MONSIEUR VIOLET (FISCLE PART-IV) by FREDERICK MARRYAT (leveled readers txt) 📕

Brave Who Had Vanquished in his Own Den The Evil Spirit Of The

Mountains.

At Another Time, Boone, When Hardly Pressed by A Party Of The Flat-Head

Indians, Fell Into A Crevice And Broke The Butt Of His Rifle. He Was

Safe, However, From Immediate Danger; At Least He Thought So, And

Resolved he Would Remain Where He Was Till His Pursuers Should Abandon

Their Search. On Examining The Place Which Had Afforded him So Opportune

A Refuge, He Perceived it Was A Spacious Natural Cave, Having No Other

Entrance Than The Hole Or Aperture Through Which He Had Fallen. He

Thanked providence For This Fortunate Discovery, As, For The Future, He

Would Have A Safe Place To Conceal His Skins And Provisions While

Trapping; But As He Was Prosecuting His Search, He Perceived with

Dismay That The Cave Was Already Inhabited.

In A Corner He Perceived two Jaguars, Which Followed his Movements With

Glaring Eyes. A Single Glance Satisfied him They Were Cubs; But A

Maddening Thought Shot Across His Brain; The Mother Was Out, Probably

Not Far; She Might Return In a Moment, And He Had No Arms, Except His

Knife And The Barrel Of His Broken Rifle. While Musing Upon His Perilous

Situation, He Heard A Roar, Which Summoned all His Energy; He Rolled a

Loose Mass Of Rock To The Entrance; Made It As Firm As He Could, By

Backing It With Other Stones; Tied his Knife To The End Of His

Rifle-Barrel, And Calmly Waited for The Issue. A Minute Passed, When A

Tremendous Jaguar Dashed against The Rock, And Boone Needed all His

Giant'S Strength To Prevent It From Giving Way.

Perceiving That Main Force Could Not Clear The Passage, The Animal Began

Scratching and Digging at The Entrance, And Its Hideous Roars Were Soon

Responded to By The Cubs, Which Threw Themselves Upon Boone. He Kicked

Them Away, But Not Without Receiving Several Ugly Scratches, And,

Thrusting The Blade Of His Knife Through The Opening Between The Large

Stone And The Solid Rock, He Broke It In the Shoulder Of The Female

Jaguar, Which, With A Yell, Started away. This Respite Was Fortunate, As

By This Time Boone'S Strength Was Exhausted; He Profited by The

Suspension Of Hostility, So As To Increase The Impediments, In case Of A

New Attack; And Reflecting That The Mewings Of The Cubs Attracted and

Enraged the Mother, He Knocked their Brains Out With The Barrel Of His

Rifle. During Two Hours He Was Left To Repose Himself After His

Exertions, And He Was Beginning To Think The Animal Had Been Scared

Away, When Another Terrible Bound Against The Massive Stone Forced it A

Few Inches Into The Cave. For An Hour He Struggled, Till The Jaguar,

Itself Tired, And Not Hearing The Mewings Of Her Cubs, Retired with A

Piteous Howl.

Night Came, And Boone Began To Despond. Leaving The Cave Was Out Of

Question, For The Brute Was Undoubtedly Watching For Him; And Yet

Remaining Was Almost As Dangerous, As Long Watching and Continual

Exertion Weighed down His Eyelids And Rendered sleep Imperative. He

Decided to Remain Where He Was, And After Another Hour Of Labour In

Fortifying The Entrance, He Lay Down To Sleep, With The Barrel Of His

Rifle Close To Him, In case Of Attack.

He Had Slept About Three Or Four Hours, When He Was Awakened by A Noise

Close To His Head. The Moon Was Shining, And Shot Her Beams Through The

Crevices At The Mouth Of The Cave. A Foreboding Of Danger Would Not

Allow Boone To Sleep Any More; He Was Watching With Intense Anxiety,

When He Observed several Of The Smaller Stones He Had Placed round The

Piece Of Rock Rolling Towards Him, And That The Rays Of Light Streaming

Into The Cave Were Occasionally Darkened by Some Interposed body. It Was

The Jaguar, Which Had Been Undermining The Rock: One After The Other,

The Stones Gave Way; Boone Rose, Grasped his Heavy Rifle-Barrel, And

Determined to Await The Attack Of The Animal.

In A Second Or Two, The Heavy Stone Rolled a Few Feet Into The Cave; The

Jaguar Advanced her Head, Then Her Shoulders, And At Last, A Noiseless

Bound Brought Her Within Four Feet Of Boone, Who At That Critical Moment

Collecting all His Strength For A Decisive Blow, Dashed her Skull To

Atoms. Boone, Quite Exhausted, Drank Some Of Her Blood To Allay His

Thirst, Pillowed his Head Upon Her Body, And Fell Into A Deep Sleep.

The Next Morning Boone, After Having Made A Good Meal Off One Of The

Cubs, Started to Rejoin His Companions, And Communicated to Them His

Adventure And Discovery. A Short Time Afterwards, The Cave Was Stored

With All The Articles Necessary To A Trapper'S Life, And Soon Became The

Rendezvous Of All The Adventurous Men From The Banks Of The River Platte

To The Shores Of The Great Salt Lake.

Since Boone Had Settled in his Present Abode, He Had Had A Hand-To-Hand

Fight With A Black Bear, In the Very Room Where We Were Sitting. When He

Had Built His Log Cabin, It Was With The Intention Of Taking To Himself

A Wife. At That Time He Courted the Daughter Of One Of The Old Arkansas

Settlers, And He Wished to Have "A Place And A Crop On Foot" Before He

Married. The Girl Was Killed by The Fall Of A Tree, And Boone, In his

Sorrow, Sent Away The Men Whom He Had Hired to Help Him In "Turning His

Field," For He Wished to Be Alone.

Months Elapsed, And His Crop Of Corn Promised an Abundant Harvest; But

He Cared not. He Would Take His Rifle And Remain Sometimes For A Month

In The Woods, Brooding Over His Loss. The Season Was Far Advanced, When,

One Day Returning Home, He Perceived that The Bears, The Squirrels, And

The Deer Had Made Rather Free With The Golden Ears Of His Corn. The

Remainder He Resolved to Save For The Use Of His Horse, And As He

Wished to Begin Harvest Next Morning, He Slept That Night In the Cabin,

On His Solitary Pallet. The Heat Was Intense, And, As Usual In these

Countries During Summer, He Had Left His Door Wide Open.

It Was About Midnight, When He Heard Something Tumbling In the Room; He

Rose In a Moment, And, Hearing a Short And Heavy Breathing, He Asked who

It Was, For The Darkness Was Such, That He Could Not See Two Yards

Before Him. No Answer Being Given, Except A Kind Of Half-Smothered

Grunt, He Advanced, And, Putting Out His Hand, He Seized the Shaggy Coat

Of A Bear. Surprise Rendered him Motionless, And The Animal Giving Him A

Blow In the Chest With His Terrible Paw, Threw Him Down Outside The

Door. Boone Could Have Escaped, But, Maddened with The Pain Of His Fall,

He Only Thought Of Vengeance, And, Seizing His Knife And Tomahawk, Which

Were Fortunately Within His Reach, He Darted furiously At The Beast,

Dealing Blows At Random. Great As Was His Strength, His Tomahawk Could

Not Penetrate Through The Thick Coat Of The Animal, Which, Having

Encircled the Body Of His Assailant With His Paws, Was Pressing Him In

One Of Those Deadly Embraces Which Could Only Have Been Resisted by A

Giant Like Boone. Fortunately, The Black Bear, Unlike The Grizzly, Very

Seldom Uses His Claws And Teeth In fighting, Contenting Himself With

Smothering His Victim. Boone Disentangled his Left Arm, And With His

Knife Dealt A Furious Blow Upon The Snout Of The Animal, Which, Smarting

With Pain, Released his Hold. The Snout Is The Only Vulnerable Part In

An Old Black Bear. Even At Forty Yards, The Ball Of A Rifle Will Flatten

Against His Skull, And If In any Other Part Of The Body, It Will

Scarcely Produce Any Serious Effect.

Boone, Aware Of This, And Not Daring To Risk Another Hug, Darted away

From The Cabin. The Bear, Now Quite Angry, Followed and Overtook Him

Near The Fence. Fortunately The Clouds Were Clearing away, And The Moon

Threw Light Sufficient To Enable The Hunter To Strike With A More

Certain Aim: Chance Also Favoured him; He Found On The Ground One Of The

Rails Made Of The Blue Ash, Very Heavy, And Ten Feet In length; He

Dropped his Knife And Tomahawk, And Seizing The Rail, He Renewed the

Fight With Caution, For It Had Now Become A Struggle For Life Or Death.

Had It Been A Bull Or A Panther, They Would Have Had Their Bones

Shivered to Pieces By The Tremendous Blows Which Boone Dealt Upon His

Adversary With All The Strength Of Despair; But Bruin Is By Nature An

Admirable Fencer, And, In spite Of His Unwieldy Shape, There Is Not In

The World An Animal Whose Motions Are More Rapid In a Close Encounter.

Once Or Twice He Was Knocked down By The Force Of The Blows, But

Generally He Would Parry Them With A Wonderful Agility. At Last, He

Succeeded in seizing The Other End Of The Rail, And Dragged it Towards

Him With Irresistible Force. Both Man And Beast Fell, Boone Rolling To

The Place Where He Had Dropped his Arms, While The Bear Advanced upon

Him; The Moment Was A Critical One, But Boone Was Accustomed to Look At

And Brave Death Under Every Shape, And With A Steady Hand He Buried his

Tomahawk In the Snout Of His Enemy, And, Turning Round, He Rushed to His

Cabin, Believing He Would Have Time To Secure The Door. He Closed the

Latch, And Applied his Shoulders To It; But It Was Of No Avail, The

Terrible Brute Dashed in head Foremost, And Tumbled in the Room With

Boone And The Fragments Of The Door. The Two Foes Rose And Stared at

Each Other; Boone Had Nothing Left But His Knife, But Bruin Was

Tottering and Unsteady, And Boone Felt That The Match Was More Equal:

Once More They Closed.

A Few Hours After Sunrise, Captain Finn, Returning Home From The

Legislature At Little Rock, Called upon His Friend, And, To His Horror,

Found Him Apparently Lifeless On The Floor, And Alongside Of Him, The

Body Of The Bear. Boone Soon Recovered, And Found That The Lucky Blow

Which Had Saved him From Being Crashed to Death Had Buried the Whole

Blade Of His Knife, Through The Left Eye, In the Very Brain Of The

Animal[29].

[Footnote 29: The Black Bear Does Not Grow To Any Great Size In the

Eastern And Northern Parts Of America, But In arkansas And The Adjacent

States It Becomes, From Its Size And Strength, Almost As Formidable An

Antagonist As A Grizzly Bear. It Is Very Common To Find Them Eight

Hundred weight, But Sometimes They Weigh Above A Thousand Pounds.]

The Next Morning, We All Three Started, And By Noon We Had Crossed the

Washita River. It Is The Most Beautiful Stream I Know Of, Being Cool And

Transparent, Averaging a Depth Of Eight Or Ten Feet, And Running Upon A

Hard Sandy Bottom. While We Were Crossing, Boone Told Us That As Soon As

We Arrived at The Summit Of The Woody Hills Before Us, If We Looked

Sharp, We Should See Some Bears, For He Had Never Passed that Way

Without Shooting One Or Two.

We Forded the Stream, And Entered into A Noble