Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1890-05-15
CARL'S STORY.
How Mighty Four-Year-Old Hunter
Went Cunning for Bears.

How Mighty Four-Year-Old Hunter
Went Cunning for Bears.
1t was five o'clock ola spring morning,
and Carl. like all true lovers OF the hunt,
was awake betimes. Peering between
the rounds of his crib-bed, he watched
the slumbering forms in his Immediate
neighborhood. He knew by the gentle
heaving of the bed-clothes that the
creatures under them were fast asleep
1t was an understood thing in this par
ticular family nest that the early birds
should refrain from chattering until the
worms were we'll astir; so Carl began
practicing on his whistle
1t was a new whistle. How hard he
had tried to get just the right puckeri
For days and days he had been screwing
and twisting his sweet red lips, but all in
vain. Did he give it up? / should think
not. Yesterday it came all at once
and it was just as easy. Now, of course,
all he had to do, to make his whistle as
good as papa's, was to prac tice.
/ haven't an idea how early in the
morning baby robin begins his practice
but am certain that his mamma never
sleeps wink after the first whistle.
Judging from the restless1ess which
was beginning to show itself in the big
bed the pipes of the baby robin and
those of the baby boy affected their par
ents in much the same way. ;
The hunters quick ear caught the
sound at once.
Mamma" be began, in his brisk lit
tie voice, mamma, p-l-e-a-s-e may I
get in your bed?'
II can't tell any stories this morning;
I'm too sleepy" came drowsily from the
big bed.
But, mamma, you didn't say whether
could or not
IF YOU'LL keep as still as a mouse you
may come. -
BY the time mamm~~ had got to
mouse two little white 1eat were
scampering across the floor, and in le~s
time than it takes to dream it their
owner was snugly cuddled down by
mammals side, with his arms around her
neck.
But l said I couldn't tell you any
stories. you know; I'm too sleepy"
''Oh, no, mamma; you aren't going to
tell me any stories. FHtell you one."
''But-"
mo, I'll not be selfish this time,
mamma: " TELL yOu one.
''Unselfish; yes-well."
"Once upon a time, when l was big
boy, l took gun and went out into the
woods and l shooted first one bird and
then another bird and then another
bird; and then shooted some parsnips"
Unsurpassed giggles from the audi
ence remind the story teller that some
thing has gone wrong.
moo, not parsnips,' meditatively.
"Parsnips don't shoot. But-what are
those kind of birds, mamma, that Uncle
Mad shoots and brings home for dinner
those plump ones?"
''Partridges?"
"Oh, yes, cartridges. Now, mamma,
you mustn't laugh. don't laugh when
you tell me stories"
''No one ever does" said mamma, So
bered at once.
.'And then I shooted some par.
tridges-"
"Shot," corrected mamma.
''No, not shot, mamma; shot is what
you put into the gun"
sIt's what comes out of it, too"
The hunter wavers. SIS it realty shot,
mammal
Eyes"
Then / took another gun and went
out into the woods and shot bear, and
/ brought it home in saehel-"
ut must have been small bear" in
terrupted papa.
ssNo, it was a large sachel-and
brought him home in sachel and boiled
him and ate him all up. And then"
1--WE all went to sleep" said mamma.
in determined manner, that showed
she was not to be trifled with. Ella
Foster Case, in Santa Claus.