IX
THE STEALTHY MENACE OF THE TRAIL
There were cartridges enough in Andy's bag, but he had no time now toreload, and dropping the rifle he seized the low hanging limb of atamarack tree, swung himself up, and clambered to a limb above barelyin time to escape a stroke of the bear's powerful paw.
Then it was that Andy remembered that bears can climb quite as well asmen, and this wounded and blood-bespattered bear proved himself anexcellent climber indeed. Up the tree he came, with an agility thatwas alarming, and Andy, now thoroughly frightened, slid out upon thelimb upon which he was perched, to escape the long reach of the greatpaw.
Andy was cornered. He was certain that death awaited him. In somedegree his mind became dulled and paralyzed with the thought. In adisconnected way he wondered whether the bear would tear him badly, orbe content to kill him and leave his body for foxes and wolves todevour. In that moment he was not greatly concerned about it. He waslittle more interested in it than he would have been in tomorrow'sweather.
But the instinct of self-preservation never becomes extinct so long aslife remains, and acting upon that instinct rather than upon anydefinite plan Andy slid farther out upon the limb. As the bearfollowed he continued to slide, when of a sudden the supple ends ofthe limb bent beneath his weight, he lost his grip, and went tumblingto the ground, leaving the baffled and astounded bear upon the limb.
Andy was on his feet in an instant. With the knowledge that he was atleast temporarily out of reach of the creature and its terrible claws,his mind awoke with new hope of escape.
His rifle lay within reach, and seizing it he hurriedly jammed acartridge into the magazine, threw the lever back, drew it forwardagain with a click, and was in time to place the muzzle of the riflealmost against the bear's body, over its heart, as it descended,backing down the tree trunk.
There was a report, the bear loosed his hold, and fell in a heap uponthe ground. Andy was safe, and realizing the fact, his strength lefthim, and he stood, trembling, and so weak that for a little he couldscarce move.
A half hour later when Andy appeared at the tilt he had nearlyregained his usual composure. David and Indian Jake were busy near thedoor splitting slabs from dry spruce butts, and looking up Indian Jakeasked, jocularly:
"Where be th' pa'tridges we're goin' to have for supper? I supposeyou got a fine lot of 'em? I never was so hungry for pa'tridges in mylife."
"Here they be," replied Andy, lifting the skirts of his adiky anddisplaying the five birds tied to his belt.
"You did get un, now, didn't you?" said Indian Jake.
"Andy's a rare good pa'tridge hunter," David asserted, resentingIndian Jake's implication that he might not be. "He knows how t' findth' birds when they're about, and he knows how t' shoot un, too."
"And this ain't all th' game I'm gettin'," said Andy, who had stoodwith fine unconcern, gloating in the surprise he had in store forthem. "I killed a bear back here by th' hill. We better go and skinhe, an' bring in th' meat, _I'm_ thinkin'!"
"A bear!" exclaimed David and Indian Jake incredulously.
"Aye," said Andy, "and a fine big un, too. He's prime, and has a raregood skin."
There was no doubt that Andy was in earnest, and Indian Jake and Davidlost no time in securing their rifles and following him as he led themproudly back to the scene of his encounter.
The bear was, as Andy had declared, fine and fat, with a glossy,well-furred pelt. And, while they removed the pelt from the carcass,and dressed and cut the meat into convenient pieces for carrying backto the tilt, Indian Jake and David must needs hear the story ofAndy's adventure in detail. And Indian Jake, who took things forgranted, and rarely complimented any one, praised Andy's courage, andDavid declared no one could have done better "in such a tight fix,"and Andy was quite swelled up with pride, and glad of the adventure,now that it had ended so happily.
Bear steak was a rarer treat than boiled spruce partridge, and IndianJake quite forgot his earlier longing for a partridge supper. IndianJake had indeed never been in such good humor. He declared that he hadnever eaten finer bear's meat, and that no one could wish for a bettermeal, and the boys quite heartily agreed with him. And when they werethrough eating, and he had lighted his pipe, Indian Jake told themstories of Indian hunters who had lived and had their adventures inthese very forests where they were camped. It was a rare evening, thatfirst evening in the tilt, and one to be remembered.
Geese were not nearly so plentiful as they had hoped. The largerflocks had already passed to the southward, for winter was near athand, and only small, belated flocks of stragglers remained.Nevertheless, by hard, persistent hunting, seven geese and twelveducks were bagged during the succeeding week, before the last gooseand duck to be seen until spring returned, had disappeared.
The weather was cold enough now to keep the bear's meat and birds wellfrozen. Thus they would remain sweet and good until needed, and it waspleasant and safe to have an ample supply of fresh meat to draw uponas required.
The trail along which David and Andy were to set their traps extendedeastward through the forest, and on the southern side of the smallriver at the mouth of which the Narrows tilt was situated, to anothertilt on the shores of Namaycush Lake, a distance of twenty-five miles.Midway between the Narrows and Namaycush Lake tilts was another, knownto the hunters as the "Halfway tilt." From the Namaycush Lake tilt thetrail swung out through the forest, circuited a great open marsh, andreturned again to the tilt. From this point it followed westward alongthe northern bank of the river, turned in at the Halfway tilt, andthence continued westward on the northern side of the river, to returnto the Narrows tilt again.
The entire length of the trail was about sixty miles, and the distancefrom tilt to tilt constituted a day's work. Thus, setting out from theNarrows tilt on Monday morning, they would stop that night in theHalfway tilt, Tuesday and Wednesday nights in the Namaycush Lake tilt,Thursday night again at the Halfway tilt, and reach the Narrows tilton Friday night, to remain there until Monday morning. This gave themSaturday and Sunday for rest, and to make necessary repairs toclothing and equipment. It also permitted an allowance for delay incase of severe storms.
Indian Jake's trail took a northerly direction from the Narrows tilt,and with tilts at similar intervals made a wide circuit, returning, asdid the other trail, to the Narrows tilt. Thus it was arranged thateach week Indian Jake and the boys should spend the period from Fridayevening until Monday morning together.
It was the middle of October when they awoke one morning to hear thewind howling and shrieking outside. Upon opening the tilt door Davidwas met by a cloud of swirling, drifting snow, and when he went to theriver for a kettle of water he found it necessary to use his ax to cuta water hole through the ice. For three days and nights the stormraged over the wilderness, and when at length it passed, a new,intense, penetrating cold had settled upon the land. The long Labradorwinter had come.
"Now," said Indian Jake, "it's time to get the traps set and thetrails shaped up."
Two long Indian toboggans, or "flat sleds," as they called them, wereleaning against the tilt. A supply of provisions and their sleepingbags were lashed securely upon these, and in the cold, frosty dawn ofa Monday morning Indian Jake, hauling one, set out to the northward,and with David hauling the other, the two boys crossed the littleriver upon its hard frozen surface and plunged into the forest to theeastward, and the tedious rounds of the long white trail were begun.
The first journey of the season over a trail is always hard, for thereis no hope that the next trap may hold a valuable pelt. So it waswith David and Andy, though the novelty of the experience kept them tosome extent buoyed and interested. But the work was hard,nevertheless. So far as possible they used the stumps that Thomas hadused the previous year for their marten traps, but still there was thenecessity of cutting and trimming new stumps. The snowshoeing, too,was far from good, for in the shelter of the trees the snow was soft,and they sank half way to their knees at every step. Out on the openm
arshes, however, where the wind had packed the snow firmly, theywalked with ease. Here it was, in open, wind-swept regions, that theyset their fox traps.
The silence was appalling. Down at The Jug there was always at leastthe howling and snarling of the dogs to break the quiet, when ice inwinter throttled the otherwise unceasing song of Roaring Brook. Buthere in the wilderness no sound disturbed the monotonous stillness,save the winter wind soughing through the tree tops. It was a newworld to the lads, and the world that they had known seemed far, faraway.
Withal, that first week was a trying one, and when, late on Fridayevening they glimpsed at a distance the Narrows tilt, and saw smokeissuing from the pipe, they welcomed it joyfully, and were glad enoughto be back. Upon entering they found Indian Jake busily engagedpreparing supper, the tilt cozy and warm, and the kettle boilingmerrily. A pot of partridges simmering upon the stove sent forth anappealing odor. Then they realized how very lonely they had been.
"How you making it, lads?" asked Indian Jake cheerily.
"Not so bad," answered David stoutly.
"'Tis wonderful fine t' see you, Jake," exclaimed Andy.
"'Tis that," agreed David.
Indian Jake laughed.
"'Twas--'twas growin' lonesome out there," explained Andy.
"Yes," said Indian Jake, "it is lonesome out there till you get usedto it."
"It seems a wonderful long time since we left the Jug," observed Andy,as they ate supper.
"Not so long," said David, a little inclined to brag.
"No only a month yet. But," condescendingly, "'tis like t' seem longthe first time. 'Twas so when I was up here with Pop last year. ButI'm not mindin' un now."
"You was lonesome enough up at the Namaycush Lake tilt," Andyretorted.
"'Twon't help any t' talk about un," warned Indian Jake. "You'll begettin' homesick at the start."
But after this the hope that each trap would reward them with a finepelt kept alive their keen interest in the work. And, too, they weredoing exceedingly well. Before the middle of December they hadcaptured fourteen martens, one red, one cross, and two white foxes,which was quite as well, Indian Jake declared, as he had done, and wasvery well indeed, and they were proud.
"And it's all prime fur except th' first two martens we got," saidDavid.
"We're makin' a grand hunt, Davy!" exclaimed Andy, enthusiastically.
"That we are!" agreed David.
The cold was tightening with each December day. Wild, fierce stormssprang up suddenly, and the air was filled with blinding clouds ofsnow. But David and Andy kept steadily at their work, with "plenty ofgrit, and stout hearts," lying idle only when it would have been toodangerous or foolhardy to venture forth from the protection of thetilts. This is the portion of the fur hunter's existence.
But neither David nor Andy gave thought to the hardships he wasexperiencing. They had expected them, and they were accustomed to coldweather and deep snows. They were always glad, however, to reach thesnug shelter of the tilts, of nights.
Their excellent success kept them in good spirits and contented attheir work for the most part, though sometimes, when drifting snowsclogged the traps, and days were spent in clearing them, the trailsgrew tedious, and then it was quite natural that they should long forthe return of summer, and for home.
Nothing occurred to vary the monotonous routine of the days untillate one December afternoon. The previous night had been one of windand drifting snow. The fox traps lay deeply covered by drifts, andsince early morning they had been clearing and resetting them. Thelong northern twilight was at hand, and, plodding silently alongtoward the Namaycush Lake tilt, still three miles away, they werethinking of the hot supper and warm fire, and hours of rest thatshould presently be theirs, when suddenly David stopped and listenedintently.
"What is it?" asked Andy.
"'Tis something following us," answered David after a moment'ssilence.
"I hears nothing," said Andy.
"But 'tis there!" insisted David. "I _feels_ un!"
A little longer they listened, and then passed on.
"There _is_ somethin'!" exclaimed Andy presently, in an awed voice. "Ifeels un too."
Closer and closer the something seemed to come, stealing after themstealthily through the shadows of the forest. With the instinct ofthose born and bred to the solitudes, they felt the presence, and werecertain it was there, though they could neither hear nor see it.
Again and again they paused expectantly to listen, and at length theirkeen ears caught a light, stealthy tread.