PIERRE'S BEAR STORY
The boys slept a little later the next morning, though when they did get
up it was evident that Jack had been long busy. The entire stock of grub
gotten the day before had been put away neatly and carefully and the
dunnage bags and tump lines were piled in a heap at one end of the
table. They spent the day quietly, fishing, swimming and fixing up
things around the camp. They had an early supper and were down by their
fire talking and joking. The guides were soon up in their tent, talking
and showing much more life than usual. This gave Bob an idea, and he
proposed that they would go and visit the guides. This seemed good to
all and they went over to the guides' tent. They were welcomed solemnly
and quietly. It was evident that they considered their tent as their
part of the camp.
For the time being, they were the hosts and they were evidently
flattered by the visit from the boys. Jack soon had the attention of Pud
and Bill and it was with a merry twinkle in his eye that he told of many
incidents in his life either in hunting or in the lumber camps. Bob
being the only boy to understand French was soon in animated discussion
with Joe and Pierre. The Indian under the questioning of the boy forsook
his usual taciturnity, and in the most casual way told Bob of exploits
in hunting and fishing that would make most interesting reading. To the
Indian, they were events likely to happen to any one that goes out in
the dead of winter to trap and hunt. Bob was a most interested listener
and it was not until he had been called to twice by Bill that he awoke
to the fact that it was nearly ten o'clock.
"Mr. Waterman says that we had better not keep the guides up too long or
they will not want to be visited again," said Bill.
"I didn't think we had been here so long," replied Bob.
They said "Good Night" to the guides and were soon fast asleep.
The next day was another quiet one. The boys fished in the morning and
they had very good luck. It was a good day for fishing and but few of
the speckled beauties got away from the boys, who were becoming more
expert every day. Even Pud had caught the hang of casting and promised
to be the best fisherman of the lot.
In the afternoon, Bob proposed another visit to the mountain opposite,
the same one where they had so nearly come to grief before.
"Go ahead," said Mr. Anderson, "but for your own sake, be careful."
"We'll promise not to get into trouble," said Pud. "We just need a
little exercise and that climb will about fill the bill."
They started off and in a short time Mr. Waterman and Mr. Anderson, who
were busy down on the water front putting the finishing touches to the
landing place, saw them seated in the lee of a big rock looking out over
the country. There they sat and for nearly two hours they could be seen
with heads close together, evidently very much interested in their
conversation. The fact of the matter was that Pud and Bill had asked Bob
to tell them what the guides had told him the previous evening. As they
sat up on the mountain, they looked far off to the south and saw the
mighty St. Lawrence dividing the country as if with a giant silver
knife.
"The Indians have had lots of experiences up north of here, hunting and
trapping in the winter time," Bob began.
"What did Pierre tell you?" asked Pud. "Has he ever scalped any one?"
"You big dub," said Bill. "Indians don't go on scalping expeditions any
more."
"Well, I thought that maybe some other Indian tribe might have tried to
attack them," said Pud.
"Don't be foolish," said Bob. "There are few Indians up in this country
and I guess from what Pierre tells me that they have enough troubles
fighting for their lives against the forces of nature to keep them from
thinking of fighting one another. In addition, the Canadian Government
would soon put a stop to that. Anyway, these Indians are just as peace
loving as any white man."
"I suppose you're right," said Pud. "All the same, I like to think of an
Indian with tomahawk in hand having a fierce fight for his life with
some other Indians or with the pale faces."
"You've been brought up on Nick Carter," laughed Bill. "Get that foolish
rot out of your mind. Indians are just ordinary human beings and that is
all."
"I don't know about that," said Pud. "That young Jean is some boy for
his age. He can follow a trail just like the Indians we read of, and he
knows all about the woods, animals, birds and all that. He's certainly
like the Indians we read of in history."
"Yes," said Bob. "Jean is a fine specimen. He has all the good points of
our ancestors, the real aborigines, without their failings."
"But what about Pierre? You were talking a long time with him, Bob,"
said Bill. "What was so interesting?"
"He was telling me of his winter hunting trips and he has had some
thrilling experiences. He says that every year he gets ready just as
soon as the snow flies in the fall. This generally means about the
middle of November in this country. As soon as the earth is blanketed
with snow, he gets his dogs and sleds ready and starts out with
provisions to last for three months. Since his boy has grown up he
takes him with him. Sometimes they make up a small party of three or
four. It is always better to have two or three companions because Pierre
says that it is not well to go alone into this wild, lonely region, for
then a simple accident might mean death. He told me of several incidents
where his life was in danger and only his quickness and presence of mind
saved his life.
"Once, early in the spring, he had stayed too long in the woods. The
trapping had been good and he had hated to leave while the skins were
heaping up. At last a real thaw came and he had to start for Escoumains.
He was about sixty miles north of here, he said, and he rushed along
with his dogs wallowing in the snow at every step. When he came to the
Port Neuf River, he found the ice just ready to go out. As he got in the
middle of the river, it started to break up. He feverishly drove ahead
and though he lost part of his load, he got to the other side. His son
was not so fortunate, for on looking back, he saw him on a big ice float
that had become separated from the shore. He yelled to Jean, who was
then only fifteen years of age, and directed him what to do. The ice
suddenly began to break up, and he followed his son down the river
nearly a mile before he could get to land, and then he was on the wrong
side of the river.
"Signing to him to stay where he was, Pierre had to retrace his steps to
get his dogs and sleigh. He found them nearly frozen to death, for with
the going down of the sun, it began to get very cold. He at last roused
them and started down the river. He could see the water steadily rising
and knew that it would be only a short time until he would have to get
back to higher ground. By hurrying, he reached a point opposite to where
Jean was. He yelled across and his cry was answered. He then started
down the river, hoping that in some place the ice would still be
holding. After going about two miles, the river narrowed and the ice had
piled up into a jam. It was threshing around, munching and crunching
like some giant monster. He stopped there and waited for the moon to
rise.
"The night had become cold and the fore part of the jam seemed frozen
into a solid mass. He determined to risk a crossing. Strapping
everything tightly on the sleigh, he called to the dogs. They were
frightened and he had to lick them to get them started. Four or five
times on the way across he thought they were lost, but they finally got
to the other side. Everything was drenched and he found himself in great
danger of freezing to death, and he found Jean in almost as bad shape.
Their first care was to find some rising ground. After slipping into
several pools of icy water, they at last got to a small hill. With
frost-bitten fingers and frozen feet, they both were almost helpless. By
exercising the greatest determination, they at last succeeded in making
a fire and they gradually warmed themselves.
"So far, their experience had been very disheartening. They had lost one
load of furs, together with the sled and the dogs. In addition, two of
Pierre's five dogs died before morning from their exposure to the icy
waters. The next morning, they found themselves marooned on their little
hill. The jam could be seen still holding and the waters had been backed
up far over the banks. There was nothing to do except to wait for the
jam to break. This it did that afternoon and the waters went out with a
mighty roar, no doubt carrying devastation down through the valley. This
made it possible for them to leave their refuge, but they did not dare
do so at once for the thaw had continued all that day and it would have
been impossible for the dogs to make any headway.
"After careful deliberation, the father and son determined to make their
way if possible down the river about twelve miles to an old lumber camp.
They started about midnight to take advantage of the frost that had put
a hard surface on the snow. The dogs went along finely for they were not
too heavy for the crust on the snow. Time after time, the two men broke
through, frequently going up to their hips in water. They kept going and
by dawn they had covered about half the distance. They again sought a
hillock and once more thawed out their frosted hands and feet. Both
suffered intensely because of the hardships they had undergone. They
again started a fire going and got a little sleep for the first time in
two days.
"They repeated their previous night's experience again and at last
arrived at the lumber camp. Their troubles were then nearly over for
they found a canoe there. This they determined to confiscate as they had
but few provisions since most of their supplies had been lost on the
sled that had gone under the ice. They rested up a whole day and then as
the ice had practically all gone down the river, they set out. The river
was very high and they came near swamping on several occasions but at
last they came to the mouth of the river and reached their friends
safely. Pierre stated that he lost two toes through the frost on that
adventure. He said that it taught him a lesson for if he had not been so
greedy for pelts and had come out when he knew he ought to, he would
have had no trouble."
"That was an ugly experience," said Bill. "I guess it gets pretty cold
up here in the winter time."
"Yes, Pierre says that it often gets to forty below zero," replied Bob.
"He says that in such weather, he wears three suits and then can keep
warm only by sticking close to the fire or by continual motion when
outside."
"Three suits! And I think that one heavy suit is a little too much at
times. But did Pierre tell you any more of his experiences?" inquired
Pud.
"Yes," said Bob. "He told me a great bear story, but it's getting late
now, so don't you think I better tell you that to-night after supper? If
we go back to camp now, we can have a swim before supper."
"Sure, that's a go," said Bill.
The boys were soon back in camp, and seen splashing around in the cool
water. So after supper they sat around the fire that evening filled with
the real and lasting content that comes only from living close to
nature.
"What were you young fellows so interested in this afternoon over on the
mountain?" asked Mr. Anderson, interrupting the peaceful silence. "I saw
you up there, for the longest time with your heads together as if you
were plotting the destruction of the world."
"Far from that. Bob was telling us some of the experiences that Pierre
has had in his winter hunting," replied Bill.
"Pierre has certainly had some interesting experiences. It is rarely
that one can get him to talk, but when he does he always has something
worth telling," said Mr. Anderson.
"Yes, and he relates incidents of the most desperate character in that
same colorless tone, just as if they were the most ordinary routine,"
said Mr. Waterman.
"Say, Bob, tell us the bear story you promised?" demanded Pud.
"Let's get Pierre to tell it himself," suggested Bob.
"That would be all right for you, but you forget that we do not
understand French," said Bill.
"I forgot about that. He's a clever Indian for he talks two languages
quite well and can make himself understood in English," said Bob.
"What two languages can he talk?" asked Pud.
"He speaks the Montagnais language," replied Mr. Waterman. "He is a
Montagnais Indian of the very same stock as was seen by Jacques Cartier
when he first landed at Tadousac when he was going up the St. Lawrence
River hoping to discover a new route to China."
"Well, tell us the bear story anyway," said Mr. Anderson.
"We want to hear it."
Scenting a good tale, they all moved closer to the fire, and Bob began.
"Pierre says that this experience with the bear happened in the late
spring. He had been back from his winter's hunting about a month and the
spring had opened up very finely. One day, the call to nature was too
insistent. He got out his gun, told his wife to tell Mr. MacPherson at
the store that he would not be down to the big saw mill to work for a
few days, and he started back into the country. The rivers were rather
swollen then, the woods were wet and damp, but there was the rush of
life in the trees and in the very air itself. Pierre swung along with
Jean by his side, his heart full of happiness. He had had a good
winter's hunt and his wife had money for everything necessary. But more
than anything else he wanted the golden sunshine, the ripple of the
waters in the stream, the curved body of the salmon as they darted out
of the water in their eagerness to get up the streams. He told his boy
that though they had come out for game, he really just wanted to be in
the woods when the buds were coming out and when he could feel the sap
driving up from the ground into the furthest shoots of the bushes and
trees. Jean's face was just as bright as his own and he raised his head
and sniffed the air as if in answer to the voice of spring that reigned
everywhere.
"Back they went along the wood road. They stopped for lunch at the foot
of a riffle where they very soon caught all the trout they wished to
find. They made their whole lunch on the fish, using only a little salt
to make it palatable; a simple fare but really good enough for a king.
On they went after lunch and they were lucky enough to bag four
partridges as they went along. Early in the afternoon, they came to an
old lumber camp and they decided to stay there for the night. It can
well be imagined that though Pierre and his son said little to each
other, they were enjoying themselves just like two boys playing hookey
from school. They had spent the winter in the freedom and wildness of
the woods and a month of the dreary grind in the saw mill had made them
as restive as colts.
"They made a fine supper off the partridges and were up early the next
morning. The remains of the partridges and some freshly caught trout set
them on their way again with well filled stomachs and happy hearts. They
had not gone far before Pierre stopped dead. 'I smell bear,' said he to
Jean. 'Big black one,' said Jean, as he looked around. How he had known
that it was big and black will remain one of the mysteries that
distinguish the real Indian from his woodland imitators. They looked
around and sure enough they had not gone far before they saw an old
hollow tree that had been scratched and torn by the bear's big claws in
his eagerness to get the grubs that no doubt were living among the
rotting wood. They followed the bear's tracks. Jean in his eagerness
went ahead and the father watched his boy with pride as he followed the
indistinct tracks with swiftness and sureness. Finally the bear led them
up one of the numerous mountains that are a feature of this country, as
you know. Soon the tracks could be followed only with the greatest
difficulty. Pierre was soon in the van and about noon he stopped dead
and pointed off about half a mile where they saw the bear himself busy
tearing away at another rotting tree.
"As they were somewhat to the windward side of the bear, they turned off
and went down the valley. An hour's swift walking and climbing brought
them out on the ridge on which they had seen the bear. Jean in his
eagerness had gone ahead again. Just as they rounded a point of rock,
the bear rose up almost on top of Jean. He had only a small caliber
rifle, but he gave it to the bear at once. The bullet cut a hole in the
beast's shoulder and with a growl of rage he rushed at the boy. Jean
gave him another, but it only seemed to enrage the bear the more, for he
plunged right on and threw Jean back with a mighty thrust.
"In the meantime, Pierre was in terror, not for himself but for Jean. On
the rather narrow ledge, he found his boy right in line with the bear
and he did not dare shoot for fear of killing him. When the bullets
from the small rifle failed to stop the rush of the wounded bear, Pierre
rushed forward, and as the bear thrust Jean back, he stepped over the
body of the boy, gave him a bullet from his rifle point blank and
throwing away his gun, he plunged his hunting knife into the bear with
all his might just as the monster flung him off as though he were a
plaything.
"Pierre says that about ten or twenty minutes later, perhaps half an
hour, he awoke to consciousness and started up on one elbow half dazed.
He felt that he had just narrowly escaped death, but for a moment he
could not just remember what had happened. Then the whole thing rushed
back to his mind and he got unsteadily to his feet. He found that he had
a bad scalp wound and a big bump on the back of his head which he had
hit on falling. When he got his dazed eyes to seeing properly, he was at
first horror-struck, for the bear lay half over his Jean. The latter was
lying on his back with his breast laid bare by the cruel claws of the
bear, deathly pale and to all appearances dead. One look at the bear
showed Pierre that it was dead. He hauled it with difficulty off his
boy's legs and then felt his heart.
"At first, he could distinguish no movement and he was almost overcome
by grief, but a slight heart movement galvanized him into action. He at
once looked around and seeing a spring a short distance away, he ran,
and filling his coonskin cap with water he was back by the side of the
boy in a moment. Signs of life finally returned and Jean was soon
looking around trying with glazed eyes to come back from the Happy
Hunting Grounds to which his soul had just paid such a fleeting visit.
In a short time, father and son were fully back to consciousness but it
was only after a night spent right there that they felt like real live
men again.
"Jean had a very ugly slash across his chest and the father felt sure
that at least two of his ribs had been broken by the savage blow the
bear had dealt him. Though pretty sore himself, he felt fairly well,
though his scalp wound left no doubt that he had come near to death.
They camped there that day enjoying the bear steaks and getting off the
skin. In fact, it was not until two days later, that they set out on the
back trail. Then, though they presented a rather dilapidated appearance,
they managed to carry off the skin of the bear and the best portions of
the meat. Jean with his broken ribs went light and then had trouble in
following his sturdy father, who thought very little of having tackled a
bear with his hunting knife. Pierre told me," concluded Bob, "that he
found that the death stroke given the bear was dealt by his hunting
knife just as the bear closed in on him."
"What a narrow escape! And I guess they think such events are
commonplace. Let's go up to their tents and ask them to show us the
scars," said Pud.
"Don't you believe Pierre, then?" asked Mr. Anderson.
"Sure," said Pud, "but I would like to see the scars. It would make the
whole story more real."
Thereupon the boys went up to the tent and Bob talked to Pierre in
French. Pierre then pulled back the hair and showed the boys a white
scar across his head and Jean showed them a ragged scar that made Pud's
flesh creep.
"Gee," said Pud, "that bear must have given Jean some rip. Ask Pierre
how he got that wound to heal."
Bob did so and Pierre explained that he put some healing herbs on the
wounds and that they got well very quickly.
"De rib, she no get well queeck," said Pierre, turning to Pud. "She vera
sore, some long time."
"You two certainly had a narrow escape," said Mr. Anderson, as the whole
party, admiring the wonderful bravery and courage of these Indians, said
good-night.
"I wonder if any such thing as that would happen to us?" asked Bill.
"Maybe," said Mr. Waterman aloud, but to Mr. Anderson, "in their sleep I
guess."
By this time the boys were ready for bed and they were soon lying snugly
in their sleeping bags, no doubt dreaming of bears and what they would
do if they saw a big black bear come rushing down on them when they were
on a narrow ledge.
Some such dream was surely surging through the brains of Pud and Bill,
for Bob was awakened by an awful racket and nearly smothered to death by
feeling two heavy bodies plunk down on him.
"Hey, there, get up!" yelled Bob.
It seemed that Pud and Bill had dreamt of the bear. Bill in his dream
jumped up just as the dream bear was rushing on him, and fell on Pud
just as Pud in his dream was set grimly to await the onset of the
monster. Bill, though half awake, was sure the bear had him, and Pud was
just as sure when Bill grabbed him that he was in the clutches of a
mighty black bear. They threshed around a moment and did not really wake
up until they fell on Bob and nearly smothered him. Bob had been too
sleepy to dream of bears, but he got up very quickly. After a hearty
laugh at their vivid dreams, the boys got into their blankets again and
were not disturbed until morning.