The Argosy, Vol. 90 No. 1 — page 90: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

84 THE along the crest to the top of the new chop- ping which had been made during the sum- mer months. Within three hundred yards of the camp a regular old rocking-chair buck stepped out of a clump of pole spruces, stared at the two men for five sec- onds with startled brown eyes, and then bucked sideways, turned and bumped down the far side of the ridge. ‘“‘ Many deer around?” Mr. Vroon asked. “Quite a lot—yes. None of the boys hunt any.” ‘“Um-m,” the capitalist nodded. They had gone nearly half a mile when there was a sudden flurry in some witch- hopples, and into the pathway ahead of them bounded a bale of black, which seemed to roll and tumble along, and final- ly scurried into the woods out of sight. ‘“Wasn’t that a bear?” Mr. Vroon asked mildly. ‘Sure as you’re born, sir!” Bigger re- plied. ‘Lots of game around here, it seems to me?” “Lots of it—I see a deer every day or two.” “How do you account for it?” ‘““No one hunts here. Too far to hunt in one day, and too near to camp out.” “Lots of room in camp?” id ‘“‘'We’ve some extra cots, usually.” “Well, perhaps a man will come here hunting toward the end of the season,” Mr. Vroon suggested. “Friend of. yours—glad to have him!” “Oh, yes, one of those — um-m — well, he’s always looking for a chance to go hunt- ing, or fishing, or like that. Perhaps I'll dump him onto you?” “T can stand it if he can,” Bigger grinned. “Oh, you must be real nice to him!” “Td certainly be!” Bigger declared, looking around sharply, and then he add- ed: “ But I’ve some very rough men around camp, here—Red Hamblin—’”’ “Red? Say, now, you know, I can’t get that man here too quick. His name is Pel- yon—D. Cuecy Pelyon. You’ve probably read about him?” ‘Not since I was a boy,” Jim shook his head and Mr. Vroon chuckled. ARGOSY. When they arrived at the scene of the skidding operations, Red Hamblin had just become provoked at a spruce stick ten inches in diameter and twelve feet long. This stick had been hooked at the end of a string of five logs, which a horse was tow- ing down a gutter on the rough hillside, and a little crook in the log made it corkscrew into every root, stump, and tree, and fall over every rock and wedge in. Red seized a bar and pried the dog out of the log and yelled for the horse to go on its way. The horse took the logs down alone without difficulty, now that the spite- log had been cut out. The man picked the stick up by one end, wrapped both arms around it, and began to pull and growl and worry it, suggesting nothing else so much as a puppy eating a rubber boot. Of course, Red’s voice could be heard half a mile. He carried the log down to the skids, and threw it at the two men who were skidding the timber. Then he jumped on the horse and rode it backward up the side hill, swearing at the scenery and his mates. ‘“*'Yes,”” Mr. Vroon continued, “I think I'll surely have to send Cuecy up here. Red’l] do him good!” Cuecy arrived ten days later. The leaves had all been whipped down from the witch- hopples by a heavy autumn rain-storm. The woods were gray, wet, and soggy. A chil, suggestive of frost, was in the air. Cuecy had paid Lafay, the liveryman, twenty dol- lars, which was double rates, to bring him in to the Black Creek log camp, where he arrived on Saturday afternoon. Four suit-cases, three gun-cases, and two or three wooden boxes comprised his bag- gage, and he had Lafay put them all in the lobby. There they remained until the log crew returned from the chopping, tired, sweaty, and yet with threats of chills and incipient colds. Cuecy had taken one of his guns and gone hunting. Mr. C. Vroon had told him about the path along the back of the ridge behind the camp, and he must immediately go up and try to see the big buck, or per- haps the bear. Red Hamblin walked into the camp, with his red-bearded face turned over his shoul- oO Comicbooe S CO