WOLVES, AND A SNOWSTORM
The two young hunters knew from former experience that it would be
useless to attempt to shoot down so many wolves, and so they looked
around for some other means whereby to escape from the beasts, who were
evidently hungry and bloodthirsty.
“Into one of the trees!” cried Henry, and slung his rifle over his
shoulder. His cousin did likewise, and both caught hold of some
tree-limbs just as the wolves drew near. One made a snap at them, but
they managed to get out of the reach of the animal before any damage was
done.
As was to be expected, the first wolves to appear were the forerunners
of a pack, and soon, to the consternation of Dave and Henry, more of the
beasts appeared until they could count forty. They snapped and snarled,
and several fell upon the carcass of the wolverine and tore it into
pieces.
“That’s the way they’d like to tear us into bits,” remarked Dave, with a
shudder over the sight.
“Dave, no two ways about it, we are in a pickle.”
“And likely to stay there for some time to come, Henry.”
“That’s the truth of it. Trying to shoot such a pack is utterly
impossible.”
“And I doubt if we can drive ’em away either.”
Just to try the effects of a shot, both took careful aim, each at a big
wolf. The beasts went down, one killed outright and the other mortally
wounded. The rest of the pack retreated for a few minutes, then came
forward as before.
“See, they are eating up the dead one!” said Henry, and it was true. The
carcass was hauled and pulled and torn apart, the wolves fighting
greedily over the pieces. The wounded wolf crawled off in the snow and
later followed the fate of the other.
After firing the two shots the young hunters reloaded as before and sat
down among the tree-branches to consider the situation. It was about
noon, and both were hungry.
“We are fortunate in having some rations along,” remarked Dave. “But it
will be dry eating, without a drink of water.”
However, they ate their meal, taking their time, as there seemed nothing
else to do. In the meantime, the wolves sat around the tree in a wide
circle, watching them intently. There would be a spell of silence, then
one of the number would growl or snap and in a moment the whole pack
would be at it. Then another silence would follow.
“This is certainly growing interesting,” observed Dave, as he swallowed
the last of his food. “I’d give a sixpence for a drink of water.”
“And two shillings to have the wolves go away,” added Henry, with a
grin. “Dave, perhaps we are booked to stay here all night.”
“It will be a cold roosting-place. As it is I am pretty cold.”
To keep warm they slapped their arms across their chests, and hammered
their heels against the tree-trunk. In doing this Dave suddenly slipped
and fell.
“Look out!” cried his cousin, and made a clutch at him. Both went down,
one on one side of a limb and one on the other. Henry had Dave by the
arm, and there they hung for a moment, with the wolves below, leaping up
and snapping as never before.
“Don’t let go!” shrieked Dave, who had no desire to fall among those
snapping jaws waiting to receive him.
Henry clung fast, although it was no easy matter to sustain his cousin
in such an unusual position. His wrist was twisted painfully. Then each
caught the limb with his free hand, and they both swung up to safety
once more.
“That was a narrow squeak!” gasped Dave. “I thought the wolves had me
sure. I hope you didn’t get hurt, Henry.”
“Got my wrist scraped a little, that’s all,” was the reply. “But please
don’t slip down again. Where’s your gun?”
Dave felt around in dismay. Then he looked below. The strap had broken
and the weapon lay in the snow among the wolves.
“You’ll not do any more shooting just yet,” went on Henry, grimly.
“It’s too bad!” cried Dave. “The strap wasn’t very good, but I thought
it would hold for this trip. Look out that yours doesn’t drop, Henry.”
“I’ll try to keep it on hand.”
Once again there came a period of waiting. So far it had been clear, but
now it commenced to cloud over.
“We are going to have either snow or rain,” announced Dave.
“Well, of the two I hope it is snow,” said Henry. “I don’t want to get
wet through in such cold weather as this. It will give us our death of
cold.”
A little while after that it began to snow. At first the flakes were
large and drifted down like so many feathers. But soon they grew smaller
and came down so thickly that a large portion of the landscape was
blotted out. Then a wind sprung up, making the situation of the young
hunters anything but comfortable.
“The wolves are leaving!” cried Henry, presently, as an extra blast of
wind sent the snow swirling around. “They don’t like this storm. Reckon
they are afraid of being snowed in.”
“I don’t like the storm myself,” returned his cousin. “See how thickly
the snow is coming down now.”
Soon the last of the wolves had disappeared and silence reigned in that
part of the vast forest. With caution they let themselves down to the
ground, and Dave picked up his gun, cleaned it, and put on a new
priming.
“We’ll have to watch out for those wolves,” he cautioned.
“If they come for us, we can climb another tree,” answered Henry. “But I
don’t think they will turn back. Their lair may be miles from here, and
they will want to get there before they become snowbound.”
The falling snow had covered the wolverine trail, and it was with
difficulty that they could see the bushes they had broken off while
journeying along. It was growing darker and the snow swirled and blew in
every direction, almost blinding them.
“This will delay father,” observed Dave. “The party will have to go into
camp and stay there until the storm clears away.”
“We may have to go into camp ourselves, Dave.”
“Perhaps so. This puts me in mind of the time Sam Barringford and I were
journeying to Fort Oswego, and got caught in a terrible storm—the time
we got a bear.”
“You were after Jean Bevoir then, weren’t you?”
“Yes, we thought he had Nell as a prisoner. My, but that was a howler,
Henry!”
“Well, this is going to be a howler, too! Listen to the wind rising!”
There was no need to listen, for they could not have shut out the sound
had they tried. The flakes of snow had given way to fine, hard particles
resembling salt, and these pelted them in the face until they could not
see and had to turn around to catch their breath.
“May as well give it up,” said Henry, after struggling along for almost
a mile. “Let us find some place under the cedars.”
They had reached a spot where the cedars were plentiful, and picked out
one with the lower boughs bent down to the ground. Getting under this
they were sheltered from the biting wind, and had a chance to rest and
consider the situation.
“One thing is certain, I don’t want to stay out all night without
something to eat and without a fire,” said Henry, who loved all the
comforts of a hunter’s life. “We must find a better shelter than this.
We can’t start a blaze here without the danger of setting fire to the
forest.”
“I’m willing to go anywhere, providing it isn’t too far,” answered Dave.
Having rested for half an hour they started onward once more. They soon
reached a spot that looked familiar to both of them.
“Hurrah! I know where we are now!” cried Dave.
“So do I, and I know where we can find a pretty good shelter,” added
Henry.
He referred to what had once been an Indian village, long before the
French and English had come to that territory. Here, among the ruins,
was located an old council-house, of logs and bark, with a sort of
fireplace at one end.
“At the old Indian village?”
“Yes.”
They hurried on, for it was now growing night. Both had their guns over
their backs, but presently Henry swung his weapon around to the front.
“Maybe we’ll be able to pick up something for supper and breakfast,” he
observed.
It did not take long to reach the deserted village. Nothing was standing
but the old council-house, and that was next to being a wreck. As they
stepped over the threshold they saw something hop away through an open
doorway on the other side. Quickly Henry blazed away.
“A rabbit, and a fat one too!” he cried, holding up the game. “That is
better than nothing.”
They stirred around and soon found a nest of the animals and killed two
more. Then they put down their guns and went out to find some firewood.
It was cold work, and they were half frozen by the time they had a blaze
started. They piled on several big sticks of wood and soon began to warm
up.
“This is not so bad but that it might be worse,” declared Dave, while
they were preparing one of the rabbits for supper.
Searching around they came across a small iron pot. It was rusty, but
they managed to scour it out, and then melted some snow for drinking
water. One rabbit tasted so good that they cooked a second, for the walk
and the keen air had made them tremendously hungry. They took their time
over the meal, for they had nothing else to do.
“I think I’ll try to close up some of the openings,” remarked Henry,
after they had finished picking the bones. “We can do it with cedar
branches.”
With their hunting knives they cut a quantity of cedar branches and
placed them in the broken-out doors and windows of the old
council-house. This kept out most of the wind, and soon the temperature
rose so that it was far more comfortable within than before. Then they
brought in some more wood for the fire, that the blaze might last
through the night.
“I suppose this was a well-known place at one time,” observed Dave, as
he gazed around the structure. “What famous addresses the Indian chiefs
must have delivered here!”
“Yes, and what plans they laid to massacre the whites,” replied Henry.
“If these walls could talk they could tell some cruel stories, I’m
thinking.”
“Henry, I don’t think the Indians are altogether to blame.”
“Why not?”
“Because they haven’t been treated just right, that’s why. The land used
to belong to them.”
“Humph! They never tilled it, did they? They can’t expect to let this
fine soil lie in idleness for century after century.”
“But they had rights which neither the French nor the English have
respected.”
“Do you stick up for such a wily wretch as Pontiac?”
“No, but I stick up for such a noble red man as White Buffalo.”
“Oh, well, if they were all like White Buffalo there wouldn’t be any
trouble.”
They sat by the fire a good hour, talking about the Indians, the
departure of James Morris for the trading post, and about the folks at
home and other matters. Then they grew sleepy, and lay down to rest,
never realizing the double peril so close at hand.