CHAPTER TEN
A quarter of a mile away Miki had heard the clamour of the crows. Buthe was in no humour to turn back, even had he guessed that Neewa was inneed of his help. He was hungry from long fasting and, for the present,his disposition had taken a decided turn. He was in a mood to tackleanything in the eating line, no matter how big, but he was a good milefrom the dip in the side of the ridge before he found even a crawfish.He crunched this down, shell and all. It helped to take the bad tasteout of his mouth.
The day was destined to hold for him still another unforgettable eventin his life. Now that he was alone the memory of his master was not sovague as it had been yesterday, and the days before. Brain-picturescame back to him more vividly as the morning lengthened into afternoon,bridging slowly but surely the gulf that Neewa's comradeship hadwrought. For a time the exciting thrill of his adventure was gone. Halfa dozen times he hesitated on the point of turning back to Neewa. Itwas hunger that always drove him on a little farther. He found two morecrawfish. Then the creek deepened and its water ran slowly, and wasdarker. Twice he chased old rabbits, that got away from him easily.Once he came within an ace of catching a young one. Frequently apartridge rose with a thunder of wings. He saw moose-birds, and jays,and many squirrels. All about him was meat which it was impossible forhim to catch. Then fortune turned his way. Poking his head into the endof a hollow log he cornered a rabbit so completely that there was noescape. During the next few minutes he indulged in the first squaremeal he had eaten for three days.
So absorbed was he in his feast that he was unconscious of a newarrival on the scene. He did not hear the coming of Oochak, thefisher-cat; nor, for a few moments, did he smell him. It was not inOochak's nature to make a disturbance. He was by birth and instinct avaliant hunter and a gentleman, and when he saw Miki (whom he took tobe a young wolf) feeding on a fresh kill, he made no move to demand ashare for himself. Nor did he run away. He would undoubtedly havecontinued on his way very soon if Miki had not finally sensed hispresence, and faced him.
Oochak had come from the other side of the log, and stood not more thansix feet distant. To one who knew as little of his history as Mikithere was nothing at all ferocious about him. He was shaped like hiscousins, the weazel, the mink, and the skunk. He was about half as highas Miki, and fully as long, so that his two pairs of short legs seemedsomewhat out of place, as on a dachshund. He probably weighed betweeneight and ten pounds, had a bullet head, almost no ears, and atrociouswhiskers. Also he had a bushy tail and snapping little eyes that seemedto bore clean through whatever he looked at. To Miki his accidentalpresence was a threat and a challenge. Besides, Oochak looked like aneasy victim if it came to a fight. So he pulled back his lips andsnarled.
Oochak accepted this as an invitation for him to move on, and being agentleman who respected other people's preserves he made his apologiesby beginning a velvet-footed exit. This was too much for Miki, who hadyet to learn the etiquette of the forest trails. Oochak was afraid ofhim. He was running away! With a triumphant yelp Miki took after him.After all, it was simply a mistake in judgment. (Many two-footedanimals with bigger brains than Miki's had made similar mistakes.) ForOochak, attending always to his own business, was, for his size andweight, the greatest little fighter in North America.
Just what happened in the one minute that followed his assault Mikiwould never be able quite to understand. It was not in reality a fight;it was a one-sided immolation, a massacre. His first impression wasthat he had tackled a dozen Oochaks instead of one. Beyond that firstimpression his mind did not work, nor did his eyes visualize. He waswhipped as he would never be whipped again in his life. He was cut andbruised and bitten; he was strangled and stabbed; he was so utterlymauled that for a space after Oochak had gone he continued to rake theair with his paws, unconscious of the fact that the affair was over.When he opened his eyes, and found himself alone, he slunk into thehollow log where he had cornered the rabbit.
In there he lay a good half hour, trying hard to comprehend just whathad happened. The sun was setting when he dragged himself out. Helimped. His one good ear was bitten clean through. There were barespots on his hide where Oochak had scraped the hair off. His bonesached, his throat was sore, and there was a lump over one eye. Helooked longingly back over the "home" trail. Up there was Neewa. Withthe lengthening shadows of the day's end a great loneliness crept uponhim and a desire to turn back to his comrade. But Oochak had gone thatway--and he did not want to meet Oochak again.
He wandered a little farther south and east, perhaps a quarter of amile, before the sun disappeared entirely. In the thickening gloom oftwilight he struck the Big Rock portage between the Beaver and the Loon.
It was not a trail. Only at rare intervals did wandering voyageurscoming down from the north make use of it in their passage from onewaterway to the other. Three or four times a year at the most would awolf have caught the scent of man in it. It was there tonight, so freshthat Miki stopped when he came to it as if another Oochak had risenbefore him. For a space he was turned into the rigidity of rock by asingle overwhelming emotion. All other things were forgotten in thefact that he had struck the trail of a man--AND, THEREFORE, THE TRAILOF CHALLONER, HIS MASTER. He began to follow it--slowly at first, as iffearing that it might get away from him. Darkness came, and he wasstill following it. In the light of the stars he persisted, all elsecrowded from him but the homing instinct of the dog and the desire fora master.
At last he came almost to the shore of the Loon, and there he saw thecampfire of Makoki and the white man.
He did not rush in. He did not bark or yelp; the hard schooling of thewilderness had already set its mark upon him. He slunk incautiously--then stopped, flat on his belly, just outside the rim offirelight. Then he saw that neither of the men was Challoner. But bothwere smoking, as Challoner had smoked. He could hear their voices, andthey were like Challoner's voice. And the camp was the same--a fire, apot hanging over it, a tent, and in the air the odours of recentlycooked things.
Another moment or two and he would have gone into the firelight. Butthe white man rose to his feet, stretched himself as he had often seenChalloner stretch, and picked up a stick of wood as big as his arm. Hecame within ten feet of Miki, and Miki wormed himself just a littletoward him, and stood up on his feet. It brought him into a half light.His eyes were aglow with the reflection of the fire. And the man sawhim.
In a flash the club he held was over his head; it swung through the airwith the power of a giant arm behind it and was launched straight atMiki. Had it struck squarely it would have killed him. The big end ofit missed him; the smaller end landed against his neck and shoulder,driving him back into the gloom with such force and suddenness that theman thought he had done for him. He called out loudly to Makoki that hehad killed a young wolf or a fox, and dashed out into the darkness.
The club had knocked Miki fairly into the heart of a thick groundspruce. There he lay, making no sound, with a terrible pain in hisshoulder. Between himself and the fire he saw the man bend over andpick up the club. He saw Makoki hurrying toward him with ANOTHER club,and under his shelter he made himself as small as he could. He wasfilled with a great dread, for now he understood the truth. THESE menwere not Challoner. They were hunting for him--with clubs in theirhands. He knew what the clubs meant. His shoulder was almost broken.
He lay very still while the men searched about him. The Indian evenpoked his stick into the thick ground spruce. The white man kept sayingthat he was sure he had made a hit, and once he stood so near thatMiki's nose almost touched his boot. He went back and added fresh birchto the fire, so that the light of it illumined a greater space aboutthem. Miki's heart stood still. But the men searched farther on, and atlast went back to the fire.
For an hour Miki did not move. The fire burned itself low. The old Creewrapped himself in a blanket, and the white man went into his tent. Notuntil then did Miki dare to crawl out from under the spruce. With hisbruised shoulder making him limp at every step he hurried back
over thetrail which he had followed so hopefully a little while before. Theman-scent no longer made his heart beat swiftly with joy. It was amenace now. A warning. A thing from which he wanted to get away. Hewould sooner have faced Oochak again, or the owls, than the white manwith his club. With the owls he could fight, but in the club he sensedan overwhelming superiority.
The night was very still when he dragged himself back to the hollow login which he had killed the rabbit. He crawled into it, and nursed hiswounds through all the rest of the hours of darkness. In the earlymorning he came out and ate the rest of the rabbit.
After that he faced the north and west--where Neewa was. There was nohesitation now. He wanted Neewa again. He wanted to muzzle him with hisnose and lick his face even though he did smell to heaven. He wanted tohear him grunt and squeal in his funny, companionable way; he wanted tohunt with him again, and play with him, and lie down beside him in asunny spot and sleep. Neewa, at last, was a necessary part of his world.
He set out.
And Neewa, far up the creek, still followed hopefully and yearninglyover the trail of Miki.
Half way to the dip, in a small open meadow that was a glory of sun,they met. There was no very great demonstration. They stopped andlooked at each other for a moment, as if to make sure that there was nomistake. Neewa grunted. Miki wagged his tail. They smelled noses. Neewaresponded with a little squeal, and Miki whined. It was as if they hadsaid,
"Hello, Miki!"
"Hello, Neewa!"
And then Neewa lay down in the sun and Miki sprawled himself out besidehim. After all, it was a funny world. It went to pieces now and then,but it always came together again. And to-day their world hadthoroughly adjusted itself. Once more they were chums--and they werehappy.