CHAPTER VI. THE CAMP ON SQUATOOK RIVER.
That night around the camp-fire stories were once more in demand.Stranion was first called upon, and he at once responded.
“I’ll call this story—
‘SAVED BY A SLIVER,’
and ask you to observe the neat alliteration,” said Stranion.
“In the autumn of 1887 I was hunting in those wildernesses about theheadwaters of that famous salmon river, the south-west Miramichi. I hadold Jake Christison with me, the best woodsman on the river; and I hadalso my inseparable companion and most faithful follower, Jeff, a largebull-terrier. Jeff was not a hunting-dog in any accepted sense of theword. He had no inherited instinct for the chase; but he had remarkableintelligence, unconquerable pluck, unquestioning obedience, and hence acertain fitness for any emergency that might arise. In the woods healways crept noiselessly at my heels, as unembarrassing andself-effacing as my shadow.
“One morning we set out from camp soon after breakfast to follow up somefresh caribou signs which Jake had just reported. We had gone but half amile into the thickets when the woodsman discovered that he had left hishunting-knife by the camp-fire, where he had been using it to slice thebreakfast bacon. To go without his hunting-knife could not for a momentbe thought of; so he turned back hurriedly to get it, while I strolledon at a leisurely pace with Jeff at my heels.
“My way led me through a little wide ravine, in the centre of which laythe fragments of a giant pine, shattered years ago by lightning, andbleached by storm and sun. A portion of the trunk remained yetupright,—a tall splinter, or ‘sliver’ as the woodsmen call it, splitfrom the rest of the trunk by some electric freak, and pointing like astern white finger toward the spot of open sky above, whence the bolthad fallen. Saturated with resins, the sliver was practicallyincorruptible; and time had only served to harden its lance-like pointand edge. A few feet beyond this blasted pine the woods grew thick,—adusky confusion of great gnarled trunks and twisting limbs.
“As I sauntered up to the foot of that whitened trunk, Jeff suddenlythrust himself in front of me with a low, almost inaudible growl, andstood obstinately still, as if to bar my farther advance. Instantly myglance penetrated the thicket, and fell upon a huge panther crouchingflat along a fallen tree of almost the same color as the brute’s hide.It was the panther’s cold green eyes indeed that so promptly revealedhim to me. He was in the attitude to spring; and ordering Jeff ‘toheel,’ I sank on one knee, cocking my rifle and taking aim at the sametime, for there was not a moment to lose.
“Even as I pulled the trigger the animal dashed upon me, in the veryface of the flash. The suddenness of the assault of course upset my aim;but by good chance the ball went through the animal’s fore shoulder,breaking the bone. I was hurled backward into a hollow under the fallenfragments of the pine-tree, and I felt the panther’s teeth go through myleft arm. Thrusting myself as far as possible beneath the shelter of thelog, I reached for the long knife at my belt. Just as I got it out ofits sheath, the panther, with an angry cry, dropped my arm, and turnedhalf round, while keeping his place upon my prostrate body. My faithfulJeff had come to the rescue of his master, and had sunk his terribleteeth into the root of the panther’s tail.
“The snarling beast doubled back upon himself, and struggled to seizethe dog between his jaws; but Jeff was too wary and active for this, andthe panther would not leave his post of vantage on my body. He was asagacious beast, and perceived that if he should let me up he would havetwo enemies to contend with instead of one. As for me, in my restrictedposition, I found myself unable to use my knife with any effect. I laystill, abiding my opportunity, and watching with intense but curiouslyimpersonal interest the good fight my bull-terrier was making. I was notconscious of much pain in my arm, but the shock of the panther’s assaultseemed in some way to have weakened my vital force. Presently thepanther, finding it impossible to release himself from that deadly gripof Jeff’s, threw himself over on his back, curling himself up like acat, and raked the dog severely with his dangerous hind claws. Thechange in our assailant’s position released my right arm, and at once Idrove the knife into his side square to the hilt. I failed to touch avital spot, but the wound diverted his attention; and Jeff, bleeding andfurious, was enabled to secure a new hold. The panther was a splendidbeast, and fought as I never before or since have seen a panther fight.Had it not been for my shot, which broke his fore shoulder, it wouldhave gone hard with both Jeff and me. As it was, however, the pantherfound his work cut out for him, though I was so nearly helpless from myposition that Jeff had to bear the brunt of the battle. The braveterrier was getting badly cut up. I could not see very well what wenton, being at the bottom of the fight, and my breath nearly knocked outof me; but all of a sudden a rifle-shot rang in my ears, the smoke andflame filled my eyes, and the body of the panther stiffened outconvulsively. The next moment old Jake was dragging me out from beneath,and anxiously inquiring about my damages.
“From a Giant Limb overhead Her Long Tawny Body flashed in the Sunlight.”—Page 199.]
“Reassuring him as to my condition, I sat down rather faintly on thetrunk, while Jeff, at my feet, lay licking his scratches. The oldwoodsman leaned upon his empty rifle, contemplatively scanning ourvanquished foe, and loudly praising Jeff. Suddenly he broke off in themidst of a sentence, and glanced up into the branches ahead of him.
“‘Great Jee-hoshaphat!’ he exclaimed in a startled voice, springingbackward, and snatching for a fresh cartridge, while Jeff jumped to hisfeet with a wrathful snarl. In the same breath, before I could realizewhat was the matter, I heard the female panther, mate of him we hadkilled, utter her fearful scream of rage and pain. From a giant limboverhead her long tawny body flashed out into the sunlight, descendingupon our devoted party like a yellow thunderbolt.
“Weak and dazed as I was, I shut my eyes with a sense of sick disgustand weariness, and a strange feeling of infinite suspense. There was acurious sound of tearing and scratching; but no shock came, and I openedmy eyes in astonishment. There was Jake calmly slipping a cartridge intohis rifle. There was Jeff standing just as I had seen him when I closedmy eyes. It seemed hours, but it had been merely an eyewink—the fractionof a second. But where was the panther?
“My inward query was answered on the instant. A wild and indescribablescreeching, spitting, and snarling arose, mixed with a sound of clawstearing desperately at the hard wood of the pine trunk. The panther washeld aloft in the air, impaled on the sliver, around which she spunmadly like a frightful wheel of tawny fire. Her efforts to free herselfwere tremendous, but there was no escape. The sliver was hard as steeland as inexorable. Suddenly Jeff sprang at the creature, but in hisimpetuosity missed his hold, and got a lightning blow from one of thosegreat claws, almost laying his side open. The brave dog carries themarks of that wound to this day. His revenge was instantaneous; for hisnext leap gained its object, and his jaws fixed themselves securely inthe panther’s haunches. The whole wild scene had thus far been like adream to me, and the yellings and snarlings sounded far off andindistinct. The only reality seemed to me the still brown and green ofthe forest, the moveless tree-tops, the cheerful morning sun streamingdown into the little glade, and the old woodsman standing in hiscontemplative attitude, watching the gyrating form of the panther. Thenon a sudden my blood seemed to flow with a rush of new force, and asense of reality came back to me. I jumped up, slipped a cartridge intomy rifle, and with a timely bullet put the unhappy beast out of itspain.
“In order to release the panther’s body we had to cut down the sliver,the blood-stained top of which, with its point sharp and spear-like, asif fashioned by the hand of man, now hangs as a treasured relic upon mylibrary wall. Right beneath, as a foot-rug to my writing-table, and afavorite napping-place for Jeff, is the panther-skin with two holes init, where the sliver went through. The other skin I gave to old Jake asa memorial of the adventure; but
it is probable he sold it at theearliest fair opportunity, for it was a comely and valuable skin.”
“Stranion,” said I when he concluded, “your Jeff is one of the dogs whomI am proud to have known. I have only met, in all my career, one betterdog, and that was my brave old Dan, of blessed and many-scarred memory.”
“Bigger, not better, dog,” interrupted Stranion sternly.
“Well, we won’t argue over it. They were both of the same stock, anyway;and I fear we will not look upon their like again, eh, Stranion?”
“Now you are talking, O. M.,” responded Stranion warmly. “But tell usthat great yarn about Dan’s battle!”
“No, not to-night,” was my answer. “It would seem like making rivals ofDan and Jeff, which they never were, but always sworn chums. Jeff isenough for one night. Dan shall be commemorated on another. Let Sam giveus a bear story now.”
“All right,” said Sam. “Here’s one in which Stranion and I were bothconcerned. Note it down by the name of—
‘SKIDDED LANDING.’
“Three winters ago, as some of you will remember, Stranion and I took amonth in the lumber-woods. It was drawing on toward spring. As we wereboth good snow-shoers, we managed to visit several widely scatteredcamps. At all we were received hospitably, with unlimited pork andbeans, hot bread and tea; and at each we made a stay of several days.
“For our climax we selected that camp which promised us the mostpicturesque and exciting experiences at the breaking up of the ice. Thiswas Evans’s Camp on Green River, where the logs were gathered in what isknown as a ‘rough-and-tumble landing,’—a form which entails muchexcitement and often grave peril to the axeman whose work is to cut the‘brow’ loose.
“As it happened, however, the most stirring adventure that fell to ourpersonal experience on that trip was one we encountered at Clarke’sCamp, on the Tobique, where we stayed but three days.
“This camp, but one of the many centres of operation of the greatlumbering firm of Clarke & Co., was generally known as ‘SkiddedLanding.’ And here let me explain the terms ‘brow,’ ‘drive,’‘rough-and-tumble landing,’ and ‘skidded landing.’
“In lumbermen’s parlance, the logs of the winter’s chopping, hauled andpiled on the river-bank where they can conveniently be launched into thewater upon the breaking up of the ice, are termed collectively ‘a browof logs.’
“When once the logs have been got into the water, and, shepherded by thelumbermen with their pike-poles, are flocking wildly seaward on theswollen current, they and their guardians together constitute ‘thedrive.’
“The task the lumbermen are now engaged upon is termed ‘stream driving;’and laborious, perilous work it is, especially on those rivers which aremuch obstructed by rapids, rocks, and shoals. A brow of logs is a‘landing’ when the logs are piled from the water’s edge. A landing maybe either a ‘rough-and-tumble’ or a ‘skidded’ landing.
“The ‘rough-and-tumble,’ which good woodsmen generally regard as ashiftless affair, is made by driving a few heavy timbers into the mud atthe water’s edge, at the foot of a sloping bank. These form a strong andlofty breastwork. Into the space behind are tumbled the logshelter-skelter from the top of the bank, as they are hauled from thewoods. All through the winter the space keeps filling up, and by springthe strain on the sustaining piles is something tremendous.
“When the thaw comes and the river rises, and the ice goes out with arush, then the accumulation of logs has to be set free. This is done bycutting away the most important of the sustaining timbers, whereupon theothers snap, and the logs go roaring out in a terrific avalanche.
“It is easy to realize the perils of cutting out this kind of landing.If the landing has been unskilfully or carelessly located, the peril ofthe enterprise is greatly increased.
“The ‘skidded’ landing is a much more business-like affair. In this kindof structure the logs are placed systematically. First a layer of logsis deposited parallel with the river’s edge. Across these, at rightangles, are laid a few light poles, technically termed _skids_. On theseanother layer of logs parallel to the water, and so on to the completionof the structure.
“With this species of landing, to release the logs is a very simplematter. There is nothing to do but quietly roll them off, layer bylayer, into the stream, which snatches them and hurries them away.
“From this it will be seen why we did not elect to stay long at SkiddedLanding. But while we were there something happened in this fashion.
“On the second day of our stay in the camp, it chanced that Stranion waslazy. When I set forth to examine some snares which I had set the nightbefore, he chose to snooze in his bunk rather than accompany me. Asevents befell, he proved to have made the wiser choice.
“Of course I took my gun with me. I was thinking of small gameexclusively,—during our wanderings, hitherto, we had seen nothing largerthan a fox,—and both barrels were loaded with cartridges containing No.4 shot. But with unaccountable thoughtlessness I neglected to take anyheavier ammunition in my pocket; yet that was the only time on the tripthat heavier ammunition was needed.
“I visited my snares, and found in one of them a rabbit. ‘The boys’llappreciate a rabbit stew,’ thought I, as I hitched the frozen carcass tomy belt. A little farther on I started another rabbit, which I shot, andhitched beside its fellow; and then I struck out blithely for camp.Before I had retraced my path many paces, I came face to face with animmense bear, which apparently had been dogging my steps.
“We halted and eyed each other sharply. I thought I detected a guiltyuneasiness in the animal’s gaze, as if he were properly ashamed ofhimself for his ungentlemanly conduct. Presuming upon this, I spoke inan authoritative voice, and took one or two firm steps in advance. Iexpected the animal to step aside deferentially and let me pass, but Ihad forgotten that this was a hungry season for bears. The brutelumbered forward with alacrity, as if ferociously surprised at myreadiness to furnish him a much-needed luncheon.
“In my trepidation I did not let him get near enough before I fired mysolitary cartridge. Had I let him come to close quarters, the heavybird-shot would have served the full purpose of a bullet. But no, I wasin too much of a hurry. The charge had room to scatter before it reachedmy assailant; and the pellets only served to cut him up badly about thehead without in the least interfering with his fighting capacity.
“With something between a grunt and a howl of pain and fury he dashedupon me; and I, dropping my cherished weapon in a panic, made a mightybound to one side and darted toward the open river. I wanted free playfor my snow-shoes, and no risk from hidden stumps.
“In the woods the snow was soft enough to give me some advantage over mypursuer. I gained on him when doing my utmost. But being gaunt from hislong fast, and very light in proportion to his prodigious strength, hisprogress, with that awkward gallop of his, was terrifyingly rapid.Moreover, I had vividly before my mind’s eye the consciousness of whatwould be my instant fate should I trip on a buried stump or root, orplunge into some snow-veiled bush that would entangle my snow-shoes.
“Once out upon the river I breathed more freely. But the bear was hardupon my heels. Here the snow was more firmly packed, and he travelledfaster. I ceased to increase the little distance between us. After twopiercing yells for help, I saved my breath for the race before me.
“I was really not very far from the camp; but the trees and a high pointintercepted my cries, and the wind blew them away, so they failed toreach Stranion’s ears. Nevertheless, it happened that Stranion grewrestless about the time of my first meeting with the bear.
“He strolled down to the landing, which was perhaps three hundred yardsfrom the camp, seated himself upon a spruce log, and began to dig offwith his pocket-knife the perfumed amber-like globules of gum. He wasengaged in this innocent if not engrossing occupation when he caughtsight of me racing desperately around the jutting point immediatelyabove the landing.
“At the sight of my terror he spra
ng to his feet, and was about to rushback to camp for his gun; but straightway the bear appeared, and soclose behind me that he knew there was no time to get the weapon. Theemergency was upon him. He knew something had to be done at once.Fortunately he was ready of resource. He dropped down, and crawledswiftly to the edge of the landing.
“The track I was following led along close under the front of thelanding, then turned the corner sharply and ran straight up to the camp.The bear was now gaining on me. He was not more than thirty or fortyfeet behind. I was beginning to realize that he must catch me before Icould reach the camp.
“Coming to this conclusion, I was just about to put forth all myremaining breath in one despairing shriek for help, then to turn andmake what fight I could with my sheath-knife, which had already beenused to cut away the dangling rabbits, when out of the corner of my eyeI caught sight of Stranion on the top of the logs. I took one look athis face and saw its look of readiness. He grinned encouragingly, butput his finger on his lips for silence.
“At the sight of him I felt new vigor flow through all my veins. Withfresh speed I raced along past the front of the landing, turned thecorner, and bounded up the slope. Reaching the hard track, I kicked myfeet clear of the snow-shoes, and started to climb up the logs to joinStranion.
“At this moment Stranion found his opportunity. The bear came plungingalong on my tracks, immediately beneath the face of the logs. And now,with a stake which he had snatched up, Stranion pried mightily upon thetwo front logs of the top tier. The great timbers rolled swiftly overthe edge.
“One of them, the heaviest, was just in time. It caught the animal overthe hindquarters, and crushed him to the ice. When Stranion’s triumphantshout proclaimed the success of his attack, I threw myself down betweentwo logs and lay there gasping, while Stranion returned to the camp, gothis gun, and put the wounded animal out of his pain.
“Later in the day, much later, Stranion and I together went over theground I had traversed with such celerity. We recovered the rabbits, andalso, after a persistent search in the snow, the gun which I had sobasely abandoned.”
“I think that is a pretty straight account of what happened,” saidStranion; “and now we will hear something from Magnus’s uncle.”
“No,” said Magnus; “I’ll tell you something my cousin Bob Raven told meabout a time he had with—
‘A MAD STALLION.’
“There is perhaps no beast,” said Bob, “more terrible, moreawe-inspiring, than a stallion that has gone mad. Such an animal,bursting all the fetters of his inherited dread of man, seems inspiredwith a frightful craving to take vengeance for the immemorial servitudeof his kind. As a rule, he has no quarrel with anything but humanity.Often with other horses he associates amicably, and toward the cattleand lesser animals that may be with him in the fields he displays theindifference of disdain. But let man, woman, or child come within hisvision, and his homicidal mania breaks into flame.
“I have had several disagreeable encounters with vicious horses, butonly once was I so unfortunate as to fall in with one possessed by thishomicidal mania. My escape was so narrow, and the experience left sodeep an impression upon my mind, that I have felt ever since aninstinctive distrust for this most noble of domestic animals.
“One autumn, when I was about eighteen, I was taking a tramp through theeastern townships of Quebec preparatory to resuming work at college. Ireached the little village of Maybury one day at noon, and dropped intothe village inn for luncheon. The village was in a state of excitementover a tragedy which had taken place that very morning, and which wasspeedily detailed to me by every one with whom I came in contact. Themost authentic account, as it appeared, was that given me by theproprietor of the inn.
“‘You see,’ he answered eagerly, in response to my question as to thecause of the general excitement, ‘a boy ’at old Joe Cook was bringin’ upon his farm has jest been killed by a mad horse. The boy come out fromLiverpool las’ June two year ago, with a lot more poor little beggarslike him; an’ old Joe kinder took a fancy to him, an’ was a-bringin’ himup like he was his own son. The horses is mostly runnin’ at pasture nowin the back lots yonder; an’ Atkinson’s stallion, what has always hadthe name of bein’ kind as a lamb, is pasturin’ with the rest. But heseems somehow to’ve gone mad all on a suddent. This mornin’ airly, asCook’s boy was comin’ home from drivin’ the cows out onter the uplands,he found the horses all crowdin’ roun’ the gate leadin’ onter themeadows. He knowed some of ’em might try and shove through if he didn’ttake keer, so he jest kind of shooed ’em off with a stick. They allscattered away savin’ only Atkinson’s stallion; an’ he, wheelin’ roundwith a kind of screech as’d make the marrer freeze in your bones,grabbed the boy right by the back of the neck, an’ shook him like oldTige there’d shake a rat. I guess the poor boy’s neck was broke rightoff, for he never cried out nor nothin’. Steve Barnes was jest thena-comin’ up the meadow road, an’ he seen it all. He yelled, an’ run upas fast as he could; but afore he could git to the fence the stallionhad jumped on the boy two or three times, an’ was a-standin’ lookin’ athim curious-like. Steve seen ’at the boy was dead, but he started toclimb over an’ drive off the brute; but as soon as the stallion seenSteve he let another screech, an’ run at him with his mouth wide open,an’ Steve had nothin’ fur it but to hop back quick over the fence.Seein’ as the boy was deader’n a door-nail, Steve didn’t think it’d becommon-sense to resk his life jest for the dead body; but he stayedthere a-stonin’ the brute, which was jest spilin’ to git at him. After’bout an hour the other horses came back, an’ the stallion forgot aboutthe boy an’ went off with them ’way back behind the hills; an’ Steve gotthe body an’ carried it home.’
“‘And what have they done to the brute?’ I inquired, with a fierce angerstirring in my veins.
“‘Well,’ answered Boniface, ‘this afternoon there’s a crowd goin’ out toketch him an’ tie him up. If he’s too bad fur that,—an’ if I knowanything about horses he’s jest gone mad, stark mad,—why, they’ll haveto shoot him off-hand, to save their own necks.’
“‘I wonder if I’ll run any risk of meeting him?’ I queried ratheranxiously. I had no weapon but my heavy walking-stick, and I had analmost sentimental regard for the integrity of my neck.
“‘Which way be you bound?’ inquired Boniface.
“‘For Blissville,’ I answered.
“‘Oh,’ said he, ‘you’re all right then. The horses are feedin’ outyonder to the no’th-east, an’ Blissville lays south.’
“It was with few misgivings that I now resumed my journey. In the tonicautumn air my spirits rose exultantly, and I walked with a brisk step,whistling and knocking off the golden tops of the hawk-bit with my cane.The country about Maybury is a high, rolling plateau, for the most partopen pasture-ground, with here and there a shallow, wooded ravine, andhere and there a terrace of loose bowlders with bramble-thickets growingbetween. I was soon beyond the cultivated fields, past the last of thefences. I had climbed one of those rocky terraces, and made a couple ofhundred yards across the delightful breezy down, when, behind a lowknoll, I caught sight of a group of horses quietly pasturing, andremembered with a qualm the morning’s tragedy. Could this, I askedmyself anxiously, be the herd containing that mad stallion?
“I halted, and was about to retrace my steps unobtrusively, in the hopethat I had escaped their notice. But it was too late. Two or three ofthe animals raised their heads and looked toward me. One in the groupsnorted with a peculiar half-whinny, at the sound of which my heartsank. Then I caught sight of one in the centre that seemed to be jumpingup in the air off all four feet at once. The next moment this creature,a great black animal, appeared outside the group, plunging and biting athis flank. Two or three times he sprang into the air in that strange,spasmodic way I had already observed, and threw his head backward overhis right shoulder with an indescribable gesture of menace and defiance.Then with a short, dreadful sound he darted toward me, o
pen-mouthed.
“Up to this point I had stood my ground, eying the brute resolutely,with an appearance of fearlessness which I was very far from feeling.But now I saw that my only hope, and that a desperate one, lay inflight. I was accounted at college a first-rate sprinter, and now I ranmy best. The two hundred yards that lay between me and the terrace I hadjust left must have been covered in not much more than twenty seconds.But as I reached the brow of the slope the mad brute was close on myheels.
“I had no time to check myself, and even less notion to do so. In fact,I fell, and rolled headlong down, dropping bruised and bewildered into acrevice between two bowlders. The next instant I saw the black mass ofmy pursuer dashing over me in a splendid leap. Before he could turn andseize me I had rolled farther into the crevice, and found that one ofthe rocks overhung so as to form a little narrow cave into which I couldsqueeze myself so far as to be quite beyond the animal’s reach.
“Never before or since have I discovered so unexpected and providentiala refuge. The raving stallion came bounding and leaping up to the verydoor of my burrow, but I felt safe. He would roll back his lips, lay hisears flat to his head, spring straight into the air, and shriek throughhis wide, red nostrils his fury and his challenge. The latter I did notthink it incumbent upon me to accept. I waived it in disdainful silence.
“For a time the brute kept up his boundings and those strange, proudjerkings of his head; but at length he actually tried to stretch hisneck into my burrow, and reach me with his frightful naked teeth. Thiswas a vain attempt; but I resented it, and picking up a stone which layat hand, I struck him a heavy blow on the nose. This brought the bloodfrom those cruel nostrils, and made him even, if possible, more furiousin his rage; but he returned to his former demonstrations.
“It must have been for nearly an hour that I watched the mad creature’santics from my den. The rest of the herd had approached, and werefeeding indifferently about the foot of the terrace. From time to timemy enemy would join them, and snatch a few restless mouthfuls of grass.But almost immediately he would return to his post at my door, and hisvigilant watch was on me all the time.
“I was beginning to cast about somewhat anxiously for a way of escapefrom this imprisonment, when I saw the pasturing herd suddenly toss uptheir heads, and then go scurrying away across the down. My adversarysaw this, too, and turned his attention away from me. I peered forthcautiously, and to my profound relief I observed a party of men, severalcarrying ropes and halters, and others armed with rifles, approachingbelow the terrace. One man walked a little ahead of the others, and heldout a peck measure, in which he shook something which I presume to havebeen oats.
“The stallion eyed them sombrely for an instant; and then his mane roselike a crest, and his head went back with a shrill cry. In the self-sameway as he had greeted my appearance he bounced into the air twice orthrice, and then he dashed upon the party.
“The man with the oats fell back with wonderful alacrity, and thefellows who carried halters seemed bent upon effacing themselves in thehumblest manner possible. One tall, gray-shirted woodsman, however,stepped to the front, raised his rifle, and drew a bead upon theapproaching fury, while two or three of the others held their shots inreserve. There was a moment of breathless suspense. Then the fine, thinnote of the woodsman’s rifle rang out; and the stallion sprang asidewith a shriek, and stumbled forward upon his knees. Almost instantly,however, he recovered himself, and rushed upon his opponents withundiminished ferocity. I held my breath. He was almost upon the partynow. Then two more rifles flashed from the marksmen standing moveless intheir tracks, and the mad brute rose straight up on his hind legs, andfell over backward, dead.
“I stepped out to welcome my rescuers, and detailed to them myadventures. They had been wondering who or what it was that the brutewas laying siege to. There was so much, in fact, to talk about, and Ifound myself for the moment so important a figure, that I returned toMaybury for that evening, and there had to retell my story at least ascore of times.”
“If it’s my turn now—and I suppose it is,” said Ranolf, “I can’t pretendto give you anything so blood-curdling as this story of Magnus’s; butI’ll do my little best to make an angry bull moose as interesting as amad stallion. Take this down, O. M., as—
‘AN ADVENTURE WITH A BULL MOOSE.’
“I don’t know much about the lumber-camps; but I got this from aRestigouche lumberman, so of course it must be true.
“One day a woodsman, who had been on a long tramp prospecting for primebirch timber, rushed into a camp on the Restigouche with news that hehad discovered a ‘yard’ of moose.
“A ‘yard’ it may here be explained, is an opening in the forest where aherd of moose has trampled down the snow and made its headquarters. Theyard is always surrounded by young trees, upon whose succulent shootsthe moose feed. It forms a striking scene—the animals lying about thespace of trampled and discolored snow, while here and there amagnificently antlered bull towers above the rest, keeping watch; andhere and there on the edge of the yard an animal is reaching aloft itslong, prehensile lips to tear down its meal of green branches.
“Now, the news which the inspector brought into camp created an instantinterest. Fresh meat was at a premium in the Restigouche Camp; and atthe thought of moose-meat, which is a sort of beef idealized, everylumberman’s mouth began to water longingly. The boss was quite at onewith the hands in this respect; wherefore it was not long before a huntwas organized.
“Only those men could take part who had snowshoes, for the snow was deepthat season. So there was a small muster of five; but with those fivewent the blessings of the camp. Upon their success hung the hopes of alltheir hungry comrades.
“The wind, fortunately for the hunters, was blowing from the yard to thecamp, so that it was not necessary to take a roundabout course. Theexpedition was led by the prospector, who was an enthusiastic hunter,and skilled in woodcraft.
“It was past midday as the yard was approached. The hunters separated,and closed in on the yard from all sides save that from which the windwas directly blowing. The leader, whose name was Story, had the longestway to go, in order that by the time he could get into position all theothers might be ready and waiting.
“Presently an owl was heard to hoot twice. This was Story’s signal. Themoose heard it too, and pricked up their ears; for the owls they wereaccustomed to hear hooted, as a rule, in the night-time. Then they heardthe soft, hurried tramping of the snow-shoes, and the crackling offrosted twigs all about them, and huddled together, terrified, in themiddle of their yard.
“The next moment five rifles blazed out upon them, and the huntersrushed in. Two of the creatures fell at the volley, and two more, fatyoung cows, were knifed by the nimble huntsmen; and the rest of the herddashed wildly off, running up the wind, where they scented no danger.
“Now Story was in a great disgust. His shot had failed to kill. He hadfired at the chief of the herd, a splendid bull, whose antlers he cravedas a trophy. The bull was struck somewhere in the body, for hestaggered; but instantly recovering, he had charged fiercely in thedirection of the assault. Story had stepped behind a tree; and the madbeast, not detecting him, had continued his career through the woods,almost at right angles to the direction which was taken by the rest ofthe herd.
“Story gave chase at a run, loading as he went. The bull was already outof sight, but his track was ample guide. The hunter knew he had hit theanimal hard, and looked for a speedy triumph.
“For an hour he continued his long trot, encouraged from time to time bythe sight of blood upon the snow. The animal’s path led at last througha region of gullies and copses, and low, broad beech-trees. Suddenly, asStory was skirting the crest of a little ravine, from a thicket closeahead of him the great moose dashed out with a bellow, and charged uponhim like lightning.
“The hunter had not time to check himself, but whipped the gun to hisshoulder and took a snap-shot. Even at the same instant the snow gaveway beneath his
feet, and his shot flew wide as he rolled to the foot ofthe ravine.
“The animal was upon him before he could recover himself, and he thoughthis end was come. Dropping his gun, now useless, he drew his knife, and,just escaping one keen prong, he seized the antlers with one hand, whilewith the other he slashed at the animal’s neck. It was the depth andsoftness of the snow, with the confusion of bushes and roots beneath it,that saved him from being crushed at once.
“At last He looked Upward, and saw the Hunter.”—Page 221.]
“As the moose felt the knife in his neck he drew back, and threw up hishead with violence, intending to trample his adversary with his terriblehoofs; but the neck of the moose has tremendous power, and as the hunterclung to his hold with desperate tenacity, knowing that his last chancedepended on it, he was thrown high into the air. He came in contactviolently with a beech-tree branch.
“One thinks quickly in such emergencies as these; or rather an instinct,drowsy at other times, wakes up and saves us the need of thought. Storyflung both arms around the branch, and with a great sigh ofthankfulness, and possibly an inward utterance of the same, swunghimself out of harm’s way.
“When his opponent failed to fall, the moose was astonished. He turnedround and round, and tore up the snow, and bellowed hoarsely in hisrage. The thing was inexplicable.
“At last he looked upward, and saw the hunter in the branches. Hisindignation waxed fiercer than ever, and he made desperate efforts topull down the branches by seizing and breaking off their tips.
“How the huntsman chuckled and derided him!
“After a time the mad brute grew more calm. Then, to Story’s supremedisgust, he lay down under the tree to starve his prisoner out. Thehunter had no gun. The weather was severe. There was nothing to eat.There was no way of stealing off unobserved. To crown all, the wretchedman recalled a number of incidents showing the implacable persistence ofthe wounded bulls of this species.
“For perhaps an hour the hunter waited, vainly hoping that thisparticular moose would prove less obstinate than his kind, or would gethomesick for the rest of the herd, or would die of his inward wound.
“But nothing seemed farther from the animal’s intention than any one ofthese things. It was growing dark, and the shivering captive began torealize that he would have to spend the night in his tree.
“He tucked his knife back safely in its sheath, and undertook to warmhimself a little.
“His snow-shoes he had taken off long before, and had tied them to alimb, knowing that if they should fall to the ground the moose would atonce make mince-meat of them. Then he proceeded to climb about the treewith the utmost energy and agility, while the moose, who had risenpromptly to his feet, looked on with the most obvious amazement.
“By this means Story soon got rid of his chill. Before it was quite darkhe selected a safe and comparatively comfortable spot where two largebranches forked, and tying himself securely to the limb with his longscarf, he tried to go to sleep. It was a profitless undertaking, andafter an hour or two of faithful effort he gave it up. He was stiff,miserable, hungry, and half-frozen.
“It had grown so dark that he thought perhaps he might descend the otherside of the tree, and slip away without the moose being any the wiser.With what he fancied perfect noiselessness, he tried it.
“He was almost down, when there was a bellow and a rush, and the animalwas almost upon him. He escaped just by a hair’s-breadth, and swungnimbly back into his refuge. He had no stomach for another attempt ofthat sort. He began to calculate how long it would be before they wouldmiss him in camp, and come to look for him.
“The prospect did not cheer him. Known as he was for a determinedhunter, his comrades would go home without him, confident that he wouldturn up all right when he had bagged his game. If he was not back bymorning they would perhaps think something had gone wrong, and set outto look for him.
“They would have to retrace their steps to the moose-yard, and then,picking up his trail from the yard, might be expected to rescue himabout noon. By that time, he thought to himself miserably, he might befrozen stiff. He decided to do something! But what?
“At first he thought of cutting a branch, fastening his knife to the endof it, and stabbing his captor with the improvised harpoon. But thebeech-branches were too thick and crooked to suit his idea. He did atlast, however, succeed in splicing a sort of spear about five feet long;and when he had got the knife lashed to the end of it all his stock oftwine was exhausted.
“The spear was pretty satisfactory, but he of course dared not _throw_it; and the moose showed no inclination to come where he could beeffectually and neatly despatched. The hunter struck his harpoon into alimb, and set out to concoct another weapon.
“By this time the moon was up. The hunter tore a little strip from hisshirt, wet it in his mouth, and rubbed it full of gunpowder. This made afair bit of slow-match, which he folded several times longitudinally,and then inserted in the top of his powder-flask. To the short end,which he left protruding, he touched a match; and then he tossed theflask down in front of the moose.
“The sputtering of the slow-match for a moment disconcerted the animal,and he drew back. Then, as if ashamed of his weakness, he sprang uponthe flask and trampled it fiercely under his feet. While he wasindulging in this interesting performance the powder exploded with abang, and the astounded animal sprang high into the air.
“But though badly startled, he was not frightened by any means. He wasshocked and scorched, and a little torn in the fore legs; but this onlymade him the more deadly. In a paroxysm of pain and hatred he dashedunder the tree, and rearing frantically struggled to reach the hunter.
“This was just what the wily woodsman desired. Lying flat on a branchalmost within reach of the beast’s antlers, he reached down and dealthim a blow in the neck. A second thrust went deeper, and struck a morevital part, almost under the throat. The blood gushed out in a torrent,and the hunter congratulated himself that deliverance was near at hand.
“Presently the great animal stood still, and looked about him with apuzzled, anxious air. He felt his strength going from him, and could notunderstand it.
“Soon he began to sway from side to side, and had to brace his feetapart to keep from falling. At last he fell. Then the hunter, stretchinghimself, came down out of the tree and stood beside his noble anddefeated antagonist.
“Story was too weak and cold and hungry to think of waiting to cut offthe animal’s head and hide it from the bears. He slipped on hissnow-shoes, found his gun, and started back in haste for the camp.Before daylight he had reached the ‘yard’; and there, to his intensedelight, he met a party of his comrades who had set out in the night tolook for him.”
DAN.
“And now,” said I, “I’ll tell you of Dan’s great fight. It was foughtbefore he came into my possession; that is, before my friend H——, goingaway to study in Germany, handed him over to me. It was just a few weeksbefore H——’s departure, and we were setting out for a farewell trip tothe wilderness together.
“As for Dan, he was not much to look at certainly; and I was prejudicedagainst him by the fact that he took up room in the canoe. To carry agreat bulldog in a birch canoe was contrary to all my notions of thefitness of things. But H—— had protested so vehemently against the ideaof leaving him behind, and the dog had behaved with such sobriety andgood sense when I took him out to try him in a choppy sea, that Iyielded a reluctant consent.
“Our proposed route was through the chain of the Chiputneticook Lakes,down stream all the way, with no difficult water to contend against, andno bad rapids to shoot. We had two canoes,—that which bore H—— andmyself, and that in which our Indian carried the baggage; so that reallyit was not impossible to make room for the addition to our party, andDan was formally enrolled a member.
“He took his place in the forward mid-section of my canoe, immediatelybehind his master, where he coiled himself up into a compact bundle.There he
calmly ignored the wildest vagaries to which the lake wavescould impel our little craft. This good seamanship of his, with hisdignified manner toward myself and his adoring devotion to his master,gradually won my respect; and before we had been many days out we wereon terms of mutual consideration. I ended with a cordial enjoyment ofhis company.
“I think I began by declaring that Dan was not much to look at. This wasmy first and biassed impression. But it must be modified by theacknowledgment that his splendid proportions and great strength wereapparent to the most casual observer. In fact, he was a perfect specimenof his breed.
“But the expression of his small eye and mighty jaw, which certainlybelied his true character, was bloodthirsty to the last degree; and hiswhite coat was disfigured with a tangle of long scars which looked as ifthe business of his life were brawls. As I afterwards learned, thosescars were the ornament of a hero, no less to be honored than if hisgreat heart had throbbed in a human body.
“It was one night in camp at the head of the Big Chiputneticook that Iheard how those scars were achieved. Tent was pitched on a bit of dryinterval which fringed the base of a high rock, a well-known landmark totrappers, and distinguished by the name of ‘The Devil’s Pulpit.’ Therock towered over us, naked and perpendicular, for a distance of twohundred feet, then shelved, and rose again some hundreds of feet fartherto a beetling cap of mingled rock and forest.
“Our camp was flanked on each side by a thicket of cherry and vines andyoung water-ash, and the light of our fire filled the space between withthe comfort of its cheerful radiance. In the midst of this we laybasking, each waiting for the other to begin a yarn; but no one seemedprepared.
“We had been out ten days in the wilderness; and night after night ouroccupation had been this one of ‘swapping’ experiences, till I had foundmyself compelled to fall back on my inventive faculty, and our Indian,Steve, who was communicative beyond the custom of his people, had begunto repeat himself in his stories.
“As for H——, he never spun a yarn save under some strong compulsion, yetwe knew more or less vaguely that many a strange experience had fallento his lot. We had had some stirring adventures together, he and I,since first I had initiated him into the mysteries of woodcraft. But itwas rare for him to recall them in conversation, and hence I judged thatthere was much in his experience of which I had never heard.
“On the present occasion the long silence was becoming almost drowsy.For me the flame from our logs was beginning to change mistily into theglow from a heaped-up grate, and to play over two small curly heads anda long-eared pup on a hearth-rug, when suddenly from far up in themoonlit rocks of the summit came the wail of the northern panther.
“I was startled wide-awake; and the little vision faded instantly into aconsciousness of the open heaven, the white lake, and that lonely,haunted summit.
“But it was not altogether the panther that had startled me. It was Dan,who had sprung almost over my head toward the hillside, and now stoodtrembling with wrath.
“At the command of his master he stalked back and sat down again; but hefaced the hillside, and never withdrew his fierce gaze from the spotwhence the sound had seemed to come.
“‘Never mind him, old dog,’ said H—— soothingly; ‘you can’t get at him,you know.’
“‘What makes Dan so excited?’ I asked. ‘I never saw him so much workedup before. See, he’s fairly quivering!’
“‘Oh,’ replied H——, ‘there’s no love lost between Dan and the Indiandevils. That yelling stirs up some lively reminiscences in his old pate.He thinks that Indian devil is coming right down here to tackle me. Seehow he keeps me in his eye! And see him turn his muzzle round now andthen to lick those scars of his. I’ll venture to say he feels them smartnow, when he remembers the night he got them at the head of the LittleTobique.’
“‘Let’s have it, old man,’ I urged. ‘You’ve never told me about thatscrape. I’ve been taking those scars as a certificate of Dan’s fightingpropensities.’
“‘Do you suppose any _dog_,’ said H—— in a tone of disdain, ‘could carveDan up in that style? Not by a good deal! It was a big Indian devil thatundertook the contract. He accomplished the frescoing in a veryelaborate fashion, as you see. But he didn’t survive the job.’
“H—— compressed his lips, and added, ‘I can tell you, my dear boy, thatwas something like an Indian devil, that fellow, and came mighty nearsettling my claims for me. He measured six feet from tip of nose to tipof tail, and you know what a poor sort of thing they all have for atail. It was Dan saved my life that night.’
“Pete and I settled ourselves more comfortably against our log cushions.Dan, having heard no more yells from the hilltop, and having perceivedthat the conversation concerned himself, curled himself up with agratified air, and thrust his great head into his master’s lap.
“‘You remember,’ resumed H——, ‘last year I went to the Tobique all bymyself, except for Dan’s company. I was gone six weeks and more. When Igot back to Fredericton you were off up Quebec way, and so I neverhappened to tell you about the trip.
“‘Well, I had the best fishing you can conceive of. It was far betterthan any we’ve ever had together in those streams. But as for thepanthers, I never heard anything like them. They used to howl round thewoods at night in a frightful way.
“‘Dan used to keep awake all night, watching for them. But they neverventured near the camp. They didn’t disturb me; but if I had not had Danwith me I might have felt a little shaky, perhaps, at night. I hadrather a contempt for the brutes at that time, but they were not muchhelp to a fellow when he was feeling lonely.
“‘You know that pretty cove on the right shore of the Little Tobique,about a hundred yards from where the brook flows in? On that patch ofopen just on top of the bank I pitched my tent. By the time the camp wasfixed, and the fish fried for supper, it was getting pretty well pastsundown. It was a gorgeous moonlight night, as bright as day. Therewasn’t a mosquito about. I tell you I felt pretty nice as I lifted thepink flakes of fried trout onto my plate, and fixed a dish for Dan.
“‘I was getting out the hardtack, when I saw a whopping big trout jump,just by the mouth of the brook. It was bigger than any I had caught sofar, and I could not bear to lose the chance of taking him while he wasfeeding.
“‘I set down my plate, telling Dan to watch it, seized my rod, tied on acast of white and gray millers, and struck hurriedly through the bushestoward the other side of the cove, where I thought I could get a faircast.
“‘You know what sort of a place that shore is,—all banks and bowlders,and thickets and little gullies; and some of those gullies are hidden byfallen trees, or grown over with weeds and vines. You have to keep youreyes open, or you are liable to tumble into these pitfalls. I was in ahurry, and plunged right ahead. I wanted to catch that trout and getback to my supper.
“‘At last, about sixty or seventy yards from the camp, I dodged round athick fir-bush, and saw right in front of me something that brought meup mighty short, I can tell you.
“‘Not ten feet away, crouched along the top of a white bowlder, lay ahuge Indian devil just ready to spring.
“‘I felt queer right down to my boots, but kept my eyes fixed on thoseof the brute, which gleamed like two emeralds in the moonlight. My righthand reached for my belt, and I stealthily drew my old sheath-knife. Atthe same time I whistled sharply for Dan.
“‘The brute was on the very point of springing when I whistled; but theshrill sound startled him, and deterred him for a moment. He glanceduneasily from side to side, half rising. Then he drew himself togetheragain for his spring.
“‘Before he could launch himself forth, I hurled the butt of myfishing-rod full in his face, and sprang aside. I saw the long bodyflash toward me, and at the same instant I crashed through a tangle ofunderbrush, and sank into one of those gullies.
“‘Instinctively I threw out my left arm to save myself. My grasp caughta tree-root on the edge of the hole. The next instant I fel
t thepanther’s teeth sink into my arm. I didn’t know how deep that hole was,but I wanted to be at the bottom of it right away.
“‘At the risk of stabbing myself, I slashed desperately above my headwith my free right hand. It was not a breath too soon; for at that veryinstant the brute had reached down with the amiable intention of clawingmy head. The knife went through his paw, which he snatched back,snarling fiercely. But he kept his grip on my arm.
“‘Then I heard Dan come tearing through the brush. I lunged again,blindly of course; and this time the blade went through the panther’sjaw and into my own flesh. The brute let go; and I rolled to the foot ofthe gully, a distance of some five or six feet. Even as I fell I heardDan’s vindictive cough as he sank his teeth into his adversary’s throat.There was a mad snarl from the big cat, a struggle—and the two rolleddown on top of me.
“‘I got out of the way in a great hurry. At first it was too dark downthere to distinguish the combatants. In a moment, however, my eyes gotused to the gloom. The two animals were almost inextricably mixed up.Dan’s grip was right under the panther’s jaw, so that he could not makeany use of his teeth. The wary old dog had drawn himself up into a tightball, so as to expose as little of himself as possible to the attack ofhis enemy’s claws. But his back and haunches were getting terriblymangled.
“‘Dan fought in silence; but the Indian devil made noise enough forboth, and the yelling down in that little hole was fiendish. I felt myleft arm, and found it was not broken. Then I sprang on the Indiandevil, seized him by the tail, and tried to jerk his hind legs clear ofDan.
“‘His back was bowed up into a half-circle, and there was no unbendingthat arch of steel.
“‘I dug the knife twice into his side, and he paid no attention to it,so absorbed was he in the life-and-death struggle with Dan. If left tothemselves I saw that the fight would end with the death of both. Danwas inexorably working through the throat of his foe, but was in a fairway to be torn to pieces before he could get this accomplished.
“‘I threw myself on the panther’s hindquarters, twining my left armaround his supple loins, and with my right hand I reached for his heart.
“‘See the length of this blade? I drove it in to the hilt three timesbehind that brute’s fore shoulder before I fetched him. Then hestraightened out and fell over.
“‘It was some time before I could persuade Dan to drop him. The poor oldfellow was so torn he could hardly walk. I picked him up in myarms,—though it’s no joke to carry a dog of his weight,—and lugged himback to the camp.
“‘We were a sight to see when we got there, a mass of blood from head tofoot.
“‘I stayed at that camp four days, nursing Dan and myself, before wewere able to start for home; and then we _had_ to go, for fear we’d bestarved out. I thanked my stars and your old-time injunctions that I hadtaken the little medicine-case along with me. It might have gone hardwith us but for that.’
“As H—— concluded, Pete grunted in astonishment and admiration. Indeed,these expressive grunts of his had furnished a running fire of commentthroughout the narrative. For myself, I fetched a deep breath, got up,and went over to embrace Dan. As I rose, I cast my eyes up the mountain,and exclaimed,—.
“‘Talk of angels and you’ll see their wings, eh? Look there!’ H—— andPete followed my gaze. Far up, in the whiteness of the moonlight, we sawa stealthy form creep across a surface of bare rock. Dan saw it too, andevery muscle became rigid.
“The form disappeared in a thick covert, and a moment later there issuedagain upon the stillness that strange, blood-curdling cry. It soundedlike a challenge to the hero of H——’s story.
“But the challenge went unheeded. H—— ordered Dan into the tent. In afew minutes we were wrapped in our blankets, and the panthers had thewilderness all to themselves.”
“What became of Dan at last?” inquired Sam.
“Poisoned three years ago; but I made the brutes that did it smart forit!” said I, shutting my teeth with a snap.
“Hanging would have been none too bad for them!” growled Stranion. Fromthis the talk wandered to dogs in general; and each man, of course, sangthe praises of his own, till presently Stranion cried, “Douse the glim!”and we rolled into our blankets.