Newspaper Page Text
186
of sixteen, or thirty-two, or forty-eight
pages requires a good deal of skill, and
a thorough knowledge of the printing
business; and there are thousands of
compositors, who work all their lives
at the business, who cannot “make
up” a book form.
But having gotten our form ready for
the press, we will stop for the present.
Next week we propose to take you into
the press room.
KM ESI AN 3 VI. 7
dneth, the Mm ft «h«l’ h« r*-
c«?i v o (ff the Lord, whether
K* b* hood or free.
9 And, ye western, doth#
Mine things unto them, for
bvaringthreatpning: know
ing that your Master also ia
In heaven : neither ic there
reaper t of pereonawithhim.
10 Finally, my brethren,
be strong in tho Lord, and
in the newer of hi* might.
11 rut on the whole
artnourof Ood, that jemay
be able to stand against the
wilee of the devil.
8 EPHESIANS VI.
12 For we wrestle noi
against flesh and blood,
but against principalities,
against powers, against the
rulers of the darknotM of
this world, against spiritual
wickednoea in high places.
13 Wherefore take unto
you the wholo armour of
God, that ye may bo able
to withstandin theovilday,
and having done all, to
14 Stand therefore, hav
ing your loins girt about
with truth, and having on
FORM OF FOUR PAGES.
Written for Burke’s Weekly.
THE YOUNG EXPLORERS;
OR, 80Y-MF# IN TEXAB.
BY JOHN C. DUVAL,
Author of “ Jack Dobell ; or, A Boy's Ad
ventures in Texas," “ 7'Ae Adventures
of Big-Foot Wallacef etc
CHAPTER XXII.
The Buffalo Chase — Mr. Pitt Kills a Fat Cow
—Cudjo not in at the Death , but Soon Enough
for the Steaks —The Beaver Dam —Uncle
Seth Tells how he Surprised the Beavers at
their Work.
OR some distance the crowd
kept pretty well together—
“ neck and neck,” as the
jockeys say —but soon the best runners
began to forge ahead, and at last Mr.
Pitt led the van on his half-breed mus
tang. Lawrence was next, Willie, Henry
and myself close by, and Uncle Seth
brought up the rear ; whilst far behind,
poor Cudjo was having a little fun all
to himself, for his gallant steed had
taken the “studs” (an amiable pecu
liarity for which he was noted), and
wouldn’t do anything but pitch up and
down in one spot, like a boat beating
against a head sea. On and on we
went like the wind, until at last, as we
neared the affrighted animals, the ex
citement of the chase became so intense
that we yelled, and shouted, and flour
ished our guns and pistols in true Co
manche style.
Finding themselves hard pushed, the
buffaloes began to scatter, and each
one singled out his game, and followed
wherever it went. Willie tackled an
old bull, and fired three shots from his
gun and derringers into his head ; but
his skull was so thick the bullets scarce
ly made him wink, and he finally made
good his retreat into the timber. Nei
ther Lawrence nor myself got a shot,
for our horses, unaccustomed to the
sight of buffaloes, became unmanage
able. We could not force them up suf
ficiently near to use our pistols, and
they plunged and reared in such a way
it was impossible to use our guns. Hen
ry got one shot at a fat cow, but he
missed her, or wounded her very slight
ly, and before he could get another, she
plunged into a thick chaparral, and he
lost sight of her.
But Mr. Pitt was more fortunate. He
brought a fat cow to the ground by a
well-directed shot from his pistol, and
Uncle Seth, coining up a few moments
afterwards, gave her the cotip de grace ,
and finished her effectually. One by
one, the rest of us returned from our
unsuccessful pursuit of the buffaloes,
and gathered about the one Mr. Pitt
had killed.
8 EPHESIANS rr.
5 Servants, be obedient
to them that are your mas
ters according to the
with fear and trembling, in
singleness of your heart, aa
an to Christ;
a Not with ere-service,
as raen-pleaser*: but an the
servant* of Christ, doing
ths will of God from the
heart:
7 With good will doing
service, as to the Lord, and
8 Knowing that whatso
ever good thing any man
CHAPTER VI.
CHILDREN, obey you r
parents in the Lor.'t
for this is right.
2 Honour thy fkther and
mother: which is the first
commandment with pro
-3 That it may bo well
with theo, and thou mayost
livo long on thttoarth,
4 And, yo fathers, pro
voke not your children to
wrath: but bring them up
in the nurture and admo
nition of tho Lord.
1 5
After a while, Cudjo also came pranc
ing up sideways , but before be got in
forty paces of us, bis horse caught
sight of the dead buffalo lying upon, the
ground, and began a second series of
pitchings more violent than the first,
and Cudjo was compelled to dismount
and lead him up by the halter.
“ Cudjo,” said one of the boys, “ how
many buffaloes have you killed to
day ? ’ ’
“Bress de Lord!” said Cudjo, “I
aint seed a bufferlo dis day, ’ceptin’ de
one lyin’ dar on de ground. Dis horse
here git ole Nick iu him, jess as soon
as you all start to run arter de bufferlo,
and he aint done notting but pitch,
pitch, right up and down in one place
ebber sence. I’m gwying to steal an
oder one from de Ingens or somebody
else, de bery fast chance I git.”
“No,” said Lawrence, “that will
never do, Cudjo; the only way to get a
horse in this country is to shoot the
rider and take his horse. Then it’s all
right; but if you take the horse, and
don’t shoot the rider, that’s stealing,
and you’ll be bung for it to a cer
tainty.”
“Den I’ll stick to ‘Paint,’” said
Cudjo; “I aint gwying to kill nobody
for he horse, not even a Ingen, onless
he’s arter mine. Paint’s amity rascal
sometimes, it’s a fact, and wont budge
a foot es he takes de notion in his head ;
but dere’s one ting certain, es I can’t
be at de killin’ ob de meat, I’ll be close
about when de steaks is cooked, you
bet, and dat’s de main pint.”
“ Boys,” said Uncle Seth, poking the
ribs of the dead cow with the muzzle of
his gun, “ this critter is as fat as butter,
and es Cudjo manages ’em rightly, we ll
have some steaks to-night when we git
into camp that’ll beat bar meat all hol
low ; but we must butcher her right off,
and hang up the meat out of the way of
the cayotes and other varmints.”
In a few minutes, with our assist
BURKE’S WEEKLY FOR BOYS AND GIRLS.
ance, Uncle Seth had peeled the hide
from the cow, and then with his butcher
knife he cut off a side of ribs, and about
fifty pounds of the tende loin, which lie
hung up in the crotch of a tree, and
covered with the skin, to prevent the
buzzards from taking toll out of it while
we were gone.
“ It’s a shame,” said Uncle Seth, as
he mounted his horse again, and looked
with longing eyes at the huge mass of
flesh still lying upon the ground ; “it’s
a shame to leave so much good grub
for the wolves, but we can’t help it.
We have tuck as much as we can carry
back with us to camp. There’s many
a poor fambily, away back in the old
settlements, that would be mity glad to
git all that good beef we are leaving
there upon the ground for the cayotes
to gnaw at, and for my part I wish some
on ’em had it. But that’s jest the way
with things in this world,” he added,
in a moralizing sort of strain; “some
folks have more’n they know what to
do with, and others ain’t got nothing at
all; but I reckon, boys, it will all be
squar’d in the end —leastwise, I hope
so.”
Continuing our route up the valley,
which gradually contracted in width as
we advanced, we travelled on until
about noon, when we halted in a grove
on the banks of the Sabinal, to give
our horses a chance to blow and to pick
a few mouthfuls of grass. Just oppo
site to where we had stopped, the bea
vers had built a dam across the creek,
and on examination we found that they
had done the work strictly according to
scientific principles, so as most effec
tually to resist the pressure of the water
and the force of the current. At any
rate, so said Mr. Pitt, who had been a
practical engineer himself. Inside of
the dam, the houses in which the ani
mals lived were built, their tops only
being visible above the surface of the
water. They were constructed of poles,
and neatly plastered with what appear
ed to be a mixture of grass and mud.
We noticed that nearly every sapling
around the pond formed by the dam
had been cut down to furnish logs for
these houses.
“It does beat all natur,” said Uncle
Seth, “the judgematical way in which
these varmints carry on their works. I
sorter believe they were all boss car
penters that have been turned into bea
vers for cheatin’ folks when they was
men. When I was trappin’, three or
four year ago, on the head waters of
Little River, I tried mity hard to catch
the rascals at their work, for I wanted
to see how they managed it; but some
how they always diskivered me, and
knocked off work before I could get
nigh enough to watch their motions. I
detarmined, however, to circumvent
’em es I could ; so one day I tuck an
old shovel we had in camp, and went
to the beaver dam, whar I dug a hole
deep enough for me to git in, from
which I could peep out and see every
thing that was going on in ‘ Beaver
town,’ without any danger of been seed
myself; and I then kivered up all the
dirt I had throwed out of the hole with
dry leaves, so the beavers wouldn’t no
tice it.
“Well, about sundown, I went back
to the dam, and hived myself in the pit
I had dug. and kep perfectly quiet. Soon
arter dark the moon riz, and made it
almost as light as day, and I expected
every minit I’d see the scamps come
out and go to work ; but for more’n a
hour not a thing did I see nor hear,
except the water glistenin’ in the moon
light and pouring over the top of the
dam. I began to think may be so it
was Sunday with ’em, and that they
wouldn’t work at all that night; but
still I kep quiet, and never budged ex
cept when, every now and then, I would
poke my nose above the top of the pit,
to see if anything was goiiT on. I had
just made up my mind to quit, and go
back to camp, when I seed an old bea
ver crawl out on the top of his house
and look around. The old rascal was
everdently suspicious there was some
thing about, for he turned up his nose,
and snuffed the wind from every quar
ter, and looked mity hard towards the
place where I was hived; but at last he
’peared to be satisfied that all was
right, and lifting up his broad tail, he
slapped it down on the ruff of his house
with a loud smack.
“The next minit the beavers began
to pour out’n their houses, and dividin’
off into squads, some commenced cut
ting down saplins with their sharp
teeth, whilst other squads hauled them
into the water, and others toted grass
and mud on their flat tails to the place
where some were mixing up the mortar.
And all the time the work was going on
the old chap that had come out and
flapped his tail on the ruff of his house,
was fiyin’ around, fust to one squad and
then to another, ordering this thing to
be did that way, and that thing to be
did this way, as if he was the boss of
the whole consarn ; and I-s’pose he
was. It was raally divartin to see the
way they carried on, no one interfering
with another, but each one working
like a Turk at his own task.
“ Bimeby, I hearn a great racket at
one end of the dam, and peeping over
the top of my pit, I seed ten or a dozen
of’em, with the old boss direct-in ’em,
around a big sapplin they had cut down.
They had got it to the edge of the
water, but there somehow it had got
chocked hard and fast bertween two
rocks, and they couldn’t move it one
way or the o her. The old boss was
in a tearin’ rage, runnin’ fust to one
end of the log and then to the other,
and abusing the whole crowd, I know,
(though I couldn’t hear what he said)
for a set of lazy, good-for-nothing vaga
bonds ; but still the log wouldn’t budge
an inch. By this time I had got consi
derably interested in the operation my
self, and seein’ how easy it would-have