In the morning Whisky-Jack flew early to the home of Black King, and
told him of the fish-stealing.
"Yes," affirmed the Red Widow, "it was Pisew. His father before him was
a Traitor and a Thief; they were always a mean, low lot. And wasn't
this Man-Cub good and kind to my Babe, Stripes, when that brute of a
Huskie Dog attacked him?"
"Yes, Good Dame," affirmed the Bird; "but for this Man-Cub your Pup
would have lined the stomach of a Train Dog--now he may live to line the
cloak of some Man-woman--that is, if Francois catches him. But what
shall be done to this breaker of Boundary Laws and Sneak-thief, Pisew,
Your Majesty?"
"Summon Carcajou, Mooswa, Blue Wolf, and others of the Council, my good
Messenger," commanded the King. "There is no fear of the trail now, for
Francois is gone, and The Boy hunts not."
When they had gathered, Whisky-Jack again told of what had been done.
"It is Pisew, of a certainty," cried Carcajou.
"Yes, it is that Traitor," concurred Rof, with a growl.
"I could hardly believe any Animal capable of such meanness," sighed
Bull Moose; "we must investigate. If it be true--"
"Yes, if it prove true!" snapped Carcajou.
"Uhr-r-r, if this thing be true--!" growled Blue Wolf, and there was a
perceptible gleam of white as his lip curled with terrible emphasis.
"Go and look!" commanded Black King; "the snow tells no false tales; the
Thief will have written with his feet that which his tongue will lie to
conceal."
The vigilants proceeded to the scene of Pisew's greedy outrage. "I
thought so," said Carcajou, examining the ground minutely.
"Here he hid the stuff," cried Rof, from behind a fallen tree. "That
odour is Dried Fish; and this--bah! it's worse--it's the foul smell of
our Castoreum-loving Friend, Pisew;" and he curled his nose disdainfully
in the half-muffled tracks of the detested Cat.
"I can see his big foot-prints plainly," added Mooswa. "There is no
question as to who is the thief. Let us go back and summon the Council
of the Boundaries, and decide what is to be done with this Breaker of
Oaths."
When they had returned to the King's burrow, he commanded that Umisk,
Nekik, Wapistan, Mink, Skunk, Wapoos, and all others, should be
gathered, so that judgment might be passed upon the traitor. "Also
summon Pisew," he said to Jay.
When the Council members had arrived, Whisky-Jack came back with a
report that Lynx could not be found.
"Guilt and a full stomach have caused him to travel far; it is easier to
keep out of the way than to answer eyes that are asking questions,"
declared Blue Wolf, in a thick voice.
"Then we shall decide without him," cried Black King, angrily.
The evidence was put clearly before the Council by Rof, Carcajou, and
Mooswa; besides, each of the animals swore solemnly by their different
tail-marks, which is an oath not to be broken, that they had not done
this thing.
"Well," said Black Fox, "we arranged before that, in case of a serious
breach of the Law, the Council should decide by numbers whether any one
must die because of the Law breaking. Is that not so?"
"It is," they all answered.
"Then what of Pisew, who has undoubtedly broken the Oath-promise that
was made unto Mooswa?"
"He must die!" snarled Blue Wolf.
"He must cease to be!" echoed Carcajou.
"Yes, it is not right that he live!" declared Mooswa. And from Bull
Moose down to Wapistan, all agreed that Pisew deserved death for his
traitorous conduct.
"But how?" asked the King.
Nobody answered for a time. Killing, except because of hunger, was a
new thing to them; no one wanted to have the slaying of Lynx upon his
conscience--the role of executioner was undesirable.
"He shall die after the manner of his Father,--by the Snare, and by the
means of Man, which is just," announced Carcajou, presently.
"But Francois has gone, and the Man-Cub traps not," objected the Red
Widow.
"He did not trouble to take up the Snares, though, Good Dame," affirmed
Wolverine; "I know of three."
"You know of three, and didn't spring them?" queried Jack,
incredulously.
"There was no Bait--only the vile smelling Castoreum," answered
Carcajou, disdainfully. "And there was also a chance that Pisew might
poke his traitorous head through one--I guard not for that Sneak."
"But how will you induce Pisew to thrust his worthless neck into the
Snare?" asked Black King.
"There is some of the Fat-eating still left, Your Majesty," returned
Carcajou, "and I'll forfeit a piece as Bait."
"That should tempt him," asserted the King.
"But he may be a long time discovering it," ventured Umisk, pointing out
a seeming difficulty.
"Leave that to me," pleaded Whisky-Jack; "you provide the Bait, and I'll
provide the Thief who'll try to steal it."
It being settled that way, the Council adjourned, Carcajou and
Whisky-Jack being selected as a Committee of Execution. Wolverine
showed Jay where the snare was placed, and while he cleverly arranged
the bacon beyond its quick-slipping noose, the latter scoured the
Forests and muskegs for Pisew until he found him.
"Hello, Feather-Feet!" he hailed the Lynx with.
"Good-day, Gossip!" retorted Pisew.
"You're looking well fed for this Year of Famine, my carnivorous
Friend," said Whisky-Jack, pleasantly.
"Yes, I'm fat because of much fasting," answered Lynx. "The memory of
Carcajou's Fat-eating alone keeps me alive; I'm starved--I'm as thin as
a snow-shoe. It's days since my form would even cast a shadow--can you
not see right through me, Eagle-eyed Bird?"
"I think I can," declared the Jay, meaning Lynx's methods, more than his
thick-woolled body.
"I'm starving!" reasserted the Cat. "If Carcajou were half so generous
as he pretends, he should give me another piece of that Fat-eating; it
would save my life--really it would." He was pleading poverty with an
exaggerated flourish, lest he be suspected of the ill-gotten wealth of
Fish.
"Yes, Carcajou is a miser," affirmed Whisky-Jack. "He still has some of
the Man's bacon cached."
"I wish I knew where," panted Lynx. "There is no wrong in stealing from
a thief--is there, wise Bird?"
"I know where some of it is hidden," declared Jay, with an air of great
satisfaction.
"Tell me," pleaded the other.
At first Jack refused utterly; then by diplomatic weakenings he
succumbed to Pisew's eager solicitation, and veered around, consenting
to point out some of Wolverine's stolen treasure.
"You are a true friend, Jack," asserted Pisew, encouragingly.
"To whom?" asked the Bird, pointedly.
"Oh, to me, of course; for Carcajou is a friend to nobody. But, Jack,"
he said suddenly, "you are fond of Yellow-eating, aren't you?"
"Yes, I like butter."
"Well, I'll tell you where you can get rare good picking--it's a good
joke on Carcajou, too, though it was so badly covered up that I thought
it more like a Man's cache."
The Jay started. Had this wily thief stolen his butter also--the butter
that Carcajou had hidden for him at the Shack looting?
"You see," continued Lynx, "I stumbled upon it quite by accident as I
was digging for Grubs, Beetles, and poor food of that sort--hardly
enough to fill one's teeth. Oh, this Seventh Year is terrible! I was
starving, Friend--really I was; the gaunt gnawing which never comes to
you, and of which you know nothing, for you are always with the Men who
have plenty, was in my stomach. I was thinking of the hunger-hardship,
and of the great store of Fat-eating Carcajou must have cached, when I
came upon this wooden-holder of stuff that is like yellow marrow."
"Butter," interrupted the Bird.
"I suppose so," whined Lynx.
"And you ate it?" queried Jack sharply, experiencing a sick feeling of
desolation.
"There was only a little of it, only a little," iterated Pisew,
deprecatingly; "hardly worth one's trouble in tearing the cover from the
wooden-thing."
"The tub," advised Jack.
"Probably; I'm not familiar with the names of Man's things. But I just
tasted it--that was all; just a little to oil my throat, and soothe the
pain that was in my stomach. It is still there, really--under a big
rotten log, where the water falls for the length of Panther's spring
over high rocks in Summer."
"What's there,--the tub?" queried Jack, incredulously.
"Also the yellow marrow--the butter," affirmed Pisew.
"Oh!" exclaimed Whisky-Jack, drily. He knew the other was lying; if
Pisew had found the tub he would have licked it clean as a washed
platter. But the revenge he had in hand for this Prince of all Thieves
was so complete that it was not worth while reviling him.
"Still I think you had better not touch Carcajou's Fat-eating," he
advised.
Lynx laughed at this. Why shouldn't he--he was so very hungry?
"Well," said the Bird, "mind I don't wish to lead you to it--don't ask
you to go--in fact, I think you had better keep away; but Dumpty's
Fat-eating is hidden under the roots of that big up-turned Spruce, just
where Mooswa's trail crosses the Pelican on its way to his Moose-yard."
"Do you really think it was hidden there by Carcajou?" asked Lynx. "Is
it not Francois's cache--or some last year's cache of another Man? They
are always wandering about through the Boundaries, looking for the
yellow dust that is washed down by running waters, or for the white
metal that sleeps in rocks."
"No, the white Meat belongs to our hump-backed Comrade--at least he
rustled it from the Breed's Shack," answered Jay.
"Perhaps after all it would not be fair to take it, then," whined Lynx.
"I am hungry--oh, so hungry, but to steal from one of our Comrades, even
to save one's life--I would rather die, I believe."
"Prince of deceitful wretches!" muttered Jay to himself. "Oh, the cant
of it! now he means to steal it sure, but is afraid that I may inform
against him."
"I'll not touch the Fat-eating," continued Pisew. "True, the Little
Lieutenant stole it from Francois; but that is different, is it not,
wise Brother--you who are learned in the Law of the Boundaries? To take
from them who would rob us of our clothes is not wrong, is it?"
"No; that is understood by all of us," answered Jack, aloud; to himself
he said, "the prating hypocrite!"
"So Carcajou is entitled by our law to half of the spoil, and I suppose
that is the Fat-eating he has cached; the other half went in the love
feast."
"Yes."
"Then I'll not touch it--I will starve to death first," and Pisew sat
meekly on his haunches and rolled his eyes sanctimoniously.
"I had no idea there was so much honourable observance of the law in
your nature," sneered Jack. "In the Plenty Year we are all honest; but
in this, the Season of Starvation, to be honourable and regardful of
each other's Eating is indeed noble. Will he swallow that?" queried the
Jay to himself.
"Thank you, sayer-of-wise-words," murmured Pisew. "I always have been
misunderstood--accused of the vilest things--even to the eating of
Lodge-Builder's Children."
"Disgusting!" exclaimed Jack, smartly. "They must be horrible eating,
those young wearers of Castoreum."
"No--they're delicious!" interrupted Pisew, unwarily,--"I mean--I
mean--they're delightful little creatures," he added, lamely.
"Well, I must be off, you-who-keep-the-fast," declared Jack. "I'm glad
you have resisted the temptation, for I must admit that I was only
trying you."
"I thought so--I thought so!" snickered Lynx; "and at first I joked to
draw you on--pretended that I would do this disgraceful thing--take our
most worthy Lieutenant's store of Eating."
"Now I must warn the Council," thought Jack, as he flew swiftly through
the forest, "for Pisew will make straight for Carcajou's bacon.
Deceitful wretch! he deserves to be hanged. His death will save many a
Fox-Cub, many a Kit-Beaver, and many a Bird's egg."
"Wise Bird, indeed!" sneered Lynx. "I've deceived him. I'll soon have
Gulo the Glutton's Fat-eating; and Whisky-Jack will bear witness to my
honesty. They are all so wise; but Pisew, the despised, fares better
than any one. No; nobody will know if I take it--not even the Devil-eyes
of Carcajou will discover whose trail it is, for I will drag the
Fat-eating, walking backwards, so it will look more like the
trough-trail of Nekik, who slides on his belly through the deep snow.
And Blue Wolf's nose will discover only the scent of smoke-tainted meat,
for it will come last over my tracks. Ha, ha!" he laughed disagreeably;
"we'll see who lives through the Year of Distress by the aid of his
brains."
And while Pisew chuckled and made straight for the big Spruce where was
hidden the bacon, Jack flew to the Council. To them the Bird said,
"Keep you all well hid in the bush close to the Bait; I will hide in the
big tree which has a hollow, and when Pisew's neck is in the noose will
signal."
* * * * *
With long springing lopes Lynx bounded close to where Mooswa's road
crossed the ice-bridge of the Pelican. Nearing it he walked steadily,
making as little trail as possible.
"Yes, it is cached in there," he muttered, spreading his broad nostrils,
and filling them with the tantalizing perfume of bacon. "Carcajou has
also been to look at it this morning, for here are his tracks."
He wasted little time investigating--there was no fear of a Trap, for it
was not Man's work; also he must not leave tell-tale tracks about;
besides, it would not do to remain long in the vicinity for fear of
being seen. Swiftly, stealthily, he slunk to the very spot, and pushed
his round head through a little bush-opening that seemed designed by
Carcajou to conceal his stolen Meat. Yes, it was there. Pisew seized
the bacon hungrily and started to back out with his booty. As he did so
there was the swishing rush of a straightening-up Birch-sapling, and
something gripped him by the throat, carrying him off his feet. The
startled Cat screamed, and wrenched violently at the snare as he scooted
skyward. His contortions caused the strong cod-line which was about his
neck to carry away from the swaying Birch, and he dropped back to earth,
only to find himself fighting with a heavy stick which dangled at the
other end of the line.
What a fiendish thing the snare-stick seemed to Pisew. It fought
back--it jumped, and reeled, and struck him in the ribs, and tugged at
the snare which was strangling him, and ran away from him, pulling the
hot-cord tight about his throat with the strength of Muskwa; it was a
Devil-stick surely--also would it kill him if no help came. The bacon
fell from his mouth, and he tried to call for assistance, but only a
queer, guzzling, half-choked gasp came from his clogged throat.
As if in answer to his muffled call he heard, faintly, a Bird-voice--it
was Jack's--would he help him? Lynx felt that he would not.
"He-e-e-p, he-e-e-p! qu-e-e-k, que-e-e-e-k! come one, come all," cried
Whisky-Jack.
Violently Lynx struggled. Tighter and tighter gathered the cord-noose,
his own efforts drawing the death-circle closer. His fast-glazing eyes
could just make out, in a shadowy way, the forms of gathering Comrades.
He had been trapped--they were in at the death to witness the execution
by his own hand. It did not last long. That merciless noose, ever
tightening, ever closing in on the air pipes, was doing its work--drying
up the lungs.
"It's terrible!" Mooswa blurted out. "He's dead now--I'm glad of it."
[Illustration: "IT'S TERRIBLE!" MOOSWA BLURTED OUT.]
"Yes, he's dead," declared Carcajou, putting his short-eared head down
to Pisew's side, for well he knew the old Forest trick of shamming death
to escape its reality.
"What of the carcass?" asked Mooswa; "shall I carry it far in the bowl
of my horns? One of our Comrades, though he die the just death as
declared by Law should not fall into the hands of the Hunt-men."
"Leave him," muttered Blue Wolf; "the Pack pass this trail to-night."
"How fares The Boy, Swift-flyer?" Mooswa asked of the Jay.
"Badly, great Bull, badly. One time he takes the two Fish this dead
thief left,--unwillingly enough no doubt,--in his hand, and looks at
them pitiably; takes the white Dry-eating--Flour, Men call it,--and
decides of its weight: then with the little stick which makes a black
mark he lines cross-trails on a board, and mutters about so many pounds
of Eating for so many days, and always ends by saying: 'It can't be
done--I shall starve.' Then he comes to the door and looks over the
river trail which way went Francois, as though he too would pull out for
The Landing."
"That he must not attempt," cried Mooswa, decidedly. "Turn your noses,
Brothers, to the wind which comes from the big West-hills--moisten them
first, so!" and a bluish-gray tongue damped the cushion bulk of his
nostrils. All the Council pointed their heads up wind, and it smote raw
in their questioning faces.
"Gh-u-r-r!" growled Blue Wolf, "I know; when comes this wind-wrath of
the Mountains, Mooswa?"
"To-night, or to-morrow," answered the Bull.
"Then lie we close from the time the light fails this day until it is
all over; each to his Burrow, each to his hollow tree, each to his thick
bush," continued Rof. "Francois will not have reached The Landing yet,
either. Dogs are not like Wolves--perhaps the blizzard will smother
them."
"The Breed-man has the cunning of all Animals together," asserted
Carcajou. "He will choose a good shelter under a cut-bank, even perhaps
put the fire-medicine to the dry-wood, then all together, as Brothers,
he and the Dogs will lie huddled like a Fox Pack, and though the wrath
howl for three days none of their lives will go out." The deep-thinking
little Wolverine knew that Rof was fretting, not for Francois, but
because of Marsh Maid.
"But the Man-Cub is not like that," declared Bull Moose, "and if he
starts, good Jay, do thou fly quickly and bring us tidings. Rof, thou
and thy Pack must turn him in the trail."
"We will," assented Blue Wolf. "All this trouble because of that
carrion!" and he threw snow over the dead body of Lynx disdainfully with
his powerful hind-feet.