A Cold Plunge
Hector had all but reached the pine. In fact, one more stride would
have brought him to its trunk, when his right foot slipped upon one of
the outspreading roots, hidden under a carpet of smooth brown needles,
and he pitched forward, narrowly escaping striking his head against the
massive trunk.
He was little hurt by the fall, but he was very much dazed, and the
bear might have had him in its deadly hug ere he could have recovered
himself, had not a new actor appeared upon the scene. The boats had
come to a halt to rest the men just about the time that Hector ran off
after the dogs, and Andrew Macrae, noting the boy's disappearance,
snatched up a gun and climbed the river-bank to see what had become of
him.
'He's na here,' he exclaimed in surprise, as he stood looking all about
him. 'Where can the feckless bairn ha' gone to?'
Just then his keen ears, trained not to miss the slightest sound,
caught faintly the sharp barking of the two dogs. 'Eh! eh!' he
muttered. 'They've started up some creature--maybe a squirrel or the
like. I'll just run and see what they're doing.'
So, gun in hand, he set off at a long easy lope that was little slower
than a horse's trot. As the barking came more strongly to his ears, he
realized that something serious was taking place, and quickened his
pace, until he had reached the limit of his powers.
But a few minutes of such exertion were required to bring him to the
scene of action, and swinging around the pine tree, he arrived at the
very crisis of his son's peril.
Throwing the gun to his shoulder, and not waiting to take careful aim,
he fired just as the great black brute reared to strike at Hector. The
whole charge of heavy buckshot took effect full in the bear's breast,
and down he pitched almost upon Hector, but incapable of further harm.
Mr. Macrae's feelings were so mixed that he hardly knew how to express
himself. He had been angry with Hector for straying away from the
river-bank, but now he was naturally hugely proud of his own success as
a bear killer, and this rose superior to his anger. Raising Hector to
his feet, he said, mildly enough: 'Ye didna heed ma word, laddie,' and
then added with swelling voice, 'eh, but it's a grand creature! Rin
now to the boat, and tell the men to come and help me with it. I canna
carry it back alone.'
Relieved beyond expression at his escape from the bear, and from his
father's deserved reproof, Hector darted off, and presently returned
with several of the men, who were all greatly interested in the big
game Andrew Macrae had bagged.
Andrew was anxious that his 'gude wife' should see his noble prize,
before it was skinned, and so he persuaded the men to help him take it
down to the river.
The little party made quite a triumphal procession, with Hector proudly
leading the way, the four strong men bending beneath the weight of
their trophy, and the two dogs frisking and barking about them,
evidently quite aware of the important part they had played in the
business.
Of course, Hector's mother both scolded and coddled him, and little
Ailie gazed with startled eyes at the motionless monster, and Dour and
Dandy came in for unlimited praise and patting, which they accepted
with their wonted dignity. Among the boatmen were those who knew
exactly what to do with the bear, which was in superb condition, and
the splendid skin having been carefully removed, the best part of the
meat was saved to provide juicy steaks and cutlets for the travellers'
table.
From the Hayes River, the boats turned into the Stool, and then into
the Fox River, and later into the Hill River, which was the most rapid
of all, and very difficult to work up against its opposing currents.
One of the worst places was Rock Portage, where the river, pent in by a
range of small islands, formed several cascades, none of which could be
ascended by the laden boats. It was, therefore, necessary to take out
all the cargo, portage it across one of the islands, and then, by dint
of tremendous toil, drag the big boat across the island, and launch it
again above the cascade.
This sort of thing went on day after day, until at last, to the
infinite relief of the tired toilers, they reached Oxford House, an
important post of the Hudson's Bay Company, where a rest of several
days was allowed for them to recuperate.
During all this toilsome progress, Hector never had a dull moment. He
helped whenever he could, and when not required for this, found plenty
to occupy his attention. He was the best of brothers to Ailie, taking
her to play upon the bank, picking flowers for her, and pointing out
the birds in the trees, and the tiny creatures that rustled through the
dry grass. Often his mother would join in these little rambles, and
then Hector's happiness was complete. He felt himself the man of the
party, and assumed an air of importance that greatly tickled his
shrewd, fond mother.
The halt at Oxford House was enjoyed by everybody. Here both ducks and
trout were to be had in plenty and most of the men went either shooting
or fishing. Andrew Macrae preferred the former, and, having succeeded
in securing the loan of a canoe, with a half-breed to paddle it, took
Hector off with him for a day's sport.
The weather was favourable, and Cross-Eye, the half-breed, who got the
name from his eyes being on the bias, promised them plenty of ducks.
They paddled up the lake for several miles until they came to a kind of
enclosed bay, whose shores were lined with a thick growth of underbrush.
'In there we go,' said Cross-Eye, in his queer guttural tone, and the
canoe was directed to a good landing-place. 'Hide him,' grunted the
half-breed, and the light craft was lifted out of the water, and
concealed among the trees.
They next proceeded to put themselves out of sight, there to patiently
wait the appearance of the ducks. Mr. Macrae and Cross-Eye settled
down comfortably. Not so Hector. He had absolutely nothing to do but
search the sky for the black specks that would grow into the toothsome
birds they sought, and, as none of these were visible, he naturally
grew restless. He fired questions at Cross-Eye, in spite of the
taciturn half-breed's surly responses, and he bothered his father with
proposals to do this or that, none of which were approved.
At last he gave a cry of delight, at the same moment that Cross-Eye
grunted in a relieved way. Far to the west, a thin black line showed
faintly above the horizon, and rapidly grew more distinct. The ducks
were coming at last.
Crouching close to the ground, and hardly breathing in their
excitement, the three hunters awaited their approach. When the orderly
array of winged _voyageurs_ had come within reach of the sound,
Cross-Eye proceeded to imitate their cries with a marvellous fidelity.
Hector was amazed at the sounds which issued from him. They were so
perfectly bird-like.
Instead of flying over, the ducks hesitated, returned the cries that
attracted their attention, and then, with much flapping of wings,
dropped down upon the still surface of the little bay, right in front
of their hidden enemy. The moment they were well within range, at a
signal from Cross-Eye, the report of two guns rang out like one, and
two ducks gave their last quack.
With wonderful quickness the half-breed had the canoe launched, but
Hector was no less quick in springing into it, and off they went after
the birds. A few powerful strokes brought them to where they lay upon
the water.
'You get them,' grunted Cross-Eye, as he held the canoe steady, and
Hector leaned over the side to pick up the ducks. It was not a
difficult thing to do, but the sudden excitement after the wearisome
waiting had flustered him. He was so eager to do his share of the work
that he overdid it, and upset the canoe, throwing the half-breed and
himself into the water.
Now there was nothing of the hero in Cross-Eye. He was both angry with
Hector for his awkwardness, and alarmed about his own safety. So,
without one thought of the boy, he made for the shore as fast as he
could, in spite of Mr. Macrae's indignant appeals to him to help Hector.
As for the latter, he had not been born and bred beside a Scottish loch
without learning to swim. Indeed, neither Dour nor Dandy could get
faster through the water. But the ice-cold lake into which he had been
so suddenly plunged was a different thing from the sunny loch in
summer-time.
Before he had taken a dozen strokes towards the shore, the deadly chill
laid hold upon him, and numbed his arms and legs until he could scarce
keep his head above water. Indeed it did go under once, the water
smothering the cry for help that his peril had wrung from him, ere his
father, throwing off his coat, plunged in to his rescue.