happen. Then, getting tired of the inaction, Bruce picked up a fragment
of rock and threw it down upon the ledge below, where it rattled
noisily. Immediately a deep, fierce growl came from the cave, and a
moment afterwards the old bear herself rolled out into the sunshine.
"The top of the morning to you, missus!" called out Archie saucily.
"And how may your ladyship be feeling this morning?"
At the sound of his voice the bear turned quickly, and catching sight of
the three boys in such close proximity to the privacy of her home,
uttered a terrible roar of rage, and rearing up on her hind legs, strove
to climb the piece of cliff that separated them from her.
Bruce and Fred, who had never seen a wild bear before, shrank
terror-stricken into the corner, but Archie, looking as cool as a
cucumber, stood his ground, rifle in hand.
"No, no, my lady; not this morning," said he, with an ironical bow.
"You're quite near enough already."
Foiled in her first attempt, the great creature gathered herself
together for another spring, and once more came toward them with a
savage roar. As she did so her broad, black breast was fully exposed.
Without a tremor of fear or excitement Archie lifted his rifle to his
shoulder and aimed straight at the bear's heart; a sharp report rang out
through the clear morning air, followed close by a hideous howl of
mingled rage and pain; and when the smoke cleared away the boys, with
throbbing hearts, looked down upon a huge black shape that writhed and
struggled in the agonies of death. A simultaneous shout of victory
burst from their lips and gave relief to their excited emotions.
[Illustration: "ARCHIE AIMED STRAIGHT AT THE BEAR'S HEART."]
"Hurrah, Archie! You've done for her," cried Fred, clapping him
vigorously on the back.
"Yes. I reckon she won't have any more mutton at father's expense,"
said Archie with a triumphant smile. "Just look at her now. Isn't she a
monster?"
In truth she was a monster; and even though the life seemed to have
completely left her, the boys thought it well to wait a good many
minutes before going any nearer. After some time, when there could be
no longer any doubt, they scrambled down the way they came, and,
unloosing Oscar, approached the cave from the front. Oscar bounded on
ahead with eager leaps, and catching sight of the big black body, rushed
furiously at it. But the moment he reached it he stopped, smelled the
body suspiciously, and then gave vent to a strange, long howl that
sounded curiously like a death lament. After that there could be
nothing more to fear; so the three boys climbed up on the shelf and
proceeded to examine their quarry. She was very large, and in splendid
condition, having been feasting upon unlimited berries for weeks past.
"Now for the cubs," said Archie. "The job's only half done if we leave
these young rascals alone. I'm sorry they're too big to take alive.
Ha, ha! Oscar says they're at home."
Sure enough the hound was barking furiously at the mouth of the cave,
which he appeared none too anxious to enter.
"Bruce, suppose you try what damage your buckshot would do in there,"
suggested Archie.
"All right," assented Bruce, and, going up to the mouth, he peered in.
Two pairs of gleaming eyes that were much nearer than he expected made
him start back with an exclamation of surprise. But, quickly recovering
himself, he raised his gun and fired right at the little round balls of
light. Following upon the report came a series of queer cries,
half-growls, half-whimpers, and presently all was still.
"I guess that did the business," said Bruce.
"Why don't you go in and see?" asked Archie.
"Thank you. I'd rather not; but you can, it you like," replied Bruce.
"Very well, I will," said Archie promptly, laying down his gun. And,
drawing his hunting-knife, he crawled cautiously into the cave. Not a
move or sound was there inside. A little distance from the mouth he
touched one soft, furry body from which life had fled, and just behind
it another. The buckshot had done its work. The cubs were as dead as
their mother. The next thing was to get them out. The cave was very
low and narrow, and the cubs pretty big fellows. Archie crawled out
again for a consultation with the others. Various plans were suggested
but rejected, until at length Archie called out,--
"I have it! I'll crawl in there and get a good grip of one of the cubs,
and then you fellows will catch hold of my legs and haul us both out
together."
And so that was the way they managed it, pulling and puffing and toiling
away until, finally, after tremendous exertion, they had the two cubs
lying beside their mother on the ledge.
"Phew! That's quite enough work for me to-day," said Fred, wiping the
perspiration from his forehead.
"For me too!" chorused the others.
"I move we go back to camp and wait there until father comes with his
cart, and then come up here for the bears," said Archie.
"Carried unanimously!" cried the others, and with that they all betook
themselves back to camp.
The rest of the story is soon told. Mr. Mack came along that afternoon,
praised the boys highly for their pluck, and with experienced hands
skinned and cut up the bears. To Archie, as of right, fell the skin of
the old bear, while the others got a cub-pelt apiece, with which they
went triumphantly home to be the heroes of the town for the next nine
days at least.
[Illustration: "THE PERFECTION OF MOTION."]
*TOBOGGANING.*
If skating be the poetry of motion--and who shall say no?--tobogganing
is certainly the perfection of motion. There is nothing of the kind to
surpass it in the world; for coasting, however good, is not to be
mentioned in the same breath with this glorious sport. No previous
acquaintance with fast going--speeding along behind a fast trotter, or
over the shining rails at the tail of a lightning locomotive--would
prepare you for the first shoot down a regular toboggan slide.
The effect upon a beginner is brightly illustrated by the replies of a
fair American who made her first venture at the Montreal Carnival.
Arriving safely at the bottom after a particularly swift descent, she
was asked how she liked it.
"Perfectly splendid!" she gasped, as soon as she recovered her breath.
"I wouldn't have missed it for the world."
"Then, of course, you'll take another?"
"Oh no, indeed! Not for the entire universe."
But she did, all the same, and soon became as enthusiastic over the fun
as any of her Canadian cousins.
All ages and all sorts and conditions of people toboggan in Canada.
Indeed, if you were to ask what is the national winter sport of the New
Dominion, the answer would infallibly be tobogganing. In no other
country was it ever known until within the past few years, when such
accounts of its delights have gone forth that it bids fair to come into
common use wherever there is snow enough to permit it. While it can be
enjoyed to perfection only at the slides specially prepared for the
purpose, any smooth sharp slope with a bit of level plain at its foot,
well covered with snow having a good hard crust, affords the means for
fine sport.
The advantage of the artificial slide is that it can be kept constantly
in order, and therefore may be in first-class condition for sliding when
the snow is altogether too soft and deep upon the hills. These slides
are to be seen in every part of Canada, their gaunt framework rising up
tall and stiff out of some level field, or, better still, upon a
hill-top, thus securing a double elevation. They are roughly yet
strongly constructed of beams and boards, and comprise one, or sometimes
two, long troughs placed side by side, with a flight of stairs
adjoining. These troughs are curved in the shape of a cycloid, and are
from three to five feet wide, the length, of course, varying with the
height of the structure. When winter has finally set in they are paved
with big blocks of ice from bottom to top, over which loose snow is
scattered, and then abundance of water poured on, until, Jack Frost
kindly assisting, the whole is welded together into one solid
substantial mass.
A slide once properly prepared, and kept in order by the addition of a
little more snow and water now and then, will last all winter; and the
more it is used, the faster and truer it becomes. In the grounds of
Rideau Hall, the official residence of the Governor-General of Canada,
there are two immense slides, and tobogganing may there be enjoyed in
full perfection.
Let us suppose we have been invited to one of those brilliant torchlight
fetes which form so popular an item in the programme of the viceroy's
winter hospitality. A more beautiful scene than that which lies all
around and underneath us, when we have accomplished the toilsome ascent
of the steep, slippery stairs of the toboggan slide, can hardly be
imagined. Stretching away from the narrow platform upon which we stand,
two long double lines of flaring torches mark out the slides, slanting
sharply downward until they reach the level far below, and then run off
to hide their endings somewhere in the dusky recesses of the forest. At
our left another line of torches, interspersed with Chinese lanterns,
encircles a gleaming mirror, upon whose surface the skaters glide
smoothly this way and that, while from its centre--looking oddly out of
season, it must be confessed--a Maypole flaunts its rainbow ribbons.
A little further on, the long, low curling rink, gaily decorated,
proclaims good cheer from every lighted window. Turning to our left, we
catch through the trees a glimpse of the other skating pond, with its
ice palace for the band and quaint log hut for tired skaters. Right in
front of us a huge bonfire blazes up, making music with its merry
crackling.
But we have lingered too long in taking all this in. We are stopping
the way, and an impatient crowd is pressing hard upon us. Let us place
our toboggan, then, carefully in the centre of the groove, adjust the
cushions, coil up the cord, and seat ourselves securely, with stout
grasp upon the hand-rail.
"All ready?" cries the steerer.
"Ay, ay!" we reply.
Giving the toboggan a strong shove, he springs on behind, with foot
outstretched for rudder, and the next instant--well, the only way to
describe what follows is that we just drop into space. We don't simply
coast, for so steep, so smooth is the descent that we are not conscious
of having any connection whatever with the solid earth for at least
twenty-five yards, and then, with a bump and rattle and scrape of hard
wood against still harder ice, we speed like an arrow through lines of
flashing light and rows of open-eyed onlookers, until full four hundred
yards away we come gently to a stop in the soft, deep snow amid the
trees.
The ordinary toboggan is made in the following fashion: Three strips of
birch or bass wood, a quarter of an inch thick and from four to eight
feet long by eight or nine inches broad, are put side by side and held
in position by cross-pieces placed about two feet apart, the whole being
bound tightly together by lashings of gut, for which grooves are cut in
the bottom so that they may not be chafed by the snow. The thin end of
the strips is then turned up and over, like the dashboard of a sleigh,
and secured by strong pieces of gut tied under the first cross-piece. A
long thin pole on either side, made fast by loops to the cross-pieces,
for a hand-rail; a comfortable cushion, stuffed with straw, shavings, or
wool, and a long cord, are then added, and behold your toboggan is
complete.
As may be guessed from the use of gut for fastenings, the toboggan is an
Indian invention, and was in use among the red men as a means of winter
conveyance for centuries before the white man saw in it a source of
delightful amusement. It is doubtful if the Indian way of making
toboggans can be much improved upon, although within the past few years
pale-face ingenuity has been exerted toward that end. The peculiarity
of the new toboggans consists in narrow hard-wood slats being used
instead of the broad, thin boards, and screws in place of gut lashings.
For my own part, I prefer the old-fashioned kind. The new-fangled
affairs are no faster, are a good bit heavier, more liable to break, and
being much stiffer, have not that springy motion which forms so
attractive a feature of the others.
A third kind, just now making its appearance, has the hand-rail held
some inches high by means of metal sockets, and the front is gathered
into a peak, while it too is put together with screws. The higher
hand-rail is unquestionably an advantage, and if it prove durable, will
probably render this last style very popular.
In choosing a toboggan you must be careful to select one whose wood is
straight-grained, and as free from knots as possible, precisely as a
cricketer would choose his bat. The cross-pieces should be closely
examined, for they have to endure severe strains, and will be sure to
snap if there is a weak spot in them. Then the gut lashings ought to
have close inspection, especial care being taken to see that they are
well sunk into the wood along the bottom, so as to be safe from chafing.
Where the gut has given way I have substituted strong brass wire with
very good results, after once it was drawn tight enough; but this I
found no easy matter.
Having selected a toboggan to your satisfaction, the next thing is to
cushion it. The cushion should run the whole length, and be not less
than two inches thick. Good stout furniture rep, stuffed with
"excelsior," makes a capital cushion, although some prefer heavy rug
material, and extravagant folk even go the length of fur trappings. The
cushion must be well secured to the hand-rail, or it will give trouble
by slipping off at the first bump.
As to the management of a toboggan, it is not easy to say much more than
that it requires a quick eye, a good nerve, and strength enough to
steer.
There are several ways of steering. One is to sit with feet turned up
in front, and guide the machine by means of sticks held in the hands.
Another is to kneel, and employ the hands in the same way. Then some
very daring and reckless fellows will venture to stand up, and using the
cord as reins, go careering down the slope, with the danger of a
tremendous tumble every moment. The most sensible and effective way of
all, however, is to sit sideways, having one leg curled up underneath
you, and the other stretched out behind, like the steering oar of a
whale-boat, "Yankee fashion," as it is called in Canada. This mode not
only gives you perfect control of your toboggan, but has the further and
very important advantage of making it easy for you to roll off, and
acting as a drag, bring the whole affair to a speedy stop in the event
of danger appearing ahead. More than once have I escaped what might
possibly have been serious injury at the cost of a little rough scraping
over the snow.
From two to six people can sit comfortably on a toboggan, according to
its length. The perfect number is four--a man at the front to bear the
brunt of danger, and ward off the blinding spray of snow, two ladies
next, and then the steerer bringing up the rear, and responsible for the
safety of all. Ah me! but what a grand thing it is to be young enough
to thoroughly enjoy the tobogganing season.
The toboggan has many advantages over the sled such as is used for
coasting. Wherever a sled can go, a toboggan can go also, while on many
a hill that offers splendid tobogganing, a sled would be quite useless.
Again, it is much lighter than the sled, which means that you do not
have to work half so hard for your fun. A third advantage is its
safety, more especially in the hands of children. It has no sharp
iron-shod ends to make ugly gashes in little legs. Tobogganing has its
perils, of course, and I might, if I chose, tell some experiences that
would perhaps cause a nervous thrill; but what sport is absolutely free
from danger? And since Mark Twain has earned the gratitude of us all by
proving that more people die in their beds than anywhere else, why
should the most timid be deterred by the faint possibility of peril from
enjoying one of the finest and most healthful winter amusements in the
world?
[Illustration: Tobogganing tailpiece]
*A MIC-MAC CINDERELLA.*
The dear old stories that delighted us in our nurseries as mother or
sister lured the lingering dustman to our eyes by telling them over and
over, do not by any means belong to us alone. They are the common
property of mankind. Even the most rude and ignorant peoples have them
in some form or other, and the study of these myths and the folk-lore
associated with them is one of the most interesting branches of modern
philology. "Jack the Giant-Killer," "Puss in Boots," "Aladdin and his
Wonderful Lamp," and all the rest of them, have their parallels in the
farthest corners of the globe. They are to be found, too, among the
dusky race whose mothers told them to their children long before
pale-face eyes looked covetously upon American shores and pale-face
powder sent terror into the hearts of brown-skinned braves. Take this
pretty legend of Tee-am and Oo-chig-e-asque as it was told to an
unforgetful listener beside a Mic-Mac camp-fire in Nova Scotia, and,
comparing with our own familiar fable of Cinderella, see if the two are
not alike in so many points as to make it easy to believe they had a
common origin.
In the heart of one of those vast forests that used to cover the Acadian
land with billowy seas of verdure as boundless seemingly as the ocean
itself, lay a large, long lake, at one end of which an Indian village of
more than usual size had grown up. It was a capital place for a
settlement, because the lake abounded with fish, the surrounding forest
with game, and near at hand were sunny glades and bits of open upon
which sufficient corn, beans, and pumpkins could be raised for the needs
of the inhabitants. So highly did these village folk value their good
fortune that they would allow no other Indians to share it, and any
attempt to settle near that lake meant the massacre or flight of the
rash intruders. A little way from the village the lake shore rose up
into a kind of eminence having a clump of trees upon its crown, and in
the midst of this clump stood a wigwam that had more interest for the
maidens of the place than any other. They would often watch the
smoke-wreaths curling up through the trees, and wish that in some
mysterious way they could get into the interior of that wigwam without
the occupants having any warning; and many times they would, quite by
chance, you know, wander off in that direction, or along the beach
below, where the owner's canoe would be drawn up when he was at home,
looking out very eagerly and very hopefully from their brown eyes, but
always returning from their quest disappointed.
Now what was the reason of their curious conduct? Well, I'll tell you in
a few words. In this wigwam, which was larger and finer than any in the
village, lived a young chief named Tee-am (the Moose), who was not only
very handsome and very rich, but who--most aggravatingly attractive
quality of all--possessed the power of making himself invisible at will,
so that he could be seen only by those to whom he was pleased to reveal
himself. Taking these three things into account, and adding a
fourth--to wit, that Tee-am was generally understood to be meditating
matrimony--is it any wonder that the dusky lasses with seal-brown eyes
and ebon locks took a particularly lively interest in the wigwam on the
Point?
As was very natural under the circumstances, the possessions, merits,
and designs of Tee-am formed the most important item of village gossip,
especially as he had made it known that he would select his wife after
so curious, not to say ungallant, a fashion; for instead of his going
awooing among the girls, he proposed that the girls should come awooing
to him. Adorned in their bravest attire, and looking their very
prettiest, the maidens were to present themselves before him, and the
first one that could see him plainly enough to describe what he had on,
he would marry. The way they went about it was as follows:--They washed
their faces, anointed their heads, bedecked themselves with their
brightest ornaments, and then directed their steps to the wigwam of
Tee-am, arranging it so as to arrive there a little before the hour of
the young chief's return from his daily hunting foray. Tee-am's sister,
who kept house for him, and of whom he was very fond, would receive them
graciously, and together they would go down to the shore to await the
hunter's coming. Presently a fine canoe would be seen gliding swiftly
over the lake's calm surface. Eagerly the maidens peer through the
gathering shadows; but the canoe seems impelled by magic, for no human
hand is visible. As it nears the shore the sister asks,--
"Nemeeyok richigunum?" (Do you see my brother?)
Every eye is strained in the direction of the canoe, and some over-eager
maiden--imagination coming to the aid of desire--would perhaps pretend
she could see its mysterious occupant.
"Coo-goo-way wisko-book-sich?" (Of what is his carrying-strap made?) is
then asked.
This was a poser. But a lucky guess might possibly hit the mark; so the
aspirant for the chief's hand would make answer that it was a piece of
raw hide, or withe, or something else that had been known to be applied
to such a use.
"Oh, no!" the sister would reply softly, but crushing out all hope.
"Let us go home. You have not seen my brother."
And so they would go back to the wigwam, where, a little later, they
would be tantalized by seeing the sister taking a load of game
apparently from the air, and a pair of moccasins from feet that
obstinately refused to be visible. Thus they were convinced that there
was no deception--that Tee-am was really present, although they could
not see him. One after another the village maidens had tried their luck
"Moose-hunting," as they called it; but all had failed alike to catch
even a glimpse of the provoking master of the wigwam on the Point.
Matters had gone on in this unsatisfactory fashion for some time, and
the fastidious Tee-am bid fair to be an old bachelor, when he was saved
from so sad a fate in the way I shall now proceed to relate. Near the
centre of the village stood a large wigwam, in which dwelt a widower who
had three daughters, the eldest of whom was a tall, fine-looking girl:
the second a medium-sized, rather plain girl; and the youngest a short,
slight, delicate little creature, with a pretty, pleading face, who was
despised by her big sister, and very cruelly treated by her, because she
seemed so weak and useless. In fact, poor Oo-chig-e-asque led a
wretched life of it; for her sister, who was of course mistress of the
tent, would lay far heavier tasks upon her than she could possibly
perform, and then if they were not done, would beat her most
unmercifully, and sometimes even burn her with brands from the fire.
When her father, who, to tell the truth, was but an indifferent sort of
a parent, would find her covered with burns and bruises, and ask the
meaning of it, the elder sister would reply that she had fallen into the
fire, or tripped over a tree root, or something of that kind; and
neither Oo-chig-e-asque nor the second sister dared contradict her, they
were both so much afraid of her strong hands. So this shameful state of
affairs continued until the poor girl's condition was most pitiable; for
her hair was singed off close to her head, her face and body scarred
with burns and bruises, and her back bent with toil it was not strong
enough to bear.
[Illustration: "'WE ARE DISCOVERED AT LAST,' HE SAYS."]