For when Shag swam in deep water the Dog-Wolf found it difficult
to keep on his back.
"A teepee!" exclaimed A'tim, as they came close to the crossing.
"Let us go back and swim the river," pleaded Shag; "there will be
hunters within the lodge."
"No, wait you here," commanded A'tim; "there will surely be food
in the teepee, and I mean to have it."
[Illustration: MUSKWA HAD A'TIM IN HIS LONG-CLAWED GRASP.]
"Be careful," warned Shag; "this is a land of scarcity, and the
hunters may bring us evil."
But already A'tim was skulking toward a small canvas tent,
gleaming white beside the blue waters of Battle River. The Bull
lay down to conceal his great bulk, and watched apprehensively
the foray of his pillaging comrade. A'tim circled until he was
down wind from the teepee.
"The Man is not in his burrow," he muttered, sniffing the air
that floated from the tent to his sensitive nostrils; "but I
smell the brown Pork Meat they eat."
Cautiously, stealthily, burying his brown-gray body in the river
grass, he stole to the very tent pegs of the canvas shelter;
there he listened, as still and silent as the river stones. There
was no sound within; no living thing even drew breath beyond the
cotton wall--he could have heard that.
In through the flap he slipped. Yes, his scouting had been
perfect. A pair of blankets, an iron fry-pan, and--ah! there was
the rich brown meat, its white edge gleaming a welcome. With a
famished snarl A'tim fastened his lean jaws upon it, and sprang
for the door. He was none too quick. "Thud, thudety-thud,
thudety-thudety-thud!" a horseman was hammering down the sloping
bank across the ford.
As A'tim leaped from the tent the horseman shouted and drove big
rowel spurs hard up the flank of his galloping Cayuse.
"Just my evil chance!" snarled A'tim as he headed for Shag; "but
what is a small piece of Bacon compared with a big Buffalo?" For
into his quick Wolf brain came the safety thought that should the
pursuing hunter sight Shag he would follow, and let the bacon
go.
As the Man galloped he unslung a gun, and fired at the fleeing
Dog-Wolf. A little sputter of dust drove into the nostrils of
A'tim as a trade ball spat in his face and buried itself in front
of him. There was no second shot; only the "thudety-thud" of the
Pony's hoofs. The pursuer was armed with a muzzle-loading trade
musket.
The shot startled Shag. Now he could see them rushing his way;
soon they would be upon him. With a bellow of frightened rage at
the stupidity of A'tim, he stuck his scraggy tail out with its
tip curled over his back, and broke into a solemn gallop.
In an instant the hunter swerved from his course and raced for
the Bull, loading his gun as the Cayuse swung along under a free
rein. Shag chuckled softly as he spread his great quarters, and
hung his nose closer to earth.
"It's a down trail for miles," he muttered, "and I, who in my
prime have outrun the fastest Buffalo Horses of the Bloods and
Blackfeet, can surely show that lean-flanked Pack Animal a long
trail. Mou-o-o-h! but already I feel in my veins the strength of
this rich feeding." And the huge form slipped down the gentle
grade of sloping plain like an express train. Once the hunter
threw the butt of his musket to shoulder and fired; but half the
powder charge had spilled in the restless loading, and the trade
ball wandered aimlessly yards wide of the fleeing Bull. Shag
grunted and kinked his tail derisively as the spirit of old times
threw its glamor over him. It was years since he had been
thought worthy of the chase; surely he was becoming of some
account in the Buffalo world again.
A'tim, sitting on his haunches, watched the departing cavalcade,
and industriously absorbed much of the fat pork. "I can carry it
better in my stomach," he reasoned philosophically. "But who
would have thought old Shag had it in him?" he muttered in
admiration.
As he gazed, the extent of territory between Shag and his pursuer
widened perceptibly. The overworked Pony was tired; no doubt his
rider had trailed for many a league with him, and he was in no
condition for the fierce gallop of a Buffalo Run.
A'tim finished the bacon with undoubted relish, then struck out
across the boundless field of grass. "I must not lose sight of
Shag," he thought; "there will not always be bacon for the
stealing when I am on the edge of starvation."
At last the Pony was pulled to a walk, turned about, and headed
for the teepee that nestled on the river bank. The rider was
indulging in much injudicious vituperation of all the animal
kingdom, including his own well-blown Cayuse, whose trembling
flanks vouched for the energy with which he had tried to overhaul
the galloping Bull.
A'tim circled wide, and, when he considered it safe, fell into
Shag's trail and followed on. Soon he overtook his comrade. "Well
done, my big Bull!" he exclaimed; "that was a rare turn you did
me."
"It was," answered Shag shortly; "hardly of my own choosing,
though; you thrust it upon me. I suppose you were bringing me
the bacon, kind Brother?"
"I knew you could do it," flattered A'tim. "You have the full
speed of a Spike Horn, and the great wisdom of your own age."
Shag said nothing; he was angry at the selfish heartlessness of
the other Outcast. It seemed hardly a fair recognition of the
service he had rendered the Dog-Wolf when he prodded the Bear
from his throat.
"Come, let us be moving," he said; "we must find another
crossing."
"Oh! but I feel years younger," cried A'tim joyfully, as they
headed again for Battle River. "Euh-euh-euh-euh! Yap-yap-yap!" he
laughed; "this eating has put the joyousness of a Pup into my
heart."
That night they crossed the river at another ford, and slept in a
bluff of slim-bodied white poplars, for they were on the edge of
the North timber lands.
"This is good cover," muttered A'tim, as he raked the yellow
heart-shaped leaves of the poplar together for a bed.
"It's new to me," muttered Shag; "and it will also give cover to
one's enemies; one must be very cautious in the Northland, I
think."
Then the two Outcasts slept together on the border of the North
fairyland to which the Dog-Wolf was leading Shag the Bull.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
CHAPTER FOUR
In the morning A'tim had for his breakfast a wistful remembrance
of the yesterday's eating--that was all; while Shag made a frugal
meal off the bronzed grass, fast curing on its stem for the
winter forage.
"There'll be good eating here for the Grass Feeders," he said,
grinding leisurely at the wild hay.
"Indeed there will," answered the Dog-Wolf. "The Grass Feeders
will wax fat for the benefit of the Meat Eaters. I wish one would
come my way now," he sighed hungrily.
"We are almost half way," continued A'tim, as he trotted beside
the long-striding Bull.
"I'm glad of that, Brother. My foot joints are not so well oiled
as they once were, and are getting hot and dry. Strange that we
should not see some of our cousins, is it not, Dog-Wolf?"
"I saw one yesterday," replied A'tim.
"Aye, Brother, and he saw you, too."
"Else I had eaten him," added the Dog-Wolf.
"A Coyote?" asked Shag incredulously; "eat a Coyote? Impossible!
No animal ever ate a Coyote!"
"No animal was ever so hungry as I was yesterday before
Wie-sah-ke led me to the Fat Bacon."
"It's terribly dreary," said Shag, returning again to his first
thought; "no Elk, no Antelope, no Buffalo, no Indian Cayuse. Why
is it? Has Man killed them all off, as he has done with my
people?"
"Yes, Man, and the Man-fire. From the black that is underneath
this new grass I know that last year the Man-fire swept over this
land faster and straighter than a Wolf Pack gallops----"
Suddenly he broke off and made a fierce rush into the prairie. A
brown Cow-Bird flew up and lighted on Shag's horn. The Dog-Wolf
rose on his hind legs and snapped viciously at the Bird.
"Steady, Dog-Wolf, steady," admonished Shag, "this is a friend of
mine. Do you not know the Cow-Bird, who is always with the Herd?"
"Who is your friend?" asked the Cow-Bird of Shag. "Queer company
you keep, Great Bull; a Herd Leader leading a Wolf is new to me."
"I'm no Wolf, Scavenger!" retorted A'tim. "I'm a Dog; I'll crack
your----"
"Perhaps, perhaps," retorted the Cow-Bird.
"Perhaps what?" snarled A'tim.
"Perhaps you're a Dog, and perhaps you will crack my--neck, you
were going to say. Are you leading the Bull to your Wolf Pack,
perhaps--Dog?"
"Never mind, Comrades," interrupted Shag. "We are glad of your
company, little Cow-Bird--are we not, A'tim?"
"Yes," answered the Dog-Wolf, licking his chops, and looking
treacherously from the corner of his slit eyes at the Bird.
"Where are you going, Great Bull?" asked the Cow-Bird, spreading
his deep-brown wings mockingly, as though he would fly down on
the Dog-Wolf's head.
"To the Northland."
[Illustration: "STEADY, DOG-WOLF, STEADY," ADMONISHED SHAG,
"THIS IS A FRIEND OF MINE."]
"I know," quoth the Bird; "but I stick to the plains; why, I
don't know, for there are few Buffalo now. This summer I made a
long trip. I started in at Edmonton with a Herd of the Man's
Buffalo."
"I've seen them," said Shag; "great clumsy things without shape
or make; as big behind as they are in front; of a verity the
shape of their own carts."
"Well," continued the Bird, "there was a matter of a dozen of
these creatures tied to a four-wheeled cart, and I followed the
Herd through to the place they call Fort Garry. But I got tired
of it--day after day the same thing. What I like is to fly about.
Now, I'll travel with you to-day, just for companionship, and
to-morrow I shall be off with some new friend."
"Perhaps," mumbled the Wolf.
"Did you speak, Wolf?" perked the Bird.
"I said, 'Good riddance,'" snapped A'tim.
"He, he, he!" laughed the Cow-Bird; "your friend is pleasant
company, Great Bull."
That night the two Outcasts and the Cow-Bird camped together,
near the Saskatchewan River; the brown body curled up contentedly
on Shag's horn, while the Dog-Wolf slept against his paunch.
In the morning the Cow-Bird was gone.
"Have you seen him?" Shag asked of A'tim.
"He flew away early," answered the Dog-Wolf.
"He should have taken all his coat with him," answered Shag,
thrusting from his mouth a bunch of grass in which were three
brown feathers.
"He flew far away," affirmed A'tim sheepishly.
"The length of your gullet, Dog-Wolf," declared Shag. "Thou must
be wondrous hungry to eat one of our own party--a cannibal."
A'tim answered nothing as they journeyed down along the steep,
heavily wooded river bank, its soft shale sides slid into mighty
terraces, but in his heart was a murder thought, as he eyed the
great bulk of his Brother Outcast, that he would also eat him.
They passed over the broad Saskatchewan, running emerald green
between its high, pink-earthed banks, through a long, tortuous
ford, taking Shag to the belly and half way up his ribs. As they
topped the north bank and rested after the steep climb, A'tim
pointed his nose to a distant flat where nestled the white
stockaded fort of the Hudson's Bay Company.
"That's Fort Edmonton," he said bitterly; "and see the cluster of
teepees all about, thick as Muskrat lodges in a muskeg. Because
of the dwellers within there is no eating to be had here for me.
Cree Indians, and Half-breeds, and Palefaces, all searching the
country for something to kill; and when they have slaughtered the
Beaver, and Marten, and Foxes, and everyting else that has
life, they bring the pelts there and get fire-water, which burns
their stomachs and sets their brains on fire. An honest hunter
like myself, who only kills to stay the hunger that is bred in
him, has no chance; we must sneak and steal, or die."
"But there will be much waste of the Bacon Food there, surely,
A'tim. Why do you not replenish the stomach that is but a curse
to you, being empty, at the lodges we see?"
"No, friend Bull," answered the Dog-Wolf; "unwittingly enough I
nearly caused you disaster the last time I fed at Man's expense.
That time there was but one hunter; here are many, and they would
slay you quick enough."
This was all a lie; the Dog-Wolf had no such consideration for
his Brother Outcast. At the Fort were fierce-fanged hounds that
would run him to earth of a certainty should he venture near;
either that, or if caught he would be quickly clapped into a Dog
Train, and made to push against a collar. Many a weary day of
that he had in his youth; he would rather starve as a vagabond.
Also, would he not perhaps fall heir to the eating that was on
the body of the huge Bull?
"No, Brother," he said decisively; "we shall soon come to a land
with food for both of us; let us go."
Toward the Athabasca they journeyed. The prairie was almost done
with, only patches of it now like fields; poplar and willow and
birch growing everywhere; and beyond the Sturgeon River, tiny
forests of gnarled, stunted jack-pine, creeping wearily from a
soft carpet of silver and emerald moss which lay thick upon the
white sand hills. Little red berries, like blood stars, peeped at
them from the setting of silk lace moss--wintergreen berries, and
grouse berries, and lowbush cranberries, all blushing a furious
red.
"I could sleep here forever," muttered Shag, as he rolled in
luxurious content on this forest rug.
"I can't sleep because of my hunger pains," snarled A'tim. "You
who are well fed care not how I fare." A'tim was petulantly
unreasonable.
Shag looked at the Dog-Wolf wonderingly. "I'm sorry for you, for
your hunger, Dog Brother. Did I not call lovingly to a Moose Calf
but to-day, thinking to entice him your way?"
"Yes, and frightened the big-nosed, spindle-legged suckling with
your gruff voice, so that what should have been an easy stalk
turned out a long chase for nothing."
"Well, well," responded Shag soothingly, "no doubt you will soon
have food--this can't go on forever, this barrenness of the
woods; I'm sorry for you, for once I had nothing to eat for days
and days. That was ten seasons of the Calf-gathering since--I
remember it well. The White Storm came in the early Cold Time,
and buried the whole Range to the depth of my belly. We Buffalo
did nothing but drift, drift, drift--like locusts, or dust before
the wind. We always go head-on to a storm, for our heads are warm
clothed with much hair, but when it lasts for days and days we
grow weary, and just drift looking for food, for grass. I
remember, at Pot Hole, which is a deep coulee, and has always
been a great shelter to us in such times, on one side was some
grass still bare of the White Storm; but the Buffalo were so many
they ate it as locusts might--quicker than I tell it. As I have
said, Dog-Wolf, I lived for a month off the fat that was in my
loins about the kidneys, for I had never a bite to eat. Then the
fat, aye, even the red meat, commenced to melt from my hump and
my neck, even to my legs, and I grew weak--so weak I could
hardly crawl. Many of us died; first the Cow Mothers, giving up
their lives for the Calves, A'tim; then the old people; we who
were in the middle of life (for I was a Smooth Horn then,
Brother, and Leader of the Herd) lived through this terrible
time.
"It was a great weeding out of the Herd; it was like the sweep of
the fire breath that bares the prairie only to make the grass
come up stronger and sweeter again. Longingly we waited for our
friend, the gentle Chinook, to come up out of the Southwest; but
this time it must have got lost in the mountains, for only the
South wind, which is always cold, or a blizzard breath from the
Northwest blew across the bleak, white-covered Buffalo land.
"One night, just as I thought I must surely die before morning, a
sweet moisture came into my nostrils, and I knew that our Wind
Brother, the Chinook, had found us at last. The sun smiled at us
in the morning and warmed the white cover, and by night we could
see the grass; next day the White Storm was all gone. So, Brother
Outcast, I too, know what it is to be hungry. Have a strong
heart--food will be sent."
"Sent!" snapped A'tim crabbedly; "who will send it? Will my Gray
Half-Brothers, who are Wolves, send it--come and lay a dead
Caribou at my feet? Will the Train Dogs, of whose kind I am, come
and feed me with White Fish--the dried Fish their drivers give
them so sparingly?"
"I cannot say, Dog-Wolf; but surely food does not come of one's
own thinking. The grass does not grow because of me, but for me.
The Animals all say it is our God, Wie-sah-ke-chack, who sends
the eating."
"E-u-h-h!" yawned A'tim sulkily, swinging his head in petulant
irritation, "I must have meat, no matter where it comes from; I
can't starve." There was a covert threat in the Dog-Wolf's voice,
but Shag did not notice it--his mind was above that sort of
thing.
In the evening, as they entered a little thicket of dogberry
bushes growing in low land, a small brown shadow flitted across
their path. With a snarl A'tim was after it, crushing through the
long, dry, spike-like grass in hot pursuit. Shag waited.
Back and forth, up and down, in and out, double and twist,
sometimes near and sometimes far, but always with the "Ghur-r-r!"
of the Dog-Wolf's breath coming to Shag's ears, the shadow and
its pursuer chased. Suddenly Shag started as a plaintive squeak
died away in a harsh growl of exultation.
"He has him," muttered Shag; "this will stay the clamor of his
hunger talk, I hope."
The well-blown Dog-Wolf came back carrying a Hare. "Hardly worth
the trouble," he said disdainfully, laying the fluffy figure down
at Shag's feet. "Now I know of a surety why the Flesh Feeders
have fled the Boundaries; it is the Plague Year of Wapoos. This
thing that should be fat, and of tender juiciness, is but a skin
full of bones; there are even the plague lumps in his throat.
There is almost as much poison in this carrion as in a Trapper's
bait; but I must eat of it, for I am wondrous hungry."
"I, also, have eaten bad food in my time," said Shag; "great
pains in the stomach I've had from it. Some seasons the White
Storm would come early in the Cold Time, and cover the grass not
yet fully ripened into seed. It would hold warm because of this,
and grow again, and become green; then the white cover would go,
and the grass would freeze and become sour to the tongue.
Mou-u-ah! but all through the Cold Time I would have great pains.
How far do we go now, A'tim, till we rest in the Northland?"
"Till there is food for both of us."
"Quite true," concurred Shag. "We must go on until you also have
food, my friend."
It was coming up the bank out of La Biche River that A'tim,
perfectly mad with hunger, made a vicious snap at the Bull's leg,
just above the hock, meaning to hamstring him. Shag flipped about
and faced the Dog Wolf.
"What is this, A'tim?" he demanded, lowering his horns and
stamping in vexed restlessness.
"A big fly of the Bull-Dog kind. I snapped at him, and in my
eagerness grazed your leg."
Shag tossed his huge head unbelievingly, and snorted through his
dilated nostrils. "There are no Bull-Dogs now, A'tim; they were
killed off days since by the white-striped Hornets."
"There was one, Shag--at least I thought so, Great Bull."
"Well, don't think again--just that way. Once bitten is twice shy
with me; and, as you see, I carry the Tribe mark of your
Wolf-kind in my thigh since the time I was a Calf."
"Ghur-r-r! Of the Wolf-kind, quite true, Great Bull--that is
their way; but I, who am no Wolf, but a Dog, do not seek to
hamstring my friends."
The Bull answered nothing, but as they journeyed watched his
companion carefully.
"Dreadfully foolish!" mused A'tim. "I must coax this stupid Bull
into a muskeg; his big carcass will keep me alive through all the
Cold Time."
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
CHAPTER FIVE
They were now well within the treacherous muskeg lands which
border the Athabasca; and that very night, while Shag slumbered
in the deep sleep of a full age, A'tim, whose lean stomach tugged
at his eyelids and kept them open, stole off into the forest, and
searched by the strong light of the moon for a bog that would
mire his comrade to death.
An open piece of swamp land, fringed by tamarack and slim-bodied
spruce, promised fair for his scheme. Back and forth, back and
forth over its cushion of deep moss he passed, seeking for a
treacherous place--a place wherein Shag would sink to the belly;
where the sand-mud would grasp his legs like soft chains and hold
him to his death, but not engulf the body--that must remain for
A'tim's eating.
"Euh-h! the very thing!" he exclaimed joyously, as his foot sank
deep in soft slime. "Yes, indeed, the very spot. Now must I cover
up its black mud so that the blurred eyes of old Shag will see
only a fair trail, not over ankle-deep."
For an hour he labored with rare villainy, carrying bunches of
moss to cover up the black ooze, that was not more than twenty
feet broad; even small willow wands and coarse rush grass he
placed under the moss, so that he himself, light-footed as a cat,
might cross ahead of the unsuspicious Bull, and lure him to his
death. "There," he said finally, as he sat on his haunches and
rested for a minute, looking like a ghoul in the ghostly
moonlight, "I think that's a trick worthy of my Wolf cunning."
Then he hastened back to the other Outcast.
Shag was awake and heard the Dog-Wolf creep to his side. "Where
have you been, A'tim?" he asked sleepily.
"I heard a strange noise in the forest, and thought perhaps some
evil Hunter had followed your big trail; fearing for your safety,
Brother, I went to see what it was."
"And?" queried Shag.
"It was nothing--nothing but a Lynx or some prowling animal."
Shag was already snoring heavily again, and the Dog-Wolf, tired
by his exertion, also soon slumbered.
Next morning A'tim was in rare good humor. "We shall only have
another day or two of this weary tramp," he said, "for the air is
full of the perfume of living things; also things that are dead,
for yonder, high in the air, float three Birds of the Vulture
kind. I shall be in the land of much eating to-day or to-morrow,
I know."
"I am glad of that," answered Shag heartily; "I am tired of this
long tramp--my bones ache from it."
Talking almost incessantly to distract the other's attention,
A'tim led the way straight for his muskeg trap.
"There is some lovely blue-joint grass on the other side of this
beautiful little plain," he said as they came to the tamarack
border of the swamp.
"Is it safe crossing?" asked Shag.
"Quite safe," answered the Dog-Wolf; "there is not a mud spot to
be seen--you will scarce wet a shin. I will go ahead and warn you
should it so happen that there be a soft hole; follow close in my
track."
"Lough-hu! lough-hu!" grunted the Bull at the first step in the
muskeg, as his foot cushioned in the deep moss: "this is like
walking on the White Storm." Ere he could take another step a
startled, "Mouah! Mouah!" struck on his ear. It was the call of
his own kind; and whipping about in an instant, he saw, staring
at him from the tamarack fringe, a Buffalo Cow.
Where had she come from? It was the God of Chance that had sent
her to save the unsuspicious, noble old Bull, only he did not
know that--how could he? "Perhaps she is an Outcast like myself,"
he muttered, advancing eagerly to caress her forehead with his
tongue.
"Come back, Shag," called the Dog-Wolf, seeing the destruction of
his plan; "come back to the sweet feeding; that is but a
disgraced Cow, outcasted from some Herd."
Startled by the bark of the Dog-Wolf, or perhaps by the ungainly
garb of the hairless, manged Bull, the Cow turned and fled.
Excited into activity, Shag galloped after her, his huge feet
making the forest echo with the crack of smashing timber as he
slid through the bush like an avalanche; but the Cow was swift of
foot, and pig-jinked around stumps and over timber, and down
coulees and up hills until Shag was fairly blown and forced to
give up the pursuit.
"Was there ever such a queer happening?" exclaimed Shag, staring
after the vanished figure of the Cow. A'tim had followed with
eager gallop, inwardly reviling the ill luck which had snatched
from him the mighty Kill of the fat Bull. The Cow Buffalo was,
perhaps, only one of those spirit animals that prowl at night and
utter strange cries.
Also had they galloped miles past the muskeg trap, and A'tim
dared not take the Bull back; some new plan must be devised for
his destruction.