University of Virginia Library

15. CHAPTER XV.

Mr. George Lee had been accustomed from his
youth to active sports, and severe bodily exercises; he
was perfectly at home in the saddle, and loved to wander
about the woods, better than to do anything else except
to drink wine. There were, therefore, some pleasures
mixed with the perplexities of his present situation. He
bore the fatigues into which he was so unexpectedly
thrown, like an experienced hunter, accustomed to long
and weary excursions; his native courage rendered him
careless of the dangers of the way, and his taste for
forest sports was frequently gratified by the sight of
animals which were new to him, and of places charmingly
suited to the amusements in which he delighted.
The only thing that distressed him was hunger.
Although he was in love, and had travelled all the way
from Virginia, in pursuit of Miss Pendleton, whose hand
he considered indispensable to his happiness, yet he was
so unsentimental as to be actually hungry—and well he
might be, for the poor young man had now been riding
twenty-four hours without food. When suffering a
privation of this kind, we are apt to torment ourselves
with the recollection of the good things that we have
eaten in happier days. And who had been more fortunate

in this respect than our friend George, who had not
only
all his life, but kept expert cooks, and gave famous
dinners himself? He looked back with pleasurable and
mournful reminiscence, similar to that of the man who
is suddenly reduced from opulence to poverty. He too
was reduced in his circumstances, for he was denied the
luxury of eating, which is the most important circumstance
of life; and the visions of departed saddles of
venison, turkeys, hams, roast pigs, oysters, and various
other dainty dishes, which the Virginians have in great
perfection, and dispense with prodigal hospitality to their
friends, rose before his mind's eye in mournful yet
delicious profusion. These reveries he dwelt upon until
their sameness wearied his mind. He began to grow
faint and tired; excessive hunger produced drowsiness,
accompanied with such callousness of feeling, that a
propensity was creeping over him to throw himself on
the ground, and sleep away his senses and his existence.
He tried to recollect some text of scripture which might
comfort him, but for his life, he could think of nothing
but “eat, drink, and be merry,” or something that had
eating and drinking in it. He attempted to sing, but his
songs were all bachanalian, and only served to provoke
thirst. He would have repeated some stanzas of poetry
to keep him awake, if he had known any; but he had
never cultivated the muses, and not a line could he
recollect, but
and the dreadful conviction fastened itself at last upon
his alarmed fancy, that if he should escape a miserable
death by starvation in the wilderness, he would surely
meet a wretched end by surfeit whenever he should
come in contact with food. Never did George Lee commune
so long with his own thoughts, or reflect so
seriously.

All at once, his tired horse, who was moving slowly
along the hardly perceptible path, with the bridle hanging
on his neck, suddenly stopped, as the path turned almost
at right angles, round a dense thicket. A few paces
before him, and until this instant concealed by the thick
brush, stood a miserable squalid boy, intently engaged in
watching some object not far from him. A small, gaunt,
wolf-looking, starved dog, crouched near him, equally
intent on the same game, so that even his quick ear did
not catch the tread of the horse's feet as they rustled
among the dry leaves, until the parties were in close
contact. The dog then, without moving, uttered a low
growl, which the ear of his master no sooner caught,
than he looked round, and seeing Mr. Lee, started up,
and was about to fly. But George exclaimed, “My
little man, I've lost my way,” and the lad stopped, eyed
the traveller timidly, and then looked earnestly towards
the spot to which his glance had been before directed.

“I have missed my way,” continued Mr. Lee, “and
am almost starved.”

“Can't you wait a minute till I kill that ar snake?”
replied Hark—for it was he.

The traveller looked in the direction indicated by the
boy's finger, and saw an immense rattle-snake, coiled,

with its head reared in the centre, his mouth unclosed,
his fierce eyes gleaming vindictively, and all his motions
indicating a watchful and enraged enemy. Hark gazed
at the reptile with an eager and malignant satisfaction.
His features, usually stupid, were now animated with
hatred and triumph. The scene was precisely suited to
interest the sportsmanlike propensities of Mr. George
Lee, if he had not happened to be too hungry to enjoy
anything which might delay him any longer in the
wilderness.

“Kill the snake, boy,” said he, impatiently, “and then
show me the way to some house.”

Hark motioned with his finger, as if enjoining silence,
and replied laconically, “It ain't ready yet.”

The rattle-snake now raised his tail and shook his
rattles, as if in defiance; and then, as if satisfied with
this show of valor, and finding that his enemies made
no advance, but stood motionless, slowly uncoiled himself,
and began to glide away. Hark left his position, and,
with noiseless steps, alertly made a small circuit so as
to place him in front of the enemy. The snake raised
his head, darted out his tongue, and then turned to
retreat in another direction; but no sooner had he presented
his side to Hark, than the intrepid snake-killer
bounded forward, and alighted with both his feet on the
neck of the reptile, striking rapidly, first with one foot, and
then the other, but skilfully keeping his victim pinned
to the ground, so as to prevent the use of its fangs. The
snake, in great agony, now twisted the whole of its long
body round Hark's leg; and the boy, delighted to witness
the writhings of his foe, stood for a while grinning in

triumph. Then carefully seizing the reptile by the neck,
which he held firmly under his foot, he deliberately
untwisted it from his leg, and threw it on the ground at
some distance from him, and seemed to be preparing to
renew the contest.

“You stupid boy,” cried Mr. Lee, “why don't you
take a stick and kill the snake?”

“That ain't the right way,” replied Hark, and as the
venomous creature, disabled and sadly bruised, essayed
to stretch its length on the ground, to retreat, the snake-killer
again jumped on it, and in a few minutes crushed
it to death with his feet. Then taking it up in his hands,
he surveyed it with his peculiar grin of joy, counting
the rattles as he separated them from the body, with an
air of triumph, as great as that of the hunter when he
numbers the antlers of a noble buck.

Mr. Lee gazed at this scene with unfeigned astonishment.
Though no mean adept himself in the art of
destroying animal life, he had never before witnessed
such an exhibition. The diminutive size of the youth, his
meagre and famished appearance, his wretched apparel,
together with the skill and intrepidity displayed in this
nondescript warfare, with a creature scarcely his inferior
in any respect, strongly excited his curiosity.

“Well, you've beaten your enemy,” said he in an
encouraging tone.

“Yes, I reckon I've saved him.”

“But why did you not take a club to it?”

“It ain't the right way. I never go snaking with a
pole.”

“What is your name?”

“Do you live about here, stranger?”

“No, I am a traveller from Virginia, and was going
to Hendrickson's settlement, when I lost my way.”

“People's mighty apt to get lost, when they don't
know the range,” replied Hark familiarly, encouraged
by the stranger's affability.

“Where do you live?” inquired Mr. Lee, endeavoring
to conciliate the half-savage being, whose friendship was
now important to him.

“I don't live nowhere, in peticklar.”

“But you seem acquainted with these woods.”

“Yes, I use about here some.”

“How do you employ yourself?”

“I hunt some, and snake a little; and when I haint
nothen else to do, I go a lizardin.”

“Lizardin! what in the name of sense is that?”

“Killen lizards,” replied the boy, rather consequentially.
“I use up all the varments I come across.”

“Then you must frog it some,” said Mr. Lee, laughing.

“Oh yes—and there's a powerful chance of the
biggest bull-frogs you ever see, down in the slash
yander. It would do you good to go there in the night
and hear 'em sing. I reckon there's more frogs and
water-snakes there, than they is in all Virginny.”

“I have no curiosity to see them. And now, my lad,
if you will guide me to the settlement, I will satisfy you
generously for your trouble.”

Hark made objections—it was too far—he could not
tell the distance—but it was farther than he could walk
in a day. Mr. Lee then begged to be conducted to the
nearest house; but the snake-killer shook his head.

“Surely you lodge somewhere,” exclaimed the Virginian,
growing impatient; “take me to your camp, and
give me something to eat. I am starving.”

Hark seemed irresolute, and continued to eye the
traveller with a childish curiosity, mingled with suspicion;
then, as if a new idea occurred to him, he inquired,
“Where's your gun, mister?”

“I have none.”

For the first time the melancholy visage of Hark
distended into a broad grin, as he exclaimed, “Well, I
never see a man before that hadn't a gun. If it aint no
offence, stranger, what do you follow for a living?”

“Why, nothing at all, you dunce,” said George; “I
am a gentleman.”

Hark was as much puzzled as ever. “In North-Carolina,”
said he, “where I was raised, the people's all
gentlemen, except the women, and they've all got guns.”

“All this is nothing to the purpose—will you not
show the way to your camp?”

“Well—I reckon”—replied Hark, withdrawing a few
steps, “I sort o' reckon it wouldn't be best.”

“What objection can you possibly have?”

“I am afeard.”

“You need not fear me; I can do you no harm, if I
felt so disposed; and I have no disposition to injure you.”

“Won't you beat me?”

“Certainly not.”

“Nor take my skins from me?”

“No, no. I would not harm you upon any consideration.”

“Well, then, I reckon I'll take you to my camp.”

So saying, Hark marched off through the woods,
followed by Mr. George Lee.