CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Meshaba, the old Cree, sat on the sunny side of a rock on the sunnyside of a slope that looked up and down the valley. Meshaba--who many,many years ago had been called The Giant--was very old. He was so oldthat even the Factor's books over at Fort O' God had no record of hisbirth; nor the "post logs" at Albany House, or Cumberland House, orNorway House, or Fort Churchill. Perhaps farther north, at Lac LaBiche, at Old Fort Resolution, or at Fort McPherson some trace of himmight have been found. His skin was crinkled and weather-worn, like drybuckskin, and over his brown, thin face his hair fell to his shoulders,snow-white. His hands were thin, even his nose was thin with thethinness of age. But his eyes were still like dark garnets, and downthrough the greater part of a century their vision had come undimmed.
They roved over the valley now. At Meshaba's back, a mile on the otherside of the ridge, was the old trapper's cabin, where he lived alone.The winter had been long and cold, and in his gladness at the coming ofspring Meshaba had come up the ridge to bask in the sun and look outover the changing world. For an hour his eyes had travelled up and downthe valley like the eyes of an old and wary hawk. The dark spruce andcedar forest edged in the far side of the valley; between that and theridge rolled the meadowy plain--still covered with melting snow inplaces, and in others bare and glowing, a dull green in the sunlight.From where he sat Meshaba could also see a rocky scarp of the ridgethat projected out into the plain a hundred yards away. But this didnot interest him, except that if it had not been in his line of visionhe could have seen a mile farther down the valley.
In that hour of Sphinx-like watching, while the smoke curled slowly upfrom his black pipe, Meshaba had seen life. Half a mile from where hewas sitting a band of caribou had come out of the timber and wanderedinto a less distant patch of low bush. They had not thrilled his oldblood with the desire to kill, for there was already a fresh carcasshung up at the back of his cabin. Still farther away he had seen ahornless moose, so grotesque in its spring ugliness that theparchment-like skin of his face had cracked for half an instant in asmile, and out of him had come a low and appreciative grunt; forMeshaba, in spite of his age, still had a sense of humour left. Once hehad seen a wolf, and twice a fox, and now his eyes were on an eaglehigh over his head. Meshaba would not have shot that eagle, for yearafter year it had come down through time with him, and it was alwaysthere soaring in the sun when spring came. So Meshaba grunted as hewatched it, and was glad that Upisk had not died during the winter.
"Kata y ati sisew," he whispered to himself, a glow of superstition inhis fiery eyes. "We have lived long together, and it is fated that wedie together, Oh Upisk. The spring has come for us many times, and soonthe black winter will swallow us up for ever."
His eyes shifted slowly, and then they rested on the scarp of the ridgethat shut out his vision. His heart gave a sudden thump in his body.His pipe fell from his mouth to his hand; and he stared without moving,stared like a thing of rock.
On a flat sunlit shelf not more than eighty or ninety yards away stooda young black bear. In the warm glow of the sunlight the bear's springcoat shone like polished jet. But it was not the sudden appearance ofthe bear that amazed Meshaba. It was the fact that another animal wasstanding shoulder to shoulder with Wakayoo, and that it was not abrother bear, but a huge wolf. Slowly one of his thin hands rose to hiseyes and he wiped away what he thought must surely be a strangesomething that was fooling his vision. In all his eighty years and oddhe had never known a wolf to be thus friendly with a bear. Nature hadmade them enemies. Nature had fore-doomed their hatred to be thedeepest hatred of the forests. Therefore, for a space, Meshaba doubtedhis eyes. But in another moment he saw that the miracle had truly cometo pass. For the wolf turned broadside to him and it WAS a wolf! Ahuge, big-boned beast that stood as high at the shoulders as Wakayoo,the bear; a great beast, with a great head, and--
It was then that Meshaba's heart gave another thump, for the tail of awolf is big and bushy in the springtime, and the tail of this beast wasas bare of hair as a beaver's tail!
"Ohne moosh!" gasped Meshaba, under his breath--"a dog!"
He seemed to draw slowly into himself, slinking backward. His riflestood just out of reach on the other side of the rock.
At the other end of that eighty or ninety yards Neewa and Miki stoodblinking in the bright sunlight, with the mouth of the cavern in whichNeewa had slept so many months just behind them. Miki was puzzled.Again it seemed to him that it was only yesterday, and not months ago,that he had left Neewa in that den, sleeping his lazy head off. And nowthat he had returned to him after his own hard winter in the forests hewas astonished to find Neewa so big. For Neewa had grown steadilythrough his four months' nap and he was half again as big as when hewent to sleep. Could Miki have spoken Cree, and had Meshaba given himthe opportunity, he might have explained the situation.
"You see, Mr. Indian"--he might have said--"this dub of a bear and Ihave been pals from just about the time we were born. A man namedChalloner tied us together first when Neewa, there, was just about asbig as your head, and we did a lot of scrapping before we got properlyacquainted. Then we got lost, and after that we hitched up likebrothers; and we had a lot of fun and excitement all through lastsummer, until at last, when the cold weather came, Neewa hunted up thishole in the ground and the lazy cuss went to sleep for all winter. Iwon't mention what happened to me during the winter. It was a-plenty.So this spring I had a hunch it was about time for Neewa to get thecobwebs out of his fool head, and came back. And--here we are! But tellme this: WHAT MAKES NEEWA SO BIG?"
It was at least that thought--the bigness of Neewa--that was fillingMiki's head at the present moment. And Meshaba, in place of listeningto an explanation, was reaching for his rifle--while Neewa, with hisbrown muzzle sniffing the wind, was gathering in a strange smell. Ofthe three, Neewa saw nothing to be wondered at in the situation itself.When he had gone to sleep four and a half months ago Miki was at hisside; and to-day, when he awoke, Miki was still at his side. The fourand a half months meant nothing to him. Many times he and Miki had goneto sleep, and had awakened together. For all the knowledge he had oftime it might have been only last night that he had fallen asleep.
The one thing that made Neewa uneasy now was that strange odour he hadcaught in the air. Instinctively he seized upon it as a menace--atleast as something that he would rather NOT smell than smell. So heturned away with a warning WOOF to Miki. When Meshaba peered around theedge of the rock, expecting an easy shot, he caught only a flash of thetwo as they were disappearing. He fired quickly.
To Miki and Neewa the report of the rifle and the moaning whirr of thebullet over their backs recalled memories of a host of things, andNeewa settled down to that hump-backed, flat-eared flight of his thatkept Miki pegging along at a brisk pace for at least a mile. Then Neewastopped, puffing audibly. Inasmuch as he had had nothing to eat for athird of a year, and was weak from long inactivity, the run came withinan ace of putting him out of business. It was several minutes before hecould gather his wind sufficiently to grunt. Miki, meanwhile, wascarefully smelling of him from his rump to his muzzle. There wasapparently nothing missing, for he gave a delighted little yap at theend, and, in spite of his size and the dignity of increased age, hebegan frisking about Neewa In a manner emphatically expressive of hisjoy at his comrade's awakening.
"It's been a deuce of a lonely winter, Neewa, and I'm tickled to deathto see you on your feet again," his antics said. "What'll we do? Go fora hunt?"
This seemed to be the thought in Neewa's mind, for he headed straightup the valley until they came to an open fen where he proceeded toquest about for a dinner of roots and grass; and as he searched hegrunted--grunted in his old, companionable, cubbish way. And Miki,hunting with him, found that once more the loneliness had gone out ofhis world.