THE SHORT TRAIL TO ESCOUMAINS
They were awakened the next morning by a rifle shot. The boys, as if
with one accord, rose up on their elbows and looked around with startled
glances.
"What was that?" asked Bob.
"A rifle shot," answered Bill.
Their discussion was cut short by another shot, and they heard voices
down at the lake. They hurried down to the water and they found Mr.
Waterman and Pierre there, the latter with a smoking gun in his hand.
"It's a loon," said Mr. Waterman, as they came up. "Let me have a try,"
he said, turning to Pierre and reaching for the gun. Pierre handed it
over and Mr. Waterman scanned the waterfront closely. In about a minute,
a big bird rose to the surface about one hundred yards away and looked
around carelessly.
"No use. Too far away," said Pierre.
Mr. Waterman took careful aim and blazed away, but the loon disappeared
and the bullet was seen to hit the water right where the bird had been
the previous moment. It looked too fast to be true. The stories that the
boys had heard of the wonderful quickness of loons were proven to them
right then and there.
"I'll get him next time," said Mr. Waterman, as he jumped in another
shell. "That blame loon is crazy. He thinks I can't hit him."
"He's right," said Pierre. "I go help fix breakfast," said the Indian,
as he walked away.
Sure enough, in a short time up came the loon, and swam around
apparently defying fate. Once more Mr. Waterman took steady aim, but the
result was just the same.
"That beats the Dutch," said Mr. Waterman. "I thought I had him that
time."
"What!" said Mr. Anderson, as he came up. "Trying to hit that loon
again. If you get that bird you lose anyway, for you've already shot off
more lead than he's worth."
"All right," said Mr. Waterman. "Let's have a plunge before breakfast.
We'll just have time."
They all hurried back to their tents, and were still in the water when
they heard Jack's cheery halloo calling them to the table. They were
hungry and enjoyed the fare set before them.
"We'll have another fishing lesson to-day," said Mr. Waterman, after
they had eaten. "I think you had better take it easy after yesterday's
strenuousness, so we'll all start out together at ten o'clock and see
which boy gets the most fish by twelve."
This was agreed on, and until the hour set, the boys busied themselves
around their tents, helped to clear up more of the beach or watched the
guides as they worked on the landing. The latter was a very interesting
operation. They had three logs cut in half. It was easy to cut the ends
of the logs so that they rested on a short piece on the shore and on the
top of two small pieces that were driven in at the right distance from
the shore. The whole was kept together by wooden spikes driven into
place through holes made by fire in the logs. When the first section was
completed, it was as solid as possible, making a landing over two feet
wide and nearly twenty feet long. The guides planned to put in another
section of the same length, and they expected to have more trouble with
it. This extra section was being put in more for swimming and diving
purposes than for any real need. Mr. Waterman made such a remark to
Jack, who said that it would be just the thing for him when the rest of
the party were away on trips.
"I'll just get out on the end of that little landing and I'll bet you I
get just about as many trout as the rest of you," said Jack.
"I wouldn't be surprised if you would, you old wizard," said Mr.
Anderson. "I think you must have some special bait, for those trout just
come to your hook like flies to honey."
The boys paired off about ten o'clock, and when they came back shortly
before one o'clock, it was found that Bill had had the best luck, with
Bob next and Pud last. Bill had twenty-six fine trout in his bag, Bob
twenty-one and Pud fifteen.
Jack looked them over as they brought them to him.
"Well, I guess we won't starve for another day or two anyway," he said.
"I'm glad to see that you can catch enough fish to supply yourselves. A
fisherman is no good at all until he can do that."
"You don't need to be much of a fisherman to do that up here," said Bob.
"Yes, fortunately, that's so," replied Jack, as he went on with his
work.
Several days sped on and it became necessary to go out to Escoumains to
get the letters and some more grub. Mr. Waterman made this known one
evening, stating that he thought that he would go out through an old
Indian trail that had not been used for some years.
"This trail is much shorter than by the road, and, if we can open it up,
it will be a fine thing for us."
"Yes, and it will be a fine thing for the habitants at Escoumains," said
Mr. Anderson.
"I hadn't thought of that," said Mr. Waterman reflectively. "If we get
too good a road in here they will be coming in themselves and bringing
their friends."
"You bet they will," said Jack. "We don't want that bunch in here, so
keep to the old road."
"It would be a good thing to know this old trail. It is so much
shorter," said Mr. Waterman. "Then if we had need for speed we could get
out, or Pierre's cousin could bring in any important mail to us."
"I'll go out that way anyway, and we'll not make any real improvements
to the trail," said Mr. Waterman.
"Do you want any one to go with you?" asked Bob.
"I don't need any one, but I'll be glad to have you if you want to come.
That stands for all of you," added Mr. Waterman, as the other boys
looked up.
The next morning they were up very early. The three boys, Mr. Waterman
and Jean were going into the village. Joe, Jack and Pierre were going
along part of the way to bring back the canoes, for they were going to
portage through two lakes on the way. As they were coming back by the
road, they would not be able to get the canoes back themselves. After a
hurried breakfast they got in their canoes. Much to the surprise of the
boys, Mr. Waterman led them down the lake, around the bend and then into
a cove on the same side of the lake from which they had started. They
got out at what was evidently a very old trail. This led up very
steeply. Fast time was made, as Pierre and Mr. Waterman carried the
canoes and the others were going light. Up they went, and came to a lake
that must have been at least one hundred feet higher than their own
lake.
"It would be easy to drain that lake into ours," said Bob, when he saw
the new stretch of water.
"Yes," said Mr. Anderson. "The lake is just like a big reservoir on a
hill. It could easily be drained into Lac Parent, but it is so high up
that no water would be left. Let's leave it as it is, for it will serve
us well this morning."
They set off across the lake with Mr. Waterman, Bob and Jean in the
first canoe. On they went with strong strokes, so that Pierre and Mr.
Anderson, with four in their canoe, had to work hard to keep them in
sight. The lake was not very long, and soon they were on the trail
again. This time the portage was at least a mile long, and it led down a
gradual slope. So far there was no trouble following the trail and the
party went ahead without a stop. Once more the canoes were launched, and
this time they paddled through two lakes connected by a small stream. At
the far end of the second lake the canoes were beached and the party
landed. Here they separated. At first they had no trouble following the
trail, which led along a brook that evidently drained the two lakes over
which they had just come. Straight ahead they went, with Mr. Waterman
leading.
After they had gone steadily a little over a mile, Jean called to Mr.
Waterman and a halt was made. Jean jointed off into the woods and after
a consultation Mr. Waterman concluded that the young Indian was right,
and they turned off. The trail soon became very hard to distinguish, but
each time that Mr. Waterman hesitated, the Indian went by him, leading
the way without a halt. As they were passing through some thick
undergrowth Mr. Waterman halted and pointed to a partridge seated on a
limb on a nearby tree, only twelve or fifteen feet from the trail. The
bird, evidently trusting to its protective coloring, sat on the limb
without moving a muscle. Mr. Waterman had just begun to explain to the
boys that the bird was undoubtedly trusting to its instinct in remaining
in quiet when, with a flutter of the wings, down fell the partridge from
the tree to be grabbed almost instantly by the Indian.
Jean had noted the bird just as quickly as Mr. Waterman, but he had
followed his natural bent by swiftly dodging off the trail, cutting a
stout little club from a hardwood tree, rushing back to the trail and
with unerring aim knocking over the partridge with his improvised
weapon. The boys could see that Mr. Waterman was put out, but he
evidently knew that the Indian would not be able to see his point of
view, so he said nothing. The Indian, with a gleam in his eye, walked
ahead, having tied the bird to his belt. The boys were all sorry that
the partridge had met such an untimely end, but they could not help
admiring the woodcraft shown by the young Indian.
The only other excitement they had on the way was furnished by Pud.
About half way to the village they came to a little stream that was
rather deep. They looked about and at last found a big tree that had
fallen across the stream. All of the party except Pud walked across the
log without any trouble. He got about half way across when he lost his
balance. He felt himself going, so he threw himself on the log and
encircled it with his arms and legs. His weight proved too much for the
bark, which had been loosened by the water, and it began to come off. It
moved around the trunk in a body and Pud followed it. In spite of his
efforts, he gradually disappeared in the dark water. He tried in vain to
get up on the log, but he could not make it and finally had to pull his
body along in the water until he got to the other side. Pud's acrobatic
performance had brought peals of laughter from Bob and Bill. Even the
Indian had a smile on his face as Pud got out of the water.
"What are you laughing at?" asked Pud, as he got ashore, evidently sore
at the joke on him.
"Oh, nothing," said Bob. "Only you reminded me of a fat monkey on a
stick."
"I'll 'fat monkey' you, letting me drown without so much as putting out
your hand," said Pud.
"Letting you drown," said Bill. "You fat porpoise, don't you know that
you couldn't sink if you tried?"
"I bet he was just trying to practice walking the greasy pole so he
could show us how to do that stunt," said Bob.
"That old tree has all the greasy poles you ever saw beaten to death,"
said Pud with disgust.
"Perhaps that was a slippery elm tree," said Bill. "What do you say,
Pud? Did you taste it?"
"No, I didn't taste it. I'll give you both a taste if you don't stop
standing there laughing like two old women," said Pud, as he dashed for
them. He was evidently up to mischief, so they ran up the trail. Pud
soon gave up the chase, and as they came out at a habitant's farm
shortly afterwards, he forgot all about his troubles and regained his
habitual cheerfulness.
Just before they started down a hill on the outskirts of Escoumains,
they all stopped to empty out their shoepacks. All of them had at one
time or other gotten into some hole filled with water and all had wet
feet. They wrung out their socks and then put on their footgear again.
"Holy smoke," said Bill, "if mother saw me do that little stunt she
would call me back home at once."
"What's that?" asked Mr. Waterman, who had thought nothing of the
matter.
"Why, wringing out my socks and then putting them on again," said Bill.
"Mother would be sure that that would mean pneumonia at least."
"Don't worry," said Mr. Anderson. "Before we get home you will probably
have your feet quite dry again and then much wetter. A little water will
not do any one any harm when one is living out in the open air this way.
Of course, in the winter time, it would be different. Then it would be
serious to get one's feet so wet."
"Why so?" asked Pud.
"Because then, wet feet unless one can get to the fire right away,
generally mean frosted or frozen feet, and that always means trouble in
the woods in the winter time."
Down they all trooped to Escoumains. They stopped in at Madame
LaBlanche's boarding house to let her know that they would be there for
lunch.
"Make us up some of those good biscuits of yours," said Mr. Waterman to
her in French.
She promised to do so and also said that her son would be ready at one
o'clock to drive them all back to the woods.
"Are we going to drive back?" asked Bob.
"Yes," said Mr. Anderson. "We'll take in quite a supply of grub, for we
do not expect to come out except for mail for at least a month. We'll
have to go in via the ford, as we did the first time, and you know that
that is some sixteen miles away."
The boys all received letters and busied themselves reading them and
writing others. They spent the morning very pleasantly and were at the
boarding house in good time. They presented quite a different appearance
from the trim young city fellows that had eaten there on their arrival
such a short time before. Now they were clothed for the woods, with blue
shirts, mackinaws, heavy trousers and shoe packs. At a distance, one
could hardly distinguish them from the numerous woodsmen that were to be
seen around the village. They brought back from the woods great
appetites, and the famous LaBlanche biscuits disappeared by the
plateful. Chicken was once more the center of the meal, and it was
thoroughly enjoyed.
"Thank Heaven," said Pud, as they got up from the table, "we don't have
to walk back. I'm so full I couldn't walk if I tried."
"You'll do some walking," said Mr. Waterman. "We have only one pair of
horses and a wagon. We'll all walk on the hills."
Soon they were off, Mr. Waterman and Mr. Anderson on the front seat with
the driver, and the boys seated on the bags that were stowed behind. The
little Canadian horses set off at a sharp trot. The boys nodded at every
one they met as they went through the village, not forgetting even the
vivacious, petite, dark-haired and dark-eyed French Canadian misses that
did not fail to come to many of the windows or doors as the wagon
rattled by. It was a fine day and they were happy as the gods. They
laughed and talked and sang and asked innumerable questions. Their two
leaders were also full of good spirits and gave them all the information
they had. For the first five miles the horses went along famously. Then
the roads got poorer and the pace slackened. They soon struck a steep
hill and they all got out except the driver. At the top of the hill, the
wagon stopped and all got on but Pud. He was slow as usual so the driver
made believe that his horses had run away and Pud ran along after them
for nearly a mile. Finally the horses were stopped and Pud at last came
up puffing, blowing and sweating. Mr. Waterman had cautioned every one
to be quite serious and not give the joke away.
"Sacre," said the driver. "Dese horse, he not get drive enough. He run
away."
"How's the running, Pud?" asked Bill.
"Never you mind. Just let me in. I'm done out. I'm no runner like Bob
there," replied Pud.
"Possibly your life was saved for when these horses ran away, we could
hardly keep on this load," said Bob, as he winked at Mr. Anderson.
"Yes, if you're born to be hanged you'll never get killed in a runaway,
Pud," said Bill solemnly.
"What's that?" said Pud, who was having too much cleverness thrust at
him to take it all in.
Away they went, and as the way was down hill, the driver once more gave
the reins to his little horses and they started so fast that Pud nearly
went out over the back of the wagon. Bill caught him and Pud held on
like grim death as the wagon bumped and rattled along the rough road.
Bill and Bob laughed until they could hardly hold on themselves, for
Pud's face was a study. He knew that they had put something over on him
but he could not exactly figure it out.
In spite of the speed shown by the horses in the runaway, it was already
four o'clock when they reached the ford. The driver drove right in and
when he got to the other side he drove up such a steep part of the bank
with such a rush that he spilled out not only the three boys but also
about half his load. No one was hurt and the grub was soon on the wagon
again. He drove for at least half a mile until the road could be
followed no longer. The food was then dumped out on the ground, and with
cheery good-by the driver was soon out of sight on the back trail.
"Let's get busy right away," said Mr. Waterman. "We want to get to camp
to-night so we'll have to hustle."
"I wonder where Pierre, Joe and Jack are," said Mr. Anderson.
"They'll be along right away, I'll bet," said Mr. Waterman.
Sure enough, before the boys had been loaded for the walk to the first
lake, the three men hove in sight. It was really wonderful to see what
they piled on each other. It is enough to tell, that when all were
loaded down, they had taken care of everything that had been brought in
the wagon.
"When we get to the canoes, we can make this stuff more easily handled,"
said Jack. "I did not think you were going to bring too much but I
brought along some dunnage bags and tump lines."
"That's the stuff," said Mr. Waterman.
They moved off Indian file, and though the boys carried only half that
borne by the guides and their leaders, they had difficulty in keeping up
with the procession. They soon came to the first lake to find three
canoes there. In twenty minutes, the baggage was put into the dunnage
bags and they were off across the lake. The boys were given a light bag
and a canoe to carry and the men carried the rest. In this way, they
soon got to the next lake, and a short time later they were on their own
lake, making for their camp.
"Just carry everything over to the cook tent and leave it there for the
present," said Mr. Waterman. "Jack will put things in order to-morrow."
This was done, and the guides at once set to work to get supper. It was
a hurried meal but it was relished by all. The night had set in by the
time the meal was cooked and they ate by the light of the fire, which
was kept brightly going by one of the guides. Bob thought as he looked
at the lights and shades cast by the fire, the ruddy face here, the
countenance half in shadow there, the greenness of the leaves that were
lighted up by the fire, the solemn avenues of the trees stretching back
into the woods, the animated movements of the guides and the whiteness
of the tents as the light on them came and went, that he had never seen
anything quite so close to nature, quite so picturesque.