Boyhood in Norway Part 4

He never had shot an elk before; and his father, who was anxious to preserve the n.o.ble beasts from destruction, had not availed himself of his right to kill one for many years. Ralph had, indeed, many a time hunted rabbits, hares, mountain-c.o.c.k, and capercaillie. But they had never destroyed his pleasure by arousing pity for their deaths; and he had always regarded himself as being proof against sentimental emotions.

"Look here, Biceps," he said, flinging the knife into the snow, "I wish I hadn't killed that bull."

"I thought we were hunting for poachers," answered Albert, dubiously; "and now we have been poaching ourselves."

"By Jiminy! So we have; and I never once thought of it," cried the valiant hunter. "I am afraid we are off my father's preserves too. It is well the deputy sheriffs are not abroad, or we might find ourselves decorated with iron bracelets before night."

"But what did you do it for?"

"Well, I can't tell. It's in the blood, I fancy. The moment I saw the track and caught the wild smell, I forgot all about the poachers, and started on the scent like a hound."

The two boys stood for some minutes looking at the dead animal, not with savage exultation, but with a dim regret. The blood which was gus.h.i.+ng from the wound in the breast froze in a solid lump the very moment it touched the snow, although the cold had greatly moderated since the morning.

"I suppose we'll have to skin the fellow," remarked Ralph, lugubriously; "it won't do to leave that fine carca.s.s for the wolves to celebrate Christmas with."

"All right," Albert answered, "I am not much of a hand at skinning, but I'll do the best I can."

They fell to work rather reluctantly at the unwonted task, but had not proceeded far when they perceived that they had a full day's job before them.

"I've no talent for the butcher's trade," Ralph exclaimed in disgust, dropping his knife into the snow. "There's no help for it, Biceps, we'll have to bury the carca.s.s, pile some logs on the top of it, and send a horse to drag it home to-morrow. If it were not Christmas Eve to-night we might take a couple of men along and shoot a dozen wolves or more.

For there is sure to be pandemonium here before long, and a concert in G-flat that'll curdle the marrow of your bones with horror."

"Thanks," replied the admirer of Mids.h.i.+pman Easy, striking a reckless naval att.i.tude. "The marrow of my bones is not so easily curdled. I've been on a whaling voyage, which is more than you have."

Ralph was about to vindicate his dignity by referring to his own valiant exploits, when suddenly his keen eyes detected a slight motion in the underbrush on the slope below.

"Biceps," he said, with forced composure, "those poachers are tracking us."

"What do you mean?" asked Albert, in vague alarm.

"Do you see the top of that young birch waving?"

"Well, what of that!"

"Wait and see. It's no good trying to escape. They can easily overtake us. The snow is the worst tell-tale under the sun."

"But why should we wish to escape? I thought we were going to catch them."

"So we were; but that was before we turned poachers ourselves. Now those fellows will turn the tables on us--take us to the sheriff and collect half the fine, which is fifty dollars, as informers."

"Je-rusalem!" cried Biceps, "isn't it a beautiful sc.r.a.pe we've gotten into?"

"Rather," responded his friend, coolly.

"But why meekly allow ourselves to be captured? Why not defend ourselves?"

"My dear Biceps, you don't know what you are talking about. Those fellows don't mind putting a bullet into you, if you run. Now, I'd rather pay fifty dollars any day, than shoot a man even in self-defence."

"But they have killed elk too. We heard them shoot twice. Suppose we play the same game on them that they intend to play on us. We can play informers too, then we'll at least be quits."

"Biceps, you are a brick! That's a capital idea! Then let us start for the sheriff's; and if we get there first, we'll inform both on ourselves and on them. That'll cancel the fine. Quick, now!"

No persuasions were needed to make Albert bestir himself. He leaped toward his skees, and following his friend, who was a few rods ahead of him, started down the slope in a zigzag line, cautiously steering his way among the tree trunks. The boys had taken their departure none too soon; for they were scarcely five hundred yards down the declivity, when they heard behind them loud exclamations and oaths. Evidently the poachers had stopped to roll some logs (which were lying close by) over the carca.s.s, probably meaning to appropriate it; and this gave the boys an advantage, of which they were in great need. After a few moments they espied an open clearing which sloped steeply down toward the river.

Toward this Ralph had been directing his course; for although it was a venturesome undertaking to slide down so steep and rugged a hill, he was determined rather to break his neck than lower his pride, and become the laughing-stock of the parish.

One more tack through alder copse and juniper jungle--hard indeed, and terribly vexatious--and he saw with delight the great open slope, covered with an unbroken surface of glittering snow. The sun (which at midwinter is but a few hours above the horizon) had set; and the stars were flas.h.i.+ng forth with dazzling brilliancy. Ralph stopped, as he reached the clearing, to give Biceps an opportunity to overtake him; for Biceps, like all marine animals, moved with less dexterity on the dry land.

"Ralph," he whispered breathlessly, as he pushed himself up to his companion with a vigorous thrust of his skee-staff, "there are two awful chaps close behind us. I distinctly heard them speak."

"Fiddlesticks," said Ralph; "now let us see what you are made of!

Don't take my track, or you may impale me like a roast pig on a spit.

Now, ready!--one, two, three!"

"Hold on there, or I shoot," yelled a hoa.r.s.e voice from out of the underbrush; but it was too late; for at the same instant the two boys slid out over the steep slope, and, wrapped in a whirl of loose snow, were scudding at a dizzying speed down the precipitous hill-side. Thump, thump, thump, they went, where hidden wood-piles or fences obstructed their path, and out they shot into s.p.a.ce, but each time came down firmly on their feet, and dashed ahead with undiminished ardor. Their calves ached, the cold air whistled in their ears, and their eyelids became stiff and their sight half obscured with the h.o.a.r-frost that fringed their lashes. But onward they sped, keeping their balance with wonderful skill, until they reached the gentler slope which formed the banks of the great river. Then for the first time Ralph had an opportunity to look behind him, and he saw two moving whirls of snow darting downward, not far from his own track. His heart beat in his throat; for those fellows had both endurance and skill, and he feared that he was no match for them. But suddenly--he could have yelled with delight--the foremost figure leaped into the air, turned a tremendous somersault, and, coming down on his head, broke through the crust of the snow and vanished, while his skees started on an independent journey down the hill-side.

He had struck an exposed fence-rail, which, abruptly checking his speed, had sent him flying like a rocket.

The other poacher had barely time to change his course, so as to avoid the snag; but he was unable to stop and render a.s.sistance to his fallen comrade. The boys, just as they were shooting out upon the ice, saw by his motions that he was hesitating whether or not he should give up the chase. He used his staff as a brake for a few moments, so as to r.e.t.a.r.d his speed; but discovering, perhaps, by the brightening starlight, that his adversaries were not full-grown men, he took courage, started forward again, and tried to make up for the time he had lost. If he could but reach the sheriff's house before the boys did, he could have them arrested and collect the informer's fee, instead of being himself arrested and fined as a poacher. It was a prize worth racing for! And, moreover, there were two elks, worth twenty-five dollars apiece, buried in the snow under logs. These also would belong to the victor! The poacher dashed ahead, straining every nerve, and reached safely the foot of the steep declivity. The boys were now but a few hundred yards ahead of him.

"Hold on there," he yelled again, "or I shoot!"

He was not within range, but he thought he could frighten the youngsters into abandoning the race. The sheriff's house was but a short distance up the river. Its tall, black chimneys could he seen looming up against the starlit sky. There was no slope now to accelerate their speed. They had to peg away for dear life, pus.h.i.+ng themselves forward with their skee-staves, laboring like plough-horses, panting, snorting, perspiring.

Ralph turned his head once more. The poacher was gaining upon them; there could be no doubt of it. He was within the range of Ralph's rifle; and a st.u.r.dy fellow he was, who seemed good for a couple of miles yet.

Should Ralph send a bullet over his head to frighten him? No; that might give the poacher an excuse for sending back a bullet with a less innocent purpose. Poor Biceps, he was panting and puffing in his heavy wraps like a steamboat! He did not once open his mouth to speak; but, exerting his vaunted muscle to the utmost, kept abreast of his friend, and sometimes pushed a pace or two ahead of him. But it cost him a mighty effort! And yet the poacher was gaining upon him! They could see the long broadside of windows in the sheriff's mansion, ablaze with Christmas candles. They came nearer and nearer! The church-bells up on the bend were ringing in the festival. Five minutes more and they would be at their goal. Five minutes more! Surely they had strength enough left for that small s.p.a.ce of time. So had the poacher, probably! The question was, which had the most. Then, with a short, sharp resonance, followed by a long reverberation, a shot rang out and a bullet whizzed past Ralph's ear. It was the poacher who had broken the peace. Ralph, his blood boiling with wrath, came to a sudden stop, flung his rifle to his cheek and cried, "Drop that gun!"

The poacher, bearing down with all his might on the skee-staff, checked his speed. In the meanwhile Albert hurried on, seeing that the issue of the race depended upon him.

"Don't force me to hurt ye!" shouted the poacher, threateningly, to Ralph, taking aim once more.

"You can't," Ralph shouted back. "You haven't another shot."

At that instant sounds of sleigh-bells and voices were heard, and half a dozen people, startled by the shot, were seen rus.h.i.+ng out from the sheriff's mansion. Among them was Mr. Bjornerud himself, with one of his deputies.

"In the name of the law, I command you to cease," he cried, when he saw down the two figures in menacing att.i.tudes. But before he could say another word, some one fell prostrate in the road before him, gasping:

"We have shot an elk; so has that man down on the ice. We give ourselves up."

Mr. Bjornerud, making no answer, leaped over the prostrate figure, and, followed by the deputy, dashed down upon the ice.

"In the name of the law!" he shouted again, and both rifles were reluctantly lowered.

"I have shot an elk," cried Ralph, eagerly, "and this man is a poacher, we heard him shoot."

"I have killed an elk," screamed the poacher, in the same moment, "and so has this fellow."

The sheriff was too astonished to speak. Never before, in his experience, had poachers raced for dear life to give themselves into custody. He feared that they were making sport of him; in that case, however, he resolved to make them suffer for their audacity.

"You are my prisoners," he said, after a moment's hesitation. "Take them to the lock-up, Olsen, and handcuff them securely," he added, turning to his deputy.

There were now a dozen men--most of them guests and attendants of the sheriff's household--standing in a ring about Ralph and the poacher.