Clarksville weekly chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1873-1890, 1876-04-01
THEFATAL FIRE.HUNT.

AS Jacques Estrin said this to his
father, he tossed his curly head def
autly Only eight years old was this
ambitious young hunter, but be rode
as only creole children can ride, and
had even fired gun several times.
His father, Pierre Estrin. was the
most famous hunter of the Opelousas
country, where game is abundant, and
the marksmen the most skillful in
Louisiana. He was dark, morose
kind of man, silent, as are most men
whose lives arc spent Ia somber forests
and trackless prairies.
But his only son, Jacques, he loved
with a passionate intensity which soft
ened the man's rugged nature. What
ever Jacques wanted, he was sure to
have, whether it was hurtful or not.
A fine, bright boy he was, too, with
chesnu., curly hair and black eyes, full
of life and spirit, and kind-hearted and
loving, in spite of injudicious indul-
gence.
Evidently, however. in spite of his
blind fondness fer his son, Pierre Is
trim hesitated to fulfill his promise.
1t will be a foggy night, Jacques.
You will get wet. Then what will
mamma say?
Mamma, who was busy at her loom
In the next room called out
Il will say it is wrong. You must
not take the child out such night.
Don't hug me so tight, Jacques. The
boy had flown into the room at the first
sound of her voice" Your kisses
cant bribe me to say you ought to 60.
1t viii be black, starless night, and
then such fogl Don't think of GO
ing, my child. You shall make ''tac
tac" (pOp corn) and pecan pralines. y
But Jacques was deaf to the tempta-
ton of "tac tao" or anything but the
hunt he had promised himself. He
cried and sobbed as if his heart was
broken. and his father, who was never
proof against his tears, however I'M
reasonable they might be, soon relent-
ed.
Better let him go, Monique," he
said. You see | promised him, and
it will never do for him to think |
could deceive. Here, wipe your eyes,
Jacques, and run out on the praire and
catch your pony. You had better stop
at the cabin and take Edmond-(a lit
tie colored boyl-to help you catch
him. He can ride behind you to the
hunt tonight Then you won't be
afraid if l should leave you few min
utes in the woods"
Afraid ?" and he tossed back his
curls with laugh. "Ah, you will see
what brave son you have
The little fellow ran at full speed
across the prairies, singing a gay
French carol at the top of his shrill
young vice:
'outin the woods, where the little birds
Ha. ha! + M E.E Squirrel ~ see you spring.
So gay, so gay"
Monique Estrin had left her loom
and stood at the open door watching
the boy as he hurried away for the
pony.
You should not take him. Pierre, Z"
she said, gravely. He is too young
to go on a 6re-hunt. There are places
in the swamp where he cannot follow
you, and you will be obliged to leave
him alone in the forest. Did you not
hear, too, that panther was seen near
the live oaks, not ten miles from here. ="
Pierre shrugged his shoulder as his
wife spoke. Its something new for
you, Monique, to play the coward As
for the panther, | never saw him. That
cowardly Wilson took a frightened
wildcat for a ferocious animal. What
harm can come to the boy when am
with him? Even if l leave him, to
scOur the woods, all he will have to do
will be.to sit quietly on his horse in one
spot until | return"
His wife did not answer, but she
sighed deeply as she returned to her
work.
She was half ashamed of her own
fears. Even when her boy returned,
flushed, delighted, with little Edmond
at his heels, she could not smile at him.
She was called upon to admire the
pony, to see what great bag of pine
knots papa had cut up for the fire.
pan.
At dark the preparations were COM
pleted, and the hunters set out, Pierre
Estrin leading the way with a long
handled pan. full of blazing pine, over
one shoulder. Jacques and Edmond,
on the same pony, trotted after him,
and the mother at the window heard her
boys glad voice making the silent
woods ring with his favorite song, and
the little negro swelling the chorus Of
$50 gay, SO gay"
The mist closed heavily upon their
path. The bright fame from the fire.
pan threw a wild, weird light on the
great trees, which stood like shrouded
giants on each side of them.
With the rising of the wind, the fog
rose, and when it lulied, would settle
down again, and so, alternately, the
night was obscure and lightened. The
light, however, was not from the heav-
ems, for that was overcast with clouds,
but kind of phosphorescent CLEAN
from decayed logs and the surface of
stagnant pools.
The fre-pan, however, threw a bright
light circle of around, and Pierre Es-
trim had fastened the long ha udled pan
to his saddle in a manner known to
hunters who scour the woods without
companions.
1t was altoge Their an improbable
hunt. Cows and calves would come
staring at the light, but not a deer.
The fog was settling down into a misty
drizzle, and Pierre began to get very
impatient, for he knew it was not far
from midnight.
See here, Jacques" he said, I'm
going down into Brule swamp. We
are just on its edge now. I'm sure all
the deer are there to-night in the thick
etS. The swamp is too full ofruts, and
holes of soft mud, for you to get
through on your little pony. I'm 60
ing to station you here under this big
gum tree, which will keep the drizzle
off and don't stir from it, or I'll lose
you; and be perfectly quiet You are
not afraid to be left. are your"
Afraid !" why, Jacques hootcd at
the idea. But the child was sleepy and
tired, and very hungry, and wasted to
get back to mamma, and the nice hot
gumbO she would have ready for them.
Are you going 10 stay long ?" he
asked, dolefully.
Not more than a quarter of an hour; |
perhaps not that long"
Jacques gave little tired sigh. as
his father moved off, whispered a few |
words to his uodding companion, and
then his curly head sunk down on the
patient pony's neck, and the bow was
fast asleep.
1t is probable the little negro fol- |
lowed his example, and the pony. feel !
ing the rein loosened, began cropping
the grass, moving lowly in the direction