Rolf in the Woods Part 18

A careful study of the snow showed one or two trifling traces of blood.

In the deer yard they found at least a dozen carca.s.ses of deer killed by the wolves, but none very recent. They saw but few deer and nothing more of the wolves, for the crust had made all the country easy, and both kinds fled before the hunters.

Exploring a lower level of willow country in hopes of finding beaver delayed them, and it was afternoon when they returned to the half-way shanty, to find everything as they left it, except that their Pack of furs had totally disappeared.

Of course, the hard crust gave no sign of track. Their first thought was of the old enemy, but, seeking far and near for evidence, they found pieces of an ermine skin, and a quarter mile farther, the rest of it, then, at another place, fragments of a muskrat's skin. Those made it look like the work of the trapper's enemy, the wolverine, which, though rare, was surely found in these hills. Yes! there was a wolverine scratch mark, and here another piece of the rat skin. It was very clear who was the thief.

"He tore up the cheapest ones of the lot anyway," said Rolf.

Then the trappers stared at each other significantly--only the cheap ones destroyed; why should a wolverine show such discrimination? There was no positive sign of wolverine; in fact, the icy snow gave no sign of anything. There was little doubt that the tom furs and the scratch marks were there to mislead; that this was the work of a human robber, almost certainly Hoag.

He had doubtless seen them leave in the morning, and it was equally sure, since he had had hours of start, he would now be far away.

"Ugh! Give him few days to think he safe, then I follow and settle all,"

and this time the Indian clearly meant to end the matter.

Chapter 45. The Subjugation of Hoag

A feller as weeps for pity and never does a finger-tap to help is 'bout as much use as an overcoat on a drowning man.

--Sayings of Si Sylvanne.

SOME remarkable changes of weather made some remarkable changes in their plan and saved their enemy from immediate molestation. For two weeks it was a succession of thaws and there was much rain. The lake was covered with six inches of water; the river had a current above the ice, that was rapidly eating, the latter away. Everywhere there were slush and wet snow that put an end to travel and brought on the spring with a rush.

Each night there was, indeed, a trifling frost, but each day's sun seemed stronger, and broad, bare patches of ground appeared on all sunny slopes.

On the first crisp day the trappers set out to go the rounds, knowing full well that this was the end of the season. Henceforth for six months deadfall and snare would lie idle and unset.

They went their accustomed line, carrying their snowshoes, but rarely needing them. Then they crossed a large track to which Quonab pointed, and grunted affirmatively as Rolf said "Bear?" Yes! the bears were about once more; their winter sleep was over. Now they were fat and the fur was yet prime; in a month they would be thin and shedding. Now is the time for bear hunting with either trap or dog.

Doubtless Skook.u.m thought the party most fortunately equipped in the latter respect, but no single dog is enough to bay a bear. There must be three or four to bother him behind, to make him face about and fight; one dog merely makes him run faster.

They had no traps, and knowing that a spring bear is a far traveller, they made no attempt to follow.

The deadfalls yielded two martens, but one of them was spoiled by the warm weather. They learned at last that the enemy had a trap-line, for part of which he used their deadfalls. He had been the rounds lately and had profited at least a little by their labours.

The track, though two days old, was not hard to follow, either on snow or ground. Quonab looked to the lock of his gun; his lower lip tightened and he strode along.

"What are you going to do, Quonab? Not shoot?"

"When I get near enough," and the dangerous look in the red man's eye told Rolf to be quiet and follow.

In three miles they pa.s.sed but three of his marten traps--very lazy trapping--and then found a great triangle of logs by a tree with a bait and signs enough to tell the experienced eye that, in that corner, was hidden a huge steel trap for bear.

They were almost too late in restraining the knowledge-hunger of Skook.u.m. They went on a mile or two and realized in so doing that, however poor a trapper the enemy might be, he was a good tramper and knew the country.

At sundown they came to their half-way shelter and put up there for the night. Once when Rolf went out to glimpse the skies before turning in, he heard a far tree creaking and wondered, for it was dead calm. Even Skook.u.m noticed it. But it was not repeated. Next morning they went on.

There are many quaint sounds in the woods at all times, the rasping of trees, at least a dozen different calls by jays, twice as many by ravens, and occasional notes from chicadees, grouse, and owls. The quadrupeds in general are more silent, but the red squirrel is ever about and noisy, as well as busy.

Far-reaching sounds are these echoes of the woods--some of them very far. Probably there were not five minutes of the day or night when some weird, woodland chatter, sc.r.a.pe, crack, screech, or whistle did not reach the keen ears of that ever-alert dog. That is, three hundred times a day his outer ear submitted to his inner ear some report of things a-doing, which same report was as often for many days disregarded as of no interest or value. But this did not mean that he missed anything; the steady tramp, tramp of their feet, while it dulled all sounds for the hunter, seemed to have no effect on Skook.u.m. Again the raspy squeal of some far tree reached his inmost brain, and his hair rose as he stopped and gave a low "woof."

The hunters held still; the wise ones always do, when a dog says "Stop!"

They waited. After a few minutes it came again--merely the long-drawn creak of a tree bough, wind-rubbed on its neighbour.

And yet, "Woof, woof, woof," said Skook.u.m, and ran ahead.

"Come back, you little fool!" cried Rolf.

But Skook.u.m had a mind of his own. He trotted ahead, then stopped, paused, and sniffed at something in the snow. The Indian picked it up.

It was the pocket jackscrew that every bear trapper carries to set the powerful trap, and without which, indeed, one man cannot manage the springs.

He held it up with "Ugh! Hoag in trouble now." Clearly the rival trapper had lost this necessary tool.

But the finding was an accident. Skook.u.m pushed on. They came along a draw to a little hollow. The dog, far forward, began barking and angrily baying at something. The men hurried to the scene to find on the snow, fast held in one of those devilish engines called a bear trap--the body of their enemy--Hoag, the trapper, held by a leg, and a hand in the gin he himself had been setting.

A fierce light played on the Indian's face. Rolf was stricken with horror. But even while they contemplated the body, the faint cry was heard again coming from it.

"He's alive; hurry!" cried Rolf. The Indian did not hurry, but he came.

He had vowed vengeance at sight; why should he haste to help?

The implacable iron jaws had clutched the trapper by one knee and the right hand. The first thing was to free him. How? No man has power enough to force that spring. But the jackscrew!

"Quonab, help him! For G.o.d's sake, come!" cried Rolf in agony, forgetting their feud and seeing only tortured, dying man.

The Indian gazed a moment, then rose quickly, and put on the jackscrew.

Under his deft fingers the first spring went down, but what about the other? They had no other screw. The long buckskin line they always carried was quickly lashed round and round the down spring to hold it.

Then the screw was removed and put on the other spring; it bent, and the jaws hung loose. The Indian forced them wide open, drew out the mangled limbs, a the trapper was free, but so near death, it seemed they were too late.

Rolf spread his coat. The Indian made a fire. In fifteen minutes they were pouring hot tea between victim's lips. Even as they did, his feeble throat gave out again the long, low moan.

The weather was mild now. The prisoner was not actually frozen, but numbed and racked. Heat, hot tea, kindly rubbing, and he revived a little.

At first they thought him dying, but in an hour recovered enough to talk. In feeble accents and broken phrases they learned the tale:

"Yest--m-m-m. Yesterday--no; two or three days back--m-m-m-m-m--I dunno; I was a goin'--roun' me traps--me bear traps. Didn't have no luck m-m-m (yes, I'd like another sip; ye ain't got no whiskey no?) m-m-m. Nothing in any trap, and when I come to this un--oh-h--m-m; I seen--the bait was stole by birds, an' the pan--m-m-m; an' the pan, m-m-m--(yes, that's better)--an' the pan laid bare. So I starts to cover it with--ce-ce-dar; the ony thing I c'd get--m-m-m-w---wuz leanin' over--to fix tother side--me foot slipped on--the--ice--ev'rything was icy--an'--m-m-m-m--I lost--me balance--me knee the pan--O Lord--how I suffer!--m-m-m it grabbed me--knee an'--h-h-hand--" His voice died to a whisper and ceased; he seemed sinking.

Quonab got up to hold him. Then, looking at Rolf, Indian shook his head as though to say all was over; the poor wretch had a woodman's const.i.tution, and in spite of a mangled, dying body, he revived again.

They gave him more hot tea, and again he began in a whisper:

"I hed one arm free an'--an'--an'--I might--a--got out--m-m--but I hed no wrench--I lost it some place--m-m-m-m.

"Then--I yelled--I dun--no--maybe some un might hear--it kin-kin-kinder eased me--to yell m-m-m.

"Say--make that yer dog keep--away--will yer I dunno--it seems like a week--must a fainted some M-m-m--I yelled--when I could."

There was a long pause. Rolf said, "Seems to me I heard you last night, when we were up there. And dog heard you, too. Do you want me to move that leg around?"