The Canadian Winter
"It aer jest blowin' an almighty gale, and there ain't nothing to do
but feed and make our snowshoes," said Hank, when early on the
following morning he and Joe looked out of the shack. "It aer a lucky
thing fer us that we brought a tidy-sized piece of pork along with us,
'cos this gale might last fer days. Not as I think it will, but it
might; and ef we hadn't had plenty of grub, gee! it would ha' been a
bad case."
Such a prospect met Joe's gaze when he stood to his full height and,
having helped to throw the snow away from the entrance of the shack,
peered over the white edge before him! The trees on either hand were
heavily laden with snow. Branches here and there had crashed to the
ground and lay in an unrecognizable heap, save for a twig here or a
stronger bough there thrusting a way upward into the light; for all
around everything was covered, smoothly clad in an all-pervading
vestment of white. Gorgeous blue shadows lurked here and there, the
faintness of the colouring adding to its beauty. Long icicles, beside
which those to be seen in England were but babies, hung from branches
already overweighted, one, a ponderous fellow, drooping to within a few
feet of the shack; for the heat of the fire had melted the snow as it
fell upon a branch above, and had produced this monster with the help
of the frost.
"You kin get in at breakfast," said Hank, looking about him with the
manner of a man who saw nothing extraordinary about the transformation
which had arrived since the day before. "The fire's been out this two
hours, so you'd best start another."
Joe showed his want of experience at once, for he began to rake away
the snow, so as to get down to the ashes of the fire he had built on
the evening of their arrival. But Hank stopped him with a merry guffaw.
"That ain't the way," he said. "You start buildin' yer fire right here
on top of the snow. It'll eat its way down. Yer see, ef you was to
begin right down in a hole, there wouldn't be any sorter draught, and
how's flames to get in at the damp wood ef you don't have draught to
help 'em? But once they get movin', and things is hot, why, in course
the fire burns its way slowly downward to the ground level, when there
ain't sich draught required."
It was one of the sort of things Joe and many another new to this
country, and to such quaint surroundings, would never have thought of,
though he was quick to see the reason in Hank's explanation. He
arranged his logs, therefore, on the top of the snow, and then removed
them once more.
"Wall?" asked Hank, who seemed always to have one eye for our hero,
whatever he happened to be doing himself. "What are the game now?"
"Too much draught, that's all," grinned Joe, blowing on his fingers,
for an icy wind whirled the flakes about him. "Too much of it, Hank.
Blow the fire out or set our shack alight. Fine that'd be--eh?"
The little hunter grinned widely and nodded vigorously. "Good fer
you," he shouted. "I've knowd chaps as would ha' taken a month o'
Sundays ter spot that. There's some as is jest almighty windbags, and
go about talkin' so much that they can't think, let alone allow others
that has a mind to. There's something in bein' silent at times, Joe.
A man ain't a fool 'cos he stays quiet takin' in things as they happen."
He sniffed the air as Joe's pork steaks began to frizzle, and looked up
from the work he was engaged on when the kettle began to send out a
merry tune, heard in spite of the howling wind. Steam whistled from
the spout, and was the signal for Hank to step across to the canteen
and extract the tea leaves which were to form their staple beverage
during the trip.
"Tea aer comfortin'," he had said many a time, "and tea aer sustainin'.
There ain't a one as I knows of that don't drink tea and feel better
fer it. In course there's a few as is ill and find it hurts 'em, but,
gee! you get to thinkin' of all the old ladies who swears by a cup! As
fer hunters and prospectors and sich-like, tea don't hurt none of 'em.
Summertime, when it's cold, it quenches thirst better nor anything I've
met. And winter, when it's that cold you can't feel yer hands, why, a
tin dish of the stuff warms yer right down into yer boots and sets toes
and fingers tingling. Pitch in the dose, lad. I'm that set this
mornin', seems to me I could eat all you've cooked single-handed, and a
tidy slice more in addition."
It was all good-humoured fun, and Joe found that Hank was a splendid
travelling companion; for he had proved time and again now that he had
a means to get over more than ordinary difficulties, and that whatever
the times, pleasant or foul, he was genial and bright, always looking
on the right side of misfortunes.
"Now, jest as soon as you've cleaned up these here things, we'll finish
off the shoes and try 'em," said Hank, when they had eaten their fill.
"I brought along these two sets of frames from home, they being the
ones I made this four year back. The strip to go across 'em war to be
had back there in the settlement, and all we've got to do is to bind it
on. Ever been across snow afore, lad?"
Joe had to acknowledge that he had not. As he melted snow in his
kettle and washed the few tin utensils they carried with the resulting
water, he watched the busy fingers of the hunter threading raw hide
strips through holes bored in the tough, bending wood which formed the
frames of the snowshoes. Then he was shown how to lash them to his
feet, while a little later he essayed to test them, and, clambering out
of the hollow which they now occupied, joined Hank on the snow. But
Joe did not remain long there; a projecting bough brought his attempt
to a sudden ending. One shoe caught badly, and before our hero knew
precisely what was happening or where he was going, he took a header
into the soft snow, till Hank could merely see a pair of shoes waving
wildly above it.
"You jest try agin, and take care of snags comin' up from below," he
cautioned our hero. "This here snowshoein' ain't really difficult. A
fellow soon gets the knack or hang of it, and then he can go across
frozen and snowed-under country quicker'n he could walk ef the ground
was hard and he jest in boots. You stick to it, mate; nothing was ever
larned but what caused trouble."
Joe did stick to it, in spite of the wind howling about him, and though
he took many a tumble, there was nothing in that soft, unfrozen snow to
do him injury; and in course of time he became more handy.
"You ain't done badly fer one lesson," said Hank encouragingly. "Best
give in for a time now and go inside the shack. It aer snowin' a
trifle harder, and sense it's gettin' dark too, it seems to me as ef
the wust war before us. We'll smoke and sleep; a long rest won't harm
either of us. 'Sides, there's heaps we could do. Now, see here, Joe.
I don't rightly know much about England, nor more'n a little bit about
Europe. Jest you get in at the job and tell me about it all. When
you're tired I'll yarn to you all about the other provinces in Canada,
for I've been in most of 'em. It might turn out handy for you, for one
of these days you may be going west. They say out here that a settler
in Manitoba or Ontario stays jest so long as is wanted to make enough
dollars, then he streaks off west and takes to fruit farming, or
settles nigh to Vancouver. In course he goes so as to have more folks
about him, and also because the winter is a good deal less severe. Fer
me, give me this sort of thing; I ain't afraid of winter."
Hank was a cheery individual to have to deal with and Joe found him, as
one might have expected, a most attentive and intelligent listener. It
was well, too, that they got on so easily together, for the gale lasted
some twenty-four hours longer, though snow ceased to fall long before
the wind had subsided. This change was followed by a sudden rise in
temperature and then by a fierce frost.
"Couldn't have been better fer us," declared Hank. "That 'ere thaw
made the snow soft and sloppy on top. Now it's all ice, and it aer
likely we shall be able in parts to walk without snowshoes. In any
case, the shoes will hold us up over the deepest drifts, seein' that
there's now a firm skin all over. Guess we'll move come mornin'."
Busy always, for he could not sit down, in spite of his own statements
to the contrary, and remain idle, Hank that evening, with the aid of a
torch of the yellow birch bark, instructed Joe how to fashion
moccasins, the soft leather socks and boots combined, with which all
trappers and hunters are shod. Using some of the same hide which he
had employed for the snowshoes, he laid out a pattern in a few moments,
and then, with the small blade of a knife to bore the holes, and a thin
lace of the same material, laced the sides of the sock together.
"In course, like that it ain't waterproof," he said, "and though
trappers ain't so very careful, yet ef you've to march miles in
moccasins, and has to sleep in 'em during the night, you might jest as
well have comfort and dry feet. We'll march along in these to-morrow.
It'll be easier than using snowshoes, for the surface is nice and hard.
Soon as we kill a beast or two we'll make ourselves an extra pair, so
as to have a change."
A brilliant wintry sun flooded the landscape as the two emerged from
the forest on the following morning, and Joe got some idea of Canada's
appearance once winter has set in. Everywhere a mantle of snow covered
the ground, while trees, bushes, and rocks were clad in a thin coating
of ice following the thaw. As for the surface of the snow, it was
harder than that so much in request for skiing in Switzerland. The
sharp thaw had liquefied the surface for a depth of perhaps half an
inch, and this was now frozen hard.
"Likely as not there'll come another thaw," said Hank, "and in a jiffy
almost all this snow'll go, and the country be jest as it war before.
But that won't last long. Now that November's set in, we soon gets
winter fer good, and then it ain't till late March that there's a sign
of its ending. Sometimes it's later; sometimes earlier. But once the
snow's down, we gets bright days same as this often enough, and though
the thermometer may show thirty and forty degrees below zero, one don't
seem to feel it. Now, lad, put yer best foot forward; we ain't goin'
to fetch up at Fennick's to-night. This here snow'll delay us; but
ter-morrer, somewheres about noon."
With their packs slung over their backs, and each one using a strong
stick, the two went away on their journey, sometimes travelling over a
smooth expanse which must have been the surface of some frozen lake, of
which there are many in that part of Canada, and at other times
plunging into forests. The backwoods, in fact, extended as far as the
eye could reach, with open spaces here and there. Joe enjoyed the
journey amazingly. Think of the delights of such a new experience.
Well clad, and in suitable clothing, he was as warm as a toast, while
the unwonted exercise and the crispness of the frosty air made him step
out as he had never done before. Hank even was hard put to to keep up
with his young comrade.
"Blest ef you won't tire me one of these fine days," he cried, calling
for a halt. "It's them long legs of yourn; they takes you along over
the snow quicker'n mine. Do yer feel lonely, lad?"
Joe shook his head with marked emphasis. "Not a bit," he said, "though
if I were by myself I might very well do so. But there's something new
to look at all the while, and the sun is so jolly. Still, I can
imagine a farm hand, stuck away in some place right away from the
villages or townships, eating his heart out if he had never been used
to the wilds."
"Jest so; and that's why it is that bad tales of Canadian winters gets
out of the Dominion and reaches the ears of those thinkin' of
emigrating. It stands to reason that ef you take a young fellow that's
lived in a thickly-populated town all his life and plank him away right
in the wilds, he aer likely to feel lonesome come the winter, specially
ef he ain't got move enough on him to find a job or so to occupy his
time. He'll get thinking of the picture palaces and sichlike he might
be able to see ef he was back in a town, and he gets grumbling. Even
married folks do. I've knowed a chap go half crazy long afore the
winter was ended--but then, there you are!"
He raised his eyes significantly, for Hank had experience of what every
old settler has seen amongst newcomers. The life in the Dominion is
new to them. The winter is cruelly hard, without a shadow of doubt;
but grumbling does not help matters. Those who are ready to grumble at
their surroundings find the winter more than trying. Those who have
their hearts in the new life, and the firm resolve to persevere and be
successful, make the most and the best of what cannot be avoided, and
in place of longing for old conditions, for the amusements of a town,
settle down to find tasks to occupy their attention. As Hank had told
Joe before, and Peter also, there was always furniture to be made for
the shack. The winter months, when the shack was as warm as possible,
was just the time when papering and whitewashing could be done. There
were, in fact, a number of jobs to keep idle hands busy, to help pass
the time, and to aid settlers to happiness. However, if the winter
were hard elsewhere, Joe found this, his first experience of it, most
exhilarating. He trudged along blithely, whistling often. It was a
couple of hours after noon, when they had eaten and were on their way
once more, that something occurred to interrupt the journey. They were
thrusting their way noiselessly through a wooded glade, when Hank
brought his companion to a stop.
"There's been moose hereabouts," he told Joe, pointing to the snow.
"You could tell it blindfold, for though there ain't no footmarks,
there's deep holes. Yer see, a moose is that heavy and his feet so
small comparatively, that the hard crust of snow that's frozen ain't
strong enough to hold him up. He goes through deep ef he's making a
new track, while ef he and his mates has been along afore, there's a
deep hard path that there ain't no mistakin'. There's been jest one
along here; it's likely they has a yard 'way up here."
"A yard?" asked Joe, ignorant of what that might be. "What's a yard?"
"Jest a place to which moose flock every winter almost. In course it's
more or less open ground what's known as a 'barren', and there is
always heaps of the class of trees and moss on which they feed. They
congregates and treads the snow flat, and lives there till their food
is eaten; then off they goes to form another. Jest you slip along
easy, lad; a bull moose ain't the sorter fellow one asks to come up
aginst."
A mile or so farther on it was evident that the moose whose tracks they
were following, and who happened to have preceded them in their own
direction, joined a well-worn track which plunged at once into forest.
It was then that Hank again came to a sudden halt.
"Did you hear that sort of cough?" he asked. "That's a bull moose fer
sure; 'praps we'll come in fer some shootin'. Anyway, reckon we'll get
our guns unslung and ready in case."
Slipping cartridges into the breaches of their rifles, the two
proceeded cautiously, and before many minutes had passed heard a
succession of sounds which puzzled Joe immensely. Someone might have
been thrashing the trunks of the trees with a heavy stake; at times the
sounds were almost metallic, while now and again an angry cough came to
their ears.
"It aer a moose bull fer sure," whispered Hank. "Yer see, the wind's
fallen and there ain't a breath, else he'd have scented us long ago;
what's more, there's been something happenin' to upset his temper.
Bull moose aer the angriest, fiercest things as ever I clapped eyes on.
One moment they'll run at the very shadow of a human, and next they'll
charge with their heads up and their spreading antlers ready for the
enemy. Hark there, he's 'sounding'!"
When our hero had the latter term explained to him, he gathered that it
meant that the moose, scenting an enemy or a rival bull moose, perhaps,
had halted and was thrashing some tree stump with his antlers, till a
succession of blows sounded through the forest, for all the world as if
lumbermen were at work with their axes. Then followed a series of
lower-toned noises.
"He aer fairly working hisself up fer a fight," whispered Hank,
crouching behind a trunk. "That 'ere bull moose aer laying into the
trees with his fore hoofs, and lucky we are that it ain't us. Their
fore hoofs is just edged as sharp as any axe and would cut badly, while
a dig with the antlers would kill a man. You kin lay it as sartin that
there's another bull moose around. Mayhap there's been a cow moose
a-callin'. That's brought two of the others along, and now, ef I ain't
altogether mistaken, there's likely to be an almighty ruction, for it
ain't in reason fer one moose to give way to another; they're terrible
fighters. Jest about this time o' the year they're in grand condition,
and fights take place constantly. I ain't never seed one, but I've
come up to moose as was in them as was nigh killed. Come along
quietly; we may have a peep at what's happenin'."
Creeping on through the wood, the strange sounds which they had heard
were for a time altogether absent. But it was not for long, for a dull
croaking cough suddenly reached them from an opposite direction, and
was followed instantly by loud and furious "sounding" and by a huge
clatter that told of falling branches. Ten minutes later Hank put up
his hand and slank in behind a thick mass of underwood.
"Look away over there," he whispered hoarsely. "He aer hidin' jest in
amongst the trees, and another challenge from his rival will bring him
out. Ain't he layin' into the trunks and sichlike?"
The noise made by the furious beast became in fact even greater, while
there was a commotion amongst the branches and withered leaves which
still clung in places. A second later there came a croaking roar from
some point to the right, the trees in that direction were thrust
asunder, while a magnificent beast pushed its way into the clearing.
Joe's eyes opened wide in amazement, for never had he beheld such a
sight. There, standing erect before him, was one of the wonders of the
Dominion; in fact, one of the deer tribe peculiar to Canada, which,
unlike ordinary deer, noted for their timidity, was obviously the
reverse. A coat of shimmering black clothed the beast, setting off a
neck and shoulders which were decidedly massive; huge palmated antlers
of enormous breadth crowned a head which was large, like other portions
of this animal, and extremely fierce in aspect. Grand upper limbs
supported on slender lower ones, both streaked with orange lines, were
finished off by shapely hoofs, which, as Hank had said, could be
extremely dangerous. The animal made a truly magnificent spectacle,
and Joe could have continued gazing at him for a considerable time.
However, there was more to come yet, for of a sudden the leaves away to
the right parted, and a second moose bull, bigger if anything than he
who had already appeared, came striding into the arena.
"It'll be a fight that'll be worth watchin'," whispered Hank, his face
set with excitement, his eyes blazing. "See 'em charge."
It took perhaps less than a minute for the two rivals to take stock of
one another. A glance at either showed that their courage was raised
to the highest and their tempers ferocious. Then they charged
furiously, their heads down and their formidable antlers to the front.
The shock of their meeting could have been heard a mile away, while Joe
could easily hear their loud hissing breathing. Rising very cautiously
so as to obtain a better view, he looked on spellbound while the two
massive beasts fought for the victory, sometimes with their antlers
locked, and then, separating for a little space, only to dash forward
once more and come into contact with a crash which vibrated through the
forest. It was at one of the moments when they withdrew from one
another, as if to gather strength for another charge, that the brute
Joe and Hank had first come upon suddenly threw up his head and gazed
in their direction, causing both of them to crouch lower; then there
came a bellowing roar and a commotion there could be no
misunderstanding.
"He's scented us and is charging," cried Hank, leaping to his feet.
"There ain't nothing for it but a tree. Quick, Joe; climb into one!"
So sudden had been the change, that our hero was altogether taken aback
and, as it were, robbed of his energies. He could be quick enough at
other times, but now, when there was urgent need for haste, his feet
seemed too heavy, while as yet he had hardly taken in the danger of the
situation. It was when he saw Hank's active figure already shinning up
a tree that Joe awakened to his own position. By then the moose was
within some ten yards of him, its head down, coughing and bellowing
angrily.
"Dodge him! Dodge him!" shouted Hank, now astride a branch and looking
as if he were about to leap down to aid his comrade. "Don't try to
climb, or he'll cut you to pieces with his hoofs. Dodge him, lad!"
Joe heeded the warning, and, darting to one side, took cover behind a
slender oak which happened to be there. But if he thought it would
protect him he was much mistaken, for the moose charged madly, and,
striking the tree with head and antlers, broke it off short at the
bottom, sending the other portion and our hero flying together. In
fact, the whole thing was a huge surprise, and might well have been
expected to rob Joe of his wits altogether. But a sharp pang in his
shoulder as the trunk struck him heavily seemed to sharpen his
energies, and, leaping to his feet, he raced at once to another tree
and sheltered behind it. Then began a chase that was anything but
amusing, for the moose bull struck repeatedly at him, making the tree
shake, and sending the sound of his blows echoing and reverberating
through the forest. He rose on his hind legs and slashed fiercely with
his fore legs, ripping long strips of bark away. It looked, in fact,
as if any one of his rushes might take Joe unawares, and that his
dodging behind the tree might come to a sudden ending. As for Hank, he
was entirely helpless, for it was this selfsame tree in which he had
taken refuge, while his own and our hero's rifles lay behind the thick
underwood where they had been hiding. However, the little man was not
the one to give in without a struggle, more particularly when Joe's
life might depend upon his efforts, and presently a brilliant thought
came to his aid.
[Illustration: THE MOOSE CHARGED MADLY]
"Jest keep dodging him," he sang out encouragingly. "Ef he ain't
reached you yet he ain't likely to. Jest keep well clear of his hoofs
and out of sight of the brute as much as you can. He ain't as fresh as
he war, and that'll help us."
The cunning hunter rapidly unwound the long piece of raw hide that he
had cut for use on the snowshoes, and which, having more than he
required, he had carried with him since, in case of renewals being
wanted. Perhaps he had as much as eight feet, perhaps there was less;
but, in any case, it was as tough and strong as any rope ever
constructed. While Joe continued to dodge the angry moose, now
escaping his attacks with comparative ease--for he had regained his
coolness--Hank made one end of his rope fast to the tree, looped the
other, and then crawled out on the branch.
"Jest get him to come dodging round this way," he said hoarsely. "Ef I
hooks him, you make a run fer one of the guns, and then climb into the
nearest tree. This rope won't hold him overlong, but it'll do to let
you get clear. Now, I'm ready."
Joe merely required to show himself plainly for the maddened moose to
come dodging after him. The huge antlers, as hard almost as steel,
struck the tree a resounding clang, then the fore feet were used till
strips of bark were flying. Slowly Joe edged round the trunk, luring
the animal after him, till a lucky move brought the moose directly
under Hank.
"Git ready!" he shouted, at the same time dropping one foot and kicking
the antlers. Instantly the beast raised his head, and like lightning
Hank slipped his noose over one of the broad branches.
"Run!" he bellowed. "Don't ferget the gun, or we'll be both of us
fixed for days together."
It may be imagined that Joe did run. He dashed across the open space
to the spot where their rifles were lying, turning his head to see what
was happening. If he had felt less confidence in the little hunter,
there is small doubt that he would have neglected to pick up a weapon;
for the fury of the moose on seeing his movement was terrible. It
lowered its head and dashed after him, till the strong hide rope
brought it up with a jerk that threatened to snap the noose. Then
began a mad struggle on the part of the moose for freedom. Rearing up
on its hind legs, it struck out with its fore feet, almost reaching the
bough on which Hank was seated. It backed and tugged, it fell to the
ground, trusting by those means to tear itself free; then it dashed
this way and that, arrested on each occasion with a mighty jerk that
actually shook the tree.
"Even a chain wouldn't stand much more of such tugging," shouted Hank,
watching Joe anxiously out of the corner of his eye. "You be slippy
with that gun, lad, or else we'll lose him. Ah, that's a relief! He's
into a tree. Now, wonder what sort of shooting he'll make. Say, lad,"
he called out loudly, "take him when he lifts his head, and put a
bullet into his shoulder jest about where the neck joins it. Steady,
Joe; you're puffed. Pull yerself together."
If our hero had attempted a shot then, there is little doubt but that
he would have missed entirely, for what with the active movements of
the moose and his own trembling fingers, a sure aim was more than
difficult. However, he did as he was ordered. Bracing his legs round
a branch, he brought the butt of his weapon firmly to his shoulder,
then, choosing a moment when the animal lifted its head, he sent a
bullet crashing into it. A yell from Hank told him, even before the
thin cloud of smoke had cleared away, that he had been successful.
"Good fer you! Killed him dead!" Joe heard, and, looking down, saw the
huge bulk of the animal stretched on the snow, thick steam still
issuing from the nostrils.
Let us be strictly truthful again with regard to our hero. Joe was
shaking in every limb as he dropped to the ground and stood over the
fallen animal; for excitement had told upon his nerves, as yet
unaccustomed to such strenuous moments.
"You don't need to be ashamed," said Hank, seeing that Joe looked
downcast. "I've seen many an older chap all of a shiver with
excitement when the thing was over. The main thing aer that you kept
your head and held your sights straight when they was wanted. This
here exhibition will have given you a good idea of the moose that roams
about Canada, and next time you meet one don't wait too long for his
charge. I've known a man to be skewered on those antlers afore you
could shout, and killed jest as dead as possible. Reckon we'll skin
the brute and take his head. It'll be a fine gift for the Fennicks."
They spent the remainder of the day in skinning the moose and in
removing the skull and antlers. Indeed, they camped beside the
carcass, not troubling themselves about the other brute, which had
retreated at the very beginning of their adventure. That night, for
the first time in his young life, Joe cooked moose steaks over the fire
and ate of meat of his own getting.
"Prime, ain't it?" grinned Hank, as he devoured a savoury morsel. "But
you wait; there'll be more huntin' before we've done with this here
expedition."