It must not be supposed that, because it has been duly mentioned, they
saw no wild life along the river. The silent canoe man has the best of
opportunities. There were plenty of deer tracks about the first camp,
and that morning, as they turned up the Hudson, Rolf saw his first deer.
They had rounded a point in rather swift water when Quonab gave two taps
on the gunwale, the usual sign, “Look out,” and pointed to the shore.
There, fifty yards away on bank, gazing at them, was a deer. Stock still
he stood like a red statue, for he was yet in the red coat. With three
or four strong strokes, Quonab gave a long and mighty forward spurt;
then reached for his gun. But the deer's white flag went up. It turned
and bounded away, the white flag the last thing to disappear. Rolf sat
spellbound. It was so sudden; so easy; it soon melted into the woods
again. He trembled after it was gone.
Many a time in the evening they saw muskrats in the eddies, and once
they glimpsed a black, shiny something like a monstrous leech rolling up
and down as it travelled in the stream. Quonab whispered, “Otter,” and
made ready his gun, but it dived and showed itself no more. At one of
the camps they were awakened by an extraordinary tattoo in the middle of
the night--a harsh rattle close by their heads; and they got up to find
that a porcupine was rattling his teeth on the frying-pan in an effort
to increase the amount of salt that he could taste on it. Skookum, tied
to a tree, was vainly protesting against the intrusion and volunteered
to make a public example of the invader. The campers did not finally get
rid of the spiny one till all their kitchen stuff was hung beyond his
reach.
Once they heard the sharp, short bark of a fox, and twice or thrice
the soft, sweet, moaning call of the gray wolf out to hunt. Wild fowl
abounded, and their diet was varied by the ducks that one or other of
the hunters secured at nearly every camp.
On the second day they saw three deer, and on the third morning Quonab
loaded his gun with buckshot, to be ready, then sallied forth at dawn.
Rolf was following, but the Indian shook his head, then said: “Don't
make fire for half an hour.”
In twenty minutes Rolf heard the gun, then later the Indian returned
with a haunch of venison, and when they left that camp they stopped a
mile up the river to add the rest of the venison to their cargo. Seven
other deer were seen, but no more killed; yet Rolf was burning to try
his hand as a hunter. Many other opportunities he had, and improved some
of them. On one wood portage he, or rather Skookum, put up a number
of ruffed grouse. These perched in the trees above their heads and the
travellers stopped. While the dog held their attention Rolf with blunt
arrows knocked over five that proved most acceptable as food. But his
thoughts were now on deer, and his ambition was to go out alone and
return with a load of venison.
Another and more thrilling experience followed quickly. Rounding a bend
in the early dawn they sighted a black bear and two cubs rambling along
the gravelly bank and stopping now and then to eat something that turned
out to be crayfish.
Quonab had not seen a bear since childhood, when he and his father
hunted along the hardwood ridges back of Myanos, and now he was excited.
He stopped paddling, warned Rolf to do the same, and let the canoe drift
backward until out of sight; then made for the land. Quickly tying up
the canoe he took his gun and Rolf his hunting arrows, and, holding
Skookum in a leash, they dashed into the woods. Then, keeping out of
sight, they ran as fast and as silently as possible in the direction
of the bears. Of course, the wind was toward the hunters, or they never
could have got so near. Now they were opposite the family group and
needed only a chance for a fair shot. Sneaking forward with the utmost
caution, they were surely within twenty-five yards, but still the bushes
screened the crab-eaters. As the hunters sneaked, the old bear stopped
and sniffed suspiciously; the wind changed, she got an unmistakable
whiff; then gave a loud warning “Koff! Koff! Koff! Koff!” and ran as
fast as she could. The hunters knowing they were discovered rushed out,
yelling as loudly as possible, in hopes of making the bears tree. The
old bear ran like a horse with Skookum yapping bravely in her rear. The
young ones, left behind, lost sight of her, and, utterly bewildered by
the noise, made for a tree conveniently near and scrambled up into the
branches. “Now,” Rolf thought, judging by certain tales he had heard,
“that old bear will come back and there will be a fight.”
“Is she coming back?” he asked nervously.
The Indian laughed. “No, she is running yet. Black bear always a coward;
they never fight when they can run away.”
The little ones up the tree were, of course, at the mercy of the
hunters, and in this case it was not a broken straw they depended on,
but an ample salvation. “We don't need the meat and can't carry it
with us; let's leave them,” said Rolf, but added, “Will they find their
mother?”
“Yes, bime-by; they come down and squall all over woods. She will hang
round half a mile away and by night all will be together.”
Their first bear hunt was over. Not a shot fired, not a bear wounded,
not a mile travelled, and not an hour lost. And yet it seemed much more
full of interesting thrills than did any one of the many stirring bear
hunts that Rolf and Quonab shared together in the days that were to
come.