Stories of Great Americans for Little Americans Part 14

But the hunters who lived in the woods could shoot better. They would light a candle. Then one of the hunters would take his gun, and go a hundred steps away from the candle. He would then shoot at the candle.

He would shoot so as to snuff it. He would not put out the candle. He would only cut off a bit of the wick with the bullet. But he would leave the candle burning.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Snuffing the Candle.]

Once Audubon came near being killed by some robbers. He stopped at a cabin where lived an old white woman. He found a young Indian in the house. The Indian had hurt himself with an arrow. He had come to the house to spend the night.

The old woman saw Audubon's fine gold watch. She asked him to let her look at it. He put it into her hands for a minute. Then the Indian pa.s.sed by Audubon, and pinched him two or three times. That was to let him know that the woman was bad, and that she might rob him.

Audubon went and lay down with his hand on his gun. After a while two men came in. They were the sons of the old woman. Then the old woman sharpened a large knife. She told the young men to kill the Indian first, and then to kill Audubon and take his watch. She thought that Audubon was asleep. But he drew up his gun ready to fire.

Just then two hunters came to the cabin. Audubon told them what the robbers were going to do. They took the old woman and her sons, and tied their hands and feet. The Indian, though he was in pain from his hurt, danced for joy when he saw that the robbers were caught. The woman and her sons were afterward punished.

HUNTING A PANTHER.

Audubon was traveling in the woods in Mis-sis-sip-pi. He found the little cabin of a settler. He staid there for the night. The settler told him that there was a panther in the swamp near his house. A panther is a very large and fierce animal. It is large enough to kill a man. This was a very bad panther. It had killed some of the settler's dogs.

Audubon said, "Let us hunt this panther, and kill it."

So the settler sent out for his neigh-bors to come and help kill the panther. Five men came. Audubon and the settler made seven. They were all on horse-back.

When they came to the edge of the swamp, each man went a dif-fer-ent way. They each took their dogs with them to find the track of the wild beast. All of the hunters carried horns. Who-ever should find the track first was to blow his horn to let the others know.

In about two hours after they had started, they heard the sound of a horn. It told them that the track had been found. Every man now went toward the sound of the horn. Soon all the yelping dogs were fol-low-ing the track of the fierce panther. The panther was running into the swamp farther and farther.

I suppose that the panther thought that there were too many dogs and men for him to fight. All the hunters came after the dogs. They held their guns ready to shoot if the panther should make up his mind to fight them.

After a while the sound of the dogs' voices changed. The hunters knew from this that the panther had stopped running, and gone up into a tree.

At last the men came to the place where the dogs were. They were all barking round a tree. Far up in the tree was the dan-ger-ous beast.

The hunters came up care-ful-ly. One of them fired. The bullet hit the panther, but did not kill him.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

The panther sprang to the ground, and ran off again. The dogs ran after. The men got on their horses, and rode after.

But the horses were tired, and the men had to get down, and follow the dogs on foot.

The hunters now had to wade through little ponds of water. Sometimes they had to climb over fallen trees. Their clothes were badly torn by the bushes. After two hours more, they came to a place where the panther had again gone up into a tree.

This time three of the hunters shot at him. The fierce panther came tumbling to the ground. But he was still able to fight. The men fought the savage beast on all sides. At last they killed him. Then they gave his skin to the settler. They wanted him to know that his en-e-my was dead.

SOME BOYS WHO BECAME AUTHORS.

Wil-liam Cul-len Bry-ant was the first great poet in this country. He was a small man. When he was a baby, his head was too big for his body. His father used to send the baby to be dipped in a cold spring every day. The father thought that putting his head into cold water would keep it from growing.

Bry-ant knew his letters before he was a year and a half old. He began to write rhymes when he was a very little fellow. He wanted to be a poet. He used to pray that he might be a poet. His father printed some verses of his when he was only ten years old.

Bry-ant wrote many fine poems. Here are some lines of his about the bird we call a bob-o-link:--

Rob-ert of Lin-coln is gayly dressed, Wearing a bright black wedding coat, White are his shoulders and white his crest.

Hear him call in his merry note: Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink; Look, what a nice new coat is mine, Sure there was never a bird so fine.

Chee, chee, chee.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Haw-thorne was one of our greatest writers of stories. He was a pretty boy with golden curls. He was fond of all the great poets, and he read Shake-speare and Mil-ton and many other poets as soon as he was old enough to un-der-stand them.

Haw-thorne grew up a very hand-some young fellow. One day he was walking in the woods. He met an old gypsy woman. She had never seen anybody so fine-looking.

"Are you a man, or an angel?" she asked him.

Some of Haw-thorne's best books are written for girls and boys. One of these is called "The Won-der Book." Another of his books for young people is "Tan-gle-wood Tales."

Pres-cott wrote beautiful his-to-ries. When Pres-cott was a boy, a school-mate threw a crust of bread at him. It hit him in the eye. He became almost blind.

He had to do his writing with a machine. This machine was made for the use of the blind. There were no type-writ-ers in those days.

It was hard work to write his-to-ry without good eyes. But Pres-cott did not give up. He had a man to read to him. It took him ten years to write his first book.

When Prescott had finished his book, he was afraid to print it. But his father said, "The man who writes a book, and is afraid to print it, is a cow-ard."

Then Prescott printed his book. Everybody praised it. When you are older, you will like to read his his-to-ries.

Doctor Holmes, the poet, was a boy full of fancies. He lived in an old house. Soldiers had staid in the house at the time of the Revolution.

The floor of one room was all battered by the b.u.t.ts of the soldiers' muskets.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Little Ol-i-ver Holmes used to think he could hear soldiers in the house. He thought he could hear their spurs rattling in the dark pa.s.sages. Sometimes he thought he could hear their swords clanking.

The little boy was afraid of a sign that hung over the sidewalk. It was a great, big, wooden hand. It was the sign of a place where gloves were made. This big hand swung in the air. Little Ol-i-ver Holmes had to walk under it on his way to school. He thought the great fingers would grab him some day. Then he thought he would never get home again. He even thought that his other pair of shoes would be put away till his little brother grew big enough to wear them.

But the big wooden hand never caught him.