Alpena weekly argus. [volume] (Alpena, Mich.) 1871-1893, 1892-03-16
THE HUNTERS ESCAPE.

man dressed in the garb of a hunt
er, was making his way through
the cane brakes of Southern Ohio.
t was one of those balmy days in
Indian Summer, the most delightful
season of the year. That peculiar,
mellow haze, resembling faint smoke,
was filtering slowly down through
the tree-tops, and resting upon the
distant hills, while the atmosphere
had all the delicious languor of the
twilight Of a northern summer.
The sky was as blue as Italy's, and
unhecked by a single cloud, while
the surface of the Ohio was as
smooth and unruffled as a lake of
silver. Everything wore the air of
repose, and as the hunter sauntered
carelessly forward, his long formida-
bic rifle resting upon his shoulder,
he, too, seemed to breathe in the
tranquil influence of the scene.
1t was in those days when a hunters
gun was not brought into play,
against anything more insignificant
than a deer, bear, or, perhaps, the
red Indian; and thus it was that the
squirrel chirruped upon the limb in
his very face without fear, and even
the deer, as he came down to the
creek and quaffed his full, raising
his antlered head, and surveyed the
appar ition of the stealthy hunter a
moment, and then, turning his
lathern sides towards HIM, walked
leisurely away without disturbance
from his weapon.
THAT was a chance such as is not
often given to a hunter, he mutter-
ed, as he leaned upon his rifle. "
could have sent a bullet tearing
through your heart strings as you
turned your side towards me. But
you need fear nothing. Four of your
companions have already fallen to-
day, and | have no desire to shoot
any more"
He removed his coon-skin cap
from his head and with his bronzed
hand brushed off the perspiration
from his forehead, and then, raising
his eyes he gazed about him.
ut seems sin to pull trigger in
such quiet place as this. I've no
wish to see the blood of any creeter,
human or otherwise, and that's why
] didn't draw bead OH that beautiful
fellow that showed his horns min
ute ago. It's all wrong at such q
time as this"
Near by, small stream of ice
cold water dubbed from beneath
the black roots of an oak. Ap.
preaching this, the hunter leaned
his rife against the tree, and depos-
iting his cap OH the ground, lay
down on his face and commenced
drinking the delicious fluid. AS his
face touched and ruffled the surface
he saw his own sunburnt feature:
reflected in it, queerly and grotesque.
ly, from the disturbance of this nat.
ural mirror. The hunter saw this
we say, and, had his mouth been in
proper shape, he would have smiled
at the fantastic reflection of his own
visage; and, in addition to this, he
would also have noticed the figures
of several other faces appear on the
margin of the mirror-three copper
colored visages, cleaning with grea,
exultation. But though the hunter
saw not this, his quick ear detected
the breaking of a twig. and, start.
ing up, he found himself surrounded
by full a dozen Indians, several Of
whom were boys, and one extremel,
old man. Besides their being arm
ed, they also possessed his own rifle
so that when summoned to surren.
der, he did so with the best grace
possible.
H. oonto~o d,onlovod fbo eyrootoof