THE MOOSE CHARGED MADLYTHE MOOSE CHARGED MADLY
THE MOOSE CHARGED MADLYTHE MOOSE CHARGED MADLY
"Jest keep dodging him," he sang out encouragingly. "Ef he ain't reached you yet he ain't likely to. Jest keep well clear of his hoofs and out of sight of the brute as much as you can. He ain't as fresh as he war, and that'll help us."
The cunning hunter rapidly unwound the long piece of raw hide that he had cut for use on the snowshoes, and which, having more than he required, he had carried with him since, in case of renewals being wanted. Perhaps he had as much as eight feet, perhaps there was less; but, in any case, it was as tough and strong as any rope ever constructed. While Joe continued to dodge the angry moose, now escaping his attacks with comparative ease—for he had regained his coolness—Hank made one end of his rope fast to the tree, looped the other, and then crawled out on the branch.
"Jest get him to come dodging round this way," he said hoarsely. "Ef I hooks him, you make a run fer one of the guns, and then climb into the nearest tree. This rope won't hold him overlong, but it'll do to let you get clear. Now, I'm ready."
Joe merely required to show himself plainly for the maddened moose to come dodging after him. The huge antlers, as hard almost as steel, struck the tree a resounding clang, then the fore feet were used till strips of bark were flying. Slowly Joe edged round the trunk, luring the animal after him, till a lucky move brought the moose directly under Hank.
"Git ready!" he shouted, at the same time dropping one foot and kicking the antlers. Instantly the beast raised his head, and like lightning Hank slipped his noose over one of the broad branches.
"Run!" he bellowed. "Don't ferget the gun, or we'll be both of us fixed for days together."
It may be imagined that Joe did run. He dashed across the open space to the spot where their rifles were lying, turning his head to see what was happening. If he had felt less confidence in the little hunter, there is small doubt that he would have neglected to pick up a weapon; for the fury of the moose on seeing his movement was terrible. It lowered its head and dashed after him, till the strong hide rope brought it up with a jerk that threatened to snap the noose. Then began a mad struggle on the part of the moose for freedom. Rearing up on its hind legs, it struck out with its fore feet, almost reaching the bough on which Hank was seated. It backed and tugged, it fell to the ground, trusting by those means to tear itself free; then it dashed this way and that, arrested on each occasion with a mighty jerk that actually shook the tree.
"Even a chain wouldn't stand much more of such tugging," shouted Hank, watching Joe anxiously out of the corner of his eye. "You be slippy with that gun, lad, or else we'll lose him. Ah, that's a relief! He's into a tree. Now, wonder what sort of shooting he'll make. Say, lad," he called out loudly, "take him when he lifts his head, and put a bullet into his shoulder jest about where the neck joins it. Steady, Joe; you're puffed. Pull yerself together."
If our hero had attempted a shot then, there is little doubt but that he would have missed entirely, for what with the active movements of the moose and his own trembling fingers, a sure aim was more than difficult. However, he did as he was ordered. Bracing his legs round a branch, he brought the butt of his weapon firmly to his shoulder, then, choosing a moment when the animal lifted its head, he sent a bullet crashing into it. A yell from Hank told him, even before the thin cloud of smoke had cleared away, that he had been successful.
"Good fer you! Killed him dead!" Joe heard, and, looking down, saw the huge bulk of the animal stretched on the snow, thick steam still issuing from the nostrils.
Let us be strictly truthful again with regard to our hero. Joe was shaking in every limb as he dropped to the ground and stood over the fallen animal; for excitement had told upon his nerves, as yet unaccustomed to such strenuous moments.
"You don't need to be ashamed," said Hank, seeing that Joe looked downcast. "I've seen many an older chap all of a shiver with excitement when the thing was over. The main thing aer that you kept your head and held your sights straight when they was wanted. This here exhibition will have given you a good idea of the moose that roams about Canada, and next time you meet one don't wait too long for his charge. I've known a man to be skewered on those antlers afore you could shout, and killed jest as dead as possible. Reckon we'll skin the brute and take his head. It'll be a fine gift for the Fennicks."
They spent the remainder of the day in skinning the moose and in removing the skull and antlers. Indeed, they camped beside the carcass, not troubling themselves about the other brute, which had retreated at the very beginning of their adventure. That night, for the first time in his young life, Joe cooked moose steaks over the fire and ate of meat of his own getting.
"Prime, ain't it?" grinned Hank, as he devoured a savoury morsel. "But you wait; there'll be more huntin' before we've done with this here expedition."
CHAPTER XIII
A Co-operative Proposition
It was rather later than they had anticipated when Hank and Joe arrived at Sam Fennick's shack on the following day; for again a thaw had set in—not the "silver thaw" so much prized in Canada, which they had previously experienced, and which, by freezing the upper layer of snow and, as it were, laying a sound crust upon it, had enabled them to make good progress, but a thaw unaccompanied by change, or, to be exact, not followed by a succeeding frost. They finished their journey, therefore, through a snowy slush, sinking often above their knees, while their moccasins and their feet were wringing wet and very cold.
Shouts greeted them.
"Why, if it ain't Joe!" came from Sam heartily, in his well-known bellowing tones, while the ineradicable cockney accent was obviously there; in fact, it was an accent of which Sam was proud. It was something never likely to leave him however long he remained in Canada, and however much he interlarded his conversation with Americanisms. "Missus, it's Joe!" he shouted, turning his head over his shoulder. Then he dashed forward, seized our hero's hand, and squeezed it till the latter almost winced.
"Howdy?" he exclaimed, swinging on Hank. "Introduce us."
"Hank," said Joe shortly, "hunter and trapper, a friend of mine. Hank, this is Sam Fennick; but——"
"In course I knows Sam," cried Hank, stretching out his wiry little paw, but one, nevertheless, which could give a grip that would make a strong man squirm. After all, outside the polite society of London and other large cities, where very vigorous handshaking is not looked on with favour, men often enough, the rough men of the plain, the prairie, the backwoods farm, and of the forest, exchange greetings with an earnestness there is no denying. Such men do not simper and dangle nerveless fingers before a stranger. They stand facing squarely, looking closely into the other's eyes, and when their hands meet, and their fingers grip the other's, the firmness of the grip, its vigour, its unflinching support of the return pressure somehow conveys something of the character of one man to the other. Hank had treated Joe in that way. To a man such as Hurley, whom he did not like, whom he suspected to be a craven, Hank merely waved or nodded; for he had his own views of what was proper, and they were far more exact and far more straightforward than one would have imagined.
"What! You, Hank—me old pal!" shouted Sam, delighted beyond measure, and almost hugging the little hunter. "You along o' Joe? How's that? He been doing something fer you, same as he did fer us?"
Hank asked an abrupt question. "What?"
"Ain't he never let on about the fire aboard ship, the rumpus there was, and how he led the volunteers?"
"Nary a word. Peter—Peter Strike, that is—did tell me a tale, but he warn't too sure of it. The young cuss is that silent when it comes to hisself. But he's been doing well. Sam, let's get these wet things off us, and something hot inside, and then we'll gas. Gee! Ef that ain't Mrs. Fennick! Howdy, maam? Here's Joe."
The good woman almost embraced our hero, for she felt like a mother to him.
"Come right in and let us hear all about you and your doings," she cried. "And Hank Mitchell too! I'm that glad to see you both, and Sam has been waitin' these many days for you to arrive. He's got a scheme for the winter."
The grinning master of the shack accompanied the visitors into the interior of the shack, and there stood, first on one leg and then on the other, while Joe and Hank looked keenly about them. It was to be expected that a man of Sam's energy, a Canadian settler who liked things to be right, should have erected a dwelling which should be fitting for his wife. Besides, there was reason for even greater magnificence.
"Guess you've been hard at work," said Hank, looking about him with twinkling eyes that nothing escaped. "This here shack's meant to last."
"It's that and more," cried Mrs. Fennick, pride in her tones. "Sam has built for a purpose. This shack's too big for what we want; he planned to have an office."
"Eh?" asked Hank, turning on the grinning owner, who had flushed to the roots of his hair for all the world as if he were a schoolboy. "What's this?"
"Part of the scheme, lad," came the answer. "Jest you two get seated and pull off those wet moccasins; then, when you've got dry socks to your feet and has had a bite, I'll get to at it. It's a fine yarn; I've dreamed of it this past five years."
No amount of persuasion would drag from Sam what his scheme was till Joe and Hank had eaten, and the latter had lit up a pipe.
"You kin fire in at it, Sam," said Hank at length, in the crisp little manner which was so distinctly his own. "I kinder gathered from this here Joe that when you came along up here prospecting it warn't with the idea of the ordinary farm. Maam, it's plain to see as my old friend has nigh worked his fingers to the bone."
Once more the little hunter's eyes went round the large parlour in which he and the others were seated, while Mrs. Fennick and her husband followed his glances with frank pride staring from their own eyes. Nor could Joe help but admire all that he saw; for he and Sam had been parted but a matter of a few months, and in the course of that time the latter had pitched upon a suitable holding for his farm, and had cut the timber for his shack, besides erecting the house. As to the latter, it was far bigger than the ordinary shack erected by the settler. There was a parlour, a kitchen, and three bedrooms, while attached at one side was a large office.
"Where we'll have the telephone afore you kin look round," declared Sam. "It's jest like this. Me and a mate or two agreed to go along together into New Ontario and pitch upon a spot that was likely to open up. Wall, we took the line the branch railway was following, though there's not one save those in the know behind the scenes, who kin say exactly where it'll run. Still, me and the others prospected a heap till we came along here. What with the difficulties of rocks to the south, and big, straggling elevations, it was clear as the rails must follow the valley, and there warn't more'n one for 'em to take. So we prospected along it till we came here. You jist come outside the door and you'll see what I'm after."
He led the way to the door of the shack and pointed to the north across a narrow stretch of country bounded on either hand by elevated land, and seamed along a straggling line running a little to one side of its centre by a thin strip of blue which, here and there, was entirely covered with snow. As for the landscape itself, it was difficult to tell its aspect exactly, in spite of the thaw, for snow lay deeply in most parts.
"Wall?" asked Hank curtly, looking about him and taking in every feature. "It's the top end of the valley, I kin see that. Rails running north kin easily pass out, seeing that the two ridges on either side don't run together. But they can't cut off to right or left. Ef the rails comes along this way, why, in course they passes right through this location."
"Along by the river," said Sam quickly. "Hank, it's an easy rise all the way. The river ain't got no current to speak of, which tells the tale easily. As to the rails coming along into the valley down south, why, that is almost certain, as sure as one can take it. Anyway, me and my mates agreed that it was more than likely, and so we arranged to take up holdings here. There's four of us already, Claude and Jim and Joe makes seven, and come spring-time there's nigh twenty more married men to join us."
"Wall?" asked Hank, not as yet clear as to what was Sam's meaning. "Where's the difference between this and other settlements? You takes up land, and the rails come along. Good! Up goes the value of the land, as it aer sartin to do. You get a reward for foresight; after that, where's the difference?"
Sam had evidently sought for the question, for he rubbed his hands together eagerly and gripped Hank's sleeve.
"Jest here," he declared with enthusiasm. "Instead of some twenty of us starting to work our sections separately, and going mighty slow in consequence, we're forming a corporation. Each man who takes land will pool money with the corporation. With that money we buy implements, horses, cattle, everything that's needed. We divide our numbers into parties, and come the spring one of 'em sets to work to build the shacks, another does the ploughing, while a third'll get to at the irrigation channels."
"Ah!" gasped Hank. "This aer new."
"Sam worked the scheme out all alone," declared Mrs. Fennick, with energy, causing her lord and master to blush again.
"It sounds just splendid," cried Hank. "Wall? What more? I kin see that there's an advantage in working ground on the corporation system. If you've got the timber cut already, it stands to reason that ten men working on a shack can put it up more'n ten times quicker than one man all alone. If there's twenty shacks wanted, ten men can put 'em up heaps faster than twenty fellers working on their own. And irrigation too! That sounds fine; it's doing well elsewhere."
Hank spoke but the truth there. A far-seeing Dominion Government and an all-powerful railway company have already seamed portions of Canada with canals and ditches with which water is borne to lands hitherto useless. Their forethought has converted, and is fast converting, barren soil into country which in parts already bears smiling crops and happy homesteads. As for the corporate system, if the Dominion Government has not attempted that—and one must admit that it is a question more for individual settlers—it has at least other worthy schemes. A would-be settler can now sail for the Dominion, to find there a quarter section prepared for his coming, with the shack built, the well dug, and some forty acres broken and seeded. For this he pays a reasonably small sum down, and the rest by small instalments. Think of the huge advantage of such a system. In place of finding naked soil, and having first to build a shelter and then break the land, a settler finds a home in readiness and crops already sprouting. Then consider Sam Fennick's proposition.
"It aer bound to go with a bang," declared Hank, pushing his skin cap to the back of his head and scratching his forehead. "It aer jest tremendous."
"It'll work, I think," agreed Sam, with the natural modesty of the inventor of such a daring scheme. "Anyway, we've got the party together, and there'll be money in abundance. Each man will own his own taking, and ef others come along and settle nigh us, why, we're prepared to hire ourselves out ef there's a call and we've the time. As for implements, me and a few of them has talked it over, and come the spring there'll be two steam agricultural motors up here, in which we kin burn wood. They'll each do ploughing at three to four acres a day, and will draw the reapers and binders when it comes to harvesting. There won't be no need to wait for a threshing gang, 'cos the tractors will drive the machine we shall buy. They kin do wood sawing too, and a hundred other things, besides hauling the stuff to market."
"Ah!" gasped Hank, for this was a proposition which rather took his breath away by its novelty and its possibilities. "But——"
"Yes?" asked Sam, bracing himself, as if to face any awkward questions the little hunter might fire off at him.
"There's the winter," said Hank. "Your corporation comes to an end when the snow comes; you ain't thought of that."
But Sam had; he wagged a knowing finger, while Mrs. Fennick giggled. Indeed, it must be admitted that this cockney settler, who had come from London and done so well in the Dominion, had proved himself more than astute. Perhaps he had thought the whole matter out during some past winter in Canada. In any case, he had been wonderfully close where his scheme was concerned, for never once had he more than hinted at it to Joe. However, the question of work in the winter had not escaped him.
"You listen here," he said, shaking Hank as if he were a dog. "Come wintertime east of the rockies things mostly closes down in Canada; even in the towns there ain't too much work. There's men wandering to and fro searching for jobs, whereas, most times and in most places, when there's spring and summer, there's more jobs than men."
"Guess that aer so," agreed Hank, sucking hard at his pipe.
"But there's work in Canada that starts in the fall, and only then—eh?"
"Lumberin'," suggested Hank.
"Lumbering it aer," cried Sam, drawling the words. "Up there beyond the break through which the railway'll pass, ef we've any luck, there's land that's heavily timbered. Wall, it's part of the scheme. You kin get a timber concession from Government by paying so much on the logs you cut, and me and my mates has taken up a tidy piece of timber country. There's a lake twenty miles and more north into which we can slide the logs, and there's another jest at the head of the valley. Way south there's a quickish fall, with water in plenty, and ef all goes well, and we kin make enough dollars, why, we'll start a mill there and saw our timber. The rails'll be close by then, and will take 'em on to market."
"My," cried Hank, "you've been moving!"
"We're only beginning," said Sam. "But we starts out for a lumber camp soon as the frost comes, and there we'll work till springtime. You axed what we was going to do in the winter. There's the answer."
It must be confessed that Sam Fennick's scheme was ambitious to the last degree. But then, if one analyses it, one can see the possibilities that Hank saw, for co-operative working is often enough wonderfully successful where the single individual fails. Again, in a country where labour is scarce, and profits often lessened because of the lack of labour at critical periods; where, in fact, a man who may have broken and sown his land with the greatest industry may see his crops rot in spite of his energy, simply and solely because of the lack of help to harvest them; there, in a case such as that, the co-operation of his fellows would be all in all to him. Indeed, with pooled labour, and a certain sum pooled by all the settlers with which to buy implements, it stands to reason that work could be done more cheaply, more expeditiously, and always at the proper season.
"It aer a grand proposition," declared Hank, when he had thoroughly considered the matter. "I kin see a big saving in more than one way, and one of 'em's this. Suppose there's twenty settlers in the combine. Wall, now, with ten ploughs and ten harrows and seeders you've tools to break the land. Supposing there warn't a combine; each man has his own tools. They ain't all in use together, so some of 'em's lying idle. That's gain number one, and don't you try to contradict me. And so you're goin' lumberin'?"
"We are that," assented Sam; "and seems to me you and Joe had better come along with us. You could put in a month or more, and then go along on prospecting."
It took our hero and his hunter companion but a little while to accept the invitation, the more so as Joe was already more or less one of the corporation Sam was forming.
"There's dollars in the scheme right through," Hank said, as they sat round the stove that evening. "Ef you'll have me as one of the band, I'll apply for my two hundred acres right off, paying for 'em, for I ain't able to take up more free land. Joe's in the same fix. But he aer got the dollars to pay. We'll come north with you and do a little lumbering. Afterwards he and I kin move on farther, for I've a proposition of my own to look into."
"But——" began Joe, who had been a listener for the most part up till now.
"Huh! He's agoin' to criticize the scheme and pour cold water on it," grinned Hank, swinging round on our hero. "Tell you, Sam, this here youngster aer had his eyes opened wide sense he came out, and he's turnin' into a business farmer. Wall, what are it?"
"This lumbering," began Joe diffidently, colouring at so much attention being attracted to him.
"Just you give 'em what you think and don't be afraid," cried Mrs. Fennick encouragingly. "The lad that could organize volunteers aboard ship has a right to speak. Sam, likely as not he'll show you and Hank that you've made a big error somewheres. Now, Joe."
"I was merely asking about the lumbering," said Joe. "I always gathered that lumberers were men who were more or less trained. They go out in gangs, don't they?"
"And so'll we," interrupted Sam, with eagerness. "But there ain't so many chaps out here that hasn't had a turn with the gangs some time. I've done a season; p'raps Hank has too."
"You bet," came from that individual. "I've done most things 'way out here, from gold diggin' to farming pure and simple. Huntin' aer my proper trade, but I ain't too proud to do anything. Even when I'm my own master I ain't above takin' on a job for someone else ef I've the time, and the money's good enough."
"Then there's two of us has done the work before," declared Sam. "Eight or nine of the boys I've fixed it with to join our corporation are already up in the woods, where we'll join 'em. They've a shack built this three months, and no doubt they've started in felling."
It appeared, indeed, as if the thoughtful Sam had made very complete arrangements, and there was little doubt but that Hank, as an old and experienced colonial, was delighted.
"It aer a fine proposition," he repeated for perhaps the twentieth time. "When other folks is buried in the snow, and only finding work with feeding the cattle and sichlike, we'll be cutting timber that'll bring dollars in the summer, and be back on our holdings time enough to plough and sow and make ready for harvest. Autumn will see us threshing, and by the time the grain is hauled down to the railway there'll be frosts. Then out we go again. Gee, Sam, this fair tickles me!"
A week later the little band of lumbermen was collected together, while Tom Egan, a sturdy settler some fifty years of age, had arrived from his own little shack across the valley and had taken up his residence at Sam's dwelling, where it was arranged that Mrs. Fennick should stay with Egan's wife and children.
"Yer see," explained Sam, "a lumber camp ain't no sorter place for a woman. It's rough living all the while. Men are packed together as close as sardines, and even then it's mighty cold. So the missus stays here with the Egans while we move on."
They slung their traps over their shoulders, and with snowshoes on their feet set out towards the north. The thaw of the past week had by now given way to severe frosts, while there had been a heavy fall of snow. However, none but a confirmed grumbler could have found fault with the conditions, for a bright sun flooded the landscape, shimmering on hillocks of snow, throwing long blue shadows athwart the hollows, and causing the millions of particles of ice to flash and scintillate. There was a dry, exhilarating crispness about the atmosphere that was typically Canadian, a bracing coldness that made the little band step out briskly, Hank at their head, Sam following; then Joe, and Jim and Claude, the two young friends he had made aboard the steamer, marching side by side. Dick Parsons, a lanky, bearded colonial, brought up the rear, a veritable grenadier in proportions.
They formed a merry party in their lean-to that night, and went on their journey on the following morning with undiminished vigour. Late the following day the crisp ring of axes coming to their ears through the tree trunks of the forest they had plunged into some hours before told them that the lumber camp was within easy distance. Shouts greeted them as they trailed into a narrow clearing, at the back of which stood a low-built shack half-buried in snow, and with its roof supporting a vast mass of that material. Smoke issued gently from a centrally-placed chimney, while the door was wide open. Hearty indeed was the greeting, then the hut swallowed the whole party.
"You've jest come along in time for tea," cried one of the lumbermen, a bearded giant even taller than Parsons. "Sit ye down right there and we'll give you a meal that'll show you how we've been living. Bill, you fish out that bear's meat you've a-stewing, while we others get the tea on the table."
The table, let us explain, was a mere apology for that article as civilized individuals understand the term, for your lumberman has no time to devote to the niceties of furniture construction. Joe indeed found himself marvelling at the crudeness of their work and yet at its obvious utility; for split stakes had been driven into the ground down the centre of the shack, and cross pieces nailed on top. More long split logs secured to these formed the top of a table some two feet wide. As for benches, they were fashioned in the same manner along either side, and were by now fully occupied. A huge enamelled-ware teapot was passing from hand to hand, while Bill, the cook to this expedition, was standing at one end of the table dealing out helpings of a savoury bear-meat stew that tickled the nostrils of everyone.
"What about sleeping?" asked Joe presently, when the meal was finished and the lumber gang had gathered round the open fire placed at one end of the table. "Is there another room?"
"Another!" exclaimed Harvey Bent, the chief of the party. "Young man, there ain't time fer buildin' luxuries when you're lumberin', and what's more, guess there ain't warmth enough. Time we turns in to-night there'll be jest about room fer the lot of us, and no more. The closer we are the warmer, and 'way out here, when the thermometer's down below zero, that means something to men who has to work."
Joe and his friends found that the sleeping accommodation was quaint in the extreme. Along one side of the shack a sloping platform had been built of the usual split logs, and piles of blankets lay upon it. Going to bed was a simple proceeding in this lumber camp; for men merely slipped off their boots and hats and wrapped themselves in a blanket. Then they lay down side by side, packed closely together, so closely, in fact, that to turn was an impossibility. But Joe and his young friends, who were novices like himself, discovered very soon that these old lumbermen were not without consideration. They allowed for the possibility of a change of position, and that very night, some time in the small hours, a hoarse command awakened them.
"Heave!" they heard, and promptly, more asleep than awake, the band of men rolled over on to the other side and once more settled into snores and slumber.
"It's a sight that'll do your eyes good," declared Hank, early on the following morning, when the gang had eaten. "You watch these fellers cutting down their timber. It ain't likely that you'll be wanted fer much to-day, and so we'll take a look at 'em and then see their mates. All of the gang ain't fellers. It stands to reason that someone's got to deal with the timber when it's down, and has to haul it out of the way to where the water kin deal with it. We're high up here, for we was climbing most of yesterday, and this here shack aer located jest at the top of a steep slope cutting sheer down to the lake that Sam mentioned. You come along with me; when we've had a look round we kin tackle a job with the others."
Donning their snowshoes and taking their rifles with them—for it was already agreed that Hank should hunt for the gang and procure them fresh meat—he and Joe went sliding off along the hillside, and presently, reaching a spot where the lumberman's axe had cleared the trees, were able to get a clear view of their surroundings. Down below them, two or more hundred feet perhaps, was a vast expanse of white, unbroken for the most part, though here and there there was a dark-coloured elevation denoting an island, the huge expanse being the frozen and snow-covered surface of the lake. Beyond there was forest, patched with snow, silent and forbidding. As for the steep slope at that part, it was scored with a hundred and more tracks.
"Where the logs slide down to the lake," said Hank. "Now we'll go along and see 'em at it. My, these trees are mighty big, and will saw into fine logs! Ef that railway comes up this way, as Sam believes, timber'll be wanted, and the work that's being done here will bring its own reward. Ah! there's axes! Jest you come and see how a Canadian lumberman tackles a forest giant, and can throw the tree jest wherever he wants."
Joe marvelled, indeed, at the skill and the energy of the lumbermen. Hearty, healthy fellows one and all, they went at their work as if they loved it. Cutting niches with their axes high up the stem of a giant, they drove wooden stakes into the crevices thus prepared, and soon had a platform built on this somewhat insecure foundation. Then came the ring of axes swiftly falling, a hoarse cry of warning, twice repeated, followed by a reverberating roar as the giant succumbed to human forces, crashing to the ground with a thud which shook the surroundings. Joe stood by as one of the biggest of the trees tumbled, and watched the lumbermen shredding the branches from the fallen timber. The naked trunk was then levered with crowbars, and with a final jerk was sent skidding and sliding down the hillside, to come to a halt at the bottom, perhaps on the frozen surface of the lake, or at any rate within a few feet of it.
"There's a couple of men working down there with a hoss," explained Hank. "They hitches on to the logs that don't reach the lake and drag 'em into position. Look away down. There's a hull crowd of timber waitin' for the end of winter."
"And then?" asked Joe, for he was ignorant for the most part of the work of lumbermen.
"Why, the ice breaks up," said Hank, "the logs gets carried into the lake, and the 'drivers' takes 'em in hand. A mighty hard and dangerous job theirs is, too. They has to be at it night and day, wet and fine. Each of 'em has a long pole with a spike at the end, and their particular work aer to send the logs down. Sometimes the stream carries 'em all right. Sometimes they gets hung up in corners and eddies, and the driver has to set 'em afloat agin. Then, down at the bottom of a lake same as this it ain't so seldom that logs and ice'll form a jam. One of the logs gets across the outlet, stuck up on a rock or two. Others piles up behind, with blocks of ice maybe, till there's ten foot high of logs and stuff, with a mass of water and ice and logs 'way behind. That aer a ticklish job to tackle, and many a driver has been killed or drowned. But they ain't never afraid, and there ain't much that they can't do. I've seed 'em hopping from floating log to log and steering a single trunk downstream, as ef they was aboard a canoe and not on top of a thing that'd roll over with the ordinary feller. Now, we'll make right off out of hearing of the camp. Bill war telling me this morning that when that bear's meat aer done, there ain't nothing left but pork."
It was with the keenness of a schoolboy that Joe threw himself into the work at the lumber camp. That very evening he was told off with the hauling gang, and for a month and more assisted in dragging the felled timber to the edge of the lake; and never once did he find the hours drag or the work too heavy. As for the evenings, they were a delight to all; for your lumberman's camp is a veritable club. There, with the door shut and a hot fire burning, the men made a circle once their meal was finished. Pipes were filled, and clouds of smoke obscured the surroundings, dimming the rays from the single oil lantern hanging overhead. And what yarns those colonials could tell! Rugged, honest fellows, they spoke in a simple manly manner which was captivating. The boaster was not to be found amongst them; their tales were of deeds which had actually occurred, while the truth of their statements was apparent. As for chaff, they were never done with it. Harmless jokes and horse-play made the evenings jovial and merry. It was thus that our hero passed a portion of his first Canadian winter, revelling in the brisk atmosphere and in his work, boon companion to every member of the lumber gang. Then he and Hank bade farewell to their comrades and, shouldering their packs, set out for the north, for a country hardly ever explored, where danger and difficulty awaited them.
CHAPTER XIV
Moose Hunting
"I'm agoin ter tell you now what's brought me away up here through the backwoods of New Ontario," said Hank, the very evening he and Joe had left the lumber camp and their friends, amongst whom Sam Fennick was numbered. "I'm looking fer Beaver Jack."
"Beaver Jack! Who's he?" demanded our hero doubtfully.
"That's what I'm jest about to tell. Beaver Jack aer the cutest, quietest, cussedest Indian that ever you set eyes on, or that ever anyone else set eyes on either. He kin talk our language fairly well, and he war for three years or more along with me and my father. That's a time ago. Of late he's mooned about in the settlements during summer, not doing more'n a hand's turn, as is the nature of the Redskin. And winter's found him 'way up north, trappin' and huntin' fer the pelts that keeps him in food during the summer months. Beaver Jack and me's old friends, and with him to lead there's a chance of our striking a country I've heard of from mates of his. There ain't been much prospecting up in New Ontario, lad, but I've heard there's gold, and gold mines are worth finding."
So that was the secret of this expedition. Hank, a naturally silent man, had said little about his intentions up to date, and Joe had but a vague idea as to his real object. For himself, it had been sufficient that he was to travel through the Canadian wastes with such a pleasant fellow, and experience a life the very mention of which was most fascinating. It can be imagined, therefore, that he looked forward to the meeting with Beaver Jack with some anticipation, and hailed that taciturn Redskin heartily when, two weeks later, they came across him.
"You'd say as it aer fair wonderful that we should meet him right up here in the wilderness," smiled Hank, as he and Joe prepared for the night's bivouac. "But Jack aer a long-legged man, and, Injun-like, he turns his toes in. You could tell his mark in the snow amongst a thousand, and it ain't much altered even with snowshoes. See there—there's my marks, there's yourn, here's Beaver Jack's."
"With a longer distance between each one," agreed Joe. "And the back of each shoe seems to have been trailed along the snow as he went. There's a clean line every time. With you there's much the same, but the distance between the shoe marks is less, while mine are broken and the snow is irregularly marked in between."
"So as you could swear to any one of the three any day," said Hank. "Now, guess how it war that I steered a course so as to cross his tracks."
The question was one of greater difficulty, and Joe found himself unable to answer. However, the explanation was simple enough when it came to be given.
"It aer like this," smiled Hank. "Beaver Jack don't never come far into the settlements, and his line ain't never due north. Reckon he ain't fond of coming across other Injuns that way, nor the half-breeds that live up towards James Bay. So his line's always to the west. Ours being north, and cutting up through the country Beaver Jack crosses, why, in course we was bound to drop across his tracks. Had sport this season, Jack?"
The Indian turned slowly upon his questioner and straightened himself, for he had been bending over the narrow sledge upon which he was wont to haul his pelts when their number became too burdensome for carrying. The failing light of a midwinter day fell upon a scarred and seamed face that might have belonged to a man of sixty, of seventy, or even of eighty. The brows were drawn down over the eyes, the hooked nose approached closely to the thin, closely-shut lips, while even the chin, square and determined, and yet narrower than is customary with white men, appeared to turn up towards the centre of the face. But the eyes were the feature that attracted one. Small, and set wide apart, they flashed round at Hank and then at Joe. At one moment they looked severe, fierce, almost cruel; the next moment one could have sworn that they were twinkling. As for the remainder of this native trapper, he was clad in skin clothing of his own making. Fringed leggings covered his lanky lower limbs, while a shirt of leather, soft and wonderfully pliable and stained with much exposure, was over his shoulders, wide open at the neck, the sleeves reaching only down to his elbows. The man pointed slowly to his pile of pelts, and then, as if to speak would be to waste words, bent down over his sledge again and went on with the work that engaged his attention.
"He aer a rare 'un to talk," laughed Hank. "You get almost tired of hearin' his voice. But he kin hunt, and he aer the best man as ever I came across for calling up the moose. Know what that means, Joe?"
"Haven't an idea," answered our hero; for even now he was ignorant of the ways of hunters.
"Then we'll teach you, me and Jack," said Hank. "Jack, have you seen moose tracks hereabouts? If there's some of the beasts within twenty mile, you ain't likely to have missed them."
The mention of something to do with hunting brought the Indian to an erect position again with remarkable swiftness. He lifted an arm and pointed away to the west, to where the snow-clad landscape reared itself abruptly till, rising to a great height, it cut across the darkening sky in a succession of jagged peaks, upon which the rays of the fallen sun flickered, though the orb itself had long since disappeared from sight.
"Moose yard up there," he said abruptly; "plenty beast."
"Then to-morrow we'll see what we kin do with 'em," cried Hank. "We kin leave our traps 'way down here in this camp, and jest take our rifles with us. We ain't likely to be back before the night comes, and ef we're still out on the hills, why, in course we'll make a camp that'll keep us warm and right till the dawn comes. Now, lad, on with that kettle; it aer time almost for supper."
Joe's experience of moose hunting had not been so great up to this moment that he was not keen on a hunt. Once only, in fact, had he encountered this huge, fierce beast of the Canadian forests, and then the moose bull may be said to have hunted him. It was, therefore, with a certain amount of elation and excitement that he set off with his comrades on the following morning. Leaving their pelts behind in the lean-to—for Joe and Hank had trapped and shot many beasts during the last two weeks—and taking only rifles and ammunition and ready-cooked food with them—the three turned their faces towards the west, where the land reared itself up suddenly into a long chain of hills which might almost be described as mountains. Trudging along in front went Beaver Jack, as silent as ever, his face always to the front, never turning his head by so much as an inch, and yet seeing and remembering every feature of his surroundings. Joe noted the long swing of his lanky legs, the sliding stride with which he carried his snowshoes from one part to another, and the manner in which he kicked his shoes from time to time. Then came Hank, keen and energetic, his rifle across his shoulder, his shoes sinking hardly at all into the snow. However, Joe found walking on this occasion somewhat difficult, for the pace the Indian set was terrific, while a mild-tempered wind had softened the snow which clung to his shoes, making them ponderously heavy.
"Steady!" called Hank, after a while, arresting the rapid progress of the Indian. "This here pal of mine are puffin' and blowin'. Yer see, Joe, you ain't so used to snowshoein' as Jack and me, and when there's a thaw it aer heavy work. But jest you watch Beaver Jack. He gives a sorter kick every few steps, and so rids himself of the weight that you have to carry. We'll rest here a few minutes, and then you kin go in front and so set the pace."
An hour later they began to ascend a little, while within less than two hours the path they were making took them upward at a somewhat abrupt angle, which made the work extremely heavy. It was a relief to Joe, therefore, when Hank called another halt, and when Beaver Jack pointed away along the side of the mountain.
"We ain't likely to find moose much higher," said Hank, seating himself beside Joe; "not because it aer too cold for 'em high up, but because the stuff they feed on don't grow up there. Seems to me that we've a biggish wood in front of us, and we've got to make right through it before we shall come across their tracks. Even then there mayn't be any of the beasts, for ef they happen to have caught sight of us, or winded us, which aer far more likely, why, the hull crowd will have gone right off. You could shoot a charging moose, lad?"
"I'd try, anyway," answered Joe, mindful of his previous effort. "I think that by now I ought to be able to hold a gun straight, and if only I don't get too excited I ought to be able to hit a beast. I'm ready to move on if you are."
Once more they began their trudge across the sloping snowfield, Hank now leading, and presently he plunged into a forest clinging to the hillside. A wide space beyond was devoid of animal life, though Beaver Jack declared that moose had recently been across it. Then they dived into a narrow belt of trees, where the Indian came to a sudden halt.
"Try here," he said. "Not sure, but think beasts near; and if we go on, sure to hear us. Wait little—soon ready."
"Watch him," whispered Hank; "you'll see him set to work as only an Indian can. He's looking about for a birch tree, and with that knife of his will strip the bark in a matter of a few minutes. I kin tell you this, give a Redskin a knife and firelock and powder, and he kin go anywhere and make most anything in these forests. Birch bark aer the stuff he puts to roof his lean-to. A long strip cut from an extry big tree, and shaped and sewn, makes him a canoe that's better than any other craft known on any water; while, ef it's pots and kettles that's wanted fer cookin', he can fix the business easy with his knife, and so long as there's a tree of the right sort about. See him cut that roll free. Now, in a jiffy he'll have a trumpet."
Beaver Jack went about his work in a manner which showed that he was accustomed to it, and came back towards his comrades bearing a long strip of bark which he was slowly coaxing into the shape of a funnel. Then with his knife and a few strips of hide cut from the fringes of his leggings he tied the edges of the bark, so that the implement he had fashioned retained its shape. A little later he bent his lanky form, applied the smaller end of the funnel to his mouth, and blew heavily into it. The lines across forehead and face became even deeper. To look at the Indian one would have declared that he was in agony, and no doubt he was making a special effort. The result was truly wonderful. Joe had heard moose calling before, the sounds they made echoing through the forest. And here the calls were repeated, more loudly, it is true, since they were meant to pass to a distance, but wonderfully realistic and lifelike.
"Now listen," said Hank, in a whisper. "Ef there's a moose bull within two mile of this he'll answer."
The long, deep-toned call produced by Beaver Jack with the aid of his birch-bark trumpet was answered by a deadly silence that nothing broke, and though the call was repeated, it appeared as if the result was to be similar. But suddenly the Indian stirred, while Joe saw Hank's eyes concentrate themselves upon the forest. Then, far off, there came a dismal echo of the sound, as if the hillside were casting it back at the hunters. At once, without so much as a word, the Redskin slunk off into the forest, Hank and Joe following closely.
"You kin look for a burst of speed," whispered Hank hurriedly, turning his head. "There's a moose bull 'way ahead, and Beaver Jack aer going nearer so as to coax him. Jest make sure as you don't knock that rifle against the trees, or else there won't be much huntin'."
Silent after that, with hardly a glance to left or to right, the three pushed on through the wood, Beaver Jack choosing, as if by instinct, a path that avoided thick underwood, and allowed himself and his comrades to retain their snowshoes. Slowly the trees diminished in number, till they straggled out into the open in broken groups of two and three, and finally singly, scattered here and there over a wide field of snow that seemed to be unbroken and unmarked by beasts of any description. To the left the hills reared their heads abruptly, snow-covered to the summits, grey and forbidding, as if they resented the coming of these strangers. Ah! The Redskin had lifted a hand; he came to a halt.
"He aer going to call agin," whispered Hank, who seemed to be tingling with excitement. "Ain't that 'ere Beaver Jack clever?"
None but an expert could, in fact, have produced the impression this seamed and lined Indian contrived at. That long, deep-toned call, rising and falling in cadence and halting abruptly, as if only half-completed, went booming across the snowy waste, and echoed amongst the pinnacles above. It was followed by a second call, the tone of which was distinctly angry, as if the beast summoning its own kind were vexed at the want of an answer. Then, as the same faint response came to their ears—but this time distinctly nearer—a plaintive note crept into the summons which Beaver Jack produced with the aid of his trumpet, till one would have said that even the most heartless of listeners would have dashed forward promptly. But your moose is perhaps one of the wariest of beasts. Gifted with acute hearing and still more pronounced sense of smell, he is almost always suspicious. The least doubt as to the genuineness of a call, the faintest suspicion of the presence of others, will keep him sulking in the background, hidden by the trees, or will send him dashing off madly, his huge antlers steered with wonderful skill between the branches, so that not so much as a sound might help a would-be pursuer. It seemed as if the one in the far distance were of this character, as if he were suspicious. It made no difference to his movements even when Beaver Jack, working himself almost into a frenzy with his efforts, produced more mournful sounds, and then struck the tree trunk beside him heavily. Still the answering response was weak-toned and far off.
"He ain't coming, that's truth," whispered Hank. "We shall have to get along towards him, and this time we shall have to creep over every yard. Ef the brute does come, you shoot, Joe. I've had many a chance; so's Jack. Take him jest below the point of the shoulder."
Joe gripped his rifle with both hands, and saw that the safety catch was in position; then he fixed his eyes on his two companions. Nor was it long before there was a movement. Beaver Jack bent double and, thrusting the muzzle of his weird birch trumpet into the snow, sent forth a challenge which seemed to skim curiously over the hillside and burst into bigger volume in the distance. Then he dropped on to hands and knees, having already kicked off his snowshoes and slung them over his shoulders. A second later he was creeping away amidst the scattered trees, casting more than one glance over his shoulder.
"This aer a fair conundrum," whispered Hank to Joe, when the little party again came to a standstill. "I've hunted moose many a time, and, as a rule, ef there ain't no wind, as is the case jest now, and a hunter aer cautious, there ain't no great difficulty in coming up with them. Of course it isn't every Indian who can call, let alone a white man. A Redskin is kinder born to it, and most of 'em can call same as ef they was real moose. Guess Beaver Jack aer one of 'em. But look what's happenin' to-day. There's no getting nearer the beast that's answered. He's heard our call and has challenged back, but he goes off a bit every time we move forward."
"Perhaps there's something else disturbing him," ventured Joe, somewhat baffled for an answer, cautiously raising his lips to Hank's ear. "I notice that Beaver Jack has looked over his shoulder once or twice as if he thought there might be something behind us. Perhaps he's heard a call from that direction."
"Nary a one. Ef there had been I'd have heard it," asserted Hank, with decision; "but there may be beasts following. Ef it warn't fer the snow you could hear 'em by listening closely with an ear to the ground or placed hard up agin the trunk of one of the trees. But snow muffles most sounds, especially footsteps. Ah! That 'ere beast called from a point a little closer."
Whatever the cause of their want of success, Beaver Jack and Hank were not the men to give up the chase without a further effort, and without some show of that wonderful patience for which hunters are notorious. Time and again the Redskin repeated his call, and on a dozen occasions the trio went forward, crawling over the snow on their stomachs. At length, when Joe's small stock of patience was almost exhausted, the answering call came from a point distinctly nearer.
"That 'ere bull aer fair bothered," observed Hank, as Beaver Jack again buried the muzzle of his trumpet. "He aer been retreating all this while, and now it seems to me as ef he'd made up his mind that things was square, and had come towards us at a gallop. Ef he charges, don't wait too long. Give him a shot, and then ram in a cartridge."
It was perhaps some ten minutes later that the undergrowth clambering about the stems of a thick clump of evergreen pines three hundred yards from the hunters was suddenly rent asunder, and there emerged into the open two gigantic animals, the moose bull ahead and his consort behind him. As for the former, Joe could even at that distance see that his short mane was bristling, while his head was thrown upward, his antlers being carried high in the air, while one fore leg was poised, as if he were in the very act of galloping forward.
"Hah!" Joe heard Hank grunt. "That aer the meaning of the mystery. That 'ere bull has gone on retreating till he felt as ef he were bound to go no farther, as ef, in fact, he'd be a coward ef he didn't turn and face the danger. You kin look out for trouble."
Click! went the safety catch of Joe's rifle. He swung it into position and, taking careful aim, pulled the trigger. Almost at once there came a snorting grunt from the moose bull. The beast threw his fore legs into the air and stood there poised for the instant. A second later he had launched himself against the little group of hunters, and came charging towards them at a speed which was terrific.
"Agin!" cried Hank, his eyes gleaming, while his fingers closed round his own weapon. Up went our hero's gun again, and once more his eye ranged along the sights. But he never pulled the trigger, for, of a sudden, there came a loud report from behind him, while something struck the snow three yards in rear and ricochetting from the surface went humming and screaming over his head. Then came a second shot, falling almost on the self-same spot, while the powdered snow driven upward by the bullet swept against his face in a thick cloud which almost blinded him. Sweeping the crystals away with one hand, he stared across the open, while Hank's sharp tones roused him from the form of stupor into which he had fallen.
"Git loaded," he commanded shortly, "and soon as you've given 'em a shot, run back where that 'ere moose has bolted. Reckon there's a pack of half-breeds after us."
The sharp snap of his weapon was heard instantly, and was followed by a shot from Beaver Jack's rifle. Then Joe, wrestling with the excitement into which this sudden interference had thrown him, levelled his own weapon at the foremost of two dog sleighs dashing across the open towards them, and steadily pulled the trigger.
"On snowshoes," cried Hank sharply. "Now, Beaver Jack, you kin take post behind us. You're the best when it comes to huntin', but when there's a ruction same as this is, guess Hank ain't in need of no coaching. Joe, you come second. Ef they gets much closer, you've to keep a tree between you and them most of the time, and ef they looks like heading us, why, in course we shall have to look lively to find a suitable place to hold, and must get to and fight 'em."
He turned without further warning, and with his rifle trailed in one hand dashed across the snow towards the thick clump of evergreens from which the bull moose had so lately put in an appearance. As for the beast and his consort, both had turned at the sound of that far-off shot and had dashed away at a pace which took them out of sight within a minute. It was but a few seconds later when the same evergreens closed about the figures of our hero and his comrades.
"We've got to search for thick forest all the while," called Hank softly over his shoulder. "Then those dog sleighs won't be able to make much pace, and so won't easily come up to us. Gee, this aer a do! I reckoned all the while as there was something queer happenin', something that that bull moose kinder scented and yet warn't sure of. This aer a fair business."
The sudden change in the fortunes of the little party was indeed extraordinary and inexplicable. Had either of the three been asked the question that morning, they would have declared that to the best of their belief there was not another living human being within a radius of perhaps a hundred miles. Yet see what had happened. Ever since an early hour that morning two sleighs, drawn by dogs, had been following their tracks up to the hills and along the elevated ground they had taken. Figures wrapped in skin garments much the same as Beaver Jack wore had trudged beside the sleighs, whirling their whips now and again above the heads of the teams they were driving. Then, coming to that open space across which the chase had taken our hero and his friends, these strangers had leaped on to their sleighs and had come across the frozen surface at a rattling pace that brought them within long rifle shot of the hunters as Joe was in the very act of achieving a triumph. When the latter turned, having narrowly escaped two bullets, it was to perceive the two sleighs being driven rapidly forward, one some ten feet in advance of the other. Instantly his eyes were attracted to the former; for in front sat a huddled figure, above whose head a long-lashed whip swirled and cracked, while behind there stood a burly man balancing himself wonderfully, and with rifle at his shoulder.
Who could he be? What was the cause of this sudden and unprovoked attack? From whence had come these men who had sprung upon the scene so unexpectedly? No wonder that Hank was troubled. Beaver Jack's seamed and heavily-lined face displayed not the smallest surprise or vexation; but Joe's features were a study. There was anger on his face; his lips were firmly pressed together. His bull-dog chin was, if anything, a little squarer than usual.
"Gee!" he cried. "Well, I'm jiggered."