TO THE END.
Oh, fair, swift river, go on and go byl
Go on and go down, till the voice of the sea
And the white lips of surf and the hands of
the tide
And the white lips of surf and the hand of
the tide
And the might of the deep where great ships
ride .
Reach out and give welcome to thee!
Ob, fair, sweet life, go on and go byl
Go on and go down to eternity;
And welcome thy end as the river is lost,
Where the wrecks lie thick, and the dead are
tost
On the limitless waste of the sea!
H. Kennedy, in the Curren
A Serious Encounter.
We had been watching an opportunity
to talk with father for a week, but to
tell the truth, he had not been in a very
good humor. The crops were light,
Eork bade fair to be low too, and we
new he had interest money to make out
on the first of December, a fact that
troubled him a good deal, for it was Oc
tober already. However, he looked
rather more cheerful this morning; so
my brother, Ad, mustered up courage,
and said :
"If you will let Lew and me go after
cons- tnis ran, we will
en erase to pay
you fifteen dollars a month for our time,
ouu uusiu uui3uvc.
Father looked at him a moment, and
tnen sharply at me. He evidently did
not favor it.
"Who will do the fall's work?" he ex
claimed. "Who will look to the
hogs?"
Ad did not like to say, ."It will be
necessary for you to do that yourself,"
so he simply said, "It seems to me that
ninety dollars would help a good deal
on the bills that are coming due."
Father rose and went to the door, then,
as mother had breakfast about ready, he
sat down at the table. "Well, you may
as well eat your breakfast, boys," he
said.
We ate in silence. Just a3 we were
getting up from the table father said: "If
you feel quite sure that you can save
thirly dollars a month, as I need the
money, 1 think I. will- try to
xrrti "
spare
That was
though.
enough.
Weren't we glad,
Perhaps the reader is wondering what
we meant by going "after 'cons.'" Did
you ever eat a pecan nut? Ilere in North
ern Texas, and in the Indian Territory,
along the upper course of Red river, boys
earn pocket money by gathering and
selling pecans. It is quite a business, in
fact. We make camping-out trips of a
month or six weeks' duration. The nuts
are ripe by the 1st of October, and the
gathering season lasts till the 1st of the
following January, The pecan nut tree
is a variety of hickory, as many know.
At this season of the year our climate
is almost perfect. There is an occasional
"norther,'' of course; but a day or two
of cold north wind may well be served
up as a spice for the long dessert of
genial sunshine with which the winter
solstice favors us.
Our summers, however, cannot be so
highly recommended; for though the
thermometer stands at ninety-six degrees
in the shade nearly all day, one-half of
the inhabitants are commonly shivering
every other day with the cold. Chills
and fever 1 These are the blots on our
summer climate.
Pecan trees are very numerous on the
banks of all the wooded streams of Texas
and the Indian Territory, but it is among
the groves along Red river that the nuts
are most abundant. There, too, the
"camp of the picker" will be most often
seen.
Let me say here that gathering pe:ans,
as a business, involves work ; and the in
dustrious picker goes from his camp in
the morning provided with a "strapsack"
and a long slender pole. The 6ack,
made of stiff ducking, with leather-cov-
erea oouoms, win noia a pecs or more
oi nuts, and carried by a broad strap I
thrown over the shoulder. The pole is I
ft light, strong sapling, as long aa the
picker can conveniently carry or handle.
This is a very necessary part of his out
fit. Without it he could accomplish lit
tle, for the pecan-tree is tall and slender,
with slim branches that offer little aid
to climbers ; while the nuts themselves
incased in hard, oblong shucks, that I
very slowly to the forces of nature,
ery quickly to the smart raps of the
er'a pole.
tive picker will gather from two
bushels a day. When gathered
the nuts are worth, on an average, two
dollars and a quarter per bushel at tha
nearest "store," or frontier town.
Thus the sons of farmers living along
ited luver frequently make good wages
during the pecan months, and get some
sport in the bargain. Not that there is
much sport in the picking of the nuts,
but the deep woods into which the
picker must penetrate are still wel
stocked with game. Deer, turkeys, wild
cats and panthers are to be met in these
wild places. The wild turkeys are
especially abundant, and the nut-gath
erers carry guns, of course.
Anotner Kind 01 game is met in some
places, too frequently met, let me say,
ana tnis is tne wua nog. mese vicious
brutes, like those in the swamps of
Mississippi, tne descendants of the do
mestic animals, are indeed a "thorn in
the flesh" to the pecan-picker. Not
only do they devour bushels of the wind
falls, but they often make a raid, in the
absence of the picker, into his camp and
piunuer nis laruer.
JNoristms ail. Tne old boars are
fierce and vicious, and many of them
seemed determined to drive all trespass
ers from the weeds through which they
roam. The pecan-picker is very willing
to avoid encounters with them, and
never shoots one unless compelled to do
so to escape injury, for many of them
bear the brand of an owner,
But occasionally a pitched battle takes
and an exasperated nicker, which usually
ends in tne deatn oi tne brute, it is a
I dangerous encounter, however, even
when well armed, for the brush and the
sweet-briers are usually more than waist
high, and a boar's motions are very rapid
and uncertain.
This introduction was necessary be
fore beginning my story, in order that I
may be understood.
Our home is on the south side of Red
river; and having made up an outfit,
something as above indicated, and pro
cured a six weeks' stock of bacon, lard
and corn meal, we set off on the morn
ing of ;the 4th of October with old
"Buck" one of our horses harnessed
into a farm wagon, containing tent,
blankets, etc.
Fording the river, we went ten or fif
teen miles un Cache creek, to a tracrf
itimber which he had nreviouslv "d
jnected. It was a good place for nuts
ana one not iiiceiy 10 De visitea dj otne
pickers.
Our method of disposing of the nuts.
which, otherwise, would accumulate on
our hands, or cause much waste of time
in hauling across the river, was a very
convenient one. We were within half a
day's drive of one of the numerous
freight roads into the Territory; and the
4 'freighters" returning without load, from
a trip to one oi tne nortnern posts, or
agencies, willingly gave us two dollars
per bushel for all the nuts we chose to
bring to them ; for they were sure to sell
the at an advance of from twenty-five
. ,-uw Cf UU3"Ci
There is no trouble in catching a
"freighter" at the creek crossings, on
almost any morning or evening.
Our camping-place was near a little
tributary of the Cache, called the Deep
Red, in the midst of the pecan and hack
berry woods. For the first two weeks,
we did not see a man except the passing
freighters. Iiy the afternoon of the
fourteenth day, we had gathered over
fifty bushels of nuts, for which we had
received from the freighters over one
hundred dollars ; more than enough for
our "freedom money" till January. There
seemed no limit to the quantity of pecans
on the trees, lurkeys were plenty; and
as yet we had not heard a hog, nor seen
a trace of one.
That afternoon Ad took old
Buck and the wagon, to go up the
creek a few miles after a load of "windfall'
nuts, which we had scraped together on
the ground under the trees, the afternoon
be fore, leaving me to pick as usual,nearer
the camp. We had seen deer signs on
the creek, and he took our breech-loading
carbine (a Winchester) along with
him.
There remained to me only the
light shotgun.
"Bring back a deer," I called to him,
as he drove out through the timber.
"and I will have a turkey all cooked
when you get here."
"I'll do it," he said. "Have your tur
key ready, for I shall be hungry."
For three or four hours I was busy,
rapping limbs with my pole and gather-
ing the nuts that fell; and, in fact, eame
near forgetting the turkey altogether, in
the castles I was building for expending
the three hundred dollars which I hoped
to clear that fall, and by which I could
make a grand tour to New York and
Bosten. The late afternoon sun-rays
falling in between the hickory trunks, at
last reminded me oi my uuues aa
and hastily taking my fourth sack-load
of nuts to camp, I loaded the shotgun
and started for my turkey.
From previous experience I knew that
the creek bank was the place to look for
them at this time oi day; ana, inuecu, x
had scarcely reached it when a plaintive
"Yeap, yeap, yeap, yop, yop, yop!'' came
to my ear from a few rods below. The
bird had evidently strayed away from its
mates, and was complaining iouaiy oiks
separation. I had to make my way very
cautiously through a thick growth of
voung hackberries, but at length reached
the desired position, and peering tnrougn
the bushes from the top of the bank, was
rewarded by the sight of a hne youi
cobbler trotting back and forth upon
aand bar on the ODDOsite side of the
creek. The turkev seemed bewildered
and unable to decide which direction to
take; but in a inonoent I raised my gun
and the stricken turkey lay dead on the
sand.
With the report of the gun, however,
Quite another sort of came turnea up.
Close at hand, in the thicket. I heard a
surprised Whoosh 1 whoosh I then a
crash in the brush followed by the angry
chop! chopl chopl of a boar's jaws.
Knowing how rapid these brutes some
times are in their rushes. I lost no time
in jumping down to tne paruy dry uea
of the creek, and wading quickly
through the water, caught up my turkey,
with the intention of leaving such a
dangerous neighborhood, without loss
of time. But the thicket was very dense
on the other bank, and I was obliged to
follow up the bed of the creek, for a
few rods, to get out of it. I went on tip
toe, and it seemed to me I nardly stirred
a pebble, yet I had not gone more than
twenty yards, when with another gruff
whoogh, and a clash of his long tusks, a
great, gaunt, spotted boar plunged out
rom amongst the sweet-briers, and
throwing the froth from his mouth high
into the air as he "clacked," came at me
ike a shot.
My gun was empty. I knew that I
stood no chance with such a creature by
the breech. To run was all
that I could do, and run I did, down
the bed of the creek, at my very best
ce. ,
Bat let no one think that he can out-
a wild boar; I had not taken ten
i'umps, when a loud whoogh at my very
eels told me that the brute was upon
me and would the next moment rip
me up.
I did what 'most any one, overtaken,
will do leaped aside as far and as
lithely as I could.
The boar went by me with a rush,
plowing through the sand and making
the pebbles fly, as if a hundred-pound
shot had struck beside me 1
I did not wait to even look at him, I
but tacked about, as if on a pivot, and
ran up stream, with all my might and
main ! But the boar pursued almost as
quickly as I, and I had not run a nun
dred feet before he was at my heels
again 1
Again I leaped for life, to one side ;
and again the boar plowed byl The
next instant I was running for dear life's
sake down stream again 1 Four times I
ran back and forth in this manner, and
every time, the boar came so close that
he threw the froth from his mouth all
over by back ! It seemed as if he came
closer to me each time. I felt my
strength, or at least my breath, failing
me. rne tnougnt tnat l must be ripped
and killed by that savage snimal was
an . awiui one; and catch me I
knew he would in less than an
other minute. But just as I tacked the
fourth time, my eye fell on a hackberry
sapling that leaned out from the thicket
on the bank, over the creek bed.
The trunk was, perhaps, four feet up
from my head. As I ran under it. I
summoned all my energy, jumped and
caught it with ray hands. It bent under
the weight, but I drew legs up, and clap
ped my feet roud it, just in time to es
cape a SDiteful UDward slash of thn
boar's tushes 1 He just missed my body.
Another foot and he would have struck
mel
I wiggled round to the top side of the
sapling, into a more secure position, and
was now, perhaps, six feet above the
boar's head.
There I lay and panted; while be
neath, the old tusker stood and looked
up at me, whetting his tusks, his wicked
little red eyes fairly sparkling with fury,
and the long bristles standing up all
along his fore shoulder and back.
Finding that he could not reach me,
tha boar began rooting and tearing out
the baak at the roots of tho sapling.!
Rip, rip went his old tusks through tho
turf and fibers. I felt the sapling jar,
and soon began to fear that he might
tear enough of the roots and the earth
away so that it might fall over into tho
creek bed. i
Every few moments the malignant
brute would stop and eye me for an in
stant, then fall to ripping at the roots
again. I really think that the creature
had soma plan of getting me down.
Already it was past sunset, and twi
light would soon come on. Ad ought
to be back by this time, I thought,
and in hopes of his assistance, I now be
gan to shout for help. For a time the
forest echoes were my only responses,
but I kept shouting at intervals of half
a minute, or less; and at last got an
answering hullo! from away up the
creek. , ;
"Help!" I shouted. "Help, help!" "'
Ad was at this time about half a mile
from camp, coming home with a wagon
load of pecans. When he heard me call
"help!" he unhitched old "Buck" from
the wagon, jumped on his back and
came down at a gallop. In a minute or
two I heard him dashing in through the
sweet-briars at a great pace.
"Hold on!" I shouted. "Get your gun
ready. I am treed by a savage old boar.
1 ou must look out for him. He 8 full of
fight."
"I'll settle him!" cried Ad, cheerily.
But the boar no sooner heard his voice
than he gave one of hiswhooghs! rushed
up the bank and out through the brush,
toward the sound. .
I could just see Ad over the briers.
"Look sharp I" I called out. "He's
coming for you!"
"Let him comer' Ad exclaimed ; I
heard the hammer click; then crack
went a shot! Old "Buck's" head reared
up in sight at the same instant. The
boar had charged blindly at the horse.
In the fracas Ad was thrown violently
into the briers. -
Fearing the worst, I jumped down
from the sapling, and ran through the
brush on the trail of the boar. But be
fore I got through, another shot cracked,
and Ad cried out "All right! I've set
tled him this time !"
When I got through the thicket, he
was standing in triumph, over the still
heaving body of the bcar.
' .aliased him the hrst time," said he.
"Then the horse jumped before I could
catch the reins an' threw me. Old 'Buck
ran off in no time; and then the boar
turned on me, as I lay sprawled out here.
continued to work the lever and shove
the muzzle down, as he came toward me.
See, the bullet went in at his mouth, an'
came out at the back of his head."
I got the turkey and the shot-gun ;
and we went back to camp where the
first living objects we saw were fifteen
or twenty sows the old tusker's family,
probably, champing up our supplies, and
lipping our tent and blankets to pieces.
In factj they had pretty nearly ruined
our domestic arrangements, and it was
four or five days before we got fresh
provisions, and were in trim to resume
pecan -picking.
Yet, despite our misadventure, we
made a very handsome sum of money
for boys that year. F. IF. Calkins, in
YoutJCi Companion.
Riding Behind a Team of Veer.
The object that attracts most attention
from strangers in the neighborhood of
the town of Butte, Colorado, is a team
of tame deer. These pets were caught
when very young, in the hunting grounds
called the Big Meadows. Their captor
was an Indian, named Buckhorn, a guide
and trapper of the Digger tribe. Indeed,
Buckhorn is a man of authority among
his people, being the head chief of the
Diggers in the vicinity of the Big
Meadows. He owns a drove of ponies,
but prefers to ride behind his deer. The
animals are quite docile. They have
large antlers, and as they hold their
heads high, the team, when hitched to
a buckboard wagon, present a very im
posing appearance. The harness does
not contain a buckle or clasp; it is made
of buckskin from halter to hame strings.
The deer are fleet of foot, of course, and
it is the boast of Chief Buckhorn that
they can outrun any other team.
All the great rivers of Russia are Inter
laced by artificial canals, through which
thousands of barges, some as high as
1,000 tons burthen, mako their way
every navigation season from the Volga
to the Neva. The cost of maintaining
these waterways reaches $1,200,000 an
nually.