A CARIBOU, AND HOW IT WAS KILLED
A day was spent at Dalton's, as it was found that several horses needed
shoeing, but the following morning the pack train forded the Alsek and
clattered off along the trail, while the Bradfords were ferried over
the swift stream by a Stik Indian in a dug-out,--a canoe which consists
of the trunk of a single large tree hollowed by fire and the axe.
The trail led through the woods, and Mr. Bradford and Uncle Will
agreed that in such a region the little party of four should keep
together, since the two robbers, if they were concealed anywhere in the
neighborhood and still had lawless intentions, would hesitate to waylay
and attack an armed party of twice their numbers. The three packers
were also well armed.
The forest was left behind at noon, and they gladly ascended to the top
of a range of treeless uplands where there was no cover for an enemy.
Here a small pack train of oxen and horses, in charge of five or six
New Englanders, was met. They had seen no suspicious persons since
leaving Pyramid Harbor. When questioned about the fords of the Klaheena
and Salmon rivers, the travellers laughed and pointed to one of their
number whom they called Mr. Green, as being most likely to have a vivid
recollection of his experience.
"Yes," said Mr. Green, good-humoredly, "I shall not soon forget the
ford of the Klaheena. You see, our pack animals are loaded down with
about all they can carry, and I'm no feather-weight. Consequently,
instead of mounting one of the already overburdened beasts, I crossed
the two fords of the Salmon River by wading. The water was cold, but I
didn't mind the wetting much, and took the precaution to hold fast to
the tail of the largest ox. This plan succeeded so well at the first
two fords that when we reached the Klaheena I felt no hesitancy about
crossing in the same manner. I stripped off most of my clothing, took a
firm hold of the tail of the big ox, and we started.
"Well, gentlemen, if you've ever seen a pickerel spoon whirl round
and round when it's dragged behind a boat, you will have some idea of
the motions I described when I struck that deep and rushing current.
I was off my feet in a twinkling and thrashing about in the wildest
manner imaginable; and if I hadn't gripped the tail of that ox with the
strength of desperation, I shouldn't be here to tell about it. Even
the ox was forced down the stream quite a distance, but his heavy load
enabled him to keep his feet, and he hauled me out at last on the
opposite bank, more scared than hurt. But next time, gentlemen, I'm
going to ride."
Mr. Green's droll recital was listened to with much amusement. He now
wiped from his brow the perspiration which his exciting reminiscences
had induced, and added a last item of advice.
"My friends," said he, with a serio-comic expression on his round face,
"don't you try swimming, either. We saw a young fellow do that, and--I
swan! if he didn't go down-stream like a chip. He would reach the shore
time and again and try to get hold of something, but there was nothing
but loose gravel, and it gave way as soon as he touched it, and away
the current would hustle him. It kept that fellow moving for a mile,
and he might be going yet if he hadn't been washed up on a gravel bar."
These tales of the dread Klaheena were anything but reassuring to the
Bradfords; and in the imagination of the boys that river began to
assume the form of a ravening monster. What with mountain torrents and
highwaymen, they felt that they would be the most fortunate of mortals
if they reached the coast in safety. They discovered, as many a brave
man has done, that the terrors of anticipation are often far more
unnerving than a real and present danger.
About the middle of the afternoon they crossed two deep ravines, each
the bed of a noisy brook, and soon afterward found themselves on the
highest ridge of the bleak uplands. It was not thought necessary here
to keep together, and Uncle Will and Roly were fully a quarter of a
mile in advance of Mr. Bradford and David, who had paused to make
pannings at the streams in the ravines.
"Keep a sharp lookout for our pack train," cautioned Uncle Will. "I
think they've camped somewhere here, and we don't want to miss them."
As he spoke, he and Roly were approaching the crest of a low hill.
Suddenly Uncle Will, who was leading, stopped, then threw himself at
full length on the ground.
"Down, Roly, quick!" he whispered. "There's a caribou coming. Don't
make a sound."
Roly dropped instantly, and the two lay there, quiet but excited,
gazing at the crest of the hill not more than forty feet ahead,
Uncle Will meantime drawing his revolver. Roly had no weapon but his
knife, and the only kind of a shot he could take was a snapshot,--for
he happened to be carrying David's camera. Even that might not be
possible, for the sun was almost in line with the game.
Fortunately the wind was blowing from the caribou's direction, and
without scenting danger he trotted briskly along the trail. After
a moment of thrilling suspense the two watchers saw first his
antlers and then his head and body rise above the sky-line, until the
magnificent animal stood full in view. He paused an instant as if to
reconnoitre, which gave Uncle Will his opportunity. The report of the
revolver rang out sharply.
The caribou started, looked about without seeming to discover the two
crouching figures, then circled slowly off to the right as if to get
the scent from the point of danger. Uncle Will fired again and with
better effect, for the caribou stopped and wavered. Meanwhile Roly,
camera in hand, was manoeuvring for a position from which he could
take a picture. Before he had succeeded, a third shot brought the
caribou to his knees. He rose, struggled forward a step or two, then
sank never to rise again. All three bullets had struck him, and it was
found that the first, which appeared to have so little effect, had gone
clear through his body, from front to rear.
"We've got him!" exclaimed Uncle Will, delightedly, as he ran toward
the fallen game. "It's queer for an old hunter like me to have buck
fever, but I had it that time. Did you see my hand tremble, Roly?
Didn't think I could hit the side of a house. Did you get the picture?"
"No," said Roly, "not the one I wanted. The sun was right behind him."
Shouts were now heard, and three men and a horse were seen approaching,
while some distance behind them in a cloud of dust galloped a party of
mounted men. They all arrived on the scene together. The mounted men
proved to be a squad of police in charge of a sergeant and accompanied
by Jack Dalton and an Indian, all bound for Pleasant Camp; while the
three men on foot were Mr. Bradford, David, and Phil. The new-comers
gathered around the caribou and plied the successful hunters with
questions.
"You went clean by our camp," said Phil. "Didn't you see the horses off
to the left of the trail about half a mile back?"
"No," said Uncle Will, "and we looked out for them too."
"I saw you go by," continued Phil, "and shouted, and when you didn't
seem to hear I started after you. Then I heard your shots and saw the
caribou, and concluded you had gone ahead because you had seen the
game, so I went back for a horse."
Uncle Will and Phil set to work to cut up the carcass, first removing
the hide, which the former wished to preserve. A generous portion of
the meat was given to Dalton and the police, who had always shown
unfailing hospitality to the Bradfords; while the Indian received
permission to take certain sinews and cords which are utilized in the
manufacture of the native snow-shoes. The remainder of the dressed
carcass was placed upon Phil's horse and taken back to the camp, where
the cook took charge of it with much rejoicing.
"Venison!" exclaimed the old man, again and again, as if it were too
good to be true. "No more bacon for the rest of this trip! Now we'll
live like kings!"