Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems/A Trapper's Story

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A TRAPPER'S STORY.

"Twas a moonlight night," the trapper began,
As we lay by the bright camp-fire, —
" Come, fill up your pipes, and pile on the brands,
And gather a little nigher,—
"'Twas a moonlight night when Bet and I —
Bet, she's the old mare, you know —
Started for camp on our lonely route,
O'er the dreary waste of snow.
"I had been to the 'clearing' that afternoon
For powder and ball, and whiskey too;
For game was plenty, furs in demand,
And plenty of hunting and trapping to do.
"I had no fear of the danger that lurked
In the region through which my journey lay,
Till Bet of a sudden pricked up her ears,
And sniffed the air in a curious way.
"I knew at once what the danger was
As Bet struck out at a 'forty gait:
'Twas life or death for the mare and me,
And all I could do was to trust to fate.
"Wolves on our track, ten miles from home!
A pleasant prospect that, — eh, boys?
I could see them skulking among the trees,
And the woods re-echoed their hideous noise.
"At last, as their numbers began to swell,
They bolder grew, and pressed us close:
So ' Old Pill-Driver' I brought to bear,
And gave the leader a leaden dose.
"Now, you must know, if you draw the blood
On one of the sneaking, ravenous crew,
The rest will turn on the double-quick,
And eat him up without more ado.
"This gave me a chance to load my gun,
With just a moment to breathe and rest;
When on they came! a-gaining fast,
Though Bet was doing her level best.
"I began to think it was getting hot.
'Pill-Driver,' says I, ' this will never do:
Talk to 'em again!' You bet she did;
And right in his tracks lay number two.
"Well, boys, to make a long story short,
I picked them off till but one was left;
But he was a whopper, you'd better believe, —
A reg'lar mammoth in size and heft.
"Yes, he was the last of the savage pack;
For, as they had followed the nat'ral law,
They had eaten each other as fast as they fell,
Till all were condensed in his spacious maw."