ON CROATAN. 



E. J. MYERS. 



"Sleep — drowsy dreamers — sleep — 

 Your vvatchfires fright away the beasts of chase : 

 All harmless round your midnight camp they pace. 

 The breezes whisper and the running streams, 

 All, all is well ; then peaceful be your dreams.'' 



The cold, damp contact — the indescrib- 

 able chill of the brute muzzle — the dank 

 point brushing my face, flashed across con- 

 sciousness. 



The sleeping bag held me like a trap, 

 with my arms pinned to my sides, and it 

 twisted around my neck clutching my 

 throat. From my very lips downward the 

 chill ran through my body. 



On the other side of the tent the other 

 man was sleeping; and the rifles lay on the 

 far side; and even if it were of avail, not 

 even a knife was handy. Would the other 

 man hear me? Would he act without los- 

 ing his head? Would that usually cool, 

 and ready wit fail in this hour of need? In 

 repressed but penetrating tones I called: 



"Arnie! Don't move! Arnie! There 

 is a bear in the tent. Softly. The gun 

 is 



" Time to get up, sah," and Mose's voice, 

 accompanied by a rude shake that thrust 

 aside the curtains and let in the lamp light, 

 awakened me and sent the shuddering scare 

 into the illimitable. 



" Yes, I'll take a cup of coffee while I 

 dress." Not even the familiar stateroom, 

 the guns showing on the rack in the saloon, 

 the glittering china on the breakfast table, 

 wholly dissipated the creeping shudders 

 and hideous chills of the dream as I jumped 

 out of my berth. 



Down the companionway came the call 

 that all was ready; that it was time to be 

 off; and breakfast, always a dispatchful 

 meal when the day's hunt is waiting, 'was 

 quickly through. 



In the faint light of the lantern, I saw 

 my way to the skiff, and jumping in, put 

 the tiller hard down; and as the sail bellied 

 to the wind, we shot off into the darkness 

 — the water boiling in phosphorescent bub- 

 bles, whirls and eddies and running off into 

 serpentine shapes, swept over the gunwales 

 as the skiff fled before the wind. 



From afar Bodie's Light, set on high 

 like a huge Cyclopean eye, sent a stream of 

 radiance into the darkness and the flitting, 

 intermittent motes, breaking steady radia- 

 tion, meant nothing more than the head- 

 long flight of the wild water fowl, beating 

 to death on the crystal prisms against 

 whose merciless edges the birds crashed 

 and fell headlong, a mangled bleeding mass. 



Unto the ships that went up and down 

 the waters and rounded the capes, the light 

 was a beacon and a welcome warning; 



unto the water fowl a bewitching radiance 

 that lured them to ciuel death. 



Through the dim, shadowy mists that lay 

 thick on the waters, the grays and duns 

 were creeping in illusive forms. The boom 

 of the surf on Hatteras' diamonds, and the 

 shrill discordances of swan and geese on 

 the keys, hastening laggard dawn, came up 

 on the breeze. 



Save now and then a clank of block, the 

 straining of the mast, the splash of the 

 waves on the cutwater, a word from the 

 Captain as to laying the course, we sailed 

 on; for the yacht must swing at anchor, 

 far distant, if the shadowy clouds of red- 

 heads, widgeons, broad-bills or brant were 

 to flash over the battery, sweep down on 

 the decoys or hurl themselves in the water 

 before they discovered the deception prac- 

 tised on them. 



In the wake the lights of the yacht had 

 disappeared; first the green and then the 

 red dying out; and ahead the glow of the 

 pipes in the bow suggested faint ridiculous 

 comparisons with the beacon flashing from 

 Bodie's Light, dispelled by the rank odor 

 of the smoke blown in our faces. 



On and on into the darkness, the skiff 

 sailed, until I drew my peajacket around 

 my throat and chest to shut out the chill 

 that ever comes with the break o' day: and 

 to the order " Bring her up " I automat- 

 ically responded as the man in the bow 

 dropped the anchor. As the sail noisily 

 slatted and flapped to the breeze — the angry 

 tones of the Captain, " Reef that sail! Put 

 out that light, you galoots! Do you know 

 where the ducks are resting? " — made the 

 men jump with a noisy clatter that pro- 

 voked other and fresher expressions. 



The blind was shoved overboard and 

 weighted with the iron counterfeits, while 

 all round the wooden ducks were hurled 

 in apparently confused splashes that took 

 rank and orderly file when the decoys, 

 straining their anchors, began to bob up 

 and down before the wind. 



Up at the head of the battery, on a par- 

 tially sunken strip, back of the gunner and 

 out of danger, the live decoys were placed, 

 so as to be out of range of shot, and the 

 shells were stowed at the head of the nar- 

 row coffin-like box to be my pillow; while 

 on either side was placed a double hammer- 

 less gun, one of 12 and the other of 10 

 gauge. 



In the East the first faint reddish splashes 

 and edgings were beginning to paint the 

 marges of clouds. Yellowish chromes were 

 building a pathway for the sun. and the 

 world's rim was assuming form, with a 

 great glow of pearl and red and blue. 



