THE COMING OF THE TRAIN DOGS

For three days nothing unusual happened. Hunger commenced to nip at

every one, for, as we know, it was the Seventh Year of the Rabbit cycle,

and they were scarce. All the others envied old Muskwa, slumbering

peacefully, nourished by the fat of his Summer's pillage.

The narrow body of Lynx was getting narrower, the gaunt sides of Blue

Wolf gaunter. Fisher and Marten were living on Deer Mice, Squirrels, and

small game; and the Red Widow's family were depending almost entirely

upon Spruce Partridge--the flesh of these birds had become particularly

astringent, too. The gray-mottled, pin-tail Grouse had entirely

disappeared--better eating they were, the Widow contended; but in the

Seventh Year it was not a matter of selection at all, and each Animal

was poaching on the other's preserve--all because of the scarcity of

Wapoos. But in spite of the general starvation, every one left a small

dole of his food for Carcajou, whose paws were too sore to prowl about.

He felt the restricted diet more than any of them, being a perfect

gourmand,--"Gulo the Glutton," that was his name; and he liked good

living.

On the fourth day Whisky-Jack startled his comrades with the

announcement that Francois had acquired a train of four dogs from

Nichemous, who was passing down the ice-road of the river with a

Free-Trader. Blue Wolf snuffed discontentedly at the news; they were

his enemies, and many a scar he carried as souvenir of combats with

these domesticated cousins. Family instinct, however, led him to skulk

close to Francois's Shack one evening hoping to see the dogs. He went

often after the first visit, though advised by Carcajou that it would

end in his getting a destroying blast from the Firestick.

"They haven't got one," Rof assured him. "You destroyed the only

Ironstick they had."

"That was an old Trade Musket," retorted Wolverine. "Francois is too

clever to put his good Ironstick out in the wet. You'll find that he

has another, if you don't keep away. What's the attraction, anyway?" he

asked. "There can't be anything to eat there, with those yelping

Huskies about."

It was Whisky-Jack who gave the secret away. "Blue Wolf's in love," he

said, solemnly; "three of the Train are of the sister kind, and Rof's

got his eye on one. Francois calls her 'Marsh Maid,' but the

Train-leader is a big Huskie Dog, and he'll chew Growler the Wolf into

little bits--I sha'n't mind, Rof's too surly for me."

Blue Wolf became a great dandy; brushed his coat--scraped the snow away

from a moss patch in the Jack-Pines, and rubbed his shaggy fur till it

became quite presentable.

The big fight that Jack anticipated so eagerly materialized, but,

contrary to Jay's forecast, Rof trounced the Huskie soundly. After that

he came and went pretty much as he desired--growled his admiration of

Marsh Maid, and took forcible possession of Huskie's White Fish.

All this nearly brought sorrow to the Red Widow's family, for Stripes,

the Kit-Fox, having his curiosity roused by Jack's recital of Blue

Wolf's doings, incautiously ventured close to the Shack one day to have

a look at the Train. With an angry howl Huskie swooped down upon him,

and but for Rod, who, hearing Stripes's plaintive squeal, rushed out and

drove the Dog off, he would have been most effectually eaten up. The

young Fox fled for his life, and his tale of this adventure filled the

Red Widow's heart with gratitude toward The Boy.

Within the Boundaries the food fever was strong on the Animals, and

Francois's baits became an almost irresistible temptation. Trap after

Trap Black King and his family robbed, leaving the Meat with the White

Powder in, and taking it when it was clear of this, until Francois was

in despair.

"By Goss!" he confided to The Boy, "I t'ink me we goin' keel no fur

here. Dat Carcajou he de Debil, but mos' all de odder Animal is Debil

too. S'pose I put out de Trap, dey take de bait, cac'e de Trap, and

s'pose me dey laugh by deyselves. I see dat Black Fox two, t'ree time,

an' I know me his track now; ev'ry day I see dat tracks. But we must

catc' him. What fur we keel now? Not enough to pay fer de grub stake."

Mooswa & Others of the Boundaries · 第 19 / 50 题