A HUNTING-TRIP.
The hold of winter had begun to relax ere Johnston was able fully to
resume his work, and a good deal of time having been lost through his
accident, every effort had to be exerted to make it up ere the warm
sunshine should put an end to the winter's work. Frank was looking
forward eagerly to the day when they should break camp, for, to tell the
truth, he felt that he had had quite enough of it for one season, and he
was longing to be back in Calumet and enjoying the comforts of home once
more. He was not exactly homesick. You would have very much offended him
by hinting at that. He was simply tired of the monotony of camp fare and
camp life, and anxious to return to civilization. So he counted the days
that must pass before the order to break camp would come, and felt very
light of heart when the sun shone warm, and correspondingly downcast when
the thermometer sank below zero, as it was still liable to do.
"Striving" was the order of the day at the lumber camp--that is, the
different gangs of choppers and sawyers and teamsters vied with each
other as to which could chop, saw, and haul the most logs in a day. The
amount of work they could accomplish when thus striving might astonish
Mr. Gladstone himself, from eighty to one hundred logs felled and trimmed
being the day's work of two men. Frank was deeply interested in this
competition, and enjoying the fullest confidence of the men, he was
unanimously appointed scorer, keeping each gang's "tally" in a book, and
reporting the results to the foreman, who heartily encouraged the rivalry
among his men; for the harder they worked the better would be the showing
for the season, and he was anxious not to lose the reputation he had won
of turning out more logs at his shanty than did any other foreman on the
Kippewa.
As the weeks passed and March gave way to April, and April drew toward
its close, the lumbermen's work grew more and more arduous; but they kept
at it bravely until at last, near the end of April, the snow became so
soft in the woods and the roads so bad that no more hauling could be
done, and the whole attention of the camp was then given to getting the
logs that had been gathering at the river-side all through the winter out
upon the ice, so that they might be sure to be carried off by the spring
floods. This work did not require all hands, and Johnston now saw the way
clear to giving Frank a treat that he had long had in mind for him, but
had said nothing about. They were having their usual chat together before
going to bed, when the foreman said,--
"Is there anything you would like to do before we break up camp?"
Frank did not at first see the drift of the question, and looking at
Johnston with a puzzled sort of expression, replied, questioningly,--
"I don't know. I've had a very good time here."
"Well, but can you think of anything you would like to do before you go
back to Calumet?" persisted the foreman. "I'm asking you because there'll
not be enough work to go round next week, and you can have a bit of
holiday. Now, isn't there something you would like to have a taste of
while you have the chance?" And as he spoke his eyes were directed toward
the wall at the head of his bed, where hung his rifle, powder-flask, and
hunting knife. Frank caught his meaning at once.
"Oh, I see what you are driving at now!" he exclaimed. "You want to know
if I wouldn't like to go out hunting."
"Right you are," said Johnston. "Would you?"
"Would I?" cried Frank. "Would a duck swim? Just try me, that's all."
"Well, I do intend to try you," returned Johnston. "The firm have some
limits over there near the foot of the mountain that they want me to
prospect before I go back, and pick out the best place for a camp. I've
been trying to make out to go over there all winter, but getting hurt
upset my plans, and I've not had a chance until now. So I'm thinking of
making a start to-morrow. There's nothing much else to do except to
finish getting the logs on the ice, and I can trust the men to see to
that; and, no odds what kind of weather we have, the ice can't start for
a week at least. So if you'd like to come along with me and take your
rifle, you may get a chance to have a shot at something before we get
back. Does that suit you?"
This proposition suited Frank admirably. A week in the woods in
Johnston's company could not fail to be a week of delight, and he thanked
the foreman in his warmest words for offering to take him on his
prospecting tour.
The following morning they set off, the party consisting of four--namely,
the foreman, Frank, Laberge, who accompanied them as cook, and another
man named Booth as a sort of assistant. The snow still lay deep enough to
render snow-shoes necessary, and while Johnston and Frank carried their
rifles, Laberge and Booth drew behind them a toboggan, upon which was
packed a small tent and an abundant supply of provisions. Their route led
straight into the heart of the vast and so far little-explored forest,
and away from the river beside whose bank they had been living all
winter. It was Johnston's purpose to penetrate to the foot of the
mountain range that rose into sight nearly thirty miles away, and then
work backward by a different route, noting carefully the lie of the land,
the course of the streams, and the best bunches of timber, so as to make
sure of selecting a site for the future camp in the very best locality.
He was evidently in excellent spirits himself at the prospect of a week's
holiday, for such it would really be, and all trace of his injury having
entirely disappeared, there was no drawback to the energy with which he
led his little expedition into the forest where they would be buried for
the rest of the week.
The weather was as fine as heart could wish. All day the sun shone
brightly, and even at night the temperature never got anywhere near zero,
so that with a buffalo-robe under you and a couple of good blankets over
you it was possible to sleep quite comfortably in a canvas tent.
"I can't promise you much in the way of game, Frank," said Johnston, as
the two tramped along side by side. "It is too late in the season. But
the bears must be out of their dens by this time, and if we see one we'll
do our best to get his skin for you to take home."
The idea of bringing a big bear-skin home as a trophy of his first real
hunting expedition pleased Frank mightily, and his eyes flashed as he
grasped his rifle in a way that would in itself have been sufficient
warning to bruin, could he only have seen it, to keep well out of the way
of so doughty an assailant.
"I'd like immensely to have a shot at a bear, sir," he replied. "So I do
hope we shall see one."
"You must be precious careful, though, Frank," said Johnston, "for
they're generally in mighty bad humour at this time of year, and you need
to get your work in quick, or they may make short work of you."
Various kinds of game were seen during the next day or two, and Frank had
many a shot. But Johnston seldom fired, preferring to let Frank have all
the fun, as he said. One afternoon, just before they went into camp, the
keen eyes of Laberge detected something among the branches of a pine a
little distance to the right of their path which caused his face to glow
with excitement as he pointed eagerly to it, and exclaimed,--
"_Voila_! A lucifee--shoot him, quick!"
They all turned in the direction he pointed out, and there, sure enough,
was a dark mass in the fork of the tree that, as they hastened toward it,
resolved itself into a fierce-looking creature, full four times the size
of an ordinary cat, which, instead of showing any fear at their approach,
bristled up its back and uttered a deep, angry snarl that spoke volumes
for its courage.
"Now, then, Frank," said Johnston, "take first shot, and see if you can
fetch the brute down."
Trembling with excitement, Frank threw up his rifle, did his best to
steady himself, took aim at the bewhiskered muzzle of the lynx, and
pulled the trigger. The sharp crack of the rifle was followed by an
ear-piercing shriek of mingled pain and rage, and the next instant the
wounded creature launched forth into the air toward the hunters. Frank's
nervousness, natural enough under the circumstances, had caused him to
miss his mark a little, and the bullet, instead of piercing the
"lucifee's" brain, had only stung him sorely in the shoulder.
But quick as was its movements, Johnston was still quicker, and the
moment its feet touched the snow, ere it could gather itself for another
spring, his rifle cracked and a bullet put an end to its career.
"Just as well you weren't by yourself, Frank; hey?" said he, with a smile
of satisfaction at the accuracy of his shot. "This chap would have been
an ugly customer at close quarters, and," turning the body over to find
where the first bullet had hit, "you see you hardly winged him."
Frank blushed furiously and looked very much ashamed of himself for not
being a better marksman; but the foreman cheered him up by assuring him
that he had really done very well in hitting the animal at all at that
distance.
"You only want a little practice, my boy," said he. "You have plenty of
pluck; there's no mistake about that."
The lynx had a fine skin, which Laberge deftly removed, and it was given
to Frank because he had fired the first shot at it, so that he would not
go back to Calumet without at least one hunting trophy on the strength of
which he might do a little boasting.
Further and further into the forest the little party pierced their way,
not following any direct line, but making detours to right and left, in
order that the country might be thoroughly inspected. As they neared the
mountains the trees diminished in size and the streams shrank until, at
the end of their journey, the first were too small to pay for cutting,
and the second too shallow to be any good for floating. With no little
difficulty they ascended a shoulder of the mountain range, in order to
get a look over all the adjoining country, and then, Johnston having made
up his mind as to the location of the best bunches of timber and the most
convenient site for the projected lumber camp, the object of the
expedition was accomplished, and they were at liberty to return to the
shanty. But before they could do this they were destined to have an
adventure that came perilously near taking away from them the youngest of
their number.
It was the afternoon before they struck camp on the return journey. The
foreman was sitting by the tent mending one of his snow-shoes, which had
been damaged tramping through the bush, Booth was busy cutting firewood,
and Laberge making preparations for the evening meal. Having nothing else
to do, Frank picked up his rifle and sauntered off toward the mountain
side, with no very clear idea as to anything more than to kill a little
time. Whistling cheerfully one of the many sacred melodies he knew and
loved, he made his way over the snow, being soon lost to sight from the
camp, Johnston calling after him just before he disappeared,--
"Take care of yourself, my boy, and don't go too far."
To which Frank responded with a smiling, "All right, sir."
At the distance of about a quarter of a mile from the camp he noticed a
sort of rift in the mountain, where the rocks were bare and exposed, and
at the end of this rift a dark aperture was visible, which at once
attracted his attention.
The boy that could come across a cave without being filled with a burning
curiosity to take a peep in and, if possible, explore its interior, would
have to be a very dull fellow, and Frank certainly was not of that kind.
This dark aperture was no doubt the mouth of a cave of some sort, and he
determined to inspect it. When he got within about fifteen yards, he
noticed what he had not seen before, that there was a well-defined track
leading from the cave to the underbrush to the right, which had evidently
been made by some large animal; and with somewhat of a start Frank
immediately thought of a bear.
Now, of course, under the circumstances, there was but one thing for him
to do if he wished to illustrate his common sense, and that was to hurry
back to the tent as fast as possible for reinforcements. Ordinarily, he
would have done so at once, but this time he was still smarting a bit at
his poor marksmanship in the case of the "lucifee," and the sight of the
track in the snow suggested the idea of winning a reputation for himself
by killing a bear without any assistance from the others. It was a rash
and foolish notion; but then boys will be boys.
Moving forward cautiously, he approached within ten yards of the cave and
then halted again, bringing his rifle forward so as to be ready to fire
at a moment's notice. Bending down until his eyes were on a level with
the opening, he tried hard to peer into its depths; but the darkness was
too deep to pierce, and he could not make out anything. Then he bethought
him of another expedient. Picking up a lump of snow, he pressed it into a
ball and threw it into the cave, at the same time shouting out, "Hallo
there! Anybody inside?" A proceeding that capped the climax of his
rashness and produced quite as sensational a result as he could possibly
have desired, for the next moment a deep angry roar issued from the rocky
retreat and a fiery pair of eyes gleamed out from its shadows. The
critical moment had come, and taking aim a little below the shining orbs,
so as to make sure of hitting, Frank pulled the trigger. The report of
the rifle and the roar of the bear followed close upon one another,
awaking the echoes of the adjoining heights. Then came a moment's
silence, broken the next instant by a cry of alarm from Frank; for the
bear, instead of writhing in the agonies of death, was charging down upon
him with open mouth! Once more he had missed his mark and only wounded
when he should have killed.
There was but one thing for him to do--to flee for his life; and uttering
a shout of "Help! help!" with all the strength of his lungs, he threw
down his rifle and started for the tent at the top of his speed.
It was well for him that the snow still lay deep upon the ground, and
that he was so expert in the use of his snow-shoes; for while the bear
wallowed heavily in the drifts, he flew lightly over them, so that for a
time the furious creature lost ground rather than gained upon him. For a
hundred yards the boy and bear raced through the forest, Frank continuing
his cries for help while he ran. Looking back for an instant, he saw that
the bear bad not yet drawn any nearer, and, terrified as he was, the
thought flashed into his mind that if the brute followed him all the way
to the camp he would soon be despatched by the men, and then he, Frank,
would be entitled to some credit for thus bringing him to execution.
On sped the two in their race for life, the boy skimming swiftly over the
soft snow, the bear ploughing his way madly through it, until more than
half the distance to the camp had been accomplished. If Johnston had
heard the report of the rifle and Frank's wild cries for help, he should
be coming into sight now, and with intense anxiety Frank looked ahead in
hopes of seeing him emerge from the trees which clustered thickly in that
direction. But there was no sign of him yet; and shouting again as loudly
as he could, the boy pressed strenuously forward. There was greater need
for exertion than ever, for he had reached a spot where the snow was not
very deep and had been firmly packed by the wind, so that the bear's
broad feet sank but little in it, and his rate of speed ominously
increased. So close was the fierce creature coming that Frank could hear
his paws pattering on the snow and his deep panting breath.
Oh why did not Johnston appear? Surely he must have heard Frank's cries.
Ah, there he was, just bursting through the trees into the opening, with
Laberge and Booth close at his heels. Frank's heart bounded with joy, and
he was tempted to take a glance back to see how close the bear had got.
It was not a wise thing to do, and he came near paying dearly for doing
it; for at the same instant his snowshoes caught in each other, and
before he could recover himself he fell headlong in the snow with the
bear right upon him.