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Harper's Young People, June 13, 1882 An Illustrated Weekly

Harper's Young People, June 13, 1882
An Illustrated Weekly
Author: Various
Title: Harper's Young People, June 13, 1882 An Illustrated Weekly
Release Date: 2018-10-16
Type book: Text
Copyright Status: Public domain in the USA.
Date added: 27 March 2019
Count views: 47
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[Pg 513]

HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE

vol. iii.—no. 137.Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.price four cents.
Tuesday, June 13, 1882.Copyright, 1882, by Harper & Brothers.$1.50 per Year, in Advance.

CAPTAIN BANNER'S LYNX.

BY EDWARD I. STEVENSON.

THE DOGS HOLDING THE LYNX AT BAY.

Captain Banner, of the Yellowbird Ranch, sat upon a flat hot rock,half-way up a certain California hill-side, eating his luncheon. A fewfeet from the Captain stood tethered his good horse Huckleberry, who hadno luncheon. No more had the three stout mongrel dogs who commonly ranalong with Captain Banner, when the straying off of some of his cattleforced him to spend the day in getting at their whereabouts.

The dogs sat composedly on their haunches, two of them staring down intothe ravine below, and the other one, Poncho, with his tongue out,watching every mouthful that the Captain took with much interest. Buthis master was in anything but a good-humor. He had ridden since earlydaylight, and not a single horned runaway had been sighted. No wonder hewas discouraged.

"Upon my word," he said to the group of dogs, tossing a bit of cheeseinto Poncho's jaws, "you're a pretty set of brutes, I must say!Stringing along all day after Huckleberry's heels, and no more good atkeeping a herd together or recovering it than—than greyhounds. Now ifany one of you had the least— My good gracious!" he exclaimed, breakingoff, "what is up?"

Before he had time for another syllable, away went the three dogs, heelsover head, down the hill, and into the ravine, leaping and barking likemad creatures. One of them had suddenly caught a scent on the breeze; asecond later espied with his keen eye a large tawny animal stealthilycrossing the dried-up rivulet below. The trio were on full jump after itat once, like four-legged tornadoes. It seemed to be springing anddashing ahead of them like a beast resolved to get away at any price.[Pg 514]Captain Banner threw himself on Huckleberry, and clattered down afterthe dogs and it.

The dogs gained ground. "After him, Poncho!" shouted the Captain,wondering very much what "him" might stand for. All at once he heard aviolent snarl and a loud yelp of pain. Poncho, the black dog, was on hisback, struggling to regain his footing. Plainly the foe had bestowed arousing whack with his paw upon the nearest pursuer, as a caution tocome no closer. The chase, too, was slackened. The Captain came plungingalong on his horse just in time to see a curious picture.

Rising up from the furze a few yards beyond was another flat rock. Uponthat rock, with a thick thorn bush to defend him in the rear, halfcrouched, half stood, a great California lynx, all muscle, pluck, andgrit, and seemingly full of fight from the end of his nose to the tip ofhis thick tail. The three dogs, including Poncho, leaped and boundedfuriously around the rock, and barked with all their might and main; butthey warily kept quite out of the reach of a dazzling set of teeth andenormous claws all displayed for action. The lynx remained compressedinto the smallest possible space, growling and sputtering, andapparently contriving to look at each one of the three dogs at once.There was no doubt about it; he was clearly master of the field.

"Shame on you!" cried Captain Banner; "and three of you, too! At him,Turco; catch him by the throat, Poncho," he continued calling, while heprepared his lasso. But though, inspired by these encouragements, Turco,Poncho, and Red Jacket bayed and leaped up and about the lynx as if theywould part company with their stout legs entirely, the great cat raisedhis thick paw and sputtered so savagely that all three beat a prudentretreat.

"Steady, Huckleberry!" came the Captain's voice. The lasso was thrown.Unluckily Huckleberry was nervous in such close relations to a lynx. Hewhined and started, and not the lynx, but poor Poncho, was successfullyencircled by the flying noose, and rolled over, howling dismally andhalf choked. Nevertheless, this episode changed the current of thebattle. The lynx realized that his enemy on horseback was more dangerousthan the dogs. He sprang up and bounded away amongst the brush. The twofree dogs tore after, and Captain Banner, hastily rescuing the gaspingPoncho, spurred on too, coming up to the next battle-ground just when asclose a rough-and-tumble fight as ever one could behold was under way.

The lynx had been overtaken. Turco had thrown himself upon him andpulled him down, while Red Jacket also sprang to his companion's help.But theirs was by no means the victory. The ground sloped considerably.The lynx grappled with his antagonists, and dragged them with him in hisfall. The attacked and the attackers rolled down the ravine, anundistinguishable mass of legs and bodies, howling, spitting, snarling,and making the hair and fur fly to a degree that completely took awaythe Captain's breath, and made him wonder in what sort of condition thecoveted skin would be when the struggle was over.

At one moment the lynx was under—now the dogs. Here leaped one of them,torn and bleeding, while his brother gladiator was dragged further alonginto the thicket, tugging to disengage himself from the gripping musclesthat were rending and strangling him. But Poncho, comparatively freshfor a new onset, rushed up, and turned the tide of the fray. He fellupon the lynx like a small-sized tiger. Turco was freed, and the lynx,shaking off Poncho, gave a furious bound directly toward the Captain andHuckleberry (it was hard to say which was the more excited by thistime), who were charging along well on the left. The lasso fell true atthis second cast, though it had been an extremely hasty throw. The cordfell full over the furious creature's neck. It was taut in a second. Thelynx struggled and gurgled, but it was too late.

Keeping off Poncho and Turco with his whip, the Captain finished up theenemy with the noose, and saved what was uninjured of his fine coat. Itslate owner measured some four feet as he lay stiff and still upon theearth, so that the Captain as he rode back up the hill-side did not feelthat his time and the chase had been lost. Poncho, Turco, and Red Jacketprobably had their own private doubts about the matter, for one had lostan ear, another had suffered a cruel gash in his shoulder, and all ofthe trio were badly disfigured by scratches, bruises, and bites, andlimped along rather dolefully.

The lynx's skin adorned Captain Banner's wall for weeks after, until itwent with him up to San Pedro, and was converted into a goodly number ofhard dollars.


THE JUNE ROSES.

BY MARY D. BRINE.

Oh, the red roses, the pretty red roses,
That come with the June-time so fragrant and fair—
The sweet crimson roses that bud and that blossom
So joyously out in the soft summer air!
Under the hedges and over the hedges,
Out in the meadows, and down in the lane,
Blushing and blooming and clinging and nestling,
Grow the sweet roses again and again.
Beautiful, are they? But I have some fairer,
And, oh, so much sweeter! Look yonder, and see
The cluster of rose-buds, than none e'er grew rosier—
The freshest and daintiest of rose-buds for me.
The little white sun-bonnets—go, peep beneath them;
Mark the bright faces, where through the glad day
The breezes and sunbeams lay kisses in plenty,
And dimples and smiles chase each other in play.
Three little maidens so dainty and rosy,
Three little sun-bonnets all in a row,
Six little hands that are merrily twining
Crimson-red wreaths where the June roses grow.
Oh, how they welcome the bright smiling weather,
My little rose-buds that blossom for me!
And I tumble them out in the sunshine together,
And help them grow sweet as June roses should be.


THAT HORNETS' NEST.

BY CHARLEY GRAYSON.

Boys never have such splendid times anywhere as they do at theirgrandfathers'. How some fellows get along the way they have to withoutany grandfathers or grandmothers I never could make out. Just fancyhaving no grandfather to go and see Christmas and Thanksgiving andsummer vacations! The fact is, a boy without any grandfather can't beginto have half a good time.

Fathers and mothers are all very well, but, you see, as mother explainedthe last time father had to whip us, they feel a responsibility. Now,grandfathers and grandmothers haven't any such responsibility. They canjust give themselves up to being good-natured, and let a fellow have agood time. If he turns out bad, you see, it ain't their fault, and theydon't have to worry about not having done their duty by him.

My grandfather lived just out of Blackridge, on a large farm. There wasan academy at Blackridge, and so mother sent me to live there for awhile and go to school; and Uncle Jerry's two boys, Ham and Mow (rightnames Hamilton and Mowbray), lived there all the time, and Uncle Jerryand Aunt Anna too, and we had just the best fun that ever any boys didhave: I don't mean Uncle Jerry and Aunt Anna; they didn't go in for fun,you know. Uncle Jerry kept a store in the village, and Aunt Anna staidin the kitchen with grandma.

[Pg 515]

We always had to behave ourselves, and never thought of doing thingswithout leave, for grandpa was not one of the kind to be disobeyed;besides, we loved him too well for that. But he was always ready to letus have a good time, and said that he liked to see boys enjoy themselveswhen they did it in the right way.

Besides Ham and Mow, there were the Davis boys, about five miles off,who went to the academy too; and once a week or so we spent the day withthem, or they came to spend it with us. Real good fellows, both of them;and I think we liked the visit to them best, there were such lots ofthings to do there. Mr. Davis, you see, was what grandpa called "aprogressive man"—I used to wonder what that meant, and say it over tomyself whenever I saw him—and he wanted Frank and George to understandeverything that was going on; and he used to get them all the improvingboys' books that came out, and they had a tool chest, and aprinting-press, and all kinds of drawing things, and the greatest lot ofscrap-books; and they collected stamps and coins, and taught us how; andwe used to make things when we went there, and Mr. Davis always gave aprize for the best.

Mr. Davis's right name was "Hon. Charles M. Davis." I saw it on hisletters when the boys brought them from the Post-office, and they werevery proud of their father's name. He had been to Congress, people said,and I used to wonder if this was as far off as the Cape of Good Hope.

Mrs. Davis used to train round (I don't mean that she acted bad) in areal handsome dress mornings, and she smiled at us pleasantly, and saidthat she liked boys, and hoped we wouldn't make her head quite split(Ham guessed there must be a big crack in it somewhere); and then shewent off, and we didn't see her again until dinner-time.

I used to get 'most sick then, because Mrs. Davis said she thought boyscould never have too much to eat; and she kept piling things on ourplates, and

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