XXI. A SWIM FOR A DEER.

“Yes, Capting, the bar war lower, I tell you—why, bless your soul, honey, they war not only powerful thick, but some on ’em war as big as common-sized horses, I do reckon; cause why, nobody ever had hunted ’em, you see. In the winter time the overflow, and in the summer time the lakes and snakes, bayous and alligators, musketoes and gallinippers, buffalo-gnats and sand-flies, with a small sprinkle of the agur and a perfect cord of congestive, prevented the Ingins from gwine through the country! Oh no; the red skins would rather hunt the fat turkey and deer in the Azoo hills and pine lands t’other side of the Pearl river, to killin’ fat bar on the Creek or Sunflower.”

“Well, Jim, I think they were right; you must then have been among the first hunters in the country.”

“Yes, I do reckon when I first went into that country, from the Azoo Hills to the Mississippi, there never had been but mighty few hunters. Why thar ar places thar now whar the deer ar tame as sheep, and whar the bar don’t care for nobody! Fact! ask Chunkey!”

“That is very remarkable; what is the cause?”

“ ’Cause they’ve never been hunted; no, Sir: never hearn the crack of a rifle nor the yelp of a dog; why thar ar more nor a hundred lakes and brakes in them diggins, that hain’t never been pressed by no mortal ’ceptin’ varmints. You know more nor half the country is overflowed in the winter, and t’other half, which is a darned sight the biggest, is covered with cane, palmetto and other fixins;—why it stands to reason, and in course no man ever had hunted ’em.—Why, Sir, when I first went to the Creek—”

“Let the Creek run, Jim; tell us about the bear!”

“Well, Sir, the bar war very promiscuous indeed, and some of the old hees war mighty mellifluous, I tell you. I had no sens about bar then, but thar warn’t no cabin or camp in the whole settlement, and in course I soon larnt thar natur by livin’ ’mongst ’em. A bar, Capting, an old he bar, ain’t no candidate or other good-natured greenhorn to stand gougin’ and treatin’. Oh no, he ain’t, but he’s as ramstugenous an animal as a log-cabin loafer in the dog days, jist about, and if a stranger fools with him he’ll get sarved out in no time.

“Well, let’s licker. A bar is a consaity animal, but as far as his sens do go he’s about as smart as any other animal; arter that, the balance is clear fat and fool. I have lived ’mongst ’em, and know ther natur. I have killed as many as seven in a day, and smartly to the rise of sixty in a season. Arter I’d been on the Creek about two months, up comes the Governor and Chunkey; the Governor ’tended like he wanted to see how I come on with the clearin’; but, Sir, he were arter a spree, and I knoe’d it, or why did he bring Chunkey? Everything looked mighty well; the negers looked fat and slick as old Belcher in catfish season. I’d done cut more nor two hundred acres of cane, and had the rails on the ground. I’d done—”

“Come, Jim, keep the track!”

“Well, Capting, they war mighty savagerous arter likker; they’d been fightin’ the stranger^[13] mightly comin’ up, and war perfectly wolfish arter some har of the dog, and I hadn’t a drop; so I started two negers, with mules and jugs, to the Pint (Princeton, Washington County), and the ox-team arter a barrel. Well, Sir, the day arter, the jugs come, and we darted on ’em” (giving a sigh), “but lord, what war two jugs in sich a crowd? They jist kept Chunkey from dyin’, as he was so dry he had the rattles; next day the barrel come, and then we krack-ovienned up to it in airnest. You know what kind of man Chunkey is when he gits started—if he commences talkin’, singin’, or whistlin’, no matter which, you’d jist as well try and stop the Mississippi as him. Why I’ve knoed him to whistle three days and three nights on a stretch—the Governor coulden’t eat nor drink for Chunkey’s whistlin’, and at last he gits mad, and that’s the last thing he does with anybody what he likes, and, says he to Chunkey—

“ ‘Chunkey, you have kept me awake two nights a-whistlin’, and you must stop it to-night, or you or me must quit the plantation.’

“Chunkey said: ‘Governor, I don’t want to put you to no trouble, but I can’t stop in the middle of a chune, and as you have known the plantation longer than me, I expect you can leave it with lest trouble.’

“The Governor jist roar’d, and gin Chunkey a new gun and—”

“Stop, Jim, you have forgot the bear.”

“Well, whar was I, Capting?—oh, I remember now! Well, when the barrel come we did lumber; Chunkey he soon commenced singin’. We went on that way nigh a week, and then cooled off. One mornin’, I and Chunkey had gone down to the creek to git a bait of water, and I knoed the bar would be thar, as it war waterin’ time with them.”

“Why, Jim, have they a particular time to water?”

“In course they has; they come to water at a certain place, and jist as reglar as a parson to his eatin’; every bar has his waterin’ place, and he comes and goes in the same path and in the same foot-tracks always, until he moves his settlement: and jist you break a cane, or limb, or move a chunk or stick near his trail, and see how quick he’ll move his cabin! Oh yes, a bar is mighty particlar about sich things—that’s his sens—that’s his trap to find out if you are in his settlement. Why, Capting, I have watched ’em—”

“Jim, you have left yourself and Chunkey on the bank of the creek, ‘a-waterin’.’ Are you going to stay there?”

“Well, we set down on the bank and took our stand opposite the biggest kind of sign, and sure enough, presently down he come; a bar don’t lap water like a dog; no, they sucks it like a hog. You jist ought to see him rais his nose and smell the wind. Well, he seed us, and with that he ris! He war a whopper, I tell you! He looked like a big burn, and he throw’d them arms about awful, honey. It war about one hundred and twenty yards to him, but I knoed he were my meat without an accident, so I let drive, and he took the creek—then out he went, and scampered up the bank mighty quick, and then sich a ratlin’ among cane, sich a growlin’ and snortin’, sich a breakin’ of saplins and vines, I reckon you never did hear; I knoed, in course, I had him. I throwed a log in and paddled across—found his trail, and lots of har and fat, but no blood!”

“That was very strange, Jim; how did you account for that?”

“Why he were too fat to bleed! Oh, you think I am foolin’ you, but you ask Chunkey. It is frequently the case. I follered his trail about a quarter and a half a quarter, and thar he lay; so I jist hollered to Chunkey to git two negers and a yoke of steers to take him to the house. How much do you reckon he weighed?”

“I have no idea, Jim.”

“Now, Sir, he weighed, without head, skin, or entrails, four hundred and ninety-three pounds, and his head sixty pounds! You don’t believe me! Well, just ask Chunkey if I haint killed ’em smartly over seven hundred pounds! Killin’ him sorter got my blood up, and I determined to have another. Chunkey had been jerkin’ it to the licker gourd mighty smart, and was jest right.”

“ ‘Chunkey,’ says I, ‘let’s gin it to another!’

“ ‘Good as ——,’ says Chunkey. ‘Who cars for expenses? a hundred-dollar bill ain’t no more in my pocket nor a cord of wood!’

“With that we started down to the Bend; we haddent been thar long when in comes an old buck; he was a smasher, and one horn were broke off. I telled Chunkey now’s his time, as I skorn’d to toch him arter killin’ a bar. Chunkey lathered away, and ca chunk! he went into the creek; he then gin him a turn with t’other barrel; the buck wabbled about a time or two and sunk, jist at the head of the little raft at the lower end of the clearin’. I know’d he’d lodged agin the drift, and determined to have him, and if you’ll believe me, I’d been workin’ at the gourd since I’d killed the bar. I pulled off my coat and jest throwed myself in; I swimd out to the place and div—you know the current are might rapid thar. Well, I found him, yes, —— if I diddent. But, Moses! warn’t I in a tight place that time? Well, I reckon I were. I’d been willin’ to fite the biggest he on the creek, and gin him the first bite, to have been out!”

“Why, Jim, what was the matter?”

“Arter I’d got in, I couldent get out—that was the matter! You see the drift were a homogification of old cyprus logs, vines, and drift-wood of evry description, for nigh three hundred yards long, and the creek runs under thar like it was arter somebody; the trees and vines, and prognostics of all sorts, ar sorter nit together like a sock, and you couldent begin to get through ’em. Well, Capting, I thought my time had come, and I knowed it war for killin’ that cub what I telled you about. And, sir, it would have come if it haddent been for the sorritude I felt arterwards. You see, the young cub was standin’ in the corner of the fence eatin’ roastin’ ears, and I was goin’ to the——”

“But, Jim, you have told that once, and I don’t want to hear it again.”

“Well, I tried to rise, but I’d as well tried to rise down’ard. I then tried to swim up ’bove the raft, but I found from the way the logs and vines ware tearin’ the extras off me, that I were goin’ further under, and I was gettin’ out of wind very fast. I knowed thar was but one chance, and that was to go clean through! So I busted loose and set my paddles to goin’ mightily; presently my head bumped agin the drift! I div agin, and kept my paddles a lumberin’! Chunk! my head went agin a log, and then I knowed the thing were irrefrangably out—but I div agin, still workin’ on my oars smartly, until I hung agin!

“ ‘Good bye, Chunkey!—farewell, Governor,’ says I.

“But, Capting, I were all the time tryin’ to do something. Things had begun to look speckled green, and then omniferous; but findin’ I were not gone yet, by the way I were kickin’ and pawin’, and knowin’ I were goin’ somewhere, and expectin’ to the devil, there ain’t no tellin’ how long or powerful I did work! The fust thing I recollect arter that, was gittin’ a mouthful of wind! Fact! I’d done, gone clean through, and were hangin’ on to a tree below the raft! But, Sir, I were mighty weak, and couldent tell a stump from an old he, and ’spected smartly for some time that I were in the yother world, and commenced an excuse for comin’ so onexpectedly! However, presently I got sorter right, and when I found I were safe, I reckon you never did see a man feel so unanimous in your life, and I made the water fly for joy.”

“Well, Jim, what had become of Chunkey? He did not leave you?”

“Yes, —— if he diddent? He’d commenced gittin’ dry afore he shot the deer; and when Chunkey wants a drink, if his daddy was drounin’, Chunkey would go to the licker gourd afore he’d go to his daddy. I went to the house, and thar he was settin’ at the table, jist a rattlin’ his teeth agin the bar’s ribs; he held a tin cup in one hand ’bout half full of licker; his head were sorter throwd back; he was breathin’ sorter hard, his eye set on the Governor, humpin’ himself on politics.

“ ‘Down with the specie kurrency,’ says Chunkey; ’it ain’t no account, and I’m agin it. When we had good times, I drank five-dollar-a-gallon brandy, and had pockets full of money.’

“ ‘But,’ says the Governor, ‘you bought the brandy on a credit, and never paid for it!’

“ ‘What’s the difference?’ asks Chunkey. ‘Them what I bought it from never paid for it; they bought it on a credit from them fureigners, and never paid for it, and them fureigners, you say, are a pack of scoundrels, and I go in for ruinin’ ’em, so far as good licker is concarned.’

“ ‘You are drunk,’ says the Governor, and then——but, Capting, you look sleepy; let’s licker, and go to bed.”

“No, I am not sleepy, Jim.”

“Well, then, I’ll tell you how I sarved Chunkey for leavin’ me under the raft. Moses! diddent I pay him back! Did I ever tell you ’bout takin’ Chunkey out on Sky Lake, makin’ him drunk, takin’ his gun and knife away from him, and a puttin’ him to sleep in a panter’s nest?”

“No, you never did; but was you not apprehensive they would kill him?”

“Kill him! No! If they’d commenced bitin’ Chunkey, they’d have been looed, as that’s a game Chunkey invented! But here he comes; and if you mention it afore him, it puts the dander in him. Let’s licker.”