheaper.

On my entrance, I perceived that there were ladies in the house. I had been for some time alone, and as it grew dark, having had enough of my own thoughts, I took out my zither, and began to play. A negro boy, enticed into the room by the music, soon ran out again, probably to tell his mistress what a curious sort of instrument I was playing upon. I soon had an invitation to join the ladies; but my costume was not the most suitable for a drawing-room. For months, neither razor nor scissors had approached my head: my hunting-shirt had been ten months in wear, sorely battered by wind and weather, and not being of leather, the thorns had left their marks in many places: my leggins and water-proof boots were passable: my shirt, of my own washing without soap, in cold water, boasted various shades of red, from turkey’s and bear’s blood, which is much more difficult to wash out than that of deer.

The ladies received me very politely, almost too politely, and I began to play. The Americans in general have little feeling for German music; they are a people who live in a hurry, and every thing must go fast, even music: when they hear any which has not the time of a reel or hornpipe, they say that they do not understand it. The more educated class forms an exception, and of such was my audience. The younger lady was the owner’s wife, very pretty, though pale; but, indeed, I should like to know how any one could live in these vile swamps without being pale. The elder, a kindly, venerable matron, seemed to be on a visit; they were simply but tastefully dressed, as is the case with all American women, even of the lowest classes; every thing in the room seemed neat and orderly. I passed a few very agreeable hours there; they were very much pleased with the instrument, having seen nothing like it before; and as they listened with marked pleasure to the sweet German and Scottish airs, it seemed as if they could never have enough of it, and it was past eleven before I got to bed. There was a piano in the room, but it had not been played upon sufficiently to perfect its tone.

It was long since I had enjoyed the pleasure of accomplished society, and I shall never forget my friendly reception by this family.

From hence, to Memphis was thirteen miles, with a good road, and by two in the afternoon I was again on the waves of the Mississippi. The ferry carried me over to Tennessee, Arkansas lay behind me, and once more I returned to civilized society from the wild life of the backwoods; but who can decide whether to a happier one. My funds had fallen so low that I was obliged to look out for work. The banks of the Mississippi are so high and steep at Memphis, at the mouth of the Wolf river, that the town cannot be seen from the stream. The steamers deliver their passengers and cargoes on board wharf-boats, formed of used-up steamboats moored to the banks.