Indian Jake took a straight course down the lake and through the
Narrows. Crossing the lower expansion he turned upon the broad white
bed of the river. This he followed until he reached a point where the
ice, covering the swift flowing current, became unsafe. Here he
entered the forest skirting the north bank, and under cover of the
trees kept his rapid pace until mid-afternoon.
During the forenoon the storm had been steadily increasing in
violence. Traveling had become uncomfortable and difficult, and,
choosing a convenient place to pitch his tent, Indian Jake stretched
it between two trees. A full ten feet of snow covered the forest floor
and with no attempt to clear a camping place he proceeded to make
himself comfortable on the surface of the snow.
He first secured the tent around the bottom with long pegs that sunk
deep into the snow and held the canvas firm and taut. Then with his ax
he cut two green butts of trees, and laying them side by side and a
few inches apart just within the tent, erected his tent stove upon
them. The green butts would not burn easily, and their ends, extending
a considerable distance beyond the stove on each side, would support
it and prevent its sinking when the snow beneath melted with the heat.
From within the stove he withdrew three lengths of stovepipe, joined
them and set them in position, and the stove was ready for a fire.
Before kindling the fire, however, Indian Jake gathered several
armfuls of boughs, snapping them from low-hanging limbs with a deft
twist of the wrist. These he spread with some care, as a carpet for
the tent, and as a protection from the snow beneath. Indian Jake’s
shelter now prepared to his satisfaction, he unlashed the toboggan,
carried the contents within, and stowed them away with a view to
comfort and convenience.
Then taking his ax he devoted himself to chopping firewood of proper
length for the stove. Swinging his ax dexterously and industriously
for thirty minutes, a sufficient supply was accumulated to serve his
needs for several hours. This he piled in neat tiers just within the
tent entrance, where it would be at hand when required. With a piece
of birch bark for tinder, he now lighted a fire in the stove, and
taking his kettle and ax went to the river for water.
When he returned a few minutes later the tent was warm and
comfortable. He placed the kettle upon the stove, removed his adiky,
and turned his attention to the preparation of dinner. Indian Jake had
eaten nothing since early morning, and he was hungry.
Some fried whitefish and pork, some generous pieces of camp bread, and
several cups of hot tea made a substantial and satisfying meal. When
they were disposed of, the half-breed sliced black tobacco from a
plug, filled his pipe, lighted it from the fire with a shaving, and
settled himself for luxurious rest.
After the manner of those who are much alone, Indian Jake had the
habit of thinking aloud, and now he proceeded to converse audibly with
himself.
“Fifteen hundred dollars worth of fur,” said he. “It’s a fine hunt,
takin’ it all, with what th’ lads got. I never had half as much fur at
one time in my life before. I made a good hunt myself. With theirs it
makes a fine lot. But they’re dead, and they’ll never know what I got;
I never told ’em. And they’ll never know what I does with any of it.”
He was silent for a time, then continued:
“They was good fellers t’ hunt with. They had a good lot o’ grit, too.
It was pretty hard for ’em sometimes, on nasty days, but they stuck to
it, and got th’ fur. I had some good times with ’em, too. Had a good
time Christmas, surprisin’ ’em with th’ goose and puddin’. I wonder
why ’tis I like t’ surprise folks, and get a good time out’n doin’ it.
I had one surprise for ’em they’ll never know about. I wonder how
they’d have liked _that_ surprise.
“They brought th’ fur down to th’ Narrows tilt when I told ’em to. Th’
little feller wanted me t’ bring mine in too, but I wa’n’t goin’ t’ let
’em know what I had. He kinder suspicioned me, or somethin’. The way
it turned out their fur was safe enough. I’d have got th’ fur anyhow
when I went up t’ look for ’em.
“If I’d known where their traps were set I could ha’ gone over ’em.
They might have some fur in ’em. I could ’a’ struck ’em up and took
care of ’em, too, like I did on my trail. ’Twouldn’t have hurt me any
to do that much for Tom Angus. He let me hunt his trail. But he’ll
find ’em when he comes in next fall.”
After a little silence he mused:
“I wonder how Tom Angus is goin’ t’ take it when they don’t show up.”
Indian Jake’s pipe had gone out. He pushed the ashes down in the bowl,
relit it, renewed the fire in the stove, and rising looked out between
the tent flaps at the falling snow. Returning to his seat he remarked:
“Likely t’ be a nasty day tomorrow, and I may as well stay here. No
use travelin’ in nasty weather. They’s plenty o’ time. Guess I’ll take
it easy. Nobody to worry about me, and I’m just as much t’ home here
as anywhere. I got grub enough. I may meet up with some o’ th’ Injuns,
and I can travel with them.
“Home!” said he, after a silence. “Th’ lads were thinkin’ a big lot
about th’ time when they’d go home. Now they’ll never go there. Home’s
th’ finest place in th’ world t’ be when a feller has one. Huh! What’s
th’ use thinkin’ about that. I’ll be gettin’ homesick for a home I
ain’t got. This tent’s a good enough home. It’s got t’ suit me,
anyhow. It’s all right.”
The next day it stormed, as Indian Jake had predicted, and he did not
leave his camp, but the morning following was clear, and he again set
forward.
At midday the half-breed halted to boil the kettle, and making his way
toward the river to obtain water, he suddenly stopped and sniffed the
air. The wind was blowing up from the opposite side of the river.
“Smoke!” he exclaimed. “They’s some one camped across the river!”
Cautiously he stole down to the river bank, and from the cover of
brush scanned the opposite shore. His sharp eyes quickly detected half
hidden by trees and drift, a small log tilt. Smoke was rising from the
protruding stovepipe.
“Who can that be trappin’ in there?” Indian Jake asked himself.
As though in answer to his question the tilt door opened, and Uncle
Ben Rudder, with kettle and ax, came down to the river, cut open a
water hole, filled his kettle and returned to the tilt.
“Th’ old wolverine!” exclaimed Indian Jake when Uncle Ben had
disappeared. “What’s he doin’ in here? Tried t’ keep me from huntin’!
If he’d had _his_ way Thomas Angus wouldn’t have let me have the Seal
Lake trail! Always meddlin’ with other folks’ business! Well, I got
th’ trail, and th’ fur too, you old skunk!”
The half-breed grinned triumphantly, and his face was not pleasant to
see then.
“He’ll find out somethin’ before I’m through with him,” added Indian
Jake, and turning about with his unfilled kettle he cautiously
returned under cover of the trees to his toboggan. “Wouldn’t he like
t’ run on me now! Wouldn’t he like t’ know about th’ fur I’ve got!”
Indian Jake resumed his journey. To light a fire would be too
dangerous, for even with the wind in an opposite direction, a whiff of
smoke carried across the river might disclose his presence to Uncle
Ben, and Indian Jake had reason to look upon Uncle Ben as an enemy
that just at the present time he did not care to encounter.
Camping at night and traveling leisurely by day, Indian Jake continued
down the valley of the Nascaupee until, one afternoon, a little way
above the place where the river empties into Grand Lake, he fell upon
numerous indications of the presence of bears. A careful examination
satisfied him that these were made late the previous fall, and that
there were at least two, and possibly more bears, hibernating in the
immediate vicinity. His Indian instinct to permit no game to escape
him was aroused. Presently the bears would come forth from their long
winter sleep. They would be hungry, and could easily be trapped. The
temptation was too strong to be resisted.
“I’ll have time t’ get away over th’ ice,” he decided. “I can fix up
some sort of a canoe while I’m waitin’, and if I get caught by th’
break-up I can make out. Like as not some of th’ Injuns’ll be along
anyhow. They’ll let me go along with ’em. I’m thinkin’ I’ll stay here
a while and trap bear.”
And so Indian Jake pitched his camp, made himself comfortable, and
began the building of deadfalls, in anticipation of the time when the
bears would come forth from their dens.
Here in the seclusion of the forest the half-breed was safe enough
from discovery. None would pass this way save the Indians who were his
friends, and Uncle Ben Rudder, upon whom he looked as an
uncompromising enemy. But not until after the break-up in June would
Uncle Ben pass down the river and into Grand Lake in his boat. Indian
Jake had the advantage of time. He would break camp and be away before
June. In any case there was no probability that Uncle Ben would go
ashore here, and even though he did, Indian Jake’s tent was
sufficiently hidden to escape detection. He took good care that this
should be the case, and he also took good care to leave no trace along
the river bank that would give hint of his presence, or arouse
suspicion that he was in the vicinity.