PTARMIGAN-HUNTING--HAMILTON'S SHOOTING POWERS SEVERELY TESTED--A
SNOWSTORM.
At about four o'clock on the following morning, the sleepers were
awakened by the cold, which had become very intense. The fire had
burned down to a few embers, which merely emitted enough light to make
darkness visible. Harry, being the most active of the party, was the
first to bestir himself. Raising himself on his elbow, while his teeth
chattered and his limbs trembled with cold, he cast a woebegone and
excessively sleepy glance towards the place where the fire had been;
then he scratched his head slowly; then he stared at the fire again;
then he languidly glanced at Hamilton's sleeping visage; and then he
yawned. The accountant observed all this; for although he appeared to
be buried in the depths of slumber, he was wide awake in reality, and
moreover intensely cold. The accountant, however, was sly--deep, as he
would have said himself--and knew that Harry's active habits would
induce him to rise, on awaking, and rekindle the fire,--an event which
the accountant earnestly desired to see accomplished, but which he as
earnestly resolved should not be performed by _him_. Indeed, it was
with this end in view that he had given vent to the terrific snore which
had aroused his young companion a little sooner than would have
otherwise been the case.
"My eye," exclaimed Harry, in an undertone, "how precious cold it is!"
His eye making no reply to this remark, he arose, and going down on his
hands and knees, began to coax the charcoal into a flame. By dint of
severe blowing, he soon succeeded; and heaping on a quantity of small
twigs, the fitful flame sprang up into a steady blaze. He then threw
several heavy logs on the fire, and in a very short space of time
restored it almost to its original vigour.
"What an abominable row you are kicking up!" growled the accountant;
"why, you would waken the seven sleepers. Oh! mending the fire," he
added, in an altered tone; "ah! I'll excuse you, my boy, since that's
what you're at."
The accountant hereupon got up, along with Hamilton, who was now also
awake, and the three spread their hands over the bright fire, and
revolved their bodies before it, until they imbibed a satisfactory
amount of heat. They were much too sleepy to converse, however, and
contented themselves with a very brief inquiry as to the state of
Hamilton's heels, which elicited the sleepy reply, "They feel quite
well, thank you." In a short time, having become agreeably warm, they
gave a simultaneous yawn, and lying down again fell into a sleep, from
which they did not awaken until the red winter sun shot its early rays
over the arctic scenery.
Once more Harry sprang up, and let his hand fall heavily on Hamilton's
shoulder. Thus rudely assailed, that youth also sprang up, giving a
shout, at the same time, that brought the accountant to his feet in an
instant; and so, as if by an electric spark, the sleepers were
simultaneously roused into a state of wide-awake activity.
"How excessively hungry I feel! isn't it strange?" said Hamilton, as he
assisted in rekindling the fire, while the accountant filled his pipe,
and Harry stuffed the tea-kettle full of snow.
"Strange!" cried Harry, as he placed the kettle on the fire--"strange to
be hungry after a five miles' walk and a night in the snow? I would
rather say it was strange if you were _not_ hungry. Throw on that
billet, like a good fellow, and spit those grouse, while I cut some
pemmican and prepare the tea."
"How are the heels now, Hamilton?" asked the accountant, who divided his
attention between his pipe and his snowshoes, the lines of which
required to be re-adjusted.
"They appear to be as well as if nothing had happened to them," replied
Hamilton. "I've been looking at them, and there is no mark whatever.
They do not even feel tender."
"Lucky for you, old boy, that they were taken in time, else you'd have
had another story to tell."
"Do you mean to say that people's heels really freeze and fall off?"
inquired the other, with a look of incredulity.
"Soft, very soft, and green," murmured Harry, in a low voice, while he
continued his work of adding fresh snow to the kettle as the process of
melting reduced its bulk.
"I mean to say," replied the accountant, tapping the ashes out of his
pipe, "that not only heels, but hands, feet, noses, and ears frequently
freeze, and often fall off in this country, as you will find by sad
experience if you don't look after yourself a little better than you
have done hitherto."
One of the evil effects of the perpetual jesting that prevailed at York
Fort was, that "soft" (in other words, straightforward, unsuspecting)
youths had to undergo a long process of learning-by-experience: first,
_believing_ everything, and then _doubting_ everything, ere they arrived
at that degree of sophistication which enabled them to distinguish
between truth and falsehood.
Having reached the _doubting_ period in his training, Hamilton looked
down and said nothing, at least with his mouth, though his eyes
evidently remarked, "I don't believe you." In future years, however,
the evidence of these same eyes convinced him that what the accountant
said upon this occasion was but too true.
Breakfast was a repetition of the supper of the previous evening.
During its discussion they planned proceedings for the day.
"My notion is," said the accountant, interrupting the flow of words ever
and anon to chew the morsel with which his mouth was filled--"my notion
is, that as it's a fine, clear day we should travel five miles through
the country parallel with North River. I know the ground, and can guide
you easily to the spots where there are lots of willows, and therefore
plenty of ptarmigan, seeing that they feed on willow tops; and the snow
that fell last night will help us a little."
"How will the snow help us?" inquired Hamilton.
"By covering up all the old tracks, to be sure, and showing only the new
ones."
"Well, captain," said Harry, as he raised a can of tea to his lips, and
nodded to Hamilton as if drinking his health, "go on with your proposals
for the day. Five miles up the river to begin with, then--"
"Then we'll pull up," continued the accountant; "make a fire, rest a
bit, and eat a mouthful of pemmican; after which we'll strike across
country for the southern woodcutter's track, and so home."
"And how much will that be?"
"About fifteen miles."
"Ha!" exclaimed Harry; "pass the kettle, please. Thanks.--Do you think
you're up to that, Hammy?"
"I will try what I can do," replied Hamilton. "If the snow-shoes don't
cause me to fall often, I think I shall stand the fatigue very well."
"That's right," said the accountant; "`faint heart,' etcetera, you know.
If you go on as you've begun, you'll be chosen to head the next
expedition to the north pole."
"Well," replied Hamilton good-humouredly, "pray head the present
expedition, and let us be gone."
"Right!" ejaculated the accountant, rising. "I'll just put my odds and
ends out of the reach of the foxes, and then we shall be off."
In a few minutes everything was placed in security, guns loaded,
snow-shoes put on, and the winter camp deserted. At first the walking
was fatiguing, and poor Hamilton more than once took a sudden and
eccentric plunge; but after getting beyond the wooded country, they
found the snow much more compact, and their march, therefore, much more
agreeable. On coming to the place where it was probable that they might
fall in with ptarmigan, Hamilton became rather excited, and apt to
imagine that little lumps of snow which hung upon the bushes here and
there were birds.
"There, now," he cried, in an energetic and slightly positive tone, as
another of these masses of snow suddenly met his eager eye--"that's one,
I'm _quite_ sure."
The accountant and Harry both stopped short on hearing this, and looked
in the direction indicated.
"Fire away, then, Hammy," said the former, endeavouring to suppress a
smile.
"But do you think it _really_ is one?" asked Hamilton anxiously.
"Well, I don't _see_ it exactly, but then, you know, I'm near-sighted."
"Don't give him a chance of escape," cried Harry, seeing that his friend
was undecided. "If you really do see a bird, you'd better shoot it, for
they've got a strong propensity to take wing when disturbed."
Thus admonished, Hamilton raised his gun and took aim. Suddenly he
lowered his piece again, and looking round at Harry, said in a low
whisper--
"Oh, I should like _so_ much to shoot it while flying! Would it not be
better to set it up first?"
"By no means," answered the accountant. "`A bird in the hand,'
etcetera. Take him as you find him--look sharp; he'll be off in a
second."
Again the gun was pointed, and, after some difficulty in taking aim,
fired.
"Ah, what a pity you've missed him!" shouted Harry. "But see, he's not
off yet; how tame he is, to be sure! Give him the other barrel, Hammy."
This piece of advice proved to be unnecessary. In his anxiety to get
the bird, Hamilton had cocked both barrels, and while gazing, half in
disappointment, half in surprise, at the supposed bird, his finger
unintentionally pressed the second trigger. In a moment the piece
exploded. Being accidentally aimed in the right direction, it blew the
lump of snow to atoms, and at the same time, hitting its owner on the
chest with the butt, knocked him over flat upon his back.
"What a gun it is, to be sure!" said Harry, with a roguish laugh, as he
assisted the discomfited sportsman to rise; "it knocks over game with
butt and muzzle at once."
"Quite a rare instance of one butt knocking another down," added the
accountant.
At this moment a large flock of ptarmigan, startled by the double
report, rose with a loud, whirring noise about a hundred yards in
advance, and after flying a short distance alighted.
"There's real game at last, though," cried the accountant, as he hurried
after the birds, followed closely by his young friends.
They soon reached the spot where the flock had alighted, and after
following up the tracks for a few yards further, set them up again. As
the birds rose the accountant fired, and brought down two; Harry shot
one and missed another; Hamilton being so nervously interested in the
success of his comrades that he forgot to fire at all.
"How stupid of me!" he exclaimed, while the others loaded their guns.
"Never mind; better luck next time," said Harry, as they resumed their
walk. "I saw the flock settle down about half a mile in advance of us;
so step out."
Another short walk brought the sportsmen again within range.
"Go to the front, Hammy," said the accountant, "and take the first shot
this time."
Hamilton obeyed. He had scarcely made ten steps in advance, when a
single bird, that seemed to have been separated from the others, ran
suddenly out from under a bush, and stood stock-still, at a distance of
a few yards, with its neck stretched out and its black eye wide open, as
if in astonishment.
"Now, then, you can't miss _that_."
Hamilton was quite taken aback by the suddenness of this necessity for
instantaneous action. Instead, therefore, of taking aim leisurely
(seeing that he had abundant time to do so), he flew entirely to the
opposite extreme--took no aim at all, and fired off both barrels at
once, without putting the gun to his shoulder. The result of this was
that the affrighted bird flew away unharmed, while Harry and the
accountant burst spontaneously into fits of laughter.
"How very provoking!" said the poor youth, with a dejected look.
"Never mind--never say die--try again," said the accountant, on
recovering his gravity. Having reloaded, they continued the pursuit.
"Dear me!" exclaimed Harry suddenly, "here are three dead birds.--I
verily believe, Hamilton, that you have killed them all at one shot by
accident."
"Can it be possible?" exclaimed his friend, as with a look of amazement
he regarded the birds.
There was no doubt about the fact. There they lay, plump and still
warm, with one or two drops of bright red blood upon their white
plumage. Ptarmigan are almost pure white, so that it requires a
practised eye to detect them, even at a distance of a few yards; and it
would be almost impossible to hunt them without dogs, but for the
tell-tale snow, in which their tracks are distinctly marked, enabling
the sportsman to follow them up with unerring certainty. When Hamilton
made his bad shot, neither he nor his companions observed a group of
ptarmigan not more than fifty yards before them, their attention being
riveted at the time on the solitary bird; and the gun happening to be
directed towards them when it was fired, three were instantly and
unwittingly placed _hors de combat_, while the others ran away. This
the survivors frequently do when very tame, instead of taking wing.
Thus it was that Hamilton, to his immense delight, made such a
successful shot without being aware of it.
Having bagged their game, the party proceeded on their way. Several
large flocks of birds were raised, and the gamebags nearly filled,
before reaching the spot where they intended to turn and bend their
steps homewards. This induced them to give up the idea of going
further; and it was fortunate they came to this resolution, for a storm
was brewing, which in the eagerness of pursuit after game they had not
noticed.
Dark masses of leaden-coloured clouds were gathering in the sky
overhead, and faint sighs of wind came, ever and anon, in fitful gusts
from the north-west.
Hurrying forward as quickly as possible, they now pursued their course
in a direction which would enable them to cross the woodcutters' track.
This they soon reached, and finding it pretty well beaten, were enabled
to make more rapid progress. Fortunately the wind was blowing on their
backs, otherwise they would have had to contend not only with its
violence, but also with the snow-drift, which now whirled in bitter fury
among the trees, or scoured like driving clouds over the plain. Under
this aspect, the flat country over which they travelled seemed the
perfection of bleak desolation. Their way, however, did not lie in a
direct line. The track was somewhat tortuous, and gradually edged
towards the north, until the wind blew nearly in their teeth. At this
point, too, they came to the stretch of open ground which they had
crossed at a point some miles further to the north ward in their night
march. Here the storm raged in all its fury, and as they looked out
upon the plain, before quitting the shelter of the wood, they paused to
tighten their belts and readjust their snow-shoe lines. The gale was so
violent that the whole plain seemed tossed about like billows of the
sea, as the drift rose and fell, curled, eddied, and dashed along, so
that it was impossible to see more than half a dozen yards in advance.
"Heaven preserve us from ever being caught in an exposed place on such a
night as this!" said the accountant, as he surveyed the prospect before
him. "Luckily, the open country here is not more than a quarter of a
mile broad, and even that little bit will try our wind somewhat."
Hamilton and Harry seemed by their looks to say, "We could easily face
even a stiffer breeze than that, if need be."
"What should we do," inquired the former, "if the plain were five or six
miles broad?"
"Do? why, we should have to camp in the woods till it blew over, that's
all," replied the accountant; "but seeing that we are not reduced to
such a necessity just now, and that the day is drawing to a close, let
us face it at once. I'll lead the way; and see that you follow close at
my heels. Don't lose sight of me for a moment, and if you do by chance,
give a shout; d'ye hear?"
The two lads replied in the affirmative, and then bracing themselves up
as if for a great effort, stepped vigorously out upon the plain, and
were instantly swallowed up in clouds of snow. For half an hour or more
they battled slowly against the howling storm, pressing forward for some
minutes with heads down, as if _boring_ through it, then turning their
backs to the blast for a few seconds' relief, but always keeping as
close to each other as possible. At length the woods were gained; on
entering which it was discovered that Hamilton was missing.
"Hollo! where's Hamilton?" exclaimed Harry; "I saw him beside me not
five minutes ago."
The accountant gave a loud shout, but there was no reply. Indeed,
nothing short of his own stentorian voice could have been heard at all
amid the storm.
"There's nothing for it," said Harry, "but to search at once, else he'll
wander about and get lost." Saying this, he began to retrace his steps,
just as a brief lull in the gale took place.
"Hollo! don't you hear a cry, Harry?"
At this moment there was another lull; the drift fell, and for an
instant cleared away, revealing the bewildered Hamilton, not twenty
yards off, standing like a pillar of snow, in mute despair.
Profiting by the glimpse, Harry rushed forward, caught him by the arm,
and led him into the partial shelter of the forest.
Nothing further befell them after this. Their route lay in shelter all
the way to the fort. Poor Hamilton, it is true, took one or two of his
occasional plunges by the way, but without any serious result--not even
to the extent of stuffing his nose, ears, neck, mittens, pockets,
gun-barrels, and everything else with snow, because, these being quite
full and hard packed already, there was no room left for the addition of
another particle.