Had Makoki, the leather-faced old Cree runner between God's Lake and
Fort Churchill, known the history of Miki and Neewa up to the point
where they came to feast on the fat and partly devoured carcass of the
young caribou bull, he would have said that Iskoo Wapoo, the Good
Spirit of the beasts, was watching over them most carefully. For Makoki
had great faith in the forest gods as well as in those of his own
tepee. He would have given the story his own picturesque version, and
would have told it to the little children of his son's children; and
his son's children would have kept it in their memory for their own
children later on.
It was not in the ordained nature of things that a black bear cub and a
Mackenzie hound pup with a dash of Airedale and Spitz in him should
"chum up" together as Neewa and Miki had done. Therefore, he would have
said, the Beneficent Spirit who watched over the affairs of four-legged
beasts must have had an eye on them from the beginning. It was
she--Iskoo Wapoo was a goddess and not a god--who had made Challoner
kill Neewa's mother, the big black bear; and it was she who had induced
him to tie the pup and the cub together on the same piece of rope, so
that when they fell out of the white man's canoe into the rapids they
would not die, but would be company and salvation for each other.
NESWA-PAWUK ("two little brothers") Makoki would have called them; and
had it come to the test he would have cut off a finger before harming
either of them. But Makoki knew nothing of their adventures, and on
this morning when they came down to the feast he was a hundred miles
away, haggling with a white man who wanted a guide. He would never know
that Iskoo Wapoo was at his side that very moment, planning the thing
that was to mean so much in the lives of Neewa and Miki.
Meanwhile Neewa and Miki went at their breakfast as if starved. They
were immensely practical. They did not look back on what had happened,
but for the moment submerged themselves completely in the present. The
few days of thrill and adventure through which they had gone seemed
like a year. Neewa's yearning for his mother had grown less and less
insistent, and Miki's lost master counted for nothing now, as things
were going with him. Last night was the big, vivid thing in their
memories--their fight for life with the monster owls, their flight, the
killing of the young caribou bull by the wolves, and (with Miki) the
short, bitter experience with Maheegun, the renegade she-wolf. His
shoulder burned where she had torn at him with her teeth. But this did
not lessen his appetite. Growling as he ate, he filled himself until he
could hold no more.
Then he sat back on his haunches and looked in the direction Maheegun
had taken.
It was eastward, toward Hudson Bay, over a great plain that lay between
two ridges that were like forest walls, yellow and gold in the morning
sun. He had never seen the world as it looked to him now. The wolves
had overtaken the caribou on a scarp on the high ground that thrust
itself out like a short fat thumb from the black and owl-infested
forest, and the carcass lay in a meadowy dip that overhung the plain.
From the edge of this dip Miki could look down--and so far away that
the wonder of what he saw dissolved itself at last into the shimmer of
the sun and the blue of the sky. Within his vision lay a paradise of
marvellous promise; wide stretches of soft, green meadow; clumps of
timber, park-like until they merged into the deeper forest that began
with the farther ridge; great patches of bush radiant with the
colouring of June; here and there the gleam of water, and half a mile
away a lake that was like a giant mirror set in a purplish-green frame
of balsam and spruce.
Into these things Maheegun, the she-wolf, had gone. He wondered whether
she would come back. He sniffed the air for her. But there was no
longer the mother-yearning in his heart. Something had already begun to
tell him of the vast difference between the dog and the wolf. For a few
moments, still hopeful that the world held a mother for him, he had
mistaken her for the one he had lost. But he understood now. A little
more and Maheegun's teeth would have snapped his shoulder, or slashed
his throat to the jugular. TEBAH-GONE-GAWIN (the One Great Law) was
impinging itself upon him, the implacable law of the survival of the
fittest. To live was to fight--to kill; to beat everything that had
feet or wings. The earth and the air held menace for him. Nowhere,
since he had lost Challoner, had he found friendship except in the
heart of Neewa, the motherless cub. And he turned toward Neewa now,
growling at a gay-plumaged moose-bird that was hovering about for a
morsel of meat.
A few minutes before, Neewa had weighed a dozen pounds; now he weighed
fourteen or fifteen. His stomach was puffed out like the sides of an
overfilled bag, and he sat humped up in a pool of warm sunshine licking
his chops and vastly contented with himself and the world. Miki rubbed
up to him, and Neewa gave a chummy grunt. Then he rolled over on his
fat back and invited Miki to play. It was the first time; and with a
joyous yelp Miki jumped into him. Scratching and biting and kicking,
and interjecting their friendly scrimmage with ferocious growling on
Miki's part and pig-like grunts and squeals on Neewa's, they rolled to
the edge of the dip. It was a good hundred feet to the bottom--a steep,
grassy slope that ran to the plain--and like two balls they catapulted
the length of it. For Neewa it was not so bad. He was round and fat,
and went easily.
With Miki it was different. He was all legs and skin and angular bone,
and he went down twisting and somersaulting and tying himself into
knots until by the time he struck the hard strip of shale at the edge
of the plain he was drunk with dizziness and the breath was out of his
body. He staggered to his feet with a gasp. For a space the world was
whirling round and round in a sickening circle. Then he pulled himself
together, and made out Neewa a dozen feet away.
Neewa was just awakening to the truth of an exhilarating discovery.
Next to a boy on a sled, or a beaver on its tail, no one enjoys a
"slide" more than a black bear cub, and as Miki rearranged his
scattered wits Neewa climbed twenty or thirty feet up the slope and
deliberately rolled down again! Miki's jaws fell apart in amazement.
Again Neewa climbed up and rolled down--and Miki ceased to breathe
altogether. Five times he watched Neewa go that twenty or thirty feet
up the grassy slope and tumble down. The fifth time he waded into Neewa
and gave him a rough-and-tumble that almost ended in a fight.
After that Miki began exploring along the foot of the slope, and for a
scant hundred yards Neewa humoured him by following, but beyond that
point he flatly refused to go. In the fourth month of his exciting
young life Neewa was satisfied that Nature had given him birth that he
might have the endless pleasure of filling his stomach. For him, eating
was the one and only excuse for existing. In the next few months he had
a big job on his hands if he kept up the record of his family, and the
fact that Miki was apparently abandoning the fat and juicy carcass of
the young bull filled him with alarm and rebellion. Straightway he
forgot all thought of play and started back up the slope on a mission
that was 100 per cent. business.
Observing this, Miki gave up his idea of exploration and joined him.
They reached the shelf of the dip twenty yards from the carcass of the
bull, and from a clutter of big stones looked forth upon their meat. In
that moment they stood dumb and paralyzed. Two gigantic owls were
tearing at the carcass. To Miki and Neewa these were the monsters of
the black forest out of which they had escaped so narrowly with their
lives. But as a matter of fact they were not of Oohoomisew's breed of
night-seeing pirates. They were Snowy Owls, unlike all others of their
kind in that their vision was as keen as a hawk's in the light of broad
day. Mispoon, the big male, was immaculately white. His mate, a size or
two smaller, was barred with brownish-slate colour--and their heads
were round and terrible looking because they had no ear-tufts. Mispoon,
with his splendid wings spread half over the carcass of Ahtik, the dead
bull, was rending flesh so ravenously with his powerful beak that Neewa
and Miki could hear the sound of it. Newish, his mate, had her head
almost buried in Ahtik's bowels. The sight of them and the sound of
their eating were enough to disturb the nerves of an older bear than
Neewa, and he crouched behind a stone, with just his head sticking out.
In Miki's throat was a sullen growl. But he held it back, and flattened
himself on the ground. The blood of the giant hunter that was his
father rose in him again like fire. The carcass was his meat, and he
was ready to fight for it. Besides, had he not whipped the big owl in
the forest? But here there were two. The fact held him flattened on his
belly a moment or two longer, and in that brief space the unexpected
happened.
Slinking up out of the low growth of bush at the far edge of the dip
lie saw Maheegun, the renegade she-wolf. Hollow-backed, red-eyed, her
bushy tail hanging with the sneaky droop of the murderess, she advanced
over the bit of open, a gray and vengeful shadow. Furtive as she was,
she at least acted with great swiftness. Straight at Mispoon she
launched herself with a snarl and snap of fangs that made Miki hug the
ground still closer.
Deep into Mispoon's four-inch armour of feathers Maheegun buried her
fangs. Taken at a disadvantage Mispoon's head would have been torn from
his body before he could have gathered himself for battle had it not
been for Newish. Pulling her blood stained head from Ahtik's flesh and
blood she drove at Maheegun with a throaty, wheezing scream--a cry that
was like the cry of no other thing that lived. Into the she-wolf's back
she sank her beak and talons and Maheegun gave up her grip on Mispoon
and tore ferociously at her new assailant. For a space Mispoon was
saved, but it was at a terrible sacrifice to Newish. With a single
lucky slash of her long-fanged jaws, Maheegun literally tore one of
Newish's great wings from her body. The croak of agony that came out of
her may have held the death-note for Mispoon, her mate; for he rose on
his wings, poised himself for an instant, and launched himself at the
she-wolf's back with a force that drove Maheegun off her feet.
Deep into her loins the great owl sank his talons, gripping at the
renegade's vitals with an avenging and ferocious tenacity. In that hold
Maheegun felt the sting of death. She flung herself on her back; she
rolled over and over, snarling and snapping and clawing the air in her
efforts to free herself of the burning knives that were sinking still
deeper into her bowels. Mispoon hung on, rolling as she rolled, beating
with his giant wings, fastening his talons in that clutch that death
could not shake loose. On the ground his mate was dying. Her life's
blood was pouring out of the hole in her side, but with the dimming
vision of death she made a last effort to help Mispoon. And Mispoon, a
hero to the last, kept his grip until he was dead.
Into the edge of the bush Maheegun dragged herself. There she freed
herself of the big owl. But the deep wounds were still in her sides.
The blood dripped from her belly as she made her way down into the
thicker cover, leaving a red trail behind her. A quarter of a mile away
she lay down under a clump of dwarf spruce; and there, a little later,
she died.
To Neewa and Miki--and especially to the son of Hela--the grim combat
had widened even more that subtle and growing comprehension of the
world as it existed for them. It was the unforgettable wisdom of
experience backed by an age-old instinct and the heredity of breed.
They had killed small things--Neewa, his bugs and his frogs and his
bumble-bees; Miki, his rabbit--they had fought for their lives; they
had passed through experiences that, from the beginning, had been a
gamble with death; but it had needed the climax of a struggle such as
they had seen with their own eyes to open up the doors that gave them a
new viewpoint of life.
It was many minutes before Miki went forth and smelled of Newish, the
dead owl. He had no desire now to tear at her feathers in the
excitement of an infantile triumph and ferocity. Along with greater
understanding a new craft and a new cunning were born in him. The fate
of Mispoon and his mate had taught him the priceless value of silence
and of caution, for he knew now that in the world there were many
things that were not afraid of him, and many things that would not run
away from him. He had lost his fearless and blatant contempt for winged
creatures; he had learned that the earth was not made for him alone,
and that to hold his small place on it he must fight as Maheegun and
the owls had fought. This was because in Miki's veins was the red
fighting blood of a long line of ancestors that reached back to the
wolves.
In Neewa the process of deduction was vastly different. His breed was
not the fighting breed, except as it fought among its own kind. It did
not make a habit of preying upon other beasts, and no other beast
preyed upon it. This was purely an accident of birth--the fact that no
other creature in all his wide domain was powerful enough, either alone
or in groups, to defeat a grown black bear in open battle. Therefore
Neewa learned nothing of fighting in the tragedy of Maheegun and the
owls. His profit, if any, was in a greater caution. And his chief
interest was in the fact that Maheegun and the two owls had not
devoured the young bull. His supper was still safe.
With his little round eyes on the alert for fresh trouble he kept
himself safely hidden while he watched Miki investigating the scene of
battle. From the body of the owl Miki went to Ahtik, and from Ahtik he
sniffed slowly over the trail which Maheegun had taken into the bush.
In the edge of the cover he found Mispoon. He did not go farther, but
returned to Neewa, who by this time had made up his mind that he could
safely come out into the open.
Fifty times that day Miki rushed to the defense of their meat. The
big-eyed, clucking moose-birds were most annoying. Next to them the
Canada jays were most persistent. Twice a little gray-coated ermine,
with eyes as red as garnets, came in to get his fill of blood. Miki was
at him so fiercely that he did not return a third time. By noon the
crows had got scent or sight of the carcass and were circling overhead,
waiting for Neewa and Miki to disappear. Later, they set up a raucous
protest from the tops of the trees in the edge of the forest.
That night the wolves did not return to the dip. Meat was too
plentiful, and those that were over their gorge were off on a fresh
kill far to the west. Once or twice Neewa and Miki heard their distant
cry.
Again through a star-filled radiant night they watched and listened,
and slept at times. In the soft gray dawn they went forth once more to
their feast.
And here is where Makoki, the old Cree runner, would have emphasized
the presence of the Beneficent Spirit. For day followed day, and night
followed night, and Ahtik's flesh and blood put into Neewa and Miki a
strength and growth that developed marvellously. By the fourth day
Neewa had become so fat and sleek that he was half again as big as on
the day he fell out of the canoe. Miki had begun to fill out. His ribs
could no longer be counted from a distance. His chest was broadening
and his legs were losing some of their angular clumsiness. Practice on
Ahtik's bones had strengthened his jaws. With his development he felt
less and less the old puppyish desire to play--more and more the
restlessness of the hunter. The fourth night he heard again the wailing
hunt-cry of the wolves, and it held a wild and thrilling note for him.
With Neewa, fat and good humour and contentment were all synonymous. As
long as the meat held out there was no very great temptation for him
beyond the dip and the slope. Two or three times a day he went down to
the creek; and every morning and afternoon--especially about sunset--he
had his fun rolling downhill. In addition to this he began taking his
afternoon naps in the crotch of a small sapling. As Miki could see
neither sense nor sport in tobogganing, and as he could not climb a
tree, he began to spend more and more time in venturing up and down the
foot of the ridge. He wanted Neewa to go with him on these expeditions.
He never set out until he had entreated Neewa to come down out of his
tree, or until he had made an effort to coax him away from the single
trail he had made to the creek and back. Neewa's obstinacy would never
have brought about any real unpleasantness between them. Miki thought
too much of him for that; and if it had come to a final test, and Neewa
had thought that Miki would not return, he would undoubtedly have
followed him.
It was another and a more potent thing than an ordinary quarrel that
placed the first great barrier between them. Now it happened that Miki
was of the breed which preferred its meat fresh, while Neewa liked his
"well hung." And from the fourth day onward, what was left of Ahtik's
carcass was ripening. On the fifth day Miki found the flesh difficult
to eat; on the sixth, impossible. To Neewa it became increasingly
delectable as the flavour grew and the perfume thickened. On the sixth
day, in sheer delight, he rolled in it. That night, for the first time,
Miki could not sleep with him.
The seventh day brought the climax. Ahtik now fairly smelled to heaven.
The odour of him drifted up and away on the soft June wind until all
the crows in the country were gathering. It drove Miki, slinking like a
whipped cur, down into the creek bottom. When Neewa came down for a
drink after his morning feast Miki sniffed him over for a moment and
then slunk away from him again. As a matter of fact, there was small
difference between Ahtik and Neewa now, except that one lay still and
the other moved. Both smelled dead; both were decidedly "well hung."
Even the crows circled over Neewa, wondering why it was that he walked
about like a living thing.
That night Miki slept alone under a clump of bush in the creek bottom.
He was hungry and lonely, and for the first time in many days he felt
the bigness and emptiness of the world. He wanted Neewa. He whined for
him in the starry silence of the long hours between sunset and dawn.
The sun was well up before Neewa came down the hill. He had finished
his breakfast and his morning roll, and he was worse than ever. Again
Miki tried to coax him away but Neewa was disgustingly fixed in his
determination to remain in his present glory. And this morning he was
more than usually anxious to return to the dip. All of yesterday he had
found it necessary to frighten the crows away from his meat, and to-day
they were doubly persistent in their efforts to rob him. With a grunt
and a squeal to Miki he hustled back up the hill after he had taken his
drink.
His trail entered the dip through the pile of rocks from which Miki and
he had watched the battle between Maheegun and the two owls, and as a
matter of caution he always paused for a few moments among these rocks
to make sure that all was well in the open. This morning he received a
decided shock. Ahtik's carcass was literally black with crows. Kakakew
and his Ethiopic horde of scavengers had descended in a cloud, and they
were tearing and fighting and beating their wings about Ahtik as if all
of them had gone mad. Another cloud was hovering in air; every bush and
near-by sapling was bending under the weight of them, and in the sun
their jet-black plumage glistened as if they had just come out of the
bath of a tinker's pot. Neewa stood astounded. He was not frightened;
he had driven the cowardly robbers away many times. But never had there
been so many of them. He could see no trace of his meat. Even the
ground about it was black.
He rushed out from the rocks with his lips drawn back, just as he had
rushed a dozen or more times before. There was a mighty roar of wings.
The air was darkened by them, and the ravenish screaming that followed
could have been heard a mile away. This time Kakakew and his mighty
crew did not fly back to the forest. Their number gave them courage.
The taste of Ahtik's flesh and the flavour of it in their nostrils
intoxicated them, to the point of madness, with desire. Neewa was
dazed. Over him, behind him, on all sides of him they swept and
circled, croaking and screaming at him, the boldest of them swooping
down to beat at him with their wings. Thicker grew the menacing cloud,
and then suddenly it descended like an avalanche. It covered Ahtik
again. In it Neewa was fairly smothered. He felt himself buried under a
mass of wings and bodies, and he began fighting, as he had fought the
owls. A score of pincer-like black beaks fought to get at his hair and
hide; others stabbed at his eyes; he felt his ears being pulled from
his head, and the end of his nose was a bloody cushion within a dozen
seconds. The breath was beaten out of him; he was blinded, and dazed,
and every square inch of him was aquiver with its own excruciating
pain. He forgot Ahtik. The one thing in the world he wanted most was a
large open space in which to run.
Putting all his strength into the effort he struggled to his feet and
charged through the mass of living things about him. At this sign of
defeat many of the crows left him to join in the feast. By the time he
was half way to the cover into which Maheegun had gone all but one had
left him. That one may have been Kakakew himself. He had fastened
himself like a rat-trap to Neewa's stubby tail, and there he hung on
like grim death while Neewa ran. He kept his hold until his victim was
well into the cover. Then he flopped himself into the air and rejoined
his brethren at the putrified carcass of the bull.
If ever Neewa had wanted Miki he wanted him now. Again his entire
viewpoint of the world was changed. He was stabbed in a hundred places.
He burned as if afire. Even the bottoms of his feet hurt him when he
stepped on them, and for half an hour he hid himself under a bush,
licking his wounds and sniffing the air for Miki.
Then he went down the slope into the creek bottom, and hurried to the
foot of the trail he had made to and from the dip. Vainly he quested
about him for his comrade. He grunted and squealed, and tried to catch
the scent of him in the air. He ran up the creek a distance, and back
again. Ahtik counted as nothing now.
Miki was gone.