A DEER YARD
"Would you fellows like to visit a deer yard?" Pat asked at breakfast
the next morning when the subject of the day's program had been brought
up.
"Would we!" Upton fairly shouted it. "Say, Pat, do you mean that there
is a really, truly sure enough deer yard anywhere near here? I've read
about 'em, and I'd give all my old shoes to see one."
"Right O, my fine bucko! You shall see one, and it won't cost you so
much as a shoestring," replied Pat. "It's not over a mile from camp, and
on the ridge just above it is one of those deadfalls for bear that Alec
built last fall. We'll take that in and kill two birds with one stone if
you say so. There are some marten traps on that same ridge that I want
to have a look at. What do you say, Alec?"
"Verra good," replied Alec. "You show the laddies the yard and look over
that line, and I'll take the short line east. We'll get back here by
noon and this afternoon we can show them some other sets."
To this plan the others agreed with enthusiasm and preparations for an
immediate start were begun. "Shall we take rifles?" asked Hal eagerly.
"For what?" demanded Pat. "We be going to visit a deer yard, and 'twould
be tempting fate and flying in the face of Providence to let such a
bloodthirsty young gintleman in among the poor cratures with a gun in
his hands."
Hal joined in the laugh at his expense and then added rather lamely:
"We might run across that silver fox."
"And we might jump over the moon. The one is as likely as the other,"
retorted Pat.
So the guns were left at the cabin. Pat led the way straight to the
ridge on which Spud Ely had missed his first chance to get a buck in the
fall, but instead of climbing the ridge worked along the foot of it,
skirting a swamp. They followed the edge of this for some distance and
then abruptly turned into it. The growth was dense in places, with
thickets of young hemlocks which afforded both warmth and shelter in
severe weather. Almost at once they came to a deeply trodden path which
led them presently to a maze of paths running in all directions.
"Here we are," said Pat.
Sparrer's face was a study. "Where's de yard?" he asked.
"All around here," replied Pat with a comprehensive sweep of his arm,
"wherever you see these paths." Then, a sudden light breaking over him,
he added, "Did you expect to find a fence around it, son?"
Sparrer grinned, not at all embarrassed by the general laugh and
perfectly willing to confess his ignorance. "All de yards ever Oi seen
had fences round 'em. Oi thought a fence was what made a yard," he
confessed.
"Not a deer yard," replied Pat. "A deer yard is a place where the deer
tramp out paths in the snow and spend the winter. It is made where they
get both shelter and food. When the first deep snow comes they collect
in such a place and start the paths while browsing for food. Then as the
snow gets deeper they follow the same paths because it is easier going,
and make new paths only when they have to to reach new food supplies. By
continually using these paths they keep them open and manage to pick up
a living browsing on twigs and pawing down to the ground moss. By the
time the heaviest snows come they can't very well get out if they want
to, especially when there is a crust like this. You see some of those
paths are two to three feet deep. The more plentiful the feed and the
smaller the herd the smaller the yard. Before there were any laws to
protect deer and moose they used to be slaughtered in the yards by
trappers and lumber jacks because it is no trick at all for a man on
snow-shoes to run them down. Once get them frightened so that they break
out of the yard and they can be run down in no time. There's a deal of
poaching goes on now when a yard is discovered near a lumber camp. It's
just plain murder and nothing less. I've known a whole family of moose,
bull, cow, yearling and calf, to be wiped out in one day by a
bloody-minded game-hog. Didn't even waste a shot on the calf, but ran it
down and cut its throat. Red Pete, the brute Walt helped to put in the
pen the first year he came up here, used to make a business of locating
deer yards and keeping lumber camps supplied with fresh meat all winter.
The poor critters haven't even a running chance for their lives."
"Oi hope we'll be able to lamp some. Oi wud loike to put me peepers on a
real live wild deer before we go home," said Sparrer, his eyes shining
with suppressed excitement.
"I guess I can promise you that, my son," replied Pat. "We'll separate
here. Sparrer and I will work off to leeward, Hal will keep straight
ahead and Walt will swing to windward. If you two start any they will
work over to us and give Sparrer a chance to see em. Yell if you start
any. I reckon you'll find 'em pretty tame. They haven't been bothered
here and they know as well as we do that the law protects 'em now. Watch
for fresh sign and follow it up."
They separated as suggested, Hal and Walter moving slowly so as to give
Pat and Sparrer time to gain a good position. Walter swung well to the
windward side. Of course this meant that his chances of getting a close
view of any deer which might be on his side of the yard were
comparatively slim. They would wind him and at once move on. He was in
effect a driver for the others. But he didn't mind this. Wild deer were
no new sight to him, and he was only too anxious to give Sparrer the
pleasure which he knew a glimpse of Peaked-toes in the freedom of his
native woods would be.
He chose what appeared to be one of the most used paths and followed
this as quietly as he could. He soon found that still hunting on
snow-shoes and with moccasined feet on bare ground were two very
different matters. He was not yet sufficiently adept on the big webs to
keep them from clacking as the rim of one shoe passed over the rim of
the other. The harder he tried not to the more noise he made, it seemed.
Clack, clack, clack. It was most annoying. He stopped to consider. Then
on the impulse of a sudden idea he slipped his shoes off and dropped
down into the path he had been following. Here he could walk without
noise. The droppings of the deer, known as "sign" by all hunters, were
numerous, and the brush within reach from the path showed indications of
having been browsed on recently, and he found several places where sharp
hoofs had pawed away the snow since the last storm.
The path twisted and turned and doubled on itself, showing that it had
been made originally by aimless wandering in quest of food. Other paths
crossed it, but Walter avoided these, judging that the one he was on was
as likely as another to lead him to the quarry. At length after an
abrupt turn it led straight into a thicket of hemlocks, young growth. As
he approached this there was a sharp sound like the sudden release of
compressed air, repeated a second later from a point a trifle to the
right. It was the alarm warning of deer. Above the snow just to the
right of and beyond the thicket he caught a glimpse of the heads and
necks of two does moving rapidly. The effect was most peculiar. It was
as if they possessed no bodies until one of them made a high jump for
just an instant, bringing the back and rump, with its snowy white flag
stiffly erect, into view.
"From the way they go I should think it was the hunting season. I had an
idea that they wouldn't be particularly timid, but those two lit out in
a regular panic. Act like they'd been hunted until their nerves were all
on edge," thought the boy as he hurriedly forced his way through the
thicket.
He had no expectation of finding more there, but was eager to see where
the two had been lying and then to follow them up as rapidly as
possible. So he burst through the screen of hemlocks in rather
precipitate fashion, an unusual proceeding for Upton, whose natural
caution had been supplemented by a very thorough training in woodcraft
during the three summers he had spent at Woodcraft Camp. The instant he
was through the barrier he realized the folly of his action. Facing him,
not ten feet away, was a big buck with a splendid pair of antlers.
[Illustration: NOT TEN FEET AWAY WAS A BIG BUCK]
If the does were panic stricken their lord was not. On the contrary he
was the embodiment of vicious anger. The hair on his neck was raised,
his eyes blazed with rage; and he was pawing the snow with impatience.
These details were registered on Walter's mind to be recalled later, but
at the time he was conscious of but one thing--that he had stumbled into
a predicament which might easily cost him his life. No sooner was he
clearly in view than the buck charged. Telling of it at the cabin that
night Upton declared that in that fleeting instant it seemed to him that
he was staring at a whole forest of horns pointed straight for him.
Intuition is subconscious direction without the aid of conscious thought
and is usually the result of wisely directed thinking in the past. As a
Scout Upton had tried to train himself to meet emergencies, to be
prepared, and it was the result of this training that governed him now.
Dropping his snow-shoes he leaped aside. Fortunately the snow had been
trampled down for a sufficient space at this point to allow of this. As
it was the buck swept past so close as to almost graze his clothing.
Indeed so narrow had been the margin that the shoes, released as he
jumped, fell directly in front of the infuriated animal and the brow
antlers pierced the meshes of one of them. It was this lucky
circumstance which was Upton's salvation. For a few minutes the buck's
attention was wholly engaged with this new adversary which banged
against his nose, obscured his vision and clung to him in such
inexplicable fashion. He tried to back away from it, but in vain. Then
he plunged forward and sought to grind it into the snow, with the result
that he only fixed it more firmly on his antlers. In vain he struck at
it with his feet. The dangling tail offered nothing on which to get a
purchase. Fear now began to replace rage. Here was an enemy that would
neither fight nor run away. Nor could he in turn run away from it.
Meanwhile Walter had made the most of his opportunity. But a few feet
distant was a young hemlock tree. Floundering through the snow he
reached this and scrambled up. It was a small tree, and his perch was
none too secure, and anything but comfortable for an extended stay. But
it meant safety for the time being, and just then this was everything.
With a sigh of thankfulness he turned his attention to the scene below,
and his sense of humor for the moment overcame everything else. The buck
was plainly being worsted in his battle with the snow-shoe, and was
working himself into a panic. His great eyes were wide with fright as
he backed and plunged and vainly reared in an effort to strike with his
forefeet. With every toss of his head the tail of the shoe rapped him
sharply across his nose, adding injury to insult. It was so funny that
Walter fairly shouted with laughter, and the sound of his voice added to
the terror of the frantic animal.
With a desperate leap sidewise in an effort to get clear of his
tormentor he landed in the deep snow, his sharp hoofs cutting through
the crust. Then followed a succession of floundering plunges which took
him still further into trouble until at last, panting from fright and
the result of his efforts, he was forced to cease his struggles from
sheer weariness.
It was then that Upton thought seriously of his own plight. The buck was
not much more helpless than he himself without his shoes. One lay below
him in the snow, somewhat the worse for the trampling of the buck during
his wild plunging. This he could retrieve without trouble or danger. But
the other was still fast on those uncomfortably sharp horns, and he was
of no mind to make a closer acquaintance with them unaided. It was then
that he remembered that in the subsequent excitement he had failed to
give the view hallo when he had started the does and thus warn the
others that game was afoot. A yell now would mean to the others merely
that they were to be on the watch for deer headed their way unless they
were near enough to distinguish words, which he much doubted.
Then he remembered the whistle which he always carried and the emergency
call for help of the Blue Tortoise Patrol. Both Hal and Sparrer would
recognize and understand that. Somehow it seemed less a compromise of
dignity than yelling for help. He raised the whistle to his lips and
blew the signal, waited five seconds and blew again. A minute later he
heard a reply from a lesser distance than he had expected, followed
almost at once by another which was rendered fainter by distance.
"Reached both of 'em," he muttered complacently. "Hal isn't so far away
as I was afraid he might be. Guess I better tell them what the trouble
is."
With the whistle he spelled out in the Morse code "T-r-e-e-d b-y a
b-u-c-k w-a-t-c-h o-u-t."
Back came the double reply "O. K.," followed by Hal's voice in a long
drawn "Hello-o-o." Shouting occasionally to give the others the
direction Upton climbed down from his perch, recovered the one shoe and
then waited with such patience as he could. Hal was soon within easy
shouting distance and the anxiety in his voice as he inquired if Upton
was all right was very evident. Set at rest on this point he whooped
joyously and Upton grinned ruefully.
"This will be nuts for Hal. He'll never let me hear the end of it. I'm
glad he didn't see me up the tree," he thought. Aloud he warned Hal not
to come too near, but to wait until the others came up. While he felt
that the buck was so bedded in the snow as to be practically harmless he
wanted no chances taken.
A few minutes later Pat and Sparrer came up, panting with the exertion
of their long run, and the circumstances were briefly explained. Pat
took in the situation at a glance and his eyes danced with enjoyment,
and all three began to chaff Walter unmercifully. But there was little
time for this just then. The coming up of the others had further
alarmed the buck, who had recovered wind and strength to some degree,
and was now renewing his efforts to escape.
Pat ordered Hal to circle around and head off the animal, while he
himself came up from behind and endeavored to free the shoe. Sparrer was
to stand by in case of need and render any assistance he could. Upton
was to stay where he was. Indeed there was nothing else for him to do,
as once in the deep snow he would be more helpless than the deer. The
latter was still floundering forward and there were stains of red on the
crust where it had cut the slender legs.
As Hal appeared in front of him, whooping excitedly, the buck ceased his
struggling and stood shoulder deep in the snow, his sides heaving and
his steaming nostrils quivering as he labored for breath.
"Poor thing! He hasn't got another kick in him," Hal exclaimed, drawing
so near that he could reach out and touch the slender muzzle.
"Don't be too sure of that, me bye. Betther shtand back a bit," warned
Pat coming up from the animal's rear and leaning forward to get hold of
the shoe.
Hardly were the words out of his mouth when the buck flung his head up
and back. The tail of the shoe flew up, striking Hal a sharp blow on the
side of his head. Instinctively he jumped back, forgetting that he was
on snow-shoes. The result was immediate and decisive. With a wild yell
he pitched backward and disappeared in the snow. At the same instant Pat
grabbed the buck's horns, one with each hand, and straddling his back
called for Sparrer to free the shoe. This Sparrer succeeded in doing
after a few minutes' struggle and then turned his attention to Hal,
whose muffled cries of "Help! Take him away!" bore evidence to the fact
that he was under the impression that the buck had knocked him down and
was trying to trample him. In fact it was hard work to convince him that
this was not the case until with Sparrer's help he regained his feet and
got the snow out of his eyes sufficiently to see Pat struggling with the
deer.
As soon as Hal and Sparrer were at a safe distance Pat let go and joined
the others, breathing heavily from his exertions. The deer, freed of
the hateful thing which had clung to his head and been the cause of all
his troubles, turned and with awkward jumps plunged back through the way
he had broken in leaving the yard. Pat warned Walter to keep out of
sight so as not to turn the animal into new difficulties, and presently
they saw him reach the trodden paths of the yard and with a shake of his
beautifully crowned head bound lightly away.
Then while they took stock of damages Upton told his story. "An innocent
babe in the woods," murmured Pat when Walter told how he had removed his
shoes and taken to the deer paths. "If that had been a bull moose now
instead of a buck 'tis loike yer frinds wud be weeping instead av
laughing at ye this very minut."
"That's true, Pat," replied Walter promptly. "It was a foolish thing to
do, and I know it now. As it is you've got the laugh on me--and Hal," he
added slyly. "How about it, Hal?"
"Oh, it's on me too, all right," returned that young gentleman, rubbing
the lump on his head. "I sure thought that brute was right on top of
me."
Pat meanwhile had brought out some stout twine and was making temporary
repairs on the damaged shoes. Beyond some damage to the webbing where
the horns had pierced it the one which had been the cause of the buck's
discomfiture was as good as ever, but the frame of the other had been
badly split by the sharp hoofs of the plunging animal. Bringing the
broken parts together Pat wound them with the twine, and when he had
finished pronounced the shoe fit for the trip back to the cabin, where
he would undertake a more permanent job.
"We won't visit those traps now," said he in spite of Walter's protest
that he could go back while the others went on, and led the way
homeward.