Indian Jake flung the big namaycush into the snow at the tilt door.
David and Andy dropped the bag of whitefish by its side, and all,
rushing into the tilt, seized their rifles and cartridge bags.
“You lads go up through th’ woods and look for ’em on that side,”
directed Indian Jake. “I’ll go up along th’ shore. We’ll be sure to
get ’em one side or the other.”
Without a word David and Andy, at a run, but with as little noise as
possible, took the direction indicated. Indian Jake, running where he
was hidden by brush, stooping low where there was danger that the
caribou might see him, followed the ice close to the shore where
overhanging brush offered cover to his movements, but where there was
firm footing, and he could travel at good speed.
As they neared the place where the caribou had last been seen, the
boys moved more cautiously. They stole through the trees without a
sound. Their rifles were held ready for instant use.
Suddenly a shot rang out. At the same instant came a sound of crashing
bushes, and three caribou burst through the willow brush that lined
the lake, and dashed into the forest. David and Andy threw their
rifles to their shoulders and fired simultaneously, but with one
fleeting glimpse the animals were lost among the thick foliage of the
spruce trees.
“They’re gone!” exclaimed David in great disappointment. “We missed
un, and we won’t get any of un now!”
“Jake got in one shot,” consoled Andy. “Maybe he knocked _one_ of un
down _what_ever.”
“Let’s have a look where they went through,” suggested David, leading
the way.
“What’s that? Did you hear that?” asked Andy, as the sound of a
movement came to their ears.
“It’s a deer!” shouted David excitedly, running in the direction the
caribou had taken. “We hit un! We knocked one down! See un?”
They had indeed wounded a big caribou. Hidden by the trees it had run
for a score of yards before it fell, and had been out of their line of
vision until they reached a point where they had a clear view of the
trail the fleeing caribou had made in the snow. The caribou was now
vainly struggling to regain its feet, and a bullet from David’s rifle
was sent to end its suffering.
“A good shot!” said Indian Jake, who had heard the firing and now
overtook the boys.
“Did you knock one down too?” asked Andy excitedly.
“No, I made a clean miss of ’em,” Indian Jake confessed. “They got a
sniff of us and took fright, and I just took a chance shot. You lads
made good shootin’ t’ catch ’em running!”
“We never thought we touched un,” said David “We never has time t’
take fair aim. We just pulls up and lets go.”
“_’Twas_ quick shootin’,” declared Andy. “I wonder which of us hit
un--you or me--Davy?”
But they were never to know that, and it mattered little. They had
secured fresh meat, which was needed, and that was the chief
consideration.
“He’s good and fat,” said David, prodding the carcass with his toe.
“He’s like t’ have four fingers o’ fat on _his_ back.”
“And we’ll have deer’s meat for Christmas!” exclaimed Andy.
“We’d better skin him right away, before he freezes,” said Indian
Jake, drawing his sheath knife.
With David’s assistance Indian Jake deftly and quickly removed the
skin, while Andy hurried to the tilt to fetch an ax and a toboggan.
Then they dressed the carcass, cut the meat into convenient pieces,
and in less than half an hour were returning to the tilt with an
abundant supply of fresh meat, and very well satisfied with the result
of their morning’s work.
The meat of the bear which Andy had killed at the time of their
arrival had long since been consumed. Of late they had relied upon
rabbits and partridges, and, save for a limited stock of pork, were
without fat, which is a necessity in the severe climate of the North.
As David had said, the caribou was fat, and in splendid condition, and
yielded them an abundant store for several weeks.
They were as hungry as wolves when they drew the toboggan load of meat
before the tilt door. David kindled a fire at once, while Andy put
over the kettle and Indian Jake cut some luscious steaks to fry, and
their dinner became a feast.
“Now,” said Andy, “we’ll have meat and fish both for Christmas, but
I’ll be missin’ th’ plum duff. I wish we’d brought some currants and
then we could have the duff, and as fine a Christmas dinner as ever we
has at home.”
“You’re wishin’ for a lot, seems to me,” remarked Indian Jake.
In the afternoon a platform was erected outside, upon which to store
the meat and fish. Here the reserve supply would remain frozen until
required, and at the same time be safe from the attack of animals. And
when they set out upon the trails on Monday morning both Indian Jake
and the boys placed liberal pieces of venison upon their toboggans,
with which to stock their other tilts.
The following Friday evening David and Andy reached the Narrows tilt
in advance of Indian Jake. They had hurried, for this was Christmas
eve, and they wished a long evening to talk of those at home. It was
to be the first Christmas they had ever spent from home, and all day a
picture of the snug, warm cabin at The Jug had been before them as
they trudged through the silent, snow-clad wilderness.
It was cold. Their adikys were thickly coated with hoar frost. The fur
of the hoods, encircling their faces, was heavy with ice, accumulated
moisture from the breath.
Twilight was deepening, and the snow-covered tilt within was dark.
David lighted a candle, and the boys picked the ice from their
eyelashes--always a painful operation. A handful of birch bark and
some split wood had been left ready prepared, and David thrust them
into the stove and applied a match. A moment later the fire was
roaring cheerfully.
Then they unpacked their toboggan, stowed the things in the tilt, and
Andy took his ax and the kettle to their water hole while David with
his ax went out to the elevated platform and secured a generous
portion of the frozen namaycush. And when presently Andy returned with
the kettle of water and David with the fish, the tilt was as warm and
comfortable as any one could wish.
“Now,” said David as they removed their adikys, and after shaking the
frost from them hung them upon pegs, “we’ll have a fine rest till
Monday. We can sleep till daybreak if we wants. There’ll be no workin’
on Christmas, _what_ever.”
“And we’ll have a fine dinner tomorrow,” Andy appended
enthusiastically, “and have all day t’ talk and do as we please.”
“That we will,” said David.
“I wish, now, we had some currants t’ make th’ plum duff like Margaret
always makes on Christmas,” said Andy wistfully. “We’ll have a good
dinner, but ’twill be no different from what we has every day.”
“We’ve only been havin’ th’ deer’s meat this week, and we never tires
of un, and we’ve got plenty t’ eat, _what_ever,” said David.
“That we has, and ’tis wonderful good!” agreed Andy. “We has a fine
snug place t’ rest in, and as fine grub as any one could want, and
enough t’ be thankful for. I were just wishin’ for plum duff so’s t’
have somethin’ different on Christmas. But we’re hunters now, and we
can’t expect all the fine things we has at home.”
“Plum duff!” the exclamation came from Indian Jake, who had come so
silently that the boys had not heard him until at that moment he
opened the door. “Plum duff in a huntin’ camp! Ain’t you forgot about
plum duff yet? You’ll be wantin’ sweets next!”
“I was just _wishin’_,” explained Andy.
“They’s no use wishin’ for things can’t be had,” said Indian Jake,
pushing back the hood of his adiky and warming his fingers for a
moment before going out of doors to unpack his toboggan.
Indian Jake was, to all appearances, in no very good humor. The boys
fell silent, while David proceeded to fry a pan of fish. Presently the
half-breed returned with his belongings, and stowing them under his
bunk he remarked:
“Don’t meddle with un, now.”
After he had hung up his adiky he lighted his pipe and smoked
silently, speaking never a word, and seemingly forgetful of the boys’
presence, until David announced:
“Grub’s ready, Jake.”
This was an appealing announcement. The half-breed knocked the ashes
from his pipe, helped himself liberally, and at once became more
sociable.
“What fur this week?” he asked expectantly, as he ate.
“One marten and one red,” announced David. “How’d you make out, Jake?”
“Not so bad,” said Indian Jake. “Did you fetch th’ marten and red
down?”
“Yes, you can see un after supper if you likes,” offered David.
“This is fine fish,” remarked Indian Jake, after a little. “’Twas a
fine catch, Andy.”
“Aye, ’twere that!” admitted Andy. “But I never could have got he
without you and David helpin’.”
Indian Jake was silent again, and scarcely spoke another word during
the whole evening. He examined the marten and fox skins, when David
produced them, with an eye of critical appraisement and evident
appreciation, but offered no comments. Once or twice, as the boys
chatted of home and made an effort to draw him into the conversation,
he merely grunted the briefest reply. Indeed it seemed to be his wish
to be left to his pipe and his thoughts, undisturbed, and they said no
more to him nor he to them.