Raftsman's journal. [volume] (Clearfield, Pa.) 1854-1948, 1856-04-09


upon the gliding stream, where itsailed like a
miniature bark upon the river of lite.
Ny rifle, ready loaded, lay unheeded by my
side, while the squirrels jumped from branch
to branch above me, regardless of danger; and
well they might be, for their gambols were un-
noticed while my mind was occupied in the
glad ripple of the rushing waters, and in the
unceasing songs of the birds. The shadows
of the surrounding trees were already growing
. long. A solitary crow lit upon dead tree
near me, but no sooner had he folded his wings,
than by natural instinct, he became aware of
his proximity to danger, and giving a loud
@caw,' he was again upon the wing. Rousing
from my revcre, l watched him until he had
disappeared beyond the neighboring forest
and then with careless purpose, commenced
kicking about the leaves that covered the brow
of the hill; my foot struck something which
sent forth dull sound, which so excited my
curiosity, that cleared the gathered rubbish
of years, and found a rifle barrel half buried in
the earth. Upon more careful examination
of the ground, found the breech-plate and
remnants of the lock. 1 was busily engaged
in examining each article, and noticing the
inroads that rust and exposure had made upon
it, when was aroused by the rustic of leaves;
turning in the direction from which the sound
proceeded, beheld an old veteran known far
and wide, as ssOld Ranger His true name,
no one of my acquaintance knew. When the
eldest inhabitants settled upon the banks of
the Darby, he held undisputed sway through
out the heavy forests, and wild barrens. His
head was white with the frosts ofmany winters,
and his form was bent with age, yet his eye
sight was so good that he could aim rife bet
ter than half the boasted shots in the surroun-
ding country. l could have wished for no
person more likely to unravel the mystery that
onveloped the rifle barrel. 1 saluted the old
man cordially, and desired him to rest awhile.
ssI have mystery here my friend, here is
a rife barrel that found just now upon this
bank and desire to know ifyou are acquain-
ted with its history" said /.
s'Indeed, - he replied, and his eyes sparkled,
while old memories seemed to send the life
blood in swifter current through his veins.
He took the rust eaten barrel from my hand,
and giving it a careful examination, contin-
ued;
"You could not have hit upon a better per-
son to explain it than Old Roger"
ssThen am lucky and should like to hear
the story"
ssYou shall hear it, he answered, sfor it can
soon be told.'
ssIt is fifty years since first trailed deer
along the banks of the Darby. Early one fall
a man named George Gardner fell in with me,
and after few days We agreed to camp dur
ing the winter. Some three miles above on
the creek, We built rough cabin as protec-
tion against the weather, the wild beasts and
the savages. One pleasant afternoon in this
same month, we started out to take range
throughout the woods, for the double purpose
OF getting fresh supply of venison, and hunt
ing for salt lick that we supposed to exist
somewhere between our cabin and the union
Of two creeks. Several hours were spent in