I FIND A COMPANION
Impatient as I was to start on my journey, I had no intention of taking
any risks, for I well knew the treachery of spring weather, and that a
belated snow-storm might yet arrive.
I therefore determined to wait until the weather was unquestionably
settled and there was no further chance of a snowfall, which I knew
would not be for several months.
This enforced period of waiting seemed to pass more slowly than all the
time I had spent in the wilderness, and I strove to keep my hands and
brain busy. Already the spring thaws had set in, the lake was free from
ice, bare patches of earth showed here and there upon exposed hillsides,
and brooks and rivulets were transformed to roaring torrents.
The weather had become so warm that I was glad to discard my fur
garments, and in their place I donned trouser-like leggings and a loose,
shirt-like blouse which I had fashioned from deer-skin. They were
roughly made, devoid of fit, but strong, warm, and comfortable. In this
rude garb, with my face hidden under an untrimmed beard, and hair
falling to my shoulders, I was a veritable Crusoe of the wilderness.
With the breaking of winter game became more plentiful and I found many
deer tracks in the woods, and while following one of these I made a
great discovery which, had I known of it sooner, would have made my life
in the woods much more bearable.
The track I was following led to a portion of the forest which I had not
visited before, and soon it was joined by numerous other tracks, until I
found myself walking along a well-beaten path or trail.
It was evidently a much-traveled runway, and, feeling confident that I
would find deer close at hand, I moved forward with the utmost caution,
stealing through the thickets, taking advantage of every bit of cover,
and peering from behind trees at each turn or twist in the trail. I had
thus proceeded for fully half a mile when I came in view of a small,
open space, bare of vegetation, and, standing near the center, with head
bent to the ground as if feeding upon the mud, was a splendid deer.
Here indeed was luck, for the creature was unaware of my presence and I
was within easy bow-shot. Raising myself cautiously above the fallen
tree behind which I crouched, I fitted my best arrow to my bow, drew it
to the head, and aimed at the sleek, brown body. At the twang of the
string the deer tossed up his head and leaped forward, but the speeding
arrow was swifter than his muscles; it struck fair behind his
shoulder-blade, and he plunged forward to the earth, killed as quickly
as if by a rifle-ball.
Much as I needed his hide and meat, I could not help regretting that it
had been necessary to destroy the life of such a splendid creature, and
I marveled that I had ever been able to hunt and kill such harmless,
beautiful animals and call it sport.
While bending over the deer I noticed for the first time that the spot
whereon I stood was covered with little patches of white and that the
deer’s muzzle was coated with the same white substance. Wondering at
this, I stooped, scraped up a bit of the strange material, and touched
it to my tongue. It was salt.
Instantly I realized why the numerous tracks had led hither, why the
deer had been so intently licking at the caked, muddy ground; the place
was a “salt-lick,” the first I had ever seen, but of which I had often
heard.
[Illustration: “I AIMED AT THE SLEEK, BROWN BODY”]
Throughout my life in the woods I had missed salt terribly, and while I
had become accustomed to going without it, all my old longing came back
to me as I tasted this muddy, bitter salt. I regretted deeply not having
found it before. But I intended to revel in it now, and that night I ate
meat with salt for the first time in many months, and it tasted
wonderfully good.
A short time after this I again bent my steps toward the salt-lick to
obtain a fresh supply of the precious material, and, while I had no
immediate need of more venison or of additional hides, yet I approached
as cautiously as before, for I was curious to see if more deer were at
the spot.
I had almost reached the old tree behind which I had hidden on my former
trip when my ears caught a most unusual sound. It was low and faint and
resembled the moaning wail of a sick child, and yet there was a whining
note to it which did not sound human.
At first I could not locate it, but, by turning my head and listening
intently, I decided it issued from a thick clump of brush beyond the
salt-lick. No living creature was in sight, and, rising, I moved toward
the sound with bow and arrow ready for instant use, for I had no idea
what danger might lurk within the thicket. As I drew near I noticed that
the bare earth was torn and that the salt and mud were reddened with
blood, and I halted as it flashed upon me that the thicket might conceal
a lynx mouthing a deer which it had killed. But as I hesitated the sound
again issued from the bushes, and its wailing, sobbing sound was so
unmistakably the cry of some suffering being in mortal pain that I cast
fear aside and pushed into the brush.
The next instant I stopped short and drew back, for lying upon a
blood-stained bed of dead leaves was a gaunt, gray wolf! I had no need
to fear, however; the poor creature was absolutely helpless, and at
sound of my footsteps merely turned his eyes inquiringly in my
direction, unable even to lift his head from off the ground. A great
gash in his neck and innumerable cuts and tears upon his body showed how
badly he was wounded, and my first thought was to step to him and
mercifully end his misery. But as I bent above him and drew my knife his
dimming eyes gazed at me with such a pleading, wistful expression that
my heart revolted at the thought of killing him and I sheathed the
knife, determined to do my utmost to ease his sufferings.
He was pitifully weak from loss of blood and was emaciated from lack of
food, and I doubted if anything could be done for him, but he seemed to
read my thoughts and, instead of snapping or growling, licked my hand in
dog-like fashion as I tenderly examined the gaping wound in his throat.
It was such a strange, friendly act that my heart was won, and I vowed
that if the creature _did_ survive his hurts I would strive to make him
my companion. I felt that at some time he must have been partially
tamed. I soon found that none of his wounds were really serious in
themselves, for no vital organ had been injured and only loss of blood
and his hunger-weakened state had brought him so near to death. As I
bathed his wounds and poured water from a near-by spring into his
parched mouth I wondered what woodland tragedy had resulted in the
wolf’s condition, and came to the conclusion that he had attacked a deer
and, being weak with hunger, had been beaten off, gored, and trampled
upon by the victorious buck.
The water seemed to revive him greatly. To stop the flow of blood from
his wounds I bound them up as best I could with strips of bark and salt.
Although I knew this must smart and burn the raw flesh terribly, yet the
wolf scarcely uttered a sound of complaint, but bore the torture
stoically while watching my every motion with his tawny eyes. As I
worked I smiled to myself to think what a strange sight we presented—a
wild man of the woods, clad in rude, uncouth garments, with unkempt hair
and beard, ministering to a shaggy, wounded wolf in the heart of the
wilderness.
And when at last the creature’s wounds were dressed and his moans had
ceased, I realized that he must have food, and, speaking to him as I
would to a child, and cautioning him to lie still and to be patient, I
left him and went into the woods in search of game with which to feed
him.
Birds were abundant and the saucy Canada jays, or whisky-jacks, were
very tame, and while I had always left these feathered creatures
unmolested, I felt no hesitation in killing one or two of the jays for
the sake of my wolf-patient.
Returning with these, I cut them up and fed them to the wolf, who
devoured them ravenously and heaved an almost human sigh of satisfaction
as he licked his chops over the last bit of raw flesh.
The question now arose as to what I was to do with the poor beast. He
was too weak to walk, and to carry him to my hut was out of the
question, for to lift or move him would again open his wounds and start
the blood flowing afresh. On the other hand, if left here unprotected in
the woods he might succumb to the chill night air or else some prowling
creature might kill and devour him. Perhaps I was sentimentally foolish
to waste time and thought over a wounded wolf, but to my lonesome mind
he was a fellow-being in distress, and already I had found great
pleasure in attending to his wants and talking to him, and I was as
anxious for his safety and comfort as if he had been a faithful dog.
There seemed to be but one thing to do, which was to build a shelter
over him, provide him with food and water, and leave him alone until the
following day, and I at once set about to erect a lean-to above him.
When the rude protection was at last completed I filled a birch-bark
dish with water and placed it within reach of his head, cut up another
jay and laid this close by, and then, covering him with soft fir boughs
and carefully placing others between his body and the damp earth, I left
him gazing gratefully after me.
The next morning I hurried to the wolf as soon as I had eaten breakfast,
carrying a quantity of meat with me, and to my joy found the creature
much stronger than on the previous afternoon. He was now able partly to
raise his body, and ate the venison and drank water eagerly, and
apparently recognized me as his friend, for when I approached he thumped
his brushy tail upon the leaves in welcome—an act which pleased me
immensely and which also surprised me, for I had never heard that wolves
expressed their feelings in this dog-like manner.
I had brought materials with me with which to dress his wounds properly,
and while I was in some dread that he might snap at me or might resent
my acts while doing this, I soon found I had no cause for fear.
Throughout the tedious and, no doubt, painful process of washing the
cuts, smearing them with bear’s grease and arnica and bandaging them, he
lay almost motionless, only now and then uttering a low moan or a
subdued growl to indicate an unusually severe twinge of pain. He was
still very weak and lame, but despite this he made a brave effort to
rise and follow me when I finally left him, but, finding it impossible,
he sank back upon his bed of fir boughs and howled dismally as he saw me
depart.
The next day I found the wolf well on the road toward recovery and
sitting on his haunches, awaiting me. He greeted me with thumping tail
and short yelps of pleasure, fawned upon me as I fed him, and, much to
my satisfaction, limped along behind me when I started toward my hut.
Knowing how lame and weak he was, I walked very slowly, stopped often to
let him rest, and when at last we reached the clearing he seemed little
the worse for the trip. At sight of the cabin the wolf drew back, as if
suspecting danger or treachery, but when I entered the hut and returned
with a junk of venison, which I held toward him, his hunger overcame all
scruples and he trotted to the door. For some time he sniffed about
suspiciously, with tail drooping and the hair on his neck bristling, and
then, apparently convinced that he had nothing to fear, he entered the
cabin and threw himself down near the fire.
I was genuinely surprised at this behavior, and in fact had marveled at
his tameness and dog-like manner from the first, for it was quite at
variance with all stories I had ever heard of wolves. Long afterward I
learned that a pet wolf-cub had been kept by one of the inhabitants of
the plague-stricken village I had found, and I was then convinced that
Lobo, as I called my wolf, was this same semi-domesticated cub who had
been left to fare for himself when his master died of smallpox.
One who has never lived alone in the heart of a wilderness for many
weary months cannot appreciate the comfort which Lobo was to me. Day and
night he was my constant companion and I talked to him as to a
fellow-man, telling him my plans, asking his opinions on every question
or problem that arose, and consulting him on all matters, to all of
which he replied by wags of his tail, low growls, sharp yelps, or by
licking my hands or face as if he actually understood all that was said
to him.
He soon recovered completely from his injuries, grew sleek and fat and,
if the truth must be confessed, rather lazy, for he had plenty to eat
without the trouble of hunting, and he much preferred the easy existence
he led to the wild life to which he had been accustomed.
With Lobo for a comrade the time passed rapidly, and, the snow having
all disappeared and the “pussies” commencing to swell upon the willows
by the lake, I began making plans for leaving the forest and setting out
on my tramp to the settlements.