XVIICHRISTMAS AT THE CABIN
“Merry Christmas, everybody!”
This from the boys as they slipped quietly from their bunk.
“Merry Christmas!” replied Bill, turning in his blankets.
“Merry Christmas, and many more of them!” added Ben, sitting up drowsily.
“Merry Christmas, Pete!” shouted George, determined that no one should be left out of the cordial greetings.
“Chrismus!” returned the Indian, his dark eyes twinkling kindly.
“Well, you fellows stole a march on us this time,” laughed Ben, as he rose and lighted the lamp—it was still dark outside.
“Now for the box!” cried Ed.
“Yes, let’s open it!” urged George.
They soon had the cover off, and were busily engaged taking out the contents. There was a deliciously roasted turkey with dressing such as they relished at home; aplum-pudding decorated with sprigs of holly; two great cakes, one filled with raisins, the other with nuts; besides many presents for the boys, and boxes of cigars, warm gloves and caps for Ben and the trapper. Then they found some tobacco and a pipe, and immediately presented them to Pete, who seemed much pleased. Nor was Moze forgotten, for lying in the very bottom of the box was a handsome collar with his name engraved on the metal plate.
When they had finished distributing the presents, Ben brought several bags and bundles from beneath his bunk. When he had opened them, he gave each of the boys a pair of moccasins and a serviceable bone-handle hunting-knife. He also produced a box of cigars for Bill, and a pair of fleece-lined mittens for Pete.
Then Bill opened his pack of pelts and gave George the lynx-skin and Ed a handsome fox-skin.
“This is the greatest Christmas ever!” declared Ed.
“You bet!” agreed George.
Indian Pete had gone outside during the presentation of gifts, and they were afraid he felt badly because he had nothing to offer. However, he soon returned with the deer onhis shoulder. With great dignity he dropped it to the floor.
“Chrismus, all—everyone!” he said. “Plenty eat, all.” And he laughed and made them understand by gestures that they were to accept of the deer as his offering.
“That’s the best of the lot, Pete!” declared Ben, grasping the Indian by the hand. “We’ll have a big feast.”
Ben and Pete were greatly interested in the pelt of the silver fox, and they congratulated Bill on his good-fortune.
“This sure is a prosperous Christmas for you, Bill; that skin is worth a pile of money back in the settlement. When I was in I heard them telling that the price of fur had gone ’way up. I’m powerful glad you got it,” said the guide.
Bill made no reply, but looked much pleased as he fingered the valuable prize admiringly. He pulled his furs, flesh side out, on stretching-boards which Ben offered for his use.
After breakfast the boys cut a small balsam, which they set up in the cabin for a Christmas tree. Ben decorated the branches with popcorn, candies, and cakes which he had brought from town, and the lads added some fancy ornaments which had come in their gift-box.
“Snow Ball” was freed from his log cageand placed on his perch. Immediately he and Moze became eager to resume hostilities, but they were promptly warned that it was no day for ill feeling. Finally, to keep peace in the family, the hound was banished out-of-doors.
Later on the boys proposed a shooting contest in honor of the day. The others agreed, and Ben drew a target on a piece of white cardboard. He tacked it up on a near-by tree, and the shooters went outside to compete in the “championship” contest.
They drew to see who would shoot first. It happened that Ed drew first shot, Bill second, George third, Pete fourth, and Ben last. It was agreed that they would shoot three shots apiece at each of three different targets. The first was to be the nearer and larger, the second farther away and smaller, and the third some difficult fancy shot. Each contestant agreed to use his own rifle and fire without a rest or brace.
Ed led off and gained applause by scoring an outer “bull” and two inner circles. Bill followed with two “bulls,” a center and an outer, and an inner circle. The best George could do was three inner circles, close to the “bull.” Pete got three straight “bull’s-eyes”; and Ben tied his score.
The second target was half as large as the first, and twice as far away. Ed got two outer rings and a miss. Bill got two more “bulls” and an outer ring. George retrieved himself by getting a center “bull” and two ringers. Again Pete made three “bulls”; and again Ben equaled the score.
Then they cut circular bits of pasteboard the size of half-dollars, one for each shooter. Ed clipped the edge with one shot and missed with the others. Bill got a center and two edges. George tied Ed’s tally. Pete put three in the center of the little circle; and Ben did likewise.
“Well, I guess you and Pete can fight it out,” laughed Bill, turning to the guide.
“Yes, shoot it off!” urged the boys.
Ben fastened a card, edge toward him, in a seam of the bark. Then he looked smilingly at Pete. The latter at once signified his willingness to shoot at the difficult mark, and the contest began.
The guide’s first shot cut the card in two, and the boys cheered wildly. A new target was set in place, and he repeated the feat. A third card had the corner torn by his last bullet.
Then Pete stepped forward and drew careful aim on the edge of the tiny target. Hisfirst shot missed by the merest fraction, and he turned toward his audience and smiled. The second bullet cut the card squarely in the middle, and he was roundly cheered by the impartial company. His final shot clipped the top. Pete laughed and shook his head. Ben had bested him.
“Eyes too old, maybe,” he said, modestly, as victor and vanquished clasped hands.
“Not a bit of it,” said the guide, gallantly. “It just happened that I had a little better luck. It might come out just the other way another time.”
Ben then fastened one of the small bits of cardboard on a tree, and, placing his rifle upside down on top of his head, he sent a bullet through the center.
“You’ll have to join a show, if you keep that up,” Bill laughed.
The boys asked Pete to tell them more about the Indians, but could not induce him to talk. They finally appealed to Ben.
“Tell you what to do, Pete,” he said; “show these fellows how to build a wigwam.”
The old Indian smiled at his friend, and, taking up his ax strode from the cabin, followed by Ed and George. Once outside, he quickly selected and cut three straight saplings. Trimming off the branches, he placedthe poles on the ground with their tops together. Deftly twisting a strip of bark, he made it into a rope and fastened the ends of the poles one to the other. Then he raised them. He stood other poles between, forcing the tops beneath the bark rope, and soon had the framework of the wigwam completed. The foot of each pole was thrust into the ground to prevent the abode from tumbling down in a high wind. Pete left an open space in front for a doorway. In place of the birch-bark, which he explained was generally used by his people for the same purpose, he took a blanket and wrapped it about the bare poles to make a shelter. At the top of the wigwam he left an opening to let the smoke out. He explained that a covering was always provided for this opening, to keep out rain or snow.
Indian Pete also showed them many simple signs used by his people to communicate with one another when traveling through the forest. He showed how to turn a twig, or branch, so that it would point in the direction taken by the one who had left the signal. The Indian also showed how, by breaking a stick into long or short pieces, he could advise his followers as to the length of journey he had undertaken. He cut a piece of bark from atree-trunk and made many queer drawings on it. These were carefully explained to the boys, so that they could read the Indian message it contained. They also had explained to them the art of making bows and arrows, the scraping and tanning of furs and skins, and other bits of woodcraft, and half the day was gone before they realized it.
Ben had meanwhile placed the turkey in the oven to warm.
“Say, just smell that!” he cried, patting himself. Then, with a quick glance at Pete, he added: “We’ll have this bird for dinner, and a big stew of Pete’s deer-meat to top it off. My, I don’t believe I’ll be able to eat again for a week after we get through with this feast.”
Everybody seemed to be in high spirits as they took their places for the Christmas dinner. While they were eating it began to snow, and soon big, broad flakes were coming down in swirling thousands.
“This is a real Christmas,” declared Ed, looking out at the storm.
“Looks like we might be in for a big snow,” said Ben, pausing with a leg-bone of the turkey between his fingers.
“Let her come, we’re here first!” laughed Bill; and the boys were glad to see the trapperso jolly, for they feared that the day held gloomy memories for him.
When the meal was finally over, a large plate of food was given to Moze, and he promptly stretched out before the stove and proceeded to enjoy it.
In the afternoon Pete and Bill decided to go out in spite of the storm. Armed with their rifles, they left the cabin and disappeared in the woods.
This was what the boys had been waiting for. As soon as the trapper and the Indian had gone they asked Ben to tell them why Bill acted so strangely about Christmas.
For a time the guide looked at them in silence. Then he decided to tell the story.
“You see, several years ago Bill had a trapping partner by the name of Tom Welsh,” he began. “‘Big Tom,’ we called him, because of his size and strength. He and Bill trapped ’way up north of here, around what was then called Bad Pond. It got its name because it was usually rough and dangerous for a canoe in summer and full of treacherous, snow-covered air-holes in winter.
“One season Bill and ‘Big Tom’ built a little cabin near this pond, and decided to spend the winter trapping around the shores. There was a lot of fur to be taken there, andthey figured on a great catch by the time spring came.
“Christmas day they were crossing on the ice, and they got to skylarking and fooling. Then they began to wrestle, and Bill tripped ‘Big Tom,’ and he lost his footing and plunged head first into an air-hole which neither of them had seen.
“Seeing that his friend didn’t come up, Bill lay down and peered into the opening, shouting and reaching into the cold, black water. You see, he knew ‘Big Tom’ had bobbed up under the edge of the ice and was probably swimming away from the opening.
“Well, poor Bill was near crazy, and in his excitement he went into the hole himself. He, too, came up under the ice, but near the edge of the hole, and was clutched by the collar and yanked out.
“When Bill blinked the water out of his eyes he saw Indian Pete. The Indian had been watching the trappers from shore. When Tom went down he started toward them on a run. Bill hadn’t noticed him coming over the ice, on account of his mind being on the fate of his friend. You see, if it hadn’t been for Pete, both partners would have drowned, ’cause Bill was dazed when he came up. Like as not he’d have swum back underthe ice same as poor Tom did; but the Indian was watching and nabbed him quick as he appeared near the opening.” Ben finished amid an impressive silence.
“Did they get ‘Big Tom’—after awhile?” asked Ed, in a low tone.
“Yes,” replied Ben, soberly. “Listen! That’s Moze, all right; he’s got something started!” he cried, evidently glad at the opportunity of changing the subject.
Then for some time they heard the voice of the hound ringing through the forest. The flakes came down thicker and faster each succeeding hour, and a piercing northwest wind tore through the woods and piled the snow into huge drifts.
“Looks a little like the makings of a blizzard,” said Ben, going to the door.
“I hope they get back all right.” And George looked from the window a bit uneasily.
“Don’t you worry about them,” laughed the guide.
As the storm increased steadily in volume and the afternoon wore on, the boys went to the door many times to listen. They remembered what their own experience had been in a storm not half so bad; and, though they had implicit confidence in the abilityof Bill and Pete to take care of themselves, they were anxious for them to return.
Hardly had they resumed their seats the last time when the door opened and Pete came into the room. He was covered with snow, and began shaking himself vigorously.
“See anything special?” inquired Ben.
“Plenty dog tracks. Run moose all time in big snow—bad!” said the Indian, shaking his head.
“That’s the pack of wild ones, I’ll bet!” declared Ben, straightening up with a show of interest.
Pete nodded in the affirmative.
“Well, we’ve got to go after them, or there won’t be any game left in this part of the country,” and the guide scowled.
Again Pete nodded solemnly.
It was almost dark, and still Bill and Moze did not make their appearance. Several times the boys caught Ben listening and glancing out of the window, they thought, a bit uneasily.
Then they heard Moze whining at the door, and a moment later Bill opened it and came in.
“Kind of dusty out,” he laughed, brushing the flakes from his broad shoulders.
“What did you see?” asked Ed, eagerly.
“The pack of wild dogs!” replied Bill, looking at Ben.
“Get a shot at them?” inquired the guide.
“No, they were too far away. I tell you, there’s a bunch of them. Must be twenty-five or thirty.”
“Tell us about them,” urged the boys.
“Wait till after supper; I’m hungry as a bear.”
“Well, sit down, then; it’s ready,” announced Ben.
Afterward Bill told how he had seen the wild pack racing along a valley, on the hot scent of some animal. He had worked his way down the mountain on which he had been hunting, and had followed the dog tracks for quite a distance. The trapper had learned that the wolf-like hunters were chasing a deer—a doe. As the trail gave every indication of a long chase, he left it and came back to the cabin.
“This storm will cover up their trail, so that I don’t suppose there’ll be any use looking for them to-morrow. When I hear them again, though, I’m going after them,” declared Ben. “They’ve got to be driven out of here, or they’ll kill everything in the woods.”
The boys renewed their pleas to be takenon the expedition, and were so persistent that Ben finally agreed to take them.
The balance of the evening was passed playing games and telling stories, till a glance at the clock showed the lateness of the hour.
Rising, Ben went to the door and looked out. Then he called for the others to join him. Standing there, the snow blowing into their faces, they heard the distant baying of the wild dogs.
“They’re like wolves,” declared Bill.
“Worse,” agreed Ben; and he closed and bolted the door.