Morris tribune. [volume] (Morris, Minn.) 1880-2000, 1882-05-25
THE POACHER'S DEATH.

lie Village OF u, on our way 10 tne toWu
of R, when the desire seized us to
pay visit to Maritaine, our good cid
nurse, and shake hands with jacques
her husband, who was the first person to
place q gun within our hands, and who |
taught us to handle it skillfully. 1 say
this without any vanity. The road we
were pursuing passed within about six |
miles of our old friends home; but an
mated by wish to see these good peo- |
pie again, the memory of whom recalled
our happy youth, We soon cleared the
distance
jacques cabin was not one of the group |
of houses which composed the village,
but stood alone in the middle of a large |
plain, having forest for the horizon,
and nearly surrounded by an arm of the
river, thus forming peninsula. We very
soon recognized the matched roof where
few red tiles were conSpicuously dis
played, while an enormous pear-tree
whose inclining trunk was blackened with
the mildew of time, seemed
to threaten it with destruction in
its. fall; but there was no
danger, for we had often run among its
branches without causing the giant
TO bend its body or to
seem disturbed by the violence of our
gymnastic exercises. Our old acquaint
ance had not changed in appearance, eX-
cept that industrious Jacques had built a
pigeon-house between its two principal
boughs, and we saw the inhabitants of
this aerial dwelling flying through space,
their white feathers glistening in the sun.
One is never free from apprehension on
returning to a home which he,has left
some time before. Everything seemed
to be in its ordinary condition The
smoke was escaping from the chimney in
thin circles, and the fishing tackle was
hanging up to dry on the branches of the
pear-tree, for Jacques was good fisher
man, and what is more, if must say it,
the most shillful and dreaded poacher in
the country.
He was man fifty years old, and of
proud carriage. His closly cropped black
hair showed rugged brow, where daring
seemed to be written in the deep wrink
les. His eyes were SO wonderfully
bright that the peasants believed he pos
sessed the power of charming the deer.
p \ mass of black beard framed his bronze
face, and, finally, he was supple and mus
cular, as all primitive races who are de-
pendent on their sole efforts TO procure
the necessaries of life. ..-
Joyfully we raised the latch, thinking
of the pleasant surprise we were going to
give old Maritaine, whose dry cough we
heard coming from a still vigorous chest.
On seeing us the poor woman stood still,
as If nailed to the spot, and instead Of
the cry of JOY which We expected,
we were surprised to see two large tears
roll down her emaciated cheek.
well, mother nurse?" [ exclaimed,
care you not glad to see your two bad
children again?"
The good woman's heart-broken glance
startled us.
"Ah, Monsieur Jules" she finally sob
bed out, trouble is in this house. My
poor jacques"
She could not finish 4 torrent of tears
gushed from her eyes, and sitting down
as if her limbs refused her support she
leaned her head on her knees, and ut
tered loud wailings. I noticed then,,that
she held Il strip of white linen in her
hand and glancing round the room, |
saw q tub in which some bloody clothes
were soaking. A horrible suspicion
crossed my mind. Was Jacques the vic
tim of one of those numerous accidents
to which they are exposed who are in
constant rebellion against the law?
See here, mother" said, taking the
old woman's hand, eff you are in trouble,
perhaps heaven has sent us to you at
this moment. But, for PHYS sake, speak!
You know you can depend on us as if we
were your own children"
ooh, my good boys" she said, at last,
Jacques is there, dying, with two bull
lets in his body"
/ sprang toward the door to which she
pointed, but she stopped me with an i'm
ploring gesture.
':He is sleeping little" she said soft
", "but when he wakes Uphill tell him
you are here. Maybe it will do him
some good"
But" l replied, eff Jacques has been
shot, why isn't the doctor here? Per-
haps the danger is not SO great as you
think, and with the help of science he
may be saved"
Monsieur Jules" she said, and this
time in voice in which Indignation over
came sorrow, "a dog with broken foot
is cared for; but the doctor didn't want
to trouble himself about jacques the
poacher, who has been nearly muir
dered."
We were filed with Indignation.
Henri" / cried, turning to my broth.
er, "run to the village and bring back the
doctor, willing orunWilling. It isn't pos.
sible that person could be SO cruel as tc
allow one floods creatures to die this
way"
While my brother was executing his
commission with the dispatch of a hun
ter twenty-five years old, Maritaine gave
me the following account:
Early in the morning of the preceding
day Jacques had gone out as usual to in
spect the numerous snares he had set in
the woods. Beside large linen sack, in
which he concealed his prize, he carried
his game-bag and his gun, which never
left him any more than his shadow The
harvest was only moderate. All the traps
were inspiring except one in which a
fine cock-pheasant was caught. Jacques
penetrated further into the woods, hoping
to get shot at buck or q boar. The
night had been rainy, so the wet branch.
es tapped in his face, and his feet were
continually immersed in water, but the
bold hunter cared little for these discom.
forts, and pushed on, keeping his eye or
a little terrier whose wagging tail an.
nounced the recent passage of some kind
of game. Bib scents something
thought jacques, encouraging him with a
silent GESTURE, as, with excessive prrl.
dence, he never, even by chance, raised
his voice in these solitudes whose echoes
would have betrayed his presence. The
frisky movements of Bibi's tail became
more violent, and he seemed to want to
devour the grass, plunging his nostrils in
to it; Suddenly Jacques stopped, and
his dog followed his example. The faint
sound ola hunting horn was borne on the
breeze through the woods.
The devil! The marquise and his
pack! muttered Jacques. 81 don't know
why, but have presentiment that bad
luck will follow me to-day" He glanced
at his trusty fowling piece, and his ewes
frightened. sForwardl" he said. in q
low voice to Bib. The game that God
has made belongs to everybody
Bib recommended the hunt, but moi
without turning his head frequently tow.
ard his master, as if to tell him that they
were approaching the game. Jacques
unwrapped the hammer Of his gun, which
he had kept tied up in his handkerchief
for fear of the dampness., He then lei