Rolf in the Woods Part 8

In twenty minutes Rolf heard the gun, then later the Indian returned with a haunch of venison, and when they left that camp they stopped a mile up the river to add the rest of the venison to their cargo. Seven other deer were seen, but no more killed; yet Rolf was burning to try his hand as a hunter. Many other opportunities he had, and improved some of them. On one wood portage he, or rather Skook.u.m, put up a number of ruffed grouse. These perched in the trees above their heads and the travellers stopped. While the dog held their attention Rolf with blunt arrows knocked over five that proved most acceptable as food. But his thoughts were now on deer, and his ambition was to go out alone and return with a load of venison.

Another and more thrilling experience followed quickly. Rounding a bend in the early dawn they sighted a black bear and two cubs rambling along the gravelly bank and stopping now and then to eat something that turned out to be crayfish.

Quonab had not seen a bear since childhood, when he and his father hunted along the hardwood ridges back of Myanos, and now he was excited.

He stopped paddling, warned Rolf to do the same, and let the canoe drift backward until out of sight; then made for the land. Quickly tying up the canoe he took his gun and Rolf his hunting arrows, and, holding Skook.u.m in a leash, they dashed into the woods. Then, keeping out of sight, they ran as fast and as silently as possible in the direction of the bears. Of course, the wind was toward the hunters, or they never could have got so near. Now they were opposite the family group and needed only a chance for a fair shot. Sneaking forward with the utmost caution, they were surely within twenty-five yards, but still the bushes screened the crab-eaters. As the hunters sneaked, the old bear stopped and sniffed suspiciously; the wind changed, she got an unmistakable whiff; then gave a loud warning "Koff! Koff! Koff! Koff!" and ran as fast as she could. The hunters knowing they were discovered rushed out, yelling as loudly as possible, in hopes of making the bears tree. The old bear ran like a horse with Skook.u.m yapping bravely in her rear. The young ones, left behind, lost sight of her, and, utterly bewildered by the noise, made for a tree conveniently near and scrambled up into the branches. "Now," Rolf thought, judging by certain tales he had heard, "that old bear will come back and there will be a fight."

"Is she coming back?" he asked nervously.

The Indian laughed. "No, she is running yet. Black bear always a coward; they never fight when they can run away."

The little ones up the tree were, of course, at the mercy of the hunters, and in this case it was not a broken straw they depended on, but an ample salvation. "We don't need the meat and can't carry it with us; let's leave them," said Rolf, but added, "Will they find their mother?"

"Yes, bime-by; they come down and squall all over woods. She will hang round half a mile away and by night all will be together."

Their first bear hunt was over. Not a shot fired, not a bear wounded, not a mile travelled, and not an hour lost. And yet it seemed much more full of interesting thrills than did any one of the many stirring bear hunts that Rolf and Quonab shared together in the days that were to come.

Chapter 19. The Footprint on the Sh.o.r.e

Jesup's River was a tranquil stream that came from a region of swamps, and would have been easy canoeing but for the fallen trees. Some of these had been cut years ago, showing that the old trapper had used this route. Once they were unpleasantly surprised by seeing a fresh chopping on the bank, but their mourning was changed into joy when they found it was beaver-work.

Ten miles they made that day. In the evening they camped on the sh.o.r.e of Jesup's Lake, proud and happy in the belief that they were the rightful owners of it all. That night they heard again and again the howling of wolves, but it seemed on the far side of the lake. In the morning they went out on foot to explore, and at once had the joy of seeing five deer, while tracks showed on every side. It was evidently a paradise for deer, and there were in less degree the tracks of other animals--mink in fair abundance, one or two otters, a mountain lion, and a cow moose with her calf. It was thrilling to see such a feast of possibilities. The hunters were led on and on, revelling in the prospect of many joys before them, when all at once they came on something that turned their joy to grief--the track of a man; the fresh imprint of a cowhide boot.

It was maddening. At first blush, it meant some other trapper ahead of them with a prior claim to the valley; a claim that the unwritten law would allow. They followed it a mile. It went striding along the sh.o.r.e at a great pace, sometimes running, and keeping down the west sh.o.r.e.

Then they found a place where he had sat down and broken a lot of clam sh.e.l.ls, and again had hastened on. But there was no mark of gunstock or other weapon where he sat; and why was he wearing boots? The hunters rarely did.

For two miles the Indian followed with Rolf, and sometimes found that the hated stranger had been running hard. Then they turned back, terribly disappointed. At first it seemed a crus.h.i.+ng blow. They had three courses open to them--to seek a location farther north, to a.s.sume that one side of the lake was theirs, or to find out exactly who and what the stranger was. They decided on the last. The canoe was launched and loaded, and they set out to look for what they hoped they would not find, a trapper's shanty on the lake.

After skirting the sh.o.r.e for four or five miles and disturbing one or two deer, as well as hosts of ducks, the voyagers landed and there still they found that fateful bootmark steadily tramping southward. By noon they had reached the south end of the west inlet that leads to another lake, and again an examination of the sh.o.r.e showed the footmarks, here leaving the lake and going southerly. Now the travellers retired to the main lake and by noon had reached the south end. At no point had they seen any sign of a cabin, though both sides of the lake were in plain view all day. The travelling stranger was a mystery, but he did not live here and there was no good reason why they should not settle.

Where? The country seemed equally good at all points, but it is usually best to camp on an outlet. Then when a storm comes up, the big waves do not threaten your canoe, or compel you to stay on land. It is a favourite crossing for animals avoiding the lake, and other trappers coming in are sure to see your cabin before they enter.

Which side of the outlet? Quonab settled that--the west. He wanted to see the sun rise, and, not far back from the water, was a hill with a jutting, rocky pinnade. He pointed to this and uttered the one word, "Idaho." Here, then, on the west side, where the lake enters the river, they began to clear the ground for their home.

Chapter 20. The Trappers' Cabin

It's a smart fellow that knows what he can't do.--Sayings of Si Sylvanne.

I suppose every trapper that ever lived, on first building a cabin, said, "Oh, any little thing will do, so long as it has a roof and is big enough to lie down in." And every trapper has realized before spring that he made a sad mistake in not having it big enough to live in and store goods in. Quonab and Rolf were new at the business, and made the usual mistake. They planned their cabin far too small; 10 X 12 ft., instead of 12 X 20 ft. they made it, and 6-ft. walls, instead of 8-ft.

walls. Both were expert axemen. Spruce was plentiful and the cabin rose quickly. In one day the walls were up. An important thing was the roof.

What should it be? Overlapping ba.s.swood troughs, split s.h.i.+ngles, also called shakes, or clay? By far the easiest to make, the warmest in winter and coolest in summer, is the clay roof. It has three disadvantages: It leaks in long-continued wet weather; it drops down dust and dirt in dry weather; and is so heavy that it usually ends by crus.h.i.+ng in the log rafters and beams, unless they are further supported on posts, which are much in the way. But its advantages were so obvious that the builders did not hesitate. A clay roof it was to be.

When the walls were five feet high, the doorway and window were cut through the logs, but leaving in each case one half of the log at the bottom of the needed opening. The top log was now placed, then rolled over bottom up, while half of its thickness was cut away to fit over the door: a similar cut out was made over the window. Two flat pieces of spruce were prepared for door jambs and two shorter ones for window jambs. Auger holes were put through, so as to allow an oak pin to be driven through the jamb into each log, and the doorway and window opening were done.

In one corner they planned a small fireplace, built of clay and stone.

Not stone from the lake, as Rolf would have had it, but from the hillside; and why? Quonab said that the lake stone was of the water spirits, and would not live near fire, but would burst open; while the hillside stone was of the sun and fire spirit, and in the fire would add its heat.

The facts are that lake stone explodes when greatly heated and hill stone does not; and since no one has been able to improve upon Quonab's explanation, it must stand for the present.

The plan of the fireplace was simple. Rolf had been present at the building of several, and the main point was to have the chimney large enough, and the narrowest point just above the fire.

The eaves logs, end logs, and ridge logs were soon in place; then came the cutting of small poles, spruce and tamarack, long enough to reach from ridge to eaves, and in sufficient number to completely cover the roof. A rank sedge meadow near by afforded plenty of coa.r.s.e gra.s.s with which the poles were covered deeply; and lastly clay dug out with a couple of hand-made, axe-hewn wooden spades was thrown evenly on the gra.s.s to a depth of six inches; this, when trampled flat, made a roof that served them well.

The c.h.i.n.ks of the logs when large were filled with split pieces of wood; when small they were plugged with moss. A door was made of hewn planks, and hinged very simply on two pins; one made by letting the plank project as a point, the other by nailing on a pin after the door was placed; both pins fitting, of course, into inch auger holes.

A floor was not needed, but bed bunks were, and in making these they began already to realize that the cabin was too small. But now after a week's work it was done. It had a sweet fragrance of wood and moss, and the pleasure it gave to Rolf at least was something he never again could expect to find in equal measure about any other dwelling he might make.

Quonab laid the fire carefully, then lighted his pipe, sang a little crooning song about the "home spirits," which we call "household G.o.ds,"

walked around the shanty, offering the pipestem to each of the four winds in turn, then entering lighted the fire from his pipe, threw some tobacco and deer hair on the blaze, and the house-warming was ended.

Nevertheless, they continued to sleep in the tent they had used all along, for Quonab loved not the indoors, and Rolf was growing daily more of his mind.

Chapter 21. Rolf's First Deer

Anxious to lose no fine day they had worked steadily on the shanty, not even going after the deer that were seen occasionally over the lake, so that now they were out of fresh meat, and Rolf saw a chance he long had looked for. "Quonab, I want to go out alone and get a deer, and I want your gun.

"Ugh! you shall go. To-night is good."

"To-night" meant evening, so Rolf set out alone as soon as the sun was low, for during the heat of the day the deer are commonly lying in some thicket. In general, he knew enough to travel up wind, and to go as silently as possible. The southwest wind was blowing softly, and so he quickened his steps southwesterly which meant along the lake. Tracks and signs abounded; it was impossible to follow any one trail. His plan was to keep on silently, trusting to luck, nor did he have long to wait.

Across a little opening of the woods to the west he saw a movement in the bushes, but it ceased, and he was in doubt whether the creature, presumably a deer, was standing there or had gone on. "Never quit till you are sure," was one of Quonab's wise adages. Rolf was bound to know what it was that had moved. So he stood still and waited. A minute pa.s.sed; another; many; a long time; and still he waited, but got no further sign of life from the bush. Then he began to think he was mistaken; yet it was good huntercraft to find out what that was. He tried the wind several times, first by wetting his finger, which test said "southwest"; second, by tossing up some handfuls of dried gra.s.s, which said "yes, southwest, but veering southerly in this glade." So he knew he might crawl silently to the north side of that bush. He looked to the priming of his gun and began a slow and stealthy stalk, selecting such openings as might be pa.s.sed without effort or movement of bushes or likelihood of sound. He worked his way step by step; each time his foot was lifted he set it down again only after trying the footing. At each step he paused to look and listen. It was only one hundred yards to the interesting spot, but Rolf was fifteen minutes in covering the distance, and more than once, he got a great start as a chicadee flew out or a woodp.e.c.k.e.r tapped. His heart beat louder and louder, so it seemed everything near must hear; but he kept on his careful stalk, and at last had reached the thicket that had given him such thrills and hopes. Here he stood and watched for a full minute. Again he tried the wind, and proceeded to circle slowly to the west of the place.

After a long, tense crawl of twenty yards he came on the track and sign of a big buck, perfectly fresh, and again his heart worked harder; it seemed to be pumping his neck full of blood, so he was choking. He judged it best to follow this hot trail for a time, and holding his gun ready c.o.c.ked he stepped softly onward. A bluejay cried out, "jay, jay!"

with startling loudness, and seemingly enjoyed his pent-up excitement. A few steps forward at slow, careful stalk, and then behind him he heard a loud whistling hiss. Instantly turning he found himself face to face with a great, splendid buck in the short blue coat. There not thirty yards away he stood, the creature he had been stalking so long, in plain view now, broadside on. They gazed each at the other, perfectly still for a few seconds, then Rolf without undue movement brought the gun to bear, and still the buck stood gazing. The gun was up, but oh, how disgustingly it wabbled and shook! and the steadier Rolf tried to bold it, the more it trembled, until from that wretched gun the palsy spread all over his body; his breath came tremulously, his legs and arms were shaking, and at last, as the deer moved its head to get a better view and raised its tail, the lad, making an effort at selfcontrol, pulled the trigger. Bang! and the buck went lightly bounding out of sight.

Poor Rolf; how disgusted he felt; positively sick with self-contempt.

Thirty yards, standing, broadside on, full daylight, a big buck, a clean miss. Yes, there was the bullet hole in a tree, five feet above the deer's head. "I'm no good; I'll never be a hunter," he groaned, then turned and slowly tramped back to camp. Quonab looked inquiringly, for, of course, he heard the shot. He saw a glum and sorry-looking youth, who in response to his inquiring look gave merely a head-shake, and hung up the gun with a vicious bang.

Quonab took down the gun, wiped it out, reloaded it, then turning to the boy said: "Nibowaka, you feel pretty sick. Ugh! You know why? You got a good chance, but you got buck fever. It is always so, every one the first time. You go again to-morrow and you get your deer."

Rolf made no reply. So Quonab ventured, "You want me to go?" That settled it for Rolf; his pride was touched.

"No; I'll go again in the morning."

In the dew time he was away once more on the hunting trail. There was no wind, but the southwest was the likeliest to spring up. So he went nearly over his last night's track. He found it much easier to go silently now when all the world was dew wet, and travelled quickly. Past the fateful glade he went, noted again the tree torn several feet too high up, and on. Then the cry of a bluejay rang out; this is often a notification of deer at hand. It always is warning of something doing, and no wise hunter ignores it.

Rolf stood for a moment listening and peering. He thought he heard a sc.r.a.ping sound; then again the bluejay, but the former ceased and the jay-note died in the distance. He crept cautiously on again for a few minutes; another opening appeared. He studied this from a hiding place; then far across he saw a little flash near the ground. His heart gave a jump; he studied the place, saw again the flash and then made out the head of a deer, a doe that was lying in the long gra.s.s. The flash was made by its ear shaking off a fly. Rolf looked to his priming, braced himself, got fully ready, then gave a short, sharp whistle; instantly the doe rose to her feet; then another appeared, a sinal one; then a young buck; all stood gazing his way.

Up went the gun, but again its muzzle began to wabble. Rolf lowered it, said grimly and savagely to himself, "I will not shake this time." The deer stretched themselves and began slowly walking toward the lake. All had disappeared but the buck. Rolf gave another whistle that turned the antler-bearer to a statue. Controlling himself with a strong "I will," he raised the gun, held it steadily, and fired. The buck gave a gathering spasm, a bound, and disappeared. Rolf felt sick again with disgust, but he reloaded, then hastily went forward.

There was the deep imprint showing where the buck had bounded at the shot, but no blood. He followed, and a dozen feet away found the next hoof marks and on them a bright-red stain; on and another splash; and more and shortening bounds, till one hundred yards away--yes, there it lay; the round, gray form, quite dead, shot through the heart.

Rolf gave a long, rolling war cry and got an answer from a point that was startlingly near, and Quonab stepped from behind a tree.

"I got him," shouted Rolf.