The First White Man of the West | Page 8

with a young friend.
Their course led them to the deeply timbered bottom that skirted the
stream which wound round this pleasant plantation. That the reader
may have an idea what sort of a pursuit it was that young Boone was
engaged in, during an event so decisive of his future fortunes, we
present a brief sketch of a night fire hunt. Two persons are
indispensable to it. The horseman that precedes, bears on his shoulder
what is called a fire pan, full of blazing pine knots, which casts a bright
and flickering glare far through the forest. The second follows at some
distance, with his rifle prepared for action. No spectacle is more

impressive than this of pairs of hunters, thus kindling the forest into a
glare. The deer, reposing quietly in his thicket, is awakened by the
approaching cavalcade, and instead of flying from the portentous
brilliance, remains stupidly gazing upon it, as if charmed to the spot.
The animal is betrayed to its doom the gleaming of its fixed and
innocent eyes. This cruel mode of securing a fatal shot, is called in
hunter's phrase, shining the eyes.
The two young men reached a corner of the farmer's field at an early
hour in the evening. Young Boone gave the customary signal to his
mounted companion preceding him, to stop, an indication that he had
shined the eyes of a deer. Boone dismounted, and fastened his horse to
a tree. Ascertaining that his rifle was in order, he advanced cautiously
behind a covert of bushes, to reach the right distance for a shot. The
deer is remarkable for the beauty of its eyes when thus shined. The
mild brilliance of the two orbs was distinctly visible. Whether warned
by a presentiment, or arrested by a palpitation, and strange feelings
within, at noting a new expression in the blue and dewy lights that
gleamed to his heart, we say not. But the unerring rifle fell, and a
rustling told him that the game had fled. Something whispered him it
was not a _deer_; and yet the fleet step, as the game bounded away,
might easily be mistaken for that of the light-footed animal. A second
thought impelled him to pursue the rapidly retreating game; and he
sprang away in the direction of the sound, leaving his companion to
occupy himself as he might. The fugitive had the advantage of a
considerable advance of him, and apparently a better knowledge of the
localities of the place. But the hunter was perfect in all his field
exercises, and scarcely less fleet footed than a deer; and he gained
rapidly on the object of his pursuit, which advanced a little distance
parallel with the field-fence, and then, as if endowed with the utmost
accomplishment of gymnastics, cleared the fence at a leap. The hunter,
embarrassed with his rifle and accoutrements, was driven to the slow
and humiliating expedient of climbing it. But an outline of the form of
the fugitive, fleeting through the shades in the direction of the house,
assured him that he had mistaken the species of the game. His heart
throbbed from a hundred sensations; and among them an apprehension
of the consequences that would have resulted from discharging his rifle,

when he had first shined those liquid blue eyes. Seeing that the fleet
game made straight in the direction of the house, he said to himself, "I
will see the pet deer in its lair;" and he directed his steps to the same
place. Half a score of dogs opened their barking upon him, as he
approached the house, and advertised the master that a stranger was
approaching. Having hushed the dogs, and learned the name of his
visitant, he introduced him to his family, as the son of their neighbor,
Boone.
Scarce had the first words of introduction been uttered, before the
opposite door opened, and a boy apparently of seven, and a girl of
sixteen, rushed in, panting for breath and seeming in affright.
"Sister went down to the river, and a painter chased her, and she is
almost scared to death," exclaimed the boy.
The ruddy, flaxen-haired girl stood full in view of her terrible pursuer,
leaning upon his rifle, and surveying her with the most eager
admiration. "Rebecca, this is young Boone, son of our neighbor," was
their laconic introduction. Both were young, beautiful, and at the period
when the affections exercise their most energetic influence. The
circumstances of the introduction were favorable to the result, and the
young hunter felt that the eyes of the deer had shined his bosom as
fatally as his rifle shot had ever the innocent deer of the thickets. She,
too, when she saw the high, open, bold forehead; clear, keen, and yet
gentle and affectionate eye--the firm front,