|
Our
cottage was a sort of rough camp, beautifully situated on the top of the
mountain among oaks and pines. The small rooms were arranged on each side of
a long open hall. Round the house was a wide piazza, where the mountain
winds blew, sweet with all wood-scents. We lived on the piazza most of the
time--there we worked, ate and played. At the back door there was a great
butternut tree, round which the steps had been built, and in front the trees
stood so close that I could touch them and feel the wind shake their
branches, or the leaves twirl downward in the autumn blast.
Many
visitors came to Fern Quarry. In the evening, by the campfire, the men
played cards and whiled away the hours in talk and sport. They told stories
of their wonderful feats with fowl, fish and quadruped--how many wild ducks
and turkeys they had shot, what "savage trout" they had caught,
and how they had bagged the craftiest foxes, outwitted the most clever
'possums and overtaken the fleetest deer, until I thought that surely the
lion, the tiger, the bear and the rest of the wild tribe would not be able
to stand before these wily hunters. "To-morrow to the chase!" was
their good-night shout as the circle of merry friends broke up for the
night. The men slept in the hall outside our door, and I could feel the deep
breathing of the dogs and the hunters as they lay on their improvised beds.
At
dawn I was awakened by the smell of coffee, the rattling of guns, and the
heavy footsteps of the men as they strode about, promising themselves the
greatest luck of the season. I could also feel the stamping of the horses,
which they had ridden out from town and hitched under the trees, where they
stood all night, neighing loudly, impatient to be off. At last the men
mounted, and, as they say in the old songs, away went the steeds with
bridles ringing and whips cracking and hounds racing ahead, and away went
the champion hunters "with hark and whoop and wild halloo!"
Later
in the morning we made preparations for a barbecue. A fire was kindled at
the bottom of a deep hole in the ground, big sticks were laid crosswise at
the top, and meat was hung from them and turned on spits. Around the fire
squatted negroes, driving away the flies with long branches. The savoury
odour of the meat made me hungry long before the tables were set.
When
the bustle and excitement of preparation was at its height, the hunting
party made its appearance, struggling in by twos and threes, the men hot and
weary, the horses covered with foam, and the jaded hounds panting and
dejected--and not a single kill! Every man declared that he had seen at
least one deer, and that the animal had come very close; but however hotly
the dogs might pursue the game, however well the guns might be aimed, at the
snap of the trigger there was not a deer in sight. They had been as
fortunate as the little boy who said he came very near seeing a rabbit--he
saw his tracks. The party soon forgot its disappointment, however, and we
sat down, not to venison, but to a tamer feast of veal and roast pig.
One
summer I had my pony at Fern Quarry. I called him Black Beauty, as I had
just read the book, and he resembled his namesake in every way, from his
glossy black coat to the white star on his forehead. I spent many of my
happiest hours on his back. Occasionally, when it was quite safe, my teacher
would let go the leading-rein, and the pony sauntered on or stopped at his
sweet will to eat grass or nibble the leaves of the trees that grew beside
the narrow trail.
On
mornings when I did not care for the ride, my teacher and I would start
after breakfast for a ramble in the woods, and allow ourselves to get lost
amid the trees and vines, with no road to follow except the paths made by
cows and horses. Frequently we came upon impassable thickets which forced us
to take a round about way. We always returned to the cottage with armfuls of
laurel, goldenrod, ferns and gorgeous swamp-flowers such as grow only in the
South.
Sometimes
I would go with Mildred and my little cousins to gather persimmons. I did
not eat them; but I loved their fragrance and enjoyed hunting for them in
the leaves and grass. We also went nutting, and I helped them open the
chestnut burrs and break the shells of hickory-nuts and walnuts--the big,
sweet walnuts!
At
the foot of the mountain there was a railroad, and the children watched the
trains whiz by. Sometimes a terrific whistle brought us to the steps, and
Mildred told me in great excitement that a cow or a horse had strayed on the
track. About a mile distant there was a trestle spanning a deep gorge. It
was very difficult to walk over, the ties were wide apart and so narrow that
one felt as if one were walking on knives. I had never crossed it until one
day Mildred, Miss Sullivan and I were lost in the woods, and wandered for
hours without finding a path. Suddenly
Mildred pointed with her little hand and exclaimed, "There's the
trestle!" We would have taken any way rather than this; but it was late
and growing dark, and the trestle was a short cut home. I had to feel for
the rails with my toe; but I was not afraid, and got on very well, until all
at once there came a faint "puff, puff" from the distance.
"I
see the train!" cried Mildred, and in another minute it would have been
upon us had we not climbed down on the crossbraces while it rushed over our
heads. I felt the hot breath from the engine on my face, and the smoke and
ashes almost choked us. As the train rumbled by, the trestle shook and
swayed until I thought we should be dashed to the chasm below. With the
utmost difficulty we regained the track. Long after dark we reached home and
found the cottage empty; the family were all out hunting for us.
|
Table of Contents
