_From Miss Helen Jelliffe to Miss Jane Van Zandt_
_Darling Aunt Jennie_:
As the boys keep on exclaiming in _Stalky & Co._, I gloat!
I have now utterly and forever become one of those bold females, as your
cousin Theresa calls them, who so far forget the refinement of their sex
as to indulge in horrid masculine pursuits, and go afield clad in
perfectly shocking garb, looking like viragos, to emulate men in
barbarous sports. After this open and glorious confession I hasten to
tell you that I have actually killed a caribou, and a most splendid one.
I suppose that some day my much flattered photograph may appear in an
illustrated Sunday supplement, under some such heading as "Our Society
Dianas." I have spent two most wonderful days and shall never forget them
if I grow to be twice as old and plain as Miss Theresa.
We started in the early morning. Of course I was awake before Susie
knocked at my door, and only waiting for her to help me lace those high
boots of mine. She is the only woman I ever knew who can make knots that
will not come undone until you want them to. I suppose that it is an
inherited trait from her ancestry of fishermen and sailors.
We rowed across the cove to the place where we land when we go
salmon-fishing. I was distressed when I saw the size of the packs the men
were carrying, for it looked as if they had prepared for an excursion
beyond the Arctic Circle, and of course it was chiefly on my account.
Susie clamored to be allowed a bundle also but neither Sammy nor Frenchy
would hear of it.
"Ye'll be havin' ter help th' lady when we's on the mash," Captain Sammy
told her.
I discovered later that the mash is really a marsh, or swamp, or rather a
whole lot of them. Sammy opened the procession, followed by Yves. Then I
came, aided and abetted by Susie, and the doctor closed the imposing
line, also bearing a big pack. Whenever the nature of the ground
permitted Susie would walk beside me and impart her views. She trudged on
sturdily, her feet enclosed in a vast pair of skin boots borrowed from
some male relative. The evident disproportion in the sizes did not
trouble her in the least.
"I got four pair o' stockins," she informed me, "an' me feet feels good
an' aisy."
A little later she imparted to me some of her views on the sport we were
pursuing.
"Huntin' is man's work," she said, "but I doesn't say as a woman can't do
it if she's a mind ter, like anythin' else. One time I shot me brother's
gun at a swile, and it liked ter have knocked me jaw awry. I had a lump
on it fer a week an' I let mother think I had the toothache. Anyways I
scared the swile real bad, an' meself worse. That time I were cookin'
aboard a schooner on the Labrador, as belonged ter me cousin Hyatt, him
as is just a bit humpy-backed. He got one o' them dories wid a glass
bottom, an' they say his back crooked a kneelin' down ter see the cod,
afore settin' the traps."
"What kind of traps?" I asked her.
"Them as is big nets leadin' inter a pocket where the cod gets jest shut
in," she informed me.
"Wasn't it horrid to go on such a long trip and stay on a boat so long?"
I enquired.
"Sure, but we mostly gets landed there. They has shacks or little houses,
an' flakes built up, in some places."
"It must be very disagreeable," I said.
"Laws, ma'am. They is allers some hard things about workin' the best one
knows how ter make a livin' an' help one's folks. The worst of it was
havin' no other wimmin folks ter talk to."
"Do you mean that you were alone with the crew?"
"Sure, ma'am. They wouldn't have no use fer a lot o' wimmin. They was a
chap once as wanted ter kiss me an' I hove th' back of me fist ter his
jaw, most shockin' hard. It give me sore knuckles, too, but I reckon a
girl kin allers take care of herself an' she has a mind ter."
I looked at her vigorous shoulders and was disposed to agree with her
statement. It is a splendid thing, Aunt Jennie, for girls to be strong
and sturdy enough to help themselves, sometimes, as well as to help
others. I have a notion that it is a good thing that the day is passing
away of the girls of the fainting sort who were brought up to backboards
and mincing manners. That girl has self-reliance and willingness stamped
all over her, and it is good to see.
The men were going well. At first I had been surprised at the slowness of
their gait, but I soon realized that they could keep it up all day, in
spite of their loads. Yet once an hour they stopped for a breathing spell
of a few minutes, during which they wiped their foreheads and sometimes
had a pull at their pipes. We no longer had any view of the sea. Below us
and to one side, Sweetapple River was brawling over rapids, resting in
pools, or riffling over shallows. It wound its way through a little
wooded valley, fairly well grown with small spruces and firs whose somber
greens were often relieved by the cheery, lighter hue of birches. The
junipers, as they call tamaracks in Newfoundland, were beginning to shed
their yellowing needles, and many of them were quite bare, or else dead,
with gnarled limbs fantastically twisted.
Several times we put up ptarmigans, that flew away with the curious
"brek-kek-kex" that is their rallying cry, showing white spots on their
dull-hued plumage, which would soon grow into the pure, snowy livery of
winter days. A few snipe flew up from the side of water-holes, with
shrill cries and twisting flights. Far away on the marsh we saw a flock
of geese, pasturing like so many sheep, while one of their number played
sentinel, perched high up on a hummock.
"When deer gets alongside o' geese they is happy," Sammy informed me.
"Th' caribou knows nothing kin get nigh so long as the honkers is keepin'
watch."
After this we were walking on one of many paths we had followed,
well-trodden and some inches below the level of the grey moss.
"I had no idea there would be enough people here to make these paths," I
said to Dr. Grant. "And why do so many of them cross from time to time?"
"They are made by the caribou, every one of them," he replied. "Most of
these have been abandoned for a long time. The people of the Cove
sometimes come as far as this, and by dint of firing their heavy sealing
guns loaded with slugs they may have made the deer shy. We shall soon see
plenty of tracks, for the hunters seldom go farther than this, Sammy
tells me. You see, they would have a hard time bringing the meat home.
They have to sled it out with dogs or carry it on their backs. We are
going farther, since we are not looking for a whole winter's provision."
The barren over which we traveled was beginning to be much wider, and the
clumps of straggling trees less frequent. Far away there was a range of
little mountains, tinted with purples and lavenders, rather indistinct in
the distant haze. The sun was lighting up bright spots where the peat
bogs held miniature lakes, among which were tiny islands of bushes and
low trees dotting the great marsh. Here and there small tamaracks stood
quite apart, as if their ragged dress had caused them to be ostracized by
the better clad spruces and firs.
Suddenly the men stopped near a little tree, and I saw that much of its
brown bark had been stripped off. On the white wood beneath there were
some curious dark red spots.
"A big stag has been rubbing his horns here within a day or two, Miss
Jelliffe," the doctor told me. "You ought to see one of them at work.
Their horns must itch desperately when they are ready to shed their
velvet, for they hook away at these saplings as if they were actually
fighting them. Such blows as they give; one can hear them quite far off.
Look at this place where the wood has actually been splintered off. These
marks are dried blood. And now look down at your feet. This fellow is
surely a big one, the ground is soft and he has left a huge track. You
will notice that the toes are widely separated, and that the dew claws
have also left their mark. No other deer than the caribou ever make that
fourfold imprint, and they only do it on muddy ground or in snow."
"How I wish I could see him!" I cried, excitedly.
He had taken out a pair of field glasses, and was sweeping the great
barren with them.
"One does not often see the stags on the marsh at this time of the year,"
he said. "They usually remain in their lairs among the alders on the
edges of ponds and streams. But I think I see something."
I strained my eyes in the same direction. Far away, against the sky-line,
I thought I discerned little dark dots which appeared to be moving, and
the doctor handed me the glasses.
"You are far-sighted," he said. "I see that your eyes have caught them.
Now take a nearer look at them."
"Oh! I can see them ever so plainly now," I exclaimed.
"They are two does with their fawns, I think," he said.
"I'm afraid you are mistaken," I told him. "One of them has antlers, but
not very large ones."
"Very true," he replied, "but the caribou does, alone in the whole deer
family, frequently have them. They are never as large as with the stags."
"I can see them feeding along quietly, with their noses on the ground,
and sometimes they look up, and now one of them is scratching her ear
with her hind foot. It is the prettiest thing I ever saw. Now they are
going on again, slowly. You are not going to try and kill them, are you?"
"A starving man may shoot anything for food," he answered, "but we must
look for something we would not be ashamed to kill."
So they lifted up their packs again, and we resumed our journey, until
hunger compelled us to stop near one of the little wooded islands growing
out of the silvery barren. Near at hand a tiny rivulet was tinkling, from
which the kettle was filled. Sammy and Yves cut down some tamarack sticks
while the doctor undid one of the packs and brought out a frying-pan and
some tin cups and plates. In a very few minutes the kettle was boiling
and bacon frying with a pleasant sputtering. There was bread and butter,
and a jar of marmalade.
"Thus far I entirely approve of caribou hunting," I declared. "I have an
idea that such a picnic as this must be the most delightful part of it."
The wind was blowing briskly, and the trees swaying to its caress.
Moose-birds began to gather around us, calling out with voices ranging
from the shrillest to deep raucous cries, sometimes changing to
imitations of other birds. They became very tame at once, and hopped
impudently among us, cocking up their saucy little heads and watching us.
Susie happened to put a little bacon on a piece of bread, beside her on
the clean moss, the better to handle a very hot cup of tea, and one of
the jays pounced upon it and dragged it away.
"Git out o' there, ye imp!" she cried. "Them birds would pick the nails
offen yer boots if they was good ter eat."
"They are ever so pretty," I said. "And oh! look at that poor little
chap. He hopped into the frying pan and scalded his toes."
The indignant bird flew away, uttering perfectly disgraceful language,
but the others seemed to be quite indifferent to his fate and remained,
bent on securing every discarded crumb.
After this a flight of yellow-leg snipe passed by. Dr. Grant began to
whistle their soft triple note and the wisp of birds circled in the air,
coming nearer and nearer until, becoming suspicious, they winged their
journey away. And then we were invaded by a troop of grosbeaks who
gathered in the neighboring bushes, their queer, tiny voices, seeming
quite out of place, coming out of such stocky, strong little bodies. In
the meanwhile a woodpecker was tap-tapping on a dead juniper. It was all
so very different from the cruel, ragged coast with its unceasing turmoil
of hungry waves breaking upon the cliffs. Here there reigned such a
wonderful peace, interrupted only by the song of birds. There were soft
outlines in the distance, and everywhere the scent of balsams. Of course
it was all very desolate; a vast swamp dominated by sterile ridges of
boulder-strewn hills; an immense land of peat-bogs and mosses, grey and
green and purplish, upon which only the caribou and the birds appeared
able to live. Yet it was no longer a place where the fury of the elements
was ever ready to unchain itself against poor people clinging to their
bare rocks. The breath of one's nostrils went ever so deep in one's
lungs, and one's muscles seemed to gather energy and respond ever so much
more efficiently than they ever did in big towns.
"I don't think I ever before realized the beauty of great waste places,"
I said. "It looks like a world infinite and wonderful, over which we
might be traveling in quest of some Holy Grail that should be hidden away
beyond those pink and mauve mountains."
The doctor smiled, in his quiet way.
"Yes," he said. "One feels as if one could understand the true purpose of
living, which should be the constant effort to attain something ever so
glorious that lies beyond, always beyond."
I wonder just what he meant by that, Aunt Jennie?
Soon our little caravan went on, and we began to see many tracks of
caribou, chiefly does and fawns. In low swampy places we several times
came across old wind-and rain-bleached antlers, shed in the late fall of
the previous year.
We had traveled for a couple of hours since luncheon when we stopped for
another breathing spell. Sammy was explaining the lie of the country to
the doctor, who nodded. Then the latter showed me a tiny valley where
ran, amid a tangle of alders and dwarf trees, a large brook that wandered
slowly, with many curves, to join the river far away on our right.
"At this time of the year there is not much chance of finding a stag in
the open," he said. "They remain in places like that, hidden in the
alders until it is time for them to wander off and make up their family
parties. Are you very tired, Miss Jelliffe?"
I assured him that I was still feeling ever so fit.
"We are only about a mile and a half from the place where we are to camp
for the night," he told me. "The others will go there and get things
ready. Frenchy can return here for my pack. If you would like to come
with me and hunt along the brook we should make it a somewhat longer
journey, owing to the many bends, but we should have a chance of getting
a stag."
Of course I told him that I should like it ever so much, and we made our
way down a slope while the others continued along the ridge. Indeed I was
not tired at all. Notwithstanding the sodden moss in which our feet had
been sinking for hours, and the peaty black ooze that held one back, I
had no trouble in following Dr. Grant, who was carefully picking out the
best going.
After we reached the brook we went along the bank, but were soon
compelled to leave it owing to the impenetrable tangles of alders, around
which we had to circle. The doctor stopped to show me some tracks of
otters, and then we came to a place where the bank was steep, and a
little smooth path was worn down upon its face, leading into the water.
"An otter slide," he explained. "They run up the bank and toboggan down
into the water, again and again. It is a sort of game they play."
"How I should like to see them!" I exclaimed.
He put a finger up to his lips, enjoining silence, and led the way
towards a deep pool. Then he turned and lifted up his hand. We remained
motionless, hidden behind a rank growth of alders and reeds, and I
suddenly saw a little black head upon the water and caught the gleam of a
pair of bright eyes. Then came a splash, and the ruffled water smoothed
over. We waited, but never saw him again.
"That was a big, old, dog otter," said the doctor.
We continued on our winding way, finding a very few tracks of does and
fawns, but occasionally we came across the broad imprint of a big stag.
"He must be living somewhere around here," whispered my companion.
He looked very alert now, noting every sign and stopping to investigate
the waving of grasses and the motions of leaves. We peered in every
tangle of bush and shrub, and moved as silently as we possibly could.
We had slowly been following the stream for nearly an hour, and were on
the edge of the brook when the doctor quickly knelt down, and of course
I followed his example. He pointed towards some alders ahead of us.
"See those tops moving?" he whispered.
"I see them bending with the wind," I replied, in the same low voice.
"There is no wind here," he said. "It must be a stag or a bear in there."
We kept on watching and, Aunt Jennie, my heart was beating so with the
excitement of it that I could hardly keep still. But I insist that I was
not the least bit scared. I rather think that Dr. Grant impresses one as
a man who could take care of bears or anything else that might threaten
one. Presently, above the green leaves, appeared something that looked
like stout, reddish branches. We could see them only for an instant, and
then they went down again.
"It's a big, old stag," whispered the doctor.
"What shall we do?" I asked.
"I am going to give you a shot," he said.
"I shouldn't dare. I am sure I should miss," I answered.
"You must try. You know that you are the lucky one. I am going to leave
you here with the rifle and I shall crawl back a little way. If we went
on he would jump away on the other side of the alders and that would be
the last of him. I am going off to the right, and then I will walk slowly
towards him. The river is shallow here, and it is the only open spot. He
will surely jump in it, and probably stop for a second to see what is
coming, for he won't smell me. You will have a fine chance at him from
here."
He placed the gun in my hands, already cocked, and was gone, noiselessly,
in an instant. I watched those bushes eagerly, and once again saw the big
tops of those antlers above the alders. Behind me everything was
wonderfully still, and I could hear the beating of my heart. The doctor
seemed to have been swallowed up by the wilderness, and I have never felt
so entirely alone as at that moment. An instant later I realized that a
strange thing was happening; I was no longer nervous, and my hands were
perfectly steady. After this, away to the right, I heard the faintest
crackling of branches and the horns appeared again, absolutely still for
a moment. Then another little branch cracked, and there was a turmoil in
the bushes, a splashing over the shallow, gravelly bottom of the little
stream, and the great, gray-brown body and white, arching neck of the
stag appeared, like a thing out of a fairy book. The head was noble,
poised on that snowy neck, and the antlers looked like a tangle of brush.
The lithe thing stopped, the sensitive ears went back, and he started
again.
But the gun had gone up to my shoulder, Aunt Jennie, quite instinctively,
and for a fraction of a second I saw that wonderfully feathered neck
in the notch of the sight, then a brown place that was the beginning of
the shoulder, and I pulled the trigger. His long trot changed to a
furious, desperate gallop. A leap up the further bank carried him out of
my sight, and I was now so flurried that I never gave him a second shot.
Indeed I felt so badly that I wanted to sit down and have a good cry.
I heard the doctor, who was tearing through the bushes, just as Harry
Lawrence used to butt his way through a football line.
"You've got him," he yelled. "They never run like that unless mortally
wounded. We'll have him in a moment!"
"Do you really think so?" I cried, breathlessly.
"Come on and see for yourself," he answered, and in our turn we splashed
through the shallow water and found the track on the other side. This we
very carefully studied, so as to be able to distinguish it from others,
and then we went on, very cautiously, both walking on tiptoe. He was
ahead of me, with the cocked rifle in his hand, but after going a short
distance he stopped, suddenly, and began to fill his pipe, with the most
exasperating coolness.
"Why don't you go on?" I asked, indignantly.
"Don't you think I deserve a pipe?" he said.
"You don't deserve anything," I told him. "I want my stag."
"_Mademoiselle est servie_" he said, laughing. "And you are indeed a most
lucky young woman."
"Where is it? Where is it?" I cried. "You are trying to be as mean as can
be just now, and I won't speak to you again to-day or any other day if
you don't stop."
But I was looking around as I spoke and suddenly, under a little clump of
birches, I saw something that made my heart beat fast again, and I dashed
away, shouting, as I verily believe, and running as fast as the deer when
I had last seen him. I had the advantage of the start and I beat the
doctor to the quarry. It was lying there, the most splendid thing you
ever saw, and I am sure I spoke in awed tones, as one does in a big
cathedral.
"I had no idea that it would be so big. Oh! The beautiful clean limbs!
And what a head! Those big flat horns in front that run down nearly to
his muzzle are just wonderful! It seems to me that I just saw him for a
second and pulled the trigger, and there was a little report that I
scarcely heard, just as if the gun was a little toy thing, and now he is
lying there and I don't know whether to be glad or sorry."
"You should be glad," he told me. "You might hunt for many months without
meeting with such a head as that. Now that it is all over it may seem a
bit tragic, but you must remember he was just a tremendous, handsome
brute, ready at all times to fight others to the death, to kill them in
his blind fury of jealousy. And those who fall to the gun may perhaps
have met the best end of all. Think of the poor old stags dragging
themselves to some tangle in order to escape the wolves or bears and
lynxes, and whose last glances reveal things creeping towards them or
great birds waiting to peck their eyes out. Man is seldom as cruel as
nature proves to be, for it is everywhere harsh and brutal. Little dramas
are constantly taking place under this very moss we tread, and those dear
little black-headed birds, over there in the bushes, are killing all day
long. You and I realize that the killing is the least part of the sport,
but we wanted meat and came out for it ourselves, instead of hiring
butchers to do the slaughtering for us. Moreover, you have a trophy which
you will take back with you, and which will be one more souvenir of
Sweetapple Cove."
I felt that I was brightening up again.
"How beautiful it is!" I said again, quite consoled. "Look at that long,
white beard under his neck, and how deeply brown his cheeks are!"
"We must count the points," he proposed.
He went over them several times, with the greatest care.
"There are thirty-nine good ones," he said, "besides one or two little
ones that will hardly come up to the mark. It is a big beamy head with
broad flat horns. You will seldom see a better one, Miss Jelliffe."
We sat there for a moment, and presently heard some one coming through
the woods. It was the two men who were hurrying towards us.
"Camp ain't a quarter mile away," shouted Sammy. "Us heered the shot an'
come down. My, but that be a shockin' monstrous big stag. He's lucky,
ma'am, doctor is. I mistrust he don't miss often."
"Miss Jelliffe fired that shot, Sammy," announced the doctor.
"Well, now! It do beat all! So yer done it yerself, did yer, ma'am? I'll
fix him up now and bring th' head in by an' by. Don't yer be feared, I
knows how ter take a scalp off fine fer stuffin'. To-morrer we'll take
the meat. He's not long out of the velvet. Go right over ter the camp an'
shift yer wet boots. Frenchy he'll show yer. Kittle's bilin' an'
everything ready. It do be a fine day's work."
They all looked so happy that the last doubt left my mind. Frenchy was
positively beaming with delight, and I had to show them just where I
stood when I shot, and to explain everything. Then we trudged cheerfully
towards camp, keeping for a while by the edge of the brook, which we had
to cross again. We came to a tiny waterfall, and above it was the outlet
of a little lake, deep and placid-looking. Some black ducks were swimming
on it, not very far away, and I was shown a beaver's house.
"That's the real, wild outdoors that I love," I declared, stopping for a
moment. "How calm and still it all is. Look at the feathery smoke
drifting away over there. I suppose it is the camp."
For a moment there was a bit of bad going, over some wind-fallen trees,
and the doctor held out his hand for me.
"Thank you," I said. "It seems to me that I am all the time having to
thank you, you are always so kind. I must say that you are a perfectly
stunning guide."
So we got to the camp, laughing, and Susie had to be told the story all
over again, while I changed shoes and stockings in the little tent, where
there was the thickest possible bed of fragrant balsam, covered with
blankets.
It is getting late, Aunt Jennie, and I'll have to tell you the rest of it
another time. It was perfectly glorious.
Really I think it is a pity that Dr. Grant should bury himself in such a
place. He ought to live in our atmosphere, for he is entirely fitted for
it.
So good night, Aunt Jennie, with best love from your
HELEN.