nearer the edge of the swamp than before. I believe we’re traveling in
a circle; you know they say all people do that when they become lost.
I suggest that we chop down some small evergreens and build what Ben
calls a lean-to for shelter until the storm blows over. We can build a
fire and cook these grouse, and I’m sure that sooner or later Ben will
find us. Once it stops snowing we’ll travel around and make a lot of
tracks, and he’ll be pretty sure to stumble across some of them and
come to us. We can’t be such a terrible distance from the lake, and by
firing a few shots we may be heard at the cabin. What do you say?”
“I guess it’s about all we can do, Ed; we don’t seem to be getting any
nearer home by this crazy traveling. Let’s look around for a dry place
for our camp. Looks as if we’re in for an all-night job.”
Slightly farther on they came to a stretch of higher ground. And there
in the shelter of a hemlock grove they decided to make camp. With the
little ax they felled and trimmed several small trees, and, recalling
what Ben had done, they began to fashion a lean-to. They were surprised
to see what a good job they made of it; and, encouraged, they went
searching about for dry wood with which to start a fire.
The lads found an old stump, and by splitting it open, they secured
plenty of dry kindlings. These they carefully piled up before the
shelter, and after many attempts and the loss of countless matches they
finally nursed them into a tiny flame. This strengthened and grew,
under their painstaking labors, into a big, cheerful, crackling fire,
and soon its merry, leaping flames gave forth comfort and cheer.
“This isn’t so bad,” laughed Ed, holding his wet feet toward the blaze.
“It’s great!” replied George.
They plucked a grouse, and Ed opened and cleaned it. When it had been
thoroughly washed he ran a sharpened stick through its body, and placed
it before the fire. The lads had seen pictures of Indian hunters doing
this, and, as they possessed no cooking utensils, they decided to try
this primitive method. Being amateurs, they never thought to turn the
bird, and it began to burn and crust on the side nearest the coals.
Then they quickly exposed the other side to the fire, and waited
impatiently for it to brown. The delicious odor instantly coaxed back
the appetites which had fled at sight of the noonday meal. The grouse
was no sooner done than the boys took it from the spit and divided it
between them.
“How is it?” inquired Ed, between mouthfuls.
“Great!” was all George took time to reply; he was too busy to waste
any time in idle words.
They still had three grouse left, besides the remains of their lunch,
and had little to fear from starvation, even though the storm continued
for several days and prevented Ben from finding them.
The one thing that troubled them was the knowledge that the guide would
worry. They knew that with the closing of day and rising of the storm
his anxiety would increase. They were fearful that their failure to
appear by the time darkness descended might cause him to venture forth
in search of them. If he should, they realized full well the hardships
he would have to endure. It was still some time to twilight, and they
were a bit undecided as to just what to do.
“He couldn’t reach us before dark, anyway,” declared Ed.
“I know; but I think we ought to shoot, just to let him know we are all
right,” George argued.
“But that signal really means that we are all wrong, and it would make
him come to us as soon as possible. Besides, I don’t think he could
hear us in all this wind. We are all right here till morning, and then,
if we can’t find our way out and the storm continues, we’ll signal.”
“Well, all right,” said George, “only remember, we have no blankets,
and it’s going to be mighty cold before daylight.” And he rose to
replenish the fire.
“We can take turns at sleeping. The one on watch will have to keep up
a big blaze, and we can huddle close to it and pass the night without
freezing,” said Ed.
They sat in the protection of their lean-to while the twilight stole
slowly into the swamp and the storm raged with unabated fury. As it
became darker the fire illuminated and warmed the little shelter
behind it, and the boys began to understand why Ben always spoke so
affectionately of his camp-fires. The fire was the one thing of
cheer and light and life in all that black desolation of storm-rent
wilderness. Sitting in the grateful warmth of its presence, the
isolated young hunters came to look upon it as a friend, an ally, and a
guardian whose very presence brought hope and cheer to their downcast
hearts. They got in a fresh supply of wood, which was coated with snow.
But they placed it near the flames to dry out, so that it would be
ready for instant use any time in the night.
At last blackness engulfed them, and the boys huddled closer to the
fire and conversed in low, guarded tones. They believed that outside
in the open woods the snow must be quite deep, for even in the swamp
it had piled up to a depth of many inches since the storm began. They
sat idly speculating as to the proper direction to take them out of the
gloomy confines into which they had blundered. George declared they
could tell nothing about it until they had traveled an equal distance
toward every point of the compass. Then he bade Ed go to sleep while he
kept watch for two hours, when he promised to wake him.
The first hour dragged slowly away, and George caught himself nodding
more than once. Ed was slumbering soundly a few feet from the fire.
The storm had abated, and George hoped it would soon die out. It was
lonely work sitting there by the fire with no one to speak to, and the
time passed tediously. He consulted his watch constantly, and was much
surprised to find that what he supposed to be a long half-hour was
really only ten minutes.
Suddenly he sat up straight as the same wild baying they had heard
earlier in the day echoed through the woods. This time it seemed nearer
at hand, and George listened anxiously for many minutes before he
decided to awaken Ed. At last, convinced that the sound was actually
coming closer, he reached in and grasped the sleeper by the foot.
“What is it?” inquired Ed, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.
“Listen!” whispered George. “They’re coming this way--don’t you hear
them?”
“Who’s coming? Hear what?” began Ed. “Great Scott! It’s the wild dogs!”
he cried, excitedly, springing to his feet and seizing his rifle.
Nearer and nearer came the wolfish pack, and louder and louder their
baying rang through the woods. As nearly as the boys could judge, they
were headed directly for the lean-to.
“Quick! Pile wood on the fire!” shouted Ed, throwing on several armfuls
of dried twigs.
“Let’s climb a tree,” George suggested, when it seemed certain that the
pack was really coming for them.
They scrambled out of the lean-to, and each sought shelter by the side
of a near-by tree, ready to swing themselves up into the branches at
the first sign of real danger.
“Hold to your gun and we’ll bowl a few of them over!” said Ed.
Then they heard the crashing of brush, and they pulled themselves
aloft into the branches. Hardly had the lads reached their places of
concealment before a large animal dashed past just beyond the light of
the fire. For some moments afterward there was absolute silence. Then
the excited yelps of the pursuing pack broke forth close at hand. They
heard the dogs tearing madly through the undergrowth, but were unable
to see them.
“They’re going by!” yelled George.
“Keep quiet!” Ed cautioned, in a lower tone.
One of the brutes either heard or scented them, for the boys saw a
big, wolfish-looking animal sneak forward into the firelight. Before
they could shoot, it vanished into the blackness. The savage baying
gradually sounded fainter as the dogs sped away on the trail of some
unfortunate victim.
“Say, that was a close call!” said Ed, soberly.
“I should say it was, and I’m not so sure we’re rid of them. I have an
idea that they may come back this way,” replied George, a bit nervously.
“Well, we’ll be ready for them if they do.”
They remained in the trees for some time, and finally, when the fire
began to die down, the lads slid to the ground and hastily piled on
more brush. The storm had about ceased, but a piercing cold wind had
come up. It moaned mournfully through the tops of the trees. All about
them was inky blackness. The fire threw weird, fantastic shadows
against the neighboring tree-trunks. George consulted his watch, and
found the time to be an hour past midnight. An owl hooted dismally, and
the boys drew near the flames.
“Isn’t this a ‘spooky’ place?” inquired George.
“All big swamps are, I imagine,” laughed Ed, trying to appear cheerful.
They remained close by the fire and talked in subdued tones. Since the
visit of the wild dogs neither cared to sleep. The snow stopped and the
wind increased to a gale. They heard the snap of breaking branches and
the crash of falling trees in various parts of the swamp. Once they
thought they heard the cries of the returning pack; but after listening
intently they heard nothing more, and decided they had been mistaken.
At last daylight came, much to their relief, and the boys cleaned and
cooked another grouse for breakfast. Then, as they talked over their
experience of the night before, they walked to the pathway of the dogs
and saw many large paw-marks in the snow.
“There must be a lot of them in that band,” declared Ed.
“Too many to be around loose; we ought to tell the dog-catchers,”
laughed George.
“I’ve a hunch that we’ll have a fight with them some day,” prophesied
Ed.
“Well, I hope it will come off in daylight,” said George, emphatically.
Then they sat down to plan a way out of the swamp. It was finally
agreed that they would walk a certain distance, when, if they did not
find the border, they would return. Then they would try the opposite
direction for a like distance; and so on until they had tried every
point of the compass. With the rising of the sun they were enabled to
get the cardinal points of direction, and they traced them on the snow
in front of the lean-to.
As George believed they had entered the swamp from the north, they
started on their first trip in that direction. They found the snowfall
quite deep, and knew it must be deeper in the woods outside. The lads
were anxious to make their own way from the swamp if possible, and they
determined not to fire the distress-signal until they had spent the
morning in an effort to find themselves.
“I had no idea this swamp was so big,” declared Ed, after they had
traveled for some time.
“Seems to stretch out in front of us as if it was made of elastic,”
laughed George.
They halted abruptly and listened when the report of a gun broke the
stillness. It was far off in the opposite direction. A minute passed,
and then another shot was heard.
“Wonder if that is Ben signaling us?” said Ed.
“I rather think so. Shall we reply?”
Once again they heard the welcome sound, and, raising his rifle, Ed
fired two shots in response. The boys stood listening as the reports
thundered through the swamp. Then they got an answer, and uttered a
delighted cheer at the prospect of early rescue.
The lads turned eagerly and hurried toward the distant signals. They
continued to shoot in reply to the guiding shots. When they had gone
some distance in the new direction they began to recall certain trees
and marks which they had made note of the day before.
“We’re on the right track now,” George called out, cheerily, as he
recognized the fallen tree-trunk where he had killed the grouse.
The shots ahead became more distinct, until they sounded loudly close
before them. George, who was leading, suddenly drew back in alarm and
hastily brought up his gun.
“Look out!” he warned, when a big, rangy hound came bounding toward
him. “Here they are--the pack!”
Then he lowered his weapon and laughed loudly, for he recognized the
“wild dog” as old Moze.
“Well, Moze, you old rascal, you certainly gave me a scare. Where on
earth did you come from?” he inquired.
“You fellows are a fine lot!” sang out Bill, the veteran trapper, a
moment later.
“Helloa, Bill!” cried the boys, rushing forward to grasp their friend
by the hand.
They all sat down and exchanged experiences. Bill told them he had
stopped at the cabin the day before to stay until the storm passed, and
Ben had told him they were lost. When they failed to appear that night,
the two woodsmen became much worried, but decided they could do nothing
until daylight.
He and Ben had been out since the first hint of dawn. Bill complimented
the lads for their good sense displayed in building the lean-to and
camping for the night.
The trapper signaled Ben, and finally got an answer. Then they rose and
set out for the cabin. The snow was not so deep as the boys expected
to find it, and they had no difficulty in traveling through it without
snowshoes.
They reached the cabin, to find Ben awaiting them with a good hot meal
already prepared. The guide, like Bill, seemed much pleased with the
conduct of the boys in taking care of themselves, and, much to their
delight, declared them full-fledged woodsmen.
Bill and Ben sat up until late that night talking of the arrival of the
wild dogs. The lads were eager listeners, and when the two old hunters
declared they would run down and destroy the outlaw pack, Ed and George
determined to be in the hunting party.
XIII ON THE TRAP LINE WITH BILL
Bill delighted the boys by inviting them to his cabin to spend a
few weeks on the trap line. They promptly accepted. They bade Ben
farewell, and cautioned him to take good care of the owl, which they
had christened “Old Snowball.” Then they fastened on their snowshoes,
shouldered their packs, and started off with their rifles in quest of
new adventures.
They followed the trapper over several miles of trail before he called
a halt for the noonday meal. He made a fire and boiled some coffee,
which accompanied crisp bacon from the little frying-pan and home-made
biscuits.
Then they went on. It was not long before Moze dashed away noisily on
the trail of a fox. The boys were for following him. Bill laughed and
told them to wait until they reached his trapping-grounds, when they
would have many such chances to stretch their legs.
Toward the close of day the lads found themselves in an entirely new
country. Great forests of pine, balsam, hemlock, and spruce clothed the
mountains and valleys. The sullen roar of hidden waterfalls reached
their ears. The stand of timber was so high and thick that perpetual
twilight reigned beneath it. The air was heavy with the resinous
perfume of the evergreens. The setting sun gilded the western side of
massive tree-trunks, and in the golden glow they saw the outlines of a
tiny cabin.
“Here we are, boys; it’s not so powerful much to brag about in the way
of a building, but it wasn’t put up for show. And when you have to cut,
peel, and tote the logs to make it, single handed, you don’t care to
lay on more than you need,” said Bill.
“I think it’s great,” said Ed, as he slipped off his pack before the
door.
“So do I,” declared George.
“Well, come in and make yourselves right to home,” the trapper invited,
leading the way into a cozy little room.
There were two bunks across the room, against the rear wall, one
small window with a southern exposure, and the low door through which
they had entered. A round, home-made pine table and several stools
completed the furniture. In a corner stood a small cook-stove. On
wooden pegs driven into the logs hung the few simple cooking utensils.
Two large deer-skins covered one side of the room. Over each bunk was
thrown a great bear-skin robe. Many smaller furs were tacked against
the log walls. In another corner was a pile of rusty traps and chains.
The snug little abode was home-like and scrupulously clean, and the
boys were enthusiastic.
“Well, think you can stand it for a while?” asked Bill, as he busied
himself about the stove.
“You bet!” they assured him. “It’s the real thing.”
The trapper went outside to what he called his “meat-house.” The boys
followed, expecting to see some sort of a building. Instead, they saw
him go to a near-by tree and lower a heavy white sack. Opening it, he
showed them the haunch of a deer. When he had cut sufficient meat for
their immediate needs, he hoisted the balance high into the tree again,
where it swung safe from animals.
Bill provided a great supper, for he declared they must be hungry after
their long trip. First they had oatmeal and maple syrup; next came
fried deer steak with hot biscuit and tea; and then their host won
them completely by cooking all the flapjacks they could eat. Moze sat
by and helped consume several platefuls, which the lads slyly slipped
to him beneath the table. Finally Bill discovered the trick and shut
down on it. Moze had work to do, and must not be overfed.
That night they sat near the stove, for it was bitter-cold outside,
while Bill entertained them with yarns of hunting and trapping.
“Which is the hardest animal to catch?” inquired Ed.
“The fox,” Bill declared.
Then he explained how the fox cleverly overturned and sprang traps,
helped himself to the bait, and went on unharmed. Bill said he had set
a circle of traps around a bait, only to find each of them sprung and
the bait gone when he visited the spot next morning.
He laughingly told of the time when he was a boy, and how he and a
young friend had tried to bait and shoot a lynx. They took some meat
to the foot of a tall hemlock-tree, near which neighbors said they
had seen the lynx. It was a bright moonlight night, and the lads
climbed into the tree to await their victim. They sat on a stout limb,
shivering with excitement and jumping at every sound.
Suddenly clouds smothered the moon, and the watchers found themselves
aloft in inky blackness. They had about decided to descend and hurry
home when the worst racket they ever heard broke out below them. Yowls,
hisses, and snarls filled the air and caused the hair of the frightened
youngsters in the tree to stand on end.
“Hey, Bill, there are two of them, and they’re fighting!” cried his
friend, in great alarm.
At that moment they heard something clawing its way frantically up the
tree. A minute later two shining green eyes were peering into their
own. It was too much for the startled hunters. Bill slid down the rough
trunk and left the seat of his trousers on a stub, and his friend
dropped through the branches.
Bruised and jarred, they scrambled to their feet. They were on the
point of dashing home with a wild tale of adventure when their own
house cat brushed lovingly against their shaking legs. Then a plaintive
meow sounded from the tree-top as the second pussy hailed them.
The boys laughed at Bill’s story, and said it made them think of the
night they climbed the tree in the swamp.
The trapper fixed the stove for the night, and Moze stretched out
behind it and was soon snoring loudly. Bill said they would have a
hard trip on the morrow, and advised them to go to bed. He promised to
awaken them at daylight.
True to his promise, Bill had them up and out with the first ray of
light. Much against his wishes, Moze was left behind securely locked
in the cabin. The boys carried their rifles, and Bill carried a stout
hickory club.
They traveled through the fragrant evergreen forest for about an hour.
Then they came to the head of the trap line in a shallow ravine. Bill
had two traps set there about a spring-hole. He hoped to capture a mink
whose tracks he had seen in the mud earlier in the season, and more
recently in the first fall of snow.
The traps were unsprung and the bait undisturbed, and Bill thought the
mink had wandered off to other hunting-grounds for a few days. He said
it would probably return, and left some fresh bait. Then he started for
his next trap.
Before they came to it, the trapper called attention to the trail of a
large lynx. Bill explained the difference between its tracks and those
of the fox and the dog.
“The lynx’s tracks differ from both the others’ by showing broader,
more rounded impressions in the snow. Its trail is wider and indicates
a shorter stride than that of the fox, when both animals are walking.
The fox and the dog tracks are quite similar in form, especially when
the animals are of the same size. But the tracks of both are more
pointed than those of the lynx. The dog trail, more particularly when
the animal is walking, can always be distinguished by noting the
position of the paw-marks. At such a time they are seen one behind the
other in an oblique line. Neither of the other trails shows such an
angle.”
Bill thought the lynx, whose trail crossed their path, was hunting
through a neighboring swamp in search of the large hare, or “snowshoe
rabbit.” The boys were surprised to learn that this hare could jump ten
or more feet when going at top speed, and that while running before
hounds it would travel almost as fast and as far as a deer. They
learned, too, that, like the weasel, its fur was brown in summer and
white in winter. The lads were anxious to get one of these hares, and
Bill promised some day to take them into its haunts.
As they drew near the place where he had his next trap, the boys saw
some kind of an animal plunging about among the bushes.
“Hurrah! We’ve got something!” cried Ed.
“What is it?” inquired George, running ahead to obtain a better view.
“Fox,” said Bill.
The trapper walked forward, club in hand, and leaned over and dealt the
animal a blow across the nose. Then he stooped and released the jaws of
the trap. Rising, he held up the rich, glossy body of a red fox.
“Don’t you shoot them?” asked Ed, in some surprise.
“No, indeed; that would injure the fur and lose me many dollars,”
replied the trapper. “Of course, in the case of a bear, or extra big
lynx, I am obliged to put a rifle-ball between the eyes.”
Bill wedged a stick between two adjacent trees and hung the body of
the fox from it. Then he cut a slit down the inside of each hind leg
to the base of the tail. Next he inserted the knife-blade beneath the
cartilage of the tail and severed it from the body. He peeled the skin
over the carcass toward the neck and on over the head, first carefully
pushing through the bones of the front legs and skinning them down to
the paws, which he cut off. Bill was very particular to cut around
the eyelids and nostrils. The boys marveled at the skill displayed in
removing the pelt. The trapper said that method was known as “boxing” a
pelt, and was used in skinning everything except racoons, beavers, and
bears. These, he explained, were cut open down the front from chin to
tail in what was called the “open” style.
Having finished his task, Bill rolled the pelt into a small bundle and
placed it in his pack. After disposing of the body and resetting the
trap, he carefully obliterated his tracks by brushing snow over them.
Then he uncorked a small bottle and sprinkled a yellow essence, which
he called fox scent, over the snow near the trap.
Again they resumed the trail and started for the third set, which was
not far from the one they had tended. When they arrived there they
found the trap sprung and the bait gone. All about were evidences of a
fierce struggle--pieces of broken sticks, patches of gray fur, and the
marks of a bloody footprint.
“Been a lynx in there,” declared Bill; “but it just nipped him by the
toe, and he thrashed around till he tore loose.”
“Gracious, I’ll bet he was mad!” said George, looking about at the
bark-stripped bushes on which the captive had vented its wrath.
Bill carefully reset the trap but said that particular lynx had
probably grown wise by its experience, and would no doubt avoid the
locality in the future.
They started for the next trap, and this time the trail took them
through the middle of another large swamp, which recalled unpleasant
memories of the boys’ late experience, and they half expected to hear
the weird baying of the wild dogs. Many grouse were flushed, and Ed
shot at one with the rifle, but missed. But they soon passed through
the wild strip of soggy woodland and came out into the sunshine.
On they went through a stretch of open country, which ended at the
border of a woodland pond. Bill pointed out many snow-covered muskrat
houses, which had given to the small sheet of water the name of Muskrat
Pond.
Bill had opened some of the houses and set his traps inside, and he
now visited them to ascertain his luck. The boys were much interested
in examining the interiors. They found them very similar to the
abodes of the beavers. There was the same comfortable grass-lined
living-chamber, the same underground tunnels into deep water, and much
the same style of architecture and workmanship.