The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1892-03-30

gave the 1nsolent rascal a good bas-
tinado with the paddle and set hin,
ashore
"Good heavensn' / exclaimed with
hoarer; don't you know, Jack-l1aven't
| you sense enough to understand-that
these Indian follows are vindictive to
the last dee,rce-that they Will never
forget or forgive a blowF'
'Peeil!" said he, getting up quite mer-
r;ly a,aa marching hcmeward, saying
over his shoulder: 'sOh, don't you bother
yeurselft Clier will be down on his
BARROW bones tonorrow-ses if he isn't
Besides, cwe him half a dollar"
Tomorrow came, unfruitful with the
half breeds submission. Tho story got
abroad among the hubs, and the old set
tiers, who knew their man, shook their
heads ozainogssly and boded no good to
my inapulsive brother. However, two
days passed harmlessly, during which
Jack and I fshed and shot together
OIer had net reappeared, and / began
to breathe more freely. Doubtless he
had left the district. He was an unset
tied fellow as any rate, and had no prop
erty or tie in the village to tempt his
stay.
Twenty miles below the village the
dark Scugog whitens into rapids, and is
hurled with gigantic power over lofty
precis,ice. had often wished to see the
falls, but it had been hitherto impossible
to accomplish the distance by my single
arm. Al Last my wish was to be graft
fed. a shooting party was made up by
some of the villagers, and at my urgent
request / was included. The arrange
ment was to spend night at the falls.
camping ou5 On the bank and return the
following day. Instead Of canoes, we
were to sail down in large fat bot
toned boat, termed in Canadian par
lance scow. Strange to say, Jack did
not care about going, saying that he
would enjoy himself more in his own
canoe; and as we were already crowded
for room we did not press him to change
bis resolution.
Our expedition had little in it note
worthy. The river for over twenty
miles sail remained the same monoto-
nous, melancholy Scugog, never vary
ing for the space Of hand. Not ves-
tige of clearance was there between our
village and the falls, not glimpse Of
bank. The trees lined the waters Like q
wall, and save the wild game no one
ever tried to force way through their
close knit ranks, woofed at the base By
a tangle Of l,nwholesome verdure. This
aspect had stern reason for remember
ing. The only bright thing was the
patch Of cloudless blue sky seen at the
extremity of this long reach of wood
and water. Over all brooded the in
tensest silence. No bird trilled US
single song; all was still, save for the
woodpecker, which, perched
on a rotting tree, hammered its hollow
sides with its beak. Tap, tap, tap!-it
was most unea1thIy sound
We had seen the stupendous falls in
their lonely majesty and were steering
homeward in our scow., AS we neared
the village again, distant only some five
or six miles, the sun was sinking behind
the tree horizon. a slight blue haze
bathed the long reaches Of the river
with ineffable softness and beauty. We
voyaged on liquid field of cloth Of
gold. But ever and again, marring my
intense perception Of it's loneliness, came
The CHASTITY tap, tap, tap of the wood
pecker.
could not resist chilly sensation Of
horror as listened to the measured ca
lence echoing through the solitude 1t
sounded like coffin maker hammering
1t his dismal task. A relief suggested
ITSELF. Some Of my companions were
French Canadians, and the evening be-
fore had cheered our bivouac with some
gay re9rains OF sunny France. Iasked
hem stave, but I said nothing about
The woodpecker, whose note l wished
hem to drewn. A strong chorus soon
the bird Of i'll omen and
-ang up tho vaulted river. Irecollect
ihe strain well; it was favorite voy-
ageur's ditty, sung to tho dash Of the
BAR.
Suddenly the song lulled, and again
shuddered as heard the reverberating
,ap, tap Of the oninous bird aloft on a
Ipectral fir. Ny companions had ceased
owing, too, and called my attention to
! canoe which was floating down the
liver few yards ahead Of us. They
thought it was a breakloose, and stood
,y to strike boathook into it, with the
prospect of reward from the owner up
It the village. 1t soon dropped down to
Is, and came, Ike the note Of the ghost
y woodpecker, tapping against our scow.
There was stfled cry of horror from |
he settler at the bow, and as we crowd |
ID forward to see what was the matter,
mother cried out the awful tale of |
Hood, Oilers, young fellow, see your
brother by Olier, as sure's
here's death in rifle bullet!"
Il was an awful end! My poor brother |
ay bent over his idle paddle in the |
;anoe, weitering in his hearts blood.
In avenging bullet had passed through |
lis heart. Stalked by Olierl Fiendish |
indian, that was thy work, and my
,rotaer's blood rested on thy headi / |
hall not now detail tho agonies Of that
indian summer. Through all my grief
A. 80 -