Large as the hare was, she would have made but a meal for our four
hungry voyageurs, had they eaten at will. By Lucien's advice, however,
they restrained themselves, and half of her was left for supper, when
the "cook" promised to make them hare-soup. The head, feet, and other
spare bits, fell to Marengo's share. The owl, whose flesh was almost as
white as its plumage, and, as Norman well knew, most delicate eating,
was reserved for to-morrow's breakfast.
They had pitched their tent with the intention of remaining at that
place all night, and continuing their journey next day; but, as it still
wanted several hours of sunset, and the strength of all was considerably
recruited, they resolved to hunt about the neighbourhood as long as they
had light. It was of great importance that they should procure more
game. The owl would make but a spare breakfast, and after that where
was the next meal to come from? They had had a temporary relief, and
while their strength lasted, they must use every effort to procure a
further supply. The valley in which their new camp was placed looked
well for game. It was a sort of oasis in the Barren Grounds. There was
a lake and a considerable skirting of timber around it--consisting, as
we have said, of willows, poplars, spruce-pine, and dwarf birch-trees
(_Betula nana_). The Alpine arbutus, whose berries are the food of many
species of animals, also grew upon the side of the hills; and the
Labrador tea-plant (_Ledum palustre_) was found upon the low ground
around the lake. The leaves of this last is a favourite food of the
Polar hare, and our voyageurs had no doubt but that there were many of
these animals in the neighbourhood. Indeed, they had better evidence
than conjecture, for they saw numerous hare-tracks in the snow. There
were tracks of other animals too, for it is a well-known fact that where
one kind exists, at least two or three others will be found in the same
habitat--all being connected together by a "chain of destruction."
A singular illustration of this was afforded to Lucien, who remained at
the camp while the rest went out hunting. He had gathered some of the
leaves of the Labrador tea, and was drying them over the coals,
intending to cheer his comrades with a cup of this beverage after
supper. The hare-soup was boiling, and the "cook" sat listening to the
cheerful sounds that issued from the pot--now and then taking off the
lid to examine its savoury contents, and give them a stir. He would
then direct his attention to the tea-leaves that were parching in the
frying-pan; and, having shifted them a little, felt himself at liberty
to look about for a minute or two.
On one of these occasions, while glancing up, his attention was
attracted to an object which appeared upon the snow at a short distance
from where he sat. A wreath of snow, that had formed under the shelter
of the hill, extended all around its base, presenting a steep front in
every direction. This front was only two or three feet in height; but
the top surface of the wreath was many yards wide--in fact, it extended
back until it became blended with the slope of the hill. It was smooth
and nearly level, but the hill above was steep, and somewhat rough and
rocky. The steep front of the wreath came down within half-a-dozen
paces of the fire where Lucien was seated; and it was upon the top or
scarpment of it that the object appeared that had drawn his attention.
It was a small creature, but it was in motion, and thus had caught his
eye.
A single glance showed him that the little animal was a mouse, but of a
somewhat singular species. It was about the size of the common mouse,
but quite different in colour. The upper half of its body was of a
light mahogany tint, while the lower half, including the legs and feet,
were of a milky whiteness. It was, in fact, the "white-footed mouse"
(_Mus leucopus_), one of the most beautiful of its kind.
Here and there above the surface of the snow protruded the tops of
arbutus-trees; and the little creature was passing from one of these to
the other, in search, no doubt, of the berries that remain upon these
trees all the winter. Sometimes it ran from point to point like any
other mouse, but now and then it would rear itself on its hind-legs, and
leap several feet at a single bound! In this it evidently assisted
itself by pressing its tail--in which it possesses muscular power--
against the snow. This peculiar mode of progression has obtained for it
the name of the "jumping mouse," and among the Indians "deer"-mouse,
because its leap reminds them of the bounding spring of the deer. But
there are still other species of "jumping mice" in America that possess
this power to a greater degree even than the _Mus leucopus_.
Lucien watched its motions without attempting to interfere with it,
until it had got nearly out of sight. He did not desire to do injury to
the little creature, nor was he curious to obtain it, as he had already
met with many specimens, and examined them to his satisfaction. He had
ceased to think of it, and would, perhaps, never have thought of it
again, but, upon turning his eyes in the opposite direction, he observed
another animal upon the snow. This creature had a far different aspect
from the mouse. Its body was nearly a foot in length, although not much
thicker than that of the other! Its legs were short, but strong, and
its forehead broad and arched convexly. It had a tail more than half
the length of the body, hairy, and tapering like that of a cat. Its
form was the well-known form of the weasel, and it was, in fact, a
species of weasel. It was the celebrated _ermine (Mustela erminea_),
celebrated for its soft and beautiful fur, so long prized as an ornament
for the robes of the rich. It was white all over, with the exception of
its tail; and that, for about an inch or so at the tip, was covered with
black silky hair. On some parts of the body, too, the white was tinged
with a primrose yellow; but this tinge is not found in all animals of
this species, as some individuals are pure white. Of course it was now
in its winter "robes;" but in the summer it changes to a colour that
does not differ much from that of the common weasel.
When Lucien first saw it, it was running along the top of the wreath,
and coming from the same direction from which the mouse had come. Now
and then it paused awhile, and then ran on again. Lucien observed that
it kept its nose to the ground, and as it drew nearer he saw that it was
following on the same path which the other had taken. To his
astonishment he perceived that it was _trailing the mouse_! Wherever
the latter had doubled or made a _detour_, the ermine followed the
track; and where the mouse had given one of its long leaps, there the
ermine would stop, and, after beating about until it struck the trail
again, would resume its onward course at a gallop. Its manoeuvres were
exactly like those of a hound upon the fresh trail of a fox!
Lucien now looked abroad to discover the mouse. It was still in sight
far off upon the snow, and, as Lucien could see, busily gnawing at the
arbutus, quite unconscious that its _greatest_ enemy was so near. I say
greatest enemy, for the _Mus leucopus_ is the _natural_ prey of the
_Mustela erminea_.
The mouse was soon made aware of the dangerous proximity, but not until
the ermine had got within a few feet of it. When it perceived the
latter it shrunk, at first, among the leaves of the arbutus; but seeing
there would be no protection there--as the other was still springing
forward to seize it--it leaped up, and endeavoured to escape by flight.
Its flight appeared to be in alternate jumps and runs, but the chase was
not a long one. The ermine was as active as a cat, and, after a few
skips, its claws were struck into the mouse. There was a short, slender
squeak, and then a "crunch," like the cracking of a hazel-nut. This
last sound was produced by the teeth of the ermine breaking through the
skull of its victim.