REMARKABLE SUCCESS.
Of all the lucky hunters I ever knew I accord the bun to Na-ta-way.
He was one of the engaged servants at the post in Canada, and
whenever he put on his snowshoes and sailed forth from the gates,
some creature or bird would cross his path or vision. To do this and
come within reasonable distance of Na-ta-way's small bore,
muzzle-loading rifle was sure and speedy death to the unfortunate
beast or bird.
I could never understand why he chose to be a servant in the Company
in preference to being free to roam the lakes, rivers and forests,
because had he elected to follow the occupation of a trapper and
hunter he could not have failed to make double the money. Other
Indians had traps set all around and quite near the post and yet
Na-ta-way would kill as much as the average one, with only a poor
half day off and his day on Sunday.
I never saw his equal for quickness in setting deadfalls or rabbit
snares. However, this partakes more of a biography than what I set
out to relate, and yet it is an indispensable digression to enable
the reader to believe the wonderful and remarkable success this man
had one day when he was given leave from daylight to night. There was
a weighty reason for this extra freedom from duty for the fact was
the post people were short of meat. The month was April and our
frozen supply nearly used up.
Na-ta-way knew of a single moose yard, or more properly speaking, a
yard with a single moose as occupant. To kill a lone moose on the
crust does not require the combined efforts of two or more persons,
therefore Na-ta-way was told to go and kill the moose and skin and
quarter the animal, which considering the distance to go and come,
amounted to a very good day's work. But Na-ta-way besides doing this
and doing it well, accomplished much more.
Coming down from the moose mountain to get better walking, he crossed
the fresh tracks of a large bear. This was nuts to our man. He
immediately turned aside and followed up the trail, ramming down one
of his little pea bullets as he went. The heat of the morning sun had
softened the crust of the night and Mr. Bruin was making headway with
difficulty. In fact, Na-ta-way had not gone over half a mile when he
sighted the bear and was very soon close up to him.
The bear had two kind of ideas. One was to climb a tree and the
second to run away, neither of which was carried into effect, for a
bullet stopped the cowardly act of running, and a second one in the
ear stilled him forever. The skin and the paws were all the hunter
carried away. The meat would be got when the men came for the moose.
Na-ta-way was very soon swinging on down the mountain and struck a
creek which emptied into one of a chain of lakes, that in turn
drained into the big Ka-kee-bon-ga lake upon which the post was
situated. Following down this creek he noticed ahead of him a mink,
working his way up along the shore, noseing every hole as he came.
Nothing was too big or too small for Na-ta-way. Poor little mink!
When he got abreast of the man on the ice, stood on its hind legs to
get a better view of the strange object, but at that instant its
sight became blurred, for it tumbled over dead. It was so full of
life, energy and curiosity a few moments ago, was now being carried
on the Indian's back, shoved into the folds of the bear skin.
But then, if we moralize, a man is walking with elastic step along a
street when Presto! the heart stops, and he is being carried feet
foremost by some three or four horror-struck pedestrians.
The hour was then high noon, snow soft and walking bad. Na-ta-way had
covered several miles and done much since he had left his bed that
morning. His inner man began to crave for food, the conditions were
favorable, wood water and a sunny bank. What could be more alluring
to a weary man? A bright fire was soon burning with the ever welcome
tea kettle hanging in the blaze, the hunter on his knees in front
waiting for it to boil.
Another digression right here. I never saw a man make tea, but after
chucking in an ample quantity of the precious leaves from China,
would throw in another pinch, either to make sure of there being a
proper strength in the brew or for good luck. Be the reason what it
may, they all do it. I do it myself.
Continuing on his march after his mid-day lunch, Na-ta-way came to a
small lake. What is it that causes him to stop and cast his eyes
about? The lake is full banks and therefore at that season must
contain beaver. Yes, there stood the lodge on the opposite side and a
well understood mark leading from the open water in front up into the
bush. The beaver had come out the day before.
What Indian, or white man for that matter, can resist the chance
offered to eat beaver meat? Na-ta-way looked at the Indians' clock,
the sun, with a satisfied expression and his mind was made up; he
would wait the coming ashore to feed. A comfortable spot was selected
within gun shot of the place of debarkation. Here he tramped a hole
in soft snow and strewed some balsam branches on the bottom upon
which he crouched and waited.
There was no uncertainty as in the song the girl sang, "He cometh
not," for he had hardly taken up his position before out struggled a
young beaver and passed up the path leading to the young growth of
trees. But Na-ta-way knew better than to fire at this one. No, the
beaver passed on and up, giving grunts of anticipation. Number two
came ashore and ambled inland without being molested. Now, however,
Na-ta-way was all alertness. With his rifle cocked and his belt axe
handy in front he waited the advent of another emblem of Canada. In a
few minutes out he came to join his brothers or sisters who were
already feasting on young sappy trees.
The crack of the rifle echoed far and near in the clear, mild
atmosphere, but before it died away, the Indian stood over the shot
beaver and barred the path against the frightened returning ones. The
first coming down the hill he shot. The whole slaughter was well
planned and carried out.
Three young beaver make a pretty solid lump on a man's back, but a
hunter may leave moose meat and bear's meat in the bush to a chance
wolf, but beaver, no! hardly! even if he has to make double trips.
Na-ta-way had carried heavy weights slung by a portage strap across
his forehead from childhood and could well support and carry what he
now had.
I well remember that night when he entered our kitchen and let slide
off his back that mixture of beaver, mink and bear skin. In fourteen
hours he had walked about ten miles and killed: 1 moose, 1 mink, 1
bear and 3 beaver. Verily this was luck or success.