Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1895-06-12

On, perceive. d0 3 gone tracAluS
deer or something of that sort" said I,
immensely relieved by Jacks manner.
There was slight pause. My fears re-
turned. I felt there was something
wrong.
"Well," said Jack, "I'll tell you. !
don't see why there need be any secret
about it. You were quite right about
that Olier, you were. He's a good for
nothing fellow and coolly refused this
afternoon to paddle me when wanted
to go down the river bit farther than
usual"
"And you?"
''I ran the canoe upon yard Of bank
whether an island or not cannot tell
gave the insolent rascal good bas'
tinado with the paddle and set him
ashore -
"Good heavens l' exclaimed, with
horror. "Don It you know, Jack-haven't
you sense enough to understand-that
these Indian fellows are vindictive to
the last degree; that they will never
forget Or forgive blow?"
"Pooh!" said he, getting up quite
merrily and marching homeward, say
ing over his shoulder: "Oh, don't you
| bother yourself Olier will be down on
his marrow bones tomorrow, see if he
isn't. Besides, owe him half dollar. "
Tomorrow came, unfruitful with the
half breeds submission. The story got
abroad among the huts, and the old set
tiers, who knew their man, shook their
heads ominously and boded no good to
my impulsive brother. However, two
days passed harmlessly, during which
Jack and I fished and shot together.
Olier had not reappeared, and I began
to breathe more freely. Doubtless be
had left the district He was an unset
tied fellow, at any rate, and had no
property 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
precipice. I had often wished to see the
falls, but it had been hitherto impossi-
BILE to accomplish the distance by my
single arm. At last my wish was to be
gratifed. A shooting party was made
up by some of the villagers, and at my
urgent request was included. The ar
rangement was to spend night at the
falls, camping out ON the bank, and re-
turn the following day. Instead of ca
noes we were to sail down in large
fiat bottomed boat, termed in Canadian
parlance 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
his resolution.
Our expedition had little in it note
worthy The river for over 20 miles
sail remained the same monotonOus,
melancholy Scugog, never varying for
the space of a hand. Not a vestige of
clearance was there between our village
and the falls, not glimpse of bank.
The trees lined the waters like wall,
and save the wild game no one ever tried
to force a way through their close knit
ranks, woofed at the base by a table Of
unwholesome verdure. This aspect 1
had stern reason for remembering. The
only bright thing was the patch of
C1OuultSS DluO 6hy oCCu az uuO CAOl CIiluy
Of this long reach of wood and water.
Over all brooded the intensest silence.
No bird trilled us single song; all
was still save for the lugubrious wood
pecker, which, perched on rotting
tree, hammered it's hollow sides with
it's beak. Tap, tap, tap! 1t was most
unearthly sound.
hol tho cf111oondn11C falls n
their lonely majesty and were steering
homeward in cur scow. AS we neared the
village again, distant only some five OF
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 vOy-
aged ON liquid field of cloth of gold
But ever and again, nlarring my intense
perception Of its loneliness, came the
ghastly tap, tap. tap of the woodpecker
I could not resist chilly sensation of
horror as I listened to the measured ca
dence echoing through the solitude. 1t
sounded like coffin maker hammering
at 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 refrains of sunny France. I asked
them for a stave, but I said nothing
about the woodpecker, whose note I
wished them to drown. A strong chorus
soon vanquished the bird of i'll omen
and rang up the vaulted river. I recol-
lect the strain WE'LL 1t was favorite
voyasers' ditty, sung to the dash of the
bar.
Suddenly the song lulled, and again
shuddered as heard the reverberating
tap, tap of the ominous bird aloft on
spectral fir. My companions had ceased
rowing, too, and called my attention to
a canoe which was floating down the
river few yards ahead of us. They
thought it was break loose and stood
by to strike d boat hook into it, with
the prospect of reward from the owner
up at the village 1t soon dropped down
to us and came, like the note of that
ghostly woodpecker, tapping against our
skiff There was stifed Cry of horror
from the settler at the bow, and as we
crowded forward to see what was the
matter another cried out the awful tale
of blood, "Here, young fellow, see your
brother-stalked by Olier as sure's
there's death in rifle bulletp'
It was an awful end My poor broth
er lay bent over his idle paddle in the
canoe, weltering in his hearts blood.
An avenging bullet had passed through
his heart. Stalked by Olier! Fiendlsh
Indian, that was thy work, and my
brothers. blood rested on thy head! l
shall not now detail the agonies of that
Indian summer. Through all my grief
ran the thought of an exterminating
vengeance Vengeance? Nay, scant JUS
tice. I sought what has been law since
the world began-blood for blood. 1t
was vain in those early times of judi
cial system in Canada to seek for rig
orous pursuit from the dispensers OF
legal justice. The criminal executive
might be willing, but their arm was
weak Retribution in the trackless wild
of wood and water where I dwelt could
proceed only from my own steady pur-
pose and solitary endeavor.
could depend but for small aid on
the settlers. Some of them indeed cursed