A FIGHT WITH A WOLVERINE
The whole party had lost much of their interest in the hunt, and it was
decided to return to Fort Pitt without delay. They went into camp for
the night at the spot the enemy had occupied.
“It is going to be cold to-night,” said Tony Jadwin, and his words
proved true. A keen, penetrating wind started up, and they were glad
enough to crouch as close to the fire as possible.
After an early breakfast they started for the fort by another trail. On
this they were fortunate enough to come across three deer, caught in
something of a hollow between the rocks. Henry brought one of the
animals down and the frontiersmen shot the others. Later on Dave got a
shot at some partridges and brought down two that were plump and tender.
“Well, we shall not go back empty-handed,” said James Morris.
When they reached the fort they found the garrison on strict guard duty.
A report had come in from the northward that some of the Six Nations
were not going to agree on peace, but were marching to reduce the
stronghold. The report was false, but it kept those at Fort Pitt on the
watch for a week.
Captain Ecuyer listened to James Morris’s story with interest, and when
Colonel Bouquet came in he did the same.
“I do not see what can be done at present,” said the commandant of the
fort. “I cannot send any men out to your trading post this winter. It
may be that we can do something in the spring.”
This was what Colonel Bouquet said also, and the trader had to accept it
as final. But the delay chafed him.
“I have an idea of making my way to the post,” said he to his son. “I
know it will not be a very nice trip at this time of year, but I would
like to arrive there before Jean Bevoir has a chance to settle down and
make himself at home.”
“If you go of course you will take me along,” returned Dave, instantly.
“No, I was thinking of taking only two or three of the old trappers. You
see, if we cannot get into the post we shall have to stay in the forest
and get our living as best we can, and that will be hard,—if the winter
proves a severe one.”
The matter was talked over for a week, but nothing came of it just then.
But at the end of the next week James Morris arranged to go west, taking
Tony Jadwin, Peaceful Jones, and a trapper named Pomeroy with him. They
elected to go on foot, taking some snowshoes with them. Each was to
carry a good stock of provisions and also plenty of ammunition.
“If we get into the post and have no further trouble, I will send
Pomeroy back with the news and also with a letter of instructions,” said
James Morris.
“And supposing you can’t get into the post?” said Dave.
“Then we may stay in that vicinity, or we may come back—just as I think
best.”
“But you will send some kind of word, won’t you?” inquired Henry.
“Yes, I will send word of some kind before the New Year,” answered his
uncle.
The two youths saw the expedition well on its way, going out with it a
distance of three miles. Then came an affectionate parting, and those
moving to the west were lost to view down the snowy forest trail.
“I wish I was going along,” said Dave, with a deep sigh.
“The same here, Dave,” answered his cousin. “But your father did not
wish it, and so we shall have to stay at the fort. I hope all goes well
with them.”
“Yes, I shouldn’t wish father to fall into the clutches of Jean Bevoir.
Oh, how I despise that rascal!”
The youths had decided to try a bit of hunting while they were out.
Henry led the way into the forest, and they wandered along until they
came to the tracks of some wild animal.
“What is it?” asked Dave.
“It stumps me,” answered his cousin. “It is certain not the track of a
deer.”
“Maybe it’s a bear, or a buffalo.”
“I don’t think so. But whatever it is, it was carrying something in its
mouth.”
“How do you know that?”
“Don’t you see the occasional dip in the snow alongside of the trail?
The load was heavy and sagged down at times.”
“Shall we follow the trail up?”
“I’m willing.”
The trail led into the very depths of the great forest, and to help them
from getting lost they broke off the bushes here and there, thus
“blazing” the trail as they proceeded. In the open spaces the wind had
drifted the snow quite a little, but where the trail led the walking
proved fairly easy.
“The animal certainly traveled a good distance,” remarked Dave, after
almost a mile had been covered.
“We are coming to the end now,” answered Henry, whose keen eyes took in
every detail of the trail.
“How do you know that?”
“Don’t you see how the dips increase? That shows the load was growing
heavier. The steps are shorter too.”
“Henry, it’s wonderful how you notice such things!”
“Not at all. I only keep my eyes open, that’s all. Now we had better
keep quiet, or we may scare the game away.”
After that they proceeded a short distance further. Then they reached a
clearing, where the heavy wind of the summer previous had cut down
several of the tallest trees.
“There must have been a whirlwind here,” whispered Dave.
“Hush, the trail leads under that mass of piled-up trees,” returned
Henry. “Got your gun ready?”
“Yes.”
Dave had hardly spoken when there came a snarl from under the mass of
trees, and looking down both young hunters saw a pair of gleaming eyes
glaring hatefully at them.
“It’s a bear!” cried Dave.
“No, a wolverine!” burst out Henry. “And an ugly one, too. Look out for
yourself.”
Henry was indeed right; it was a wolverine they had trailed to its
lair—a ferocious beast, sometimes known as a glutton, because of its
enormous appetite for meat. The wolverine was of unusual size, with a
shaggy body of brownish-black. The muzzle was darker than the rest of
the beast, and under the throat were several whitish spots. The upper
lip hairs were long and coarse, and the fangs keener than those of a
wolf.
The wolverine had been feasting on the carcass of a fox, but the meal
had evidently not sweetened his temper. Suddenly he turned and
disappeared from view along the tree-branches.
“He has gone,” said Dave.
“Keep your eyes open!” shouted Henry. “He means fight! I know the kind!”
A moment passed and the wolverine reappeared, this time on an upper limb
of a fallen tree. He gave one low snarl and then sprang directly for
Dave’s throat.
Crack! It was Henry’s rifle that spoke up. The aim was a hasty one, and
the wolverine was hit in the hind quarters. Dave slipped to one side,
and the beast landed at his feet. Then Dave stepped back, to get a shot,
but the beast whirled around in the snow and once more gained the
shelter of his lair.
The two young hunters lost no time in retreating, but Henry kept Dave
from going too close to any bushes in the vicinity.
“You can’t trust a wolverine,” he said. “Load up quick—and keep your
eyes wide open. He may be at our backs next.”
Dave was well aware of their danger. He had heard of a hunter being
killed by a wolverine and heard Sam Barringford say that the beast was
the most treacherous of animals. If cornered a wolverine will often
fight to the death, no matter what the odds. It has been known to attack
animals much larger than itself.
The two young hunters reloaded with speed and kept their eyes on the
fallen trees. They saw a branch move, but could not see the wolverine.
Dave, it must be confessed, began to grow a trifle nervous.
“Do you see him?” he asked, after fully a minute had passed.
“No, but—— There he is! Look out!”
The wolverine had appeared on one of the highest of the tree-branches.
He made a lightning-like leap and gained one of the neighboring trees.
Dave took a quick shot, but missed his mark. Then the body of the
wolverine was hidden by the broad tree-limb.
“Let us get out of this,” said Dave. “Before we know it, one of us will
get hurt.”
“I am going to kill that wolverine,” answered Henry, determinedly, all
his hunting instinct on edge over what had already occurred.
“What’s the use? He is no good for meat.”
“The beast is not going to get the better of me.”
Henry walked around the tree with care. He got a slight glimpse of the
wolverine’s bushy tail, but that was all.
“Can you see him, Henry?”
“I know where he is. I think I can make him move.”
Henry picked up some snow, made a snowball, and threw it at the bushy
tail. There was a snarl and a snap, and down into the snow leaped the
wolverine, all ready for a fight.
As soon as the beast landed Dave fired. As luck would have it, the
wolverine was hit in the side and turned over and over, sending the snow
in all directions.
“I’ve got him! I’ve got him!” called out the young hunter, excitedly.
“I reckon I’d better finish him,” answered Henry, and once again his
rifle spoke up. At once the whirling of the wolverine ceased, and he
stretched himself out on the snow.
“My gracious! that was a fight,” observed Dave, wiping the cold
perspiration from his forehead. “I don’t wonder some folks think there
is nothing so savage as a wolverine.”
“We want to be on guard still,” said Henry. “Load up. His mate may be
around here, and they say a she-wolverine is ten times worse than a
he-one.”
“She’ll certainly be bad enough when she learns that we have killed her
mate.”
“We may as well give up hunting around here,” went on Henry. “Our shots
have probably scared away any deer that may be in this vicinity.”
“We can look for small game, Henry. I don’t want to go back
empty-handed.”
“Listen!”
The two young hunters were reloading, when Henry uttered the
exclamation.
“What did you hear?” asked Dave.
“Sounded to me like a wolf, and it was pretty close too.”
“I hope we don’t meet any wolves in this forest!” cried Dave.
Both listened, and soon heard three more wolves. They were coming along
the trail made by the wolverine and the youths.
“I see them! And they are coming directly for us!” cried Dave, a minute
later, and as he spoke eight or nine wolves burst into view, coming
forward on a run, their eyes gleaming and their fangs showing viciously.