METEOROLOGICAL CHANGES AND CONSEQUENCES, AND A GRAND OPPORTUNITY
MISIMPROVED.
It must not be supposed that the life of a backwoodsman is all pleasure
and excitement. Not wishing to disappoint our readers with it, we have
hitherto presented chiefly its bright phases, but truth requires that we
should now portray some of the darker aspects of that life. For
instance, it was a very sombre aspect indeed of prairie-life when Victor
Ravenshaw and his party crossed a stony place where Victor's horse
tripped and rolled over, causing the rider to execute a somersault which
laid him flat upon the plain, compelling the party to encamp there for
three days until he was sufficiently recovered to resume the journey.
Perhaps we should say the chase, for, although the trail had been lost,
hope was strong, and the pursuers continued to advance steadily in what
they believed to be the right direction.
The aspect of things became still more dreary when the fine weather,
which was almost uninterrupted as summer advanced, gave way to a period
of wind and rain. Still, they pushed on hopefully. Michel Rollin alone
was despondent.
"It is a wild goose chase now," he remarked sulkily one day, while the
wet fuel refused to kindle.
That same night Victor half awoke and growled. He seldom awoke of his
own accord. Nature had so arranged it that parents, or comrades,
usually found it necessary to arouse him with much shouting and
shaking--not unfrequently with kicks. But there was a more powerful
influence than parents, comrades, or kicks at work that night. Being
tired and sleepy, the party had carelessly made their beds in a hollow.
It was fair when they lay down. Soon afterwards, a small but
exceedingly heavy rain descended like dew upon their unprotected heads.
It soaked their blankets and passed through. It soaked their garments
and passed through. It reached their skins, which it could not so
easily pass through, but was stopped and warmed before being absorbed.
A few uneasy turns and movements, with an occasional growl, was the
result--nothing more. But when the density of the rain increased, and
the crevices in the soil turned into active water-courses, and their
hollow became a pool, Victor became, as we have said, half-awake.
Presently he awoke completely, sat up, and scratched his head. It was
the power of a soft and gentle but persistent influence triumphantly
asserted.
"W'ass-'e-marrer?" asked Ian, without moving.
"Why," (yawning), "Lake Winnipeg is a trifle to this," said Victor.
"O-gor-o-sleep," returned Ian.
"Niagara have com to de plains!" exclaimed Rollin, rising to a sitting
posture in desperation. "It have been rush 'longside of me spine for
two hours by de cloke. Oui."
This aroused Ian, who also sat up disconsolate and yawned.
"It's uncomfortable," he remarked.
No one replied to so ridiculously obvious a truth, but each man slowly
rose and stumbled towards higher ground. To add to their discomfort the
night was intensely dark; even if wide awake they could not have seen a
yard in front of them.
"Have you found a tree?" asked Victor.
"Oui--yes--to be sure," said Rollin angrily. "Anyhow von branch of a
tree have found _me_, an' a'most split my head."
"Where is it?--speak, Ian; I can see nothing. Is it--ah! I've found it
too."
"Vid yoos head?" inquired Rollin, chuckling.
Victor condescended not to reply, but lay down under the partial shelter
of the tree, rolled himself up in his wet blanket, and went to sleep.
His companions followed suit. Yes, reader, we can vouch for the truth
of this, having more than once slept damp and soundly in a wet blanket.
But they did not like it, and their spirits were down about zero when
they mounted at grey dawn and resumed the chase in a dull, dreadful
drizzle.
After a time the aspect of the scenery changed. The rolling plain
became more irregular and broken than heretofore, and was more studded
with patches of woodland, which here and there almost assumed the
dignity of forests.
One evening the clouds broke; glimpses of the heavenly blue appeared to
gladden our travellers, and ere long the sun beamed forth in all its
wonted splendour. Riding out into a wide stretch of open country, they
bounded away with that exuberance of feeling which is frequently the
result of sunshine after rain.
"It is like heaven upon earth," cried Victor, pulling up after a long
run.
"I wonder what heaven is like," returned Ian musingly. "It sometimes
occurs to me that we think and speak far too little of heaven, which is
a strange thing, considering that we all hope to go there in the
long-run, and expect to live there for ever."
"Oh! come now, Mr Wiseman," said Victor, "I didn't mean to call forth a
sermon."
"Your remark, Vic, only brings out one of the curious features of the
case. If I had spoken of buffalo-hunting, or riding, or boating, or
even of the redskin's happy hunting-grounds--anything under the sun or
above it--all would have been well and in order, but directly I refer to
_our own_ heaven I am sermonising!"
"Well, because it's so like the parsons," pleaded Victor.
"What then? Were not the parsons, as you style them, sent to raise our
thoughts to God and heaven by preaching Christ? I admit that _some_ of
them don't raise our thoughts high, and a few of them help rather to
drag our thoughts downward. Still, as a class, they are God's servants;
and for myself I feel that I don't consider sufficiently what they have
to tell us. I don't wish to sermonise; I merely wish to ventilate my
own thoughts and get light if I can. You are willing to chat with me,
Vic, on all other subjects; why not on this?"
"Oh! I've no objection, Ian; none whatever, only it's--it's--I say,
there seems to me to be some sort of brute moving down in the woods
there. Hist! let's keep round by that rocky knoll, and I'll run up to
see what it is."
Victor did not mean this as a violent change of subject, although he was
not sorry to make the change. His attention had really been attracted
by some animal which he said and hoped was a bear. They soon galloped
to the foot of the knoll, which was very rugged--covered with rocks and
bushes. Victor ascended on foot, while his comrades remained at the
bottom holding his horse.
The sight that met his eyes thrilled him. In the distance, on a wooded
eminence, sat a huge grizzly bear. The size of Victor's eyes when he
looked back at his comrades was eloquently suggestive, even if he had
not drawn back and descended the slope toward them on tiptoe and with
preternatural caution.
"A monstrous grizzly!" he exclaimed in a hoarse whisper--though the bear
was at beast half a mile off on the other side of the knoll.
The eyes of Ian surpassed those of Victor in the matter of dilation.
"Did he see you?"
"No; he was nibbling his paws when I gave him my last look."
"Now, comrades," said Ian, whose usually calm demeanour had given place
to intense, yet suppressed excitement, "it may seem selfish--though I
hope it is not--when I ask you to leave that bear entirely to me. You
know, Vic, that your sister Elsie once expressed a wish for a
grizzly-bear collar, and at the time I inwardly resolved to get her one,
of my own procuring, if I could. It is a whim, you know, but, in the
circumstances, I do hope that--that--"
"Ah! it is for une dame--une affair of de heart. Bon! You shall go in
an' vin," said the gallant Rollin.
"I don't know," said Victor dubiously; "it seems to me rather hard to
give up my chance of the first grizzly I've ever seen. However, I'm
willing to do so on one condition--that Rollin and I go as near you as
may be without interfering. You know--excuse me, Ian--what an awful bad
shot you are. If you were to miss, you know--which you're sure to do--
and we were not there--eh?"
"All right, you shall go with me; but have a care, no helping of me
except in case of dire necessity."
This being agreed to, they made a wide circuit to reach a hollow. In
its shelter they galloped swiftly towards the woodland, near the margin
of which the bear had been seen. Arrived at a point which they judged
to be near the animal, they dismounted, fastened up their horses, and
prepared for war.
There were no encumbrances to lay aside, for they travelled in the
simplest possible costume, but Ian drew the charge of his gun, wiped the
piece carefully out with a bit of rag, made sure that the touch-hole was
clear, fixed in a new flint, and loaded carefully with ball. The others
acted similarly.
"Empty de pan an' prime again ven you gits near," said Rollin.
Ian made some uncalled-for reference to eggs and the education of
Rollin's grandmother, tightened his belt, felt that the hatchet and
scalping-knife were handy behind him, and set off on his adventure,
followed by his companions at a considerable distance.
On drawing near to the outer edge of the woods he stooped slightly, and
trod with the extreme caution of an Indian. Indeed, no red man could
have beaten Ian at woodcraft--except, of course, in the matter of
shooting. He felt this defect keenly as he glided along, but never
faltered for an instant. Elsie smiled at him as visibly as if she had
been there. His mind was made up.
At the edge of the wood he saw the rough spot where the bear had been
seen, but no bear was visible. He felt a sinking of the heart. "It
must have heard me and run away," he thought, and hurried forward. The
actual spot where it had been seen was reached, but Bruin was not there.
Disappointment rendered Ian somewhat impatient. He entered the bushes
beyond the knoll hastily. The bear had only changed its position, and
was wagging its head and nibbling its paws on the other side of these
bushes. It heard a footstep, ceased to nibble and wag, and looked up
inquiringly. Suddenly Macdonald burst through the bushes and stood
before him.
It is an open question whether the man or the beast was the more
surprised, for the former had given up all hope by that time. But the
bear was first to recover self-possession, and advanced to meet the
intruder.
It is well known that the king of the western wilds is endowed with more
than average ferocity and courage. He may perhaps let you alone if you
let him alone, but if you take him by surprise he is not prone to flee.
The bear in question was a magnificent specimen, with claws like the
fingers of a man. Even in that moment of extreme peril Ian saw these
claws strung together and encircling Elsie's neck.
We say that the peril was extreme, for not only was the hunter a bad
shot, but the hunted was a creature whose tenacity of life is so great
that one shot, even if well placed, is not sufficient to kill it
outright.
No one knew all this better than Ian Macdonald, but Elsie smiled
approval, and Ian, being a matter-of-fact, unromantic fellow, clenched
his teeth with a snap and went down on one knee. The bear quickened his
pace and came straight at him. Ian raised his gun. Then there came a
gush of feeling of some sort at his heart. What if he should miss?
What if the gun should miss fire? Certain death! he well knew that. He
took deadly aim when the monster was within a few yards of him and fired
at the centre of its chest. The ball took effect on the extreme point
of its nose, coursed under the skin over its forehead, and went out at
the back of its head.
Never before was a shot taken with a more demonstrative expression of
rage. To say that the bear roared would be feeble. A compounded
steam-whistle and bassoon might give a suggestive illustration. The
pain must have been acute, for the creature fell on its knees, drove its
nose into the ground, and produced a miniature earthquake with a snort.
Then it sprang up and rushed at its foe. Ian was reloading swiftly for
his life. Vain hope. Men used to breech-loaders can scarce understand
the slow operations of muzzle-loaders. He had only got the powder in,
and was plucking a bullet from his pouch. Another moment and he would
have been down, when crack! crack! went shots on either side of him, and
the bear fell with a ball from Victor in its heart and another from
Rollin in its spine.
Even thus fatally wounded it strove to reach its conquerors, and
continued to show signs of ungovernable fury until its huge life went
out.
Poor Ian stood resting on his gun, and looking at it, the picture of
despair.
"You hit him after all," said Victor, with a look of admiration at his
friend, not on account of the shooting, but of his dauntless courage.
"And of course," he continued, "the grizzly is yours, because you drew
first blood."
Ian did not reply at once, but shook his head gravely.
"If you and Rollin had not been here," he said, "I should have been dead
by this time. No, Vic, no. Do you think I would present Elsie with a
collar thus procured? The bear belongs to you and Rollin, for it seems
to me that both shots have been equally fatal. You shall divide the
claws between you, I will have none of them."
There was bitterness in poor Ian's spirit, for grizzly bears were not to
be fallen in with every day, and it might be that he would never have
another opportunity. Even if he had, what could he do?
"I don't believe I could hit a house if it were running," he remarked
that night at supper. "My only chance will be to wait till the bear is
upon me, shove my gun into his mouth, and pull the trigger when the
muzzle is well down his throat."
"That would be throttling a bear indeed," said Victor, with a laugh, as
he threw a fresh log on the fire. "What say you, Rollin?"
"It vould bu'st de gun," replied the half-breed, whose mind, just then,
was steeped in tobacco smoke. "Bot," he continued, "it vould be worth
vile to try. Possiblement de bu'stin' of de gun in his troat might do
ver vell. It vould give him con--con--vat you call him? De ting vat
leetil chile have?"
"Contrariness," said Victor.
"Contradictiousness," suggested Ian; "they're both good long words,
after your own heart."
"Non, non! Con--convulsions, dat is it. Anyhow it vould injure his
digestiveness."
"Ha! ha! yes, so it would," cried Victor, tossing off a can of cold
water like a very toper. "Well, boys, I'm off to sleep, my
digestiveness being uninjured as yet. Good-night."
"What! without a pipe, Vic?"
"Come, now, don't chaff. To tell you the truth, Ian, I've been acting
your part lately. I've been preaching a sermon to myself, the text of
which was given to me by Herr Winklemann the night before we left the
buffalo-runners, and I've been considerably impressed by my own
preaching. Anyhow, I mean to take my own advice--good-night, again."
Ian returned "good-night" with a smile, and, lying down beside him,
gazed long and thoughtfully through the trees overhead at the twinkling,
tranquil stars. Michel Rollin continued to smoke and meditate for
another hour. Then he shook the ashes out of his pipe, heaped fresh
logs on the declining fire, and followed his comrades to the land of
Nod.