“Away! nor let me loiter in my song,
For we have many a mountain path to tread,
And many a varied shore to sail along,--
By truth and sadness, not by fiction, led.”
The day agreed on, by the trappers, for starting on their expedition
into the unbroken wilds around and beyond the upper lakes to the
extreme reservoirs of the lordly Androscoggin, had at length arrived.
All the married men belonging to the company, not having sons of their
own old enough, had engaged those of their neighbors to come and remain
with their families during their absence from home, which, it was
thought probable, would be prolonged to nearly December. Steel-traps
and rifles had been put in order, ammunition plentifully provided, and
supplies of such provisions as could not be generally procured by the
rifle and fish-hook in the woods and its waters, carefully laid in; and
all were packed up the night previous, and in readiness for a start the
next morning.
It had been agreed that the company should rendezvous on the
lake-shore, at the spot which we have already often mentioned, and
which, by common consent, was now beginning to be called Elwood’s
Landing. And, accordingly, early on the appointed morning, Mark Elwood
and his son Claud, having dispatched their breakfast, which Mrs.
Elwood had been careful to make an unusually good and plentiful one,
shouldered their large hunting packs, with their blankets neatly folded
and strapped outside; and, having bid that anxious and thoughtful wife
and mother a tender farewell, left the house and proceeded with a
lively step to the border of the lake. On reaching their canoe at the
landing, they glanced inquiringly around them for some indications
of the presence or coming of their expected companions. But not a
living object met their strained gaze, and not the semblance of a sound
greeted their listening ears. A light sheeted fog, of varying thickness
and density in the different portions of the wide expanse,--here thin
and spray-like, as if formed of the breath of some marine monster, and
there thickening to the appearance of the stratiform cloud,--lay low
stretched, in long, slow-creeping undulations, over the bosom of the
waveless lake.
“The first on the ground, after all,” exclaimed Mr. Elwood, on peering
out sharply through the partially-obstructing fog in the direction of
the outlet of the lake, up through which most of the company, who lived
on the rivers below, were expected to come. “That is smart, after so
much cautioning to us to be here in season. But they cannot be very far
off, can they, Claud?”
“One would suppose not,” replied the latter; “but sounds, in this dense
and quiet state of the atmosphere, could be distinguished at a great
distance, and, with all that my best faculties can do, I cannot hear a
single sound from any quarter.--But stay, what was that?”
“What did you think you heard, Claud?” asked Mr. Elwood, after waiting
a moment for the other to proceed or explain.
“Why, I can hardly tell, myself,” was the musing reply; “but it was
some shrill, long-drawn sound, that seemed to come from a great
distance in the woods off here to the southeast, or on the lake beyond.”
“Perhaps it was a loon somewhere up the lake,” suggested Mr. Elwood.
“It may be so, possibly,” rejoined Claud, doubtfully; “but, if there
were any inhabitants near enough in that direction, I should think it
must be--hark, there it is again! and, as I thought, the crowing of a
rooster.”
“A rooster! then it must be the echo of one, that has somehow struck
across from Phillips’ barn; but how could that be? Ah, I have just
thought: your rooster must be Codman coming down the lake. You know how
curiously he imitated that creature at the logging bee, don’t you?”
“No; I happened to be in a noisy bustle in the house, just at the time
of those queer performances of his, and heard them imperfectly. But, if
the sound I heard was not that of a veritable rooster, I never was so
deceived in my life respecting the character of a sound.”
“Well, I think you will find I am right, but we will wait, listen, and
see.”
The event soon proved the truth of Mr. Elwood’s conjecture. Suddenly
a canoe, rounding a woody point a half-mile to the right, shot into
view, and the old loud and shrill _Kuk-kuk-ke-o-ho_ of Comical Codman
rang far and wide over the waters to the echoing hills beyond. But,
before Claud had sufficiently recovered from his surprise to respond
to the triumphant “_I told you so_” of his father, the strange salute
was answered by a merry, responsive shout of voices in the opposite
direction; and presently two canoes, each containing two men, emerged
into view from the fog hanging over the outlet, and, joining in a
contest of speed, to which they seemed to perceive the single boatman
was, by his movements, challenging them, rapidly made their way towards
the understood goal of the landing.
“The race is run,
The vict’ry won!”
exclaimed the trapper, in his usual cheery tone and inimitable air of
mock gravity, as he drew up his oar, to let the impulse of his last
stroke send his canoe in to the shore of the landing, as it did, while
the foremost of his competitors in the friendly race was yet fifty
yards distant. “Mighty smart fellows, you!” he resumed, waggishly
cocking his eye towards the hunter, who had charge of the boat most
in advance. “_What bright and early_ chaps, living only from two to
five miles off, to let one who has ten miles to come be in first at the
rendezvous!”
“Well, Codman, I suppose we must give in,” responded the hunter. “But,
to do all this, you must have risen long before day; how did you
contrive to wake up?”
“Why, crowed like the house a-fire, and waked myself up, to be sure!”
replied Codman, promptly. “How did you suppose I did it? But let that
all go; I want to look you over a little. You have brought some new
faces with you, this time, haven’t you, Mr. Hunter?”
“Yes, here is one,” answered Phillips, pointing to a tall,
sandy-complexioned, but good-looking man of about thirty, who, having
occupied the forward seat of the canoe, now quietly stepped ashore;
“yes, gentlemen,” added the hunter, addressing himself to the Elwoods,
standing on the bank, as well as to the trapper, “I make you acquainted
with Mr. Carvil,--a man, if I ain’t a good deal out in my reckoning,
who might be relied on in most any circumstances.”
The customary salutations were then exchanged with the stranger; when
the hunter, instinctively understanding that often violated rule of
true politeness which requires of the introducer some accompanying
remark, giving a clue to the position and character of the introduced,
so as to gratify the natural curiosity felt on such occasions, and to
impart more freedom to the conversation, quickly resumed:
“Mr. Carvil is a Green Mountain boy, who loves hunting, partly for
the health it gives, and partly for the fun of it. His old range has
usually been round the Great Megantic, the other side of the highlands,
in Canada, where I have heard of him through the St. Francis Indians.
But, having a mind to see and try this side, he came on a few days ago,
inquired me out, and turned in with me. We from below have invited him
to join our company; are you all here agreed to that?”
“Certainly,” said Mark Elwood, in his usual off-hand manner.
“Certainly,” added Claud, more specifically, “I think we ought to be
gratified in such an acquisition to our company.”
“And you, Codman?” said the hunter, turning inquiringly to the trapper.
“It is your turn to speak. But don’t show the gentleman so many of your
bad streaks, to begin with, as to put him out of conceit of you before
he has time to find out your good ones.”
“Well, I don’t see but I must run the risk, then,” said the trapper;
“my streaks always come out as they come up, I never pick any of them
out as samples for strangers. But to the question,--well, let’s run him
over once, if he won’t be mad: high cheek bones, showing him enough of
the Indian make to be a good hunter; a crank, steady eye, indicating
honest motives, and a good resolution, that won’t allow a man to rest
easy till his object is carried out; and lastly, a well-put-together,
wiry frame, to bear fatigues, and do the work which so large a head
must often lay out for it. Yes, he passes muster with me bravely: let
him in, with a welcome.”
Carvil rewarded these good-natured running commentaries on his person
and supposed qualities, with a complacent bow; when the trapper turned
to the other canoe, which, with Gaut Gurley and the young Indian
described in a preceding chapter on board, now came within speaking
distance, and sang out:
“Hil-lo! there, you, captain, who made the big logs fly so like the
de-i-vel, the other day, whether the old chap had any hand in it or
not, what red genius is that you have brought along with you?”
“It’s Tomah, the young red man from the Connecticut-river region, who
hunted some in this section last fall, I understand. I supposed you had
met him before,” replied Gaut.
“O, ah, well, yes,” responded Codman; “I bethink me, now, it is the
young Indian that went to college, but couldn’t be kept there long
enough to make any thing else, though long enough, may be, to spoil him
for a hunter.”
“May be not, too,” retorted Tomah, with a miffed air, which showed he
did not so readily appreciate the half-serious, half-sportive manner of
the trapper as the other stranger had done. “May be, when you out with
me catching beaver, one, two month, you no crow so loud.”
“That’s right,” interposed the hunter; “the Indian gives you what you
deserve for your nonsense, Codman. But a truce to jokes. Let us all
aboard, strike out, and be on our way over the lake.”
In compliance with this suggestion, those not already in the boats took
to their seats, handled their oars, pushed off, and, headed by the
hunter and his boat companion, and falling, one after another, into a
line, rowed steadily on across the broadest part of the lake, taking
a lofty pine, whose attenuated top looked like a reed rising over the
fog in the distance, as a guide and landmark to the great inlet, where
the most arduous task of their expedition was to be encountered,--the
surmounting of the long line of rapids leading to the great lakes
above. But that task, after a pleasant rowing of a couple of hours had
brought them to it, was, by dint of hard struggles against the current,
with oars as long as oars could be made to prevail; with setting-poles
when oars ceased to serve the purpose; and with ropes attached to the
boats and drawn from point to point or rock to rock, when neither oars
nor poles were of any avail; together with the carrying both boats and
baggage by land round the last and most difficult ascent,--that task
was at length accomplished, and, before one o’clock in the afternoon,
all the boats, with their loading, were safely launched on the broad
bosom of the wild and picturesque Molechunk-a-munk.
Here, however, the company decided on taking their midday’s lunch, and
an hour’s rest, before proceeding on their voyage. But, not deeming it
expedient to incur the trouble and delay which the building of fires
and the new cooking of provisions would require, they drew out only
their bread and cold meats, for the occasion; and these, as the company
were seated in an irregular circle on the rocks, were discussed and
dispatched with that keen relish which abstinence and a toil-earned
appetite alone could have brought them.
After they had finished their repast, they, at the suggestion of
Phillips and Codman, the only persons of the company who were familiar
with the lakes and country above, took up a question which they had
before discussed, without settling, but which, they were told by
the persons just named, must now, before proceeding any farther, be
definitely settled and understood. This question was that of the
expediency of establishing a general head-quarters for the season, by
building a large, storm-proof camp, and locating it at some central
point on the shore of one of the two great lakes opening still above
the one on which they were now about to embark. The object of this
was to insure the company comfortable quarters, to which they could
resort in case of falling sick, or encountering long storms, at which
their furs could be collected and more safely kept, their more cumbrous
stores left, and from which their provisions could be distributed, with
the least trouble and travel, to the smaller and more temporary camps
that each of the company, or any two of them, might make at the nearest
terminations, on the neighboring waters, of the different ranges of
woods they should select for their respective fields of operations.
The main part of the question, that of the necessity of establishing
general head-quarters, was at once, and unanimously, decided in the
affirmative. The remaining part, that of the most eligible location
for these quarters, was then fully discussed, and finally settled by
fixing the point of location about midway of the eastern side of the
Mooseeluk-maguntic, the next great lake above, and, counting from the
south, the third in this unique chain of secluded lakes and widely
clustering lakelets, through which the far-spanning Androscoggin pours
its vast volume of wild waters to the distant bosom of the welcoming
ocean.
“Wisely arranged,” remarked the hunter, at the close of the discussion.
“The next object in view, then, is to reach there this evening, in
season to work up something in the shape of a camp, that will serve for
the night, and until the good one we propose to build can be completed.”
“That can be done easily enough,” said Codman, “that is, if we will tax
our marrow-bones a little extra in pulling at the oars. The distance
over this lake, up the narrows, or river, and across the end of the
Maguntic to the mouth of that second stream we have talked of, can’t
be much more than a dozen miles, and all smooth sailing. Lord, yes!
if we put in like decent oarsmen, I warrant we make fetch come, so as
to be there by the sun an hour high, which will give time to build a
comfortable camp, and for cooking up the jolly good supper I’m thinking
to have, to pay us far all these sweats and hard pulls up these
confounded rapids and over these never-ending lakes.”
“Well, let us put in, then, boys,” responded Gaut Gurley. “I am as much
for the go-ahead principle as the best of you. Let us try the motion,
and _earn_ the good supper, whether we get it or not. But, to make the
supper quite the thing for the occasion, it strikes me we ought to have
something a little fresher than our salt junk.”
“True, O King, and Great Mogul of the lubber-lifts,” rejoined the
trapper; “thou talkest like one not altogether without knowledge of the
good living of the woods. That something fresher we will have, if it be
only a mess of fish, which I think I can take out of that stream in a
short time after we get there.”
“That could be done as we go along, if these lakes are as well stocked
with large trout as they are reputed,” observed Carvil, in the calm,
deliberate manner which characterized him on all occasions.
“But we mustn’t stop for that,” said the trapper.
“There is no need of stopping,” quietly replied the former.
“That’s a queer idea,” said the trapper, evidently at fault. “How are
we to put in and wait for bites, without stopping, I would like to
know?”
“Perhaps I may be able to demonstrate the matter, as we proceed on
our way. At all events, since the question is raised, I will try,”
replied Carvil, drawing from his pocket a roll of small silk cord, to
which a fish-hook, without any sinker, was attached. “Can any of you
handily get at your pork, so as to cut off and throw me a small bit?
There, that will do,” he continued, taking the proffered bit of meat,
and baiting his hook with it. “Now, the experiment I propose to try is
what in my region we call ‘troulling,’ which consists of throwing out
a baited hook and paying out, as the boat moves on, a hundred feet,
or so, of line, that is left to trail, floating on the surface of the
water behind; when most large fish, like bass, or trout, especially if
you make a sharp tack, occasionally, so as to draw the line across an
undisturbed portion of the water, will see, and, darting up, seize it,
and hook themselves. And, if you have many large trout _here_, and they
are any related to those I have found in the Great Maguntic, and other
large bodies of fresh water, they will some of them stand a pretty good
chance to be found adding to our supper to-night.”
“Sorry to hear it,” said the trapper, “for I have always considered the
trout a sensible fish, and I should be sorry to lose my respect for
them. But, if they will do that, they are bigger fools than I took them
to be. But you’ll find they just won’t.”
“Well, I don’t know about that, now. I am not so sure but there may be
something in it,” remarked the hunter, who had been listening to Carvil
with evident interest. “Though we have never tried that method in this
region, to my knowledge, yet my experience rather goes to confirm the
notion. I remember to have caught several fine trout, when I had laid
down my pole, and was moving off with my boat, but had left my line
trailing behind. Those great fellows are not very bashful about seizing
any thing they think they can eat, which they can see on the surface.
I have known them do a stranger thing than to come up and seize a piece
of pork.”
“What was that?” asked the trapper.
“Well, I don’t know as you will believe the story,” answered the other,
“but it will be equally true, if you don’t. Some years ago I was out on
the Umbagog, for a mess of trout, but couldn’t get a bite; and, seeing
a flock of black ducks in a neighboring cove, I hauled in my line,
and rowed off towards them, thinking I might get a shot, and so have
something to carry home, by way of mending my luck at fishing. But,
before I got near enough to count with much certainty on the effect of
a shot, if I fired, they all flew up, but one, which, though it seemed
to be trying hard enough, could not raise its body out of the water.
As my canoe drifted in nearer, I once or twice raised my rifle to fire
at it; but it acted so strangely, flapping the water with its wings,
and tugging away at swimming, without appearing to gain scarce a single
foot, that I soon laid down my piece and concluded I would try to take
it alive, supposing it must have got fast tangled with something, but
with what, I was wholly unable to conceive. So, taking up my oar, and
gunning my canoe, so as to send it by within reach of the bird, I
gave two or three strong pulls, threw down the oar, put out my hand,
and sat ready for the grab, which the next moment I made, seizing the
panting and now sinking duck by one of its outspread wings, and pulling
it in, with a big trout fastened to its foot and leg so tight by the
teeth that the hold did not give way till the greedy fish was brought
slapping over the side, and landed safely in the bottom of the canoe.
That trout, when I got home, weighed just seven pounds and nine ounces.”
“Wheugh! whiz! kak! ke-o-ho!” exclaimed, whistled, and crowed Comical
Codman.
“I do not doubt it in the least,” said Carvil.
“Nor can I, of course, on Mr. Phillips’ statement,” added Mark Elwood;
“but, if I had not known his scrupulousness in matters of fact, I
should not have believed that so strange a circumstance had ever
happened in the world.”
“So the story is voted gospel, is it?” rejoined the trapper. “Well,
then, I propose we commission its author to cruise along the coves this
afternoon, so that he may bring into camp to-night trout enough caught
in that way to make up what Mr. Carvil may miss taking by _his_ method,
together with a brace or two of nice ducks, which would be a still
further fine addition to our supper.”
“Yes, ducks or some other kind of flesh, to go with the fish, we may
now safely count on being secured, by some of the various proposed
methods,” here interposed Claud Elwood, seriously. “And I second the
motion of such a cruise along the shores, by Mr. Phillips, who so
seldom fails of killing something. And if he, Mr. Carvil, and father,
will agree to an exchange of boat companions for the afternoon, I
should like to go with him. I have chosen him my schoolmaster in
hunting, and I should have a chance for another lesson before we go
into the separate fields of our approaching operations.”
Gaut Gurley started at the suggestion, and cast a few quick, searching
glances at Claud and the hunter, as if suspecting a concert of action
between them, for some purpose affecting his secret plans; but,
appearing to read nothing in either of their countenances to confirm
such suspicions, and seeing all the rest of the company readily falling
in with the proposal, he held his peace, and joined the others in
handling the oars for their immediate departure; which was now in a
few minutes taken, the main part of the company striking in a direct
line across the middle of the lake for their destination, leaving the
hunter and Claud moving off obliquely to the right, for a different and
farther route among the intervening islands, and along the indented
shores beyond,--where it will best comport with the objects of our
story, we think, to accompany them in their solitary excursion.
“Where away, as the sailors have it?” said Claud, after the two, each
with a single oar, had rowed on a while in silence; “where away, Mr.
Phillips, or in the line of what object in sight would you lay your
course?”
“Why, I had proposed, in my own mind,” replied the hunter, “to steer
direct across, so as to graze the east side of the great island you see
yonder in the distance; but, as we shall pass so near the cove which
lies snuggled away between two sharp, woody points here, a little ahead
to the right, we might as well, perhaps, haul in and take a squint
round it.”
“What shall we find there?”
“Perhaps nothing. It is the place, however, where I found that deer
which I killed when we were here before.”
“Well, if you can count on another, we should turn in there now.”
“We will; but a hunter, young man, must never talk of certainties when
going to any particular spot in search of such roving things as the
animals of the forest. He must learn to bear disappointment, and be
prepared to find nothing where he or others had before found every
thing. He must have patience. Loss of patience is very apt to be fatal
to success in almost any business, but especially so in hunting. You
spoke of taking lessons of me in the craft: this is the very first
grand lesson I would impress on your mind. But we are now close upon
the point of land, which we are only to round to be in the cove. If you
are disposed to row the boat alone, now, keep in or out, stop or move
on, as I from time to time give the word, I will be down on my knees in
the bow of the boat, with cocked rifle in hand, ready for what may be
seen.”
Readily complying, Claud carefully rowed round the point and entered
the dark and deep indenture constituting the cove, whose few acres
of surface were thrown almost wholly into the shade, even at sunny
noonday, by the thickly-clustered groups of tall, princely pines,
which, like giant warriors in council, stood nodding their green plumes
around the closely-encircling shores. Closely hugging the banks,
now stopping behind some projecting clump of bushes, now in some
rock-formed nook, and now in the covert of some low-bending treetop,
to give the keen-eyed hunter a chance to peer round or through these
screening objects into the open spaces along the shore beyond, he
slowly pushed along the canoe till the whole line of the cove was
explored, and they reached the point corresponding to the one at which
they commenced their lookout for game, and all without seeing a living
creature.
“Pshaw! this is dull business,” exclaimed Claud, as they came out into
the open lake, where he was left free to speak aloud. “This was so fine
a looking place for game that I felt sure we should see something worth
taking; and I am quite disappointed in the result.”
“So that, then, is the best fruit you can show of my first lesson in
hunting, is it, young man?” responded the hunter, with a significant
smile.
Claud felt the implied rebuke, and promised better behavior for the
future; when both seated themselves at the oars, and, as men naturally
do, after an interval of suppressed action, plied themselves with a
vigor that sent their craft swiftly surging over the waters in the line
of their original destination.
They now soon reached, and shot along the shore of, a
beautifully-wooded island, nearly a half-mile in extent, about midway
of which the hunter rested on his oars, and, after Claud, on his
motion, had done the same, observed, pointing through a partial opening
among the trees, along a visible path that led up a gentle slope into
the interior of the island:
“There! do you catch a glimpse of a house-like looking structure, in an
open and light spot in the woods, a little beyond where you cease to
trace the path?”
“Yes, quite distinctly. What is it?”
“That belongs to the chief, and might properly enough be called his
summer-house, as he generally comes here with his family to spend the
hot months. He raises fine crops of corn in his clearing on there
beyond the house, and saves it all, because the bears, coons, and
squirrels, that trouble him elsewhere, are so completely fenced out by
the surrounding water.”
“Are the family there, now?”
“No; they have moved back to his principal residence, a mile or two
distant, on a point of land over against the opposite side of this
island, and not far out of our course.”
“Indeed! what say you, then, to giving them a call as we pass by?”
“We shall not have time, which is a good reason for not calling now, if
there were not still stronger ones.”
“What stronger reasons, or what other reasons at all?”
“Well, perhaps there are none. But, supposing two of the company
we left behind, who might happen to conceive they have some secret
interest at stake, should ever suspect that your leading object in
leaving them was to make the very visit you are now proposing, would
you not prefer that we should have it in our power to set their minds
at rest, when we join them to-night, by telling them all the places we
_did_ touch at?”
“It is possible I should, in such a case,” replied Claud, looking
surprised and puzzled; “but, ‘suspected,’ did you say? _Why_ should
they suspect? and what if they do?”
“Three questions in a heap, when one is more than I could wisely
attempt to answer,” evasively answered the cautious hunter.
“But you must have some reasons for what you said,” persisted the other.
“Reasons founded upon guesses are poor things to build a statement on,”
rejoined the hunter. “Half the mischief and ill-feeling in the world
comes from statements so made. And, guessing aloud is often no better.
I rather think, all things considered, we had better not stop at the
chief’s, this time. I can show you where he lives, as we pass; and, if
that will do, we will now handle oars, and be on our way.”
Much wondering at the enigmatical words of the other, Claud, without
further remark, put in his oar and thoughtfully rowed on, till they
had passed round the head of the island; when, on the indication of
the hunter, they stretched away towards a distant promontory, on the
northeastern shore of the lake. A steady and vigorous rowing of half an
hour brought them within a few hundred yards of the headland, for which
they had been steering; when the hunter lifted his oar, and said:
“There! let the canoe run on alone, a while, and give me your
attention. Now, you see,” he continued, pointing in shore to the right,
“you see that opening in the woods, yonder, on the southern slope
extending down near the lake, eighty rods or such a matter off, don’t
you? Well, that, and divers other openings, where the timber has been
cut down and burnt over, for planting corn, scattered about in the
woods in different places, as well as a large tract of the surrounding
forest-land, are the possessions of the chief.”
“But where is their house?”
“Down near the lake, among the trees. You can’t see much of it, but it
is a smart, comfortable house, like one of our houses, and built by a
carpenter; for the chief used formerly to handle considerable money,
got by the furs caught by himself, and by the profits on the furs he
bought of the St. Francis Indians, who came over this way to hunt. But
stay: there are some of the family at his boat-landing. I think it must
be Fluella and her Indian half-brother. She is waving a handkerchief
towards us. Let us wait and see what she wants.”
The female, whose trim figure, English-fashioned dress, and graceful
motions went to confirm the hunter’s conjectures, now appeared to turn
and give some directions to the boy, who immediately disappeared, but
in a few minutes came back, entered a canoe, and put off towards the
spot where our two voyagers were resting on their oars. In a short time
the canoe came up, rowed by an ordinary Indian boy of about fourteen,
who, pulling alongside, held up a neatly-made, new, wampum-trimmed
hunting pouch, and said:
“The chief send this Mr. Claud Elwood,--gift. Fluella say, wish Mr.
Phillips and Mr. Claud Elwood good time.”
And so saying, and tossing the article to Claud, he wheeled his
canoe around, and, without turning his head or appearing to hear the
compliments and thanks that both the hunter and Claud told him to take
to the chief and his daughter, sped his way back to the landing.
“There, young man!” exclaimed the obviously gratified hunter, “that
is a present, with a meaning. I would rather have it, coming as it
does from an Indian, and that Indian such a man as the chief,--I would
rather have it, as a pledge of watchfulness over your interests in the
settlement, whether you are present there or absent,--than a white
man’s bond for a hundred dollars; and I would also rather have it, as
a token of faith, given when you are roaming this northern wilderness,
than a passport from the king of England. The chief’s _Totem_, the bald
eagle, is woven in, I see, among the ornaments. Every Indian found
anywhere from the great river of Canada to the sea eastward will know
and respect it, and know, likewise, how to treat the man to whom it was
given.”
“But how,” asked Claud, “could stranger Indians, whom I encountered,
know to whom it was given, or that I did not find, buy, or steal the
article?”
“Let an Indian alone for that. You have but three fingers on your left
hand, I have noticed.”
“True, the little finger was accidentally cut clean off by an axe, when
I was a child; but what has that to do with the question?”
“Enough to settle it. Do you notice something protruding as if from
under the protecting wing of the eagle of the _Totem_, there?”
“Yes; and surely enough it resembles a human hand, with only three
fingers.”
“That is it; and you may yet, in your experiences in these rough and
sometimes dangerous wilds, know the value of that gift.”
“At any rate, I feel gratified at this mark of the chief’s good will;
the more because I was so little expecting it, especially at this time.
How could they have possibly made out who I, or indeed either of us,
was, at such a distance?”
“A very natural inquiry, but answered when I tell you that Fluella
has a good spy-glass, that a year or two ago she brought, among other
curious trinkets, from her other home in the old settlement. And she
makes it often serve a good purpose, too. She has spied out, for her
father’s killing, many a moose or deer that had come down to the
edge or into the water of the lake round the shores to drink, eat
wild-grass, or cool themselves, as well as many a flock of wild geese,
lighting here on their fall or spring passages. She knew, I think,
about the day we were to start, and, being on the lookout, saw the rest
of our company passing off here to the west, an hour or two ago, and,
not seeing us among them, expected us to be along somewhere in this
direction. Now, is all explained?”
“Yes, curiously but satisfactorily.”
“Then, only one word more on the subject: let me advise you not to show
that hunting-pouch when we join the company, nor wear it till we are
off on our separate ranges. I have my reasons, but mustn’t be asked to
give them.”
“All this is odd, Mr. Phillips; but, taking it for granted that your
reasons are good ones, I will comply with your advice.”
“Very well. The whole matter being now disposed of, let us move on
round the point, and into the large cove we shall find round there. We
mustn’t give up about game so. No knowing what may yet be done in that
line.”
Having risen to his feet, raised his hunting-cap, and bowed his adieu
to the still lingering maiden on shore, Claud now joined his companion
at the oars; when they rapidly passed round the headland, and soon
entered the bay-like recess of water, which, sweeping round in a large
wood-fringed circle, opened upon the view immediately beyond. After
skirting along the sometimes bold and rocky, and sometimes low and
swampy, thickly-wooded shore, with a sharp lookout for whatever might
come within range of the eye, but without stopping for any special
examination till they had reached the most secluded part of the cove,
the hunter suspended his oar, and signified his intention of landing.
Accordingly, running in their canoe by the side of an old treetop
extending into the water, and, throwing their mooring-line around one
of its bare limbs, they stepped noiselessly ashore, and ascended the
bank, when the hunter, pausing and pointing inward, said, in a low,
suppressed tone:
“There, within a short distance from us, commences one of the thickest
windfall jungles in these parts, and extends up nearly to the chief’s
outermost cornfield, about half a mile off. I have been threatening to
come here some time; and if, as I will propose, we go into the tangle,
and get through, or half through, without encounter of some kind, I
confess I shall be uncommonly disappointed. But, before entering, let
us sit down on this old log a few minutes, and, while looking to our
flints and priming, keep our ears open for such sounds as may reach
them.”
And, bending low his head, with closed eyes, and an ear turned towards
the thicket, the hunter listened long and intently in motionless
silence, after which he quickly rose, and, while glancing at his
gun-flint and priming, said:
“There are no distinct sounds, but the air is disturbed in the kind of
way that I have frequently noticed when animals of some size were in
the vicinity. Let us forward into the thicket, spreading out some ten
rods apart, and worming ourselves among the windfalls, with a stop and
a thorough look every few rods of our progress. Should you start up a
panther, which ain’t very likely, you had better whistle for me, before
firing; but, if any thing else, blaze away at it.”
Nodding his assent, and starting off in a course diverging to the
right of the one he perceived his companion to be taking, Claud slowly,
and as he best could, made his way forward, sometimes crawling under,
and sometimes clambering over the tangled masses of fallen trees,
which, with a thick upshooting second growth, lay piled and crossed in
all conceivable shapes and directions before him. After proceeding in
this manner thirty or forty rods, he paused, for the third or fourth
time, to look and listen; but lastly quite as much for his companion as
for game, for, with all his powers, he could detect no sound indicating
that the latter could be anywhere in the vicinity. While thus engaged,
he heard a small, shrill, plaintive sort of cry, as of a little child,
coming from somewhere above him; when, casting up his eyes, he beheld a
large raccoon sidling round a limb, and seemingly winking and nodding
down towards him. With the suppressed exclamation of “Far better than
nothing,” he brought his piece to his face and fired; when the glimpse
of a straight-falling body, and the heavy thump on the ground that
followed, told him that the object of his aim was a “_dead coon_.” But
his half-uttered shout of exultation was cut short by the startling
report of a rifle, a little distance to the rear, on his left. And the
next moment a huge old bear, followed by a smaller one, came smashing
and tearing through the brush and tree-tops directly towards him. And
with such headlong speed did the frightened brutes advance upon him,
that he had scarce time to draw his clubbed rifle before the old one
had broke into the little open space where he stood, and thrown herself
on her haunches, in an attitude of angry defiance. Recoiling a step
in the only way he could move, and expecting the next moment to find
himself within the fatal grasp of the bear, if he did not disable her,
Claud aimed and struck with all his might a blow at her head. But,
before the swiftly-descending implement reached its mark, it was struck
by the fending paw of the enraged brute, with a force that sent its
tightly-grasping owner spinning and floundering into the entangled
brushwood, till he landed prostrate on the ground. And, ere he had
time to turn himself, the desperate animal had rushed and trampled over
him, and disappeared through a breach effected in one of the treetops
that had hemmed him in and prevented his retreat from such a doubtful,
hand-to-hand encounter. As the discomfited young huntsman was rising to
his feet, his eyes fell upon Phillips, hurrying forward, with looks of
lively concern; which, however, as he leaped into the small open space
comprising the battle-ground, and saw how matters stood, at first gave
place to a ludicrous smile, and then to a merry peal of laughter.
“I can’t say I blame you much for your merriment,” said Claud, joining,
though rather feebly, in the laugh, as he brushed himself and picked
up his rifle; “for, to be upset and run over by a bear would have been
about the last thing I should have dreamed of myself.”
“O well,” said the other, checking his risibles, “it had better turn
out a laughing than a crying matter, as it might have done if you
had kept your footing; for, if you had not been overthrown and run
over, you would have probably, in this cramped-up place, stood up to
be hugged and scratched in a way not so very agreeable; and I rather
guess, under the circumstances, you may as well call yourself satisfied
to quit so; for the bears have left you with a whole skin and unbroken
ribs, though they have escaped themselves where, with our time, it will
be useless to follow them. But, if you had not fired just as you did,
we would have had all three of them.”
“What! have you killed one?” asked Claud, in surprise.
“To be sure I have,” answered the hunter. “Then you supposed it was one
of your rough visitors I fired at, and missed? No, no. I had got one
of the black youngsters in range, and was waiting for a chance at the
old one, knowing if I killed her first the young ones would take to the
trees, where they could easily be brought down. Seeing them, however,
on the point of running at the report of your rifle, I let drive at the
only one I was sure of; when the two others, they being nearly between
us, tacked about and ran towards you. But go get your ’coon, and come
along this way, to look at my black beauty.”
“How did you know I had killed a ’coon?” inquired the other.
“Heard him squall before you fired, then strike the ground afterwards
with a force that I thought must have killed him, whether your bullet
had or not,” replied the hunter, moving off for his bear, with which,
tugging it along by a hind leg, he soon joined Claud, who was threading
his way out with his mottled trophy swung over his shoulder.
“Why, a much larger one than I supposed,” exclaimed the latter, turning
and looking at the cub; “really, a fine one!”
“Ain’t he, now?” complacently said the hunter. “There, heft him;
must weigh over half a hundred, and as fat as butter,--for which he
is doubtless indebted to the chief’s cornfield. And I presume we
may say the same of that streaked squaller of yours, which I see is
an uncommonly large, plump fellow. Well,” continued the speaker,
shouldering the cub, “we may now as well call our hunt over, for
to-day,--out of this plaguey hole as soon as we can, and over the lakes
to camp, as fast as strong arms and good oars can send us.”
On, after reaching and pushing off their now well-freighted canoe,
on,--along the extended coast-line of this wild lake, westward to
the great inlet, up the gently inflowing waters of that broad,
cypress-lined stream, to the Maguntic, and then, tacking eastward,
around the borders of that still wilder and more secluded lake,--on,
on, they sped for hours, until the ringing of the axe-fall, and the
lively echo of human voices in the woods, apprised them of their near
approach to the spot which their companions had selected, both for
their night’s rest and permanent head-quarters for the season.