Chapter Twenty Six.A Battle with Grizzly Bears.As adventure with grizzly bears which had befallen the “captain” was next related. He had been travelling with a strange party—the “scalp-hunters,”—in the mountains near Santa Fé, when they were overtaken by a sudden and heavy fall of snow that rendered farther progress impossible. The “canon,” a deep valley in which they had encamped, was difficult to get through at any time, but now the path, on account of the deep soft snow, was rendered impassable. When morning broke they found themselves fairly “in the trap.”“Above and below, the valley was choked up with snow five fathoms deep. Vast fissures—barrancas—were filled with the drift; and it was perilous to attempt penetrating in either direction. Two men had already disappeared.“On each side of our camp rose the walls of the canon, almost vertical, to the height of a hundred feet. These we might have climbed had the weather been soft, for the rock was a trap formation, and offered numerous seams and ledges; but now there was a coating of ice and snow upon them that rendered the ascent impossible. The ground had been frozen hard before the storm came on, although it was now freezing no longer, and the snow would not bear our weight. All our efforts to get out of the valley proved idle; and we gave them over, yielding ourselves, in a kind of reckless despair, to wait for—we scarce knew what.“For three days we sat shivering around the fires, now and then casting looks of gloomy inquiry around the sky. The same dull grey for an answer, mottled with flakes slanting earthward, for it still continued to know. Not a bright spot cheered the aching eye.“The little platform on which we rested—a space of two or three acres—was still free from the snow-drift, on account of its exposure to the wind. Straggling pines, stunted and leafless, grew over its surface, in all about fifty or sixty trees. From these we obtained our fires; but what were fires when we had no meat to cook upon them!“We were now in the third day without food! Without food, though not absolutely without eating—the men had bolted their gun-covers and the cat-skin flaps of their bullet-pouches, and were now seen—the last shift but one—stripping theparflèchefrom the soles of their moccasins!“The women, wrapped in theirtilmas, nestled closely in the embrace of father, brother, husband, and lover; for all these affections were present. The last string oftasajo, hitherto economised for their sake, had been parcelled out to them in the morning. That was gone, and whence was their next morsel to come? At long intervals, ‘Ay da mi! Dios de mi alma!’ were heard only in low murmurs, as some colder blast swept down the canon. In the faces of those beautiful creatures might be read that uncomplaining patience—that high endurance—so characteristic of the Hispano-Mexican women.“Even the stern men around them bore up with less fortitude. Rude oaths were muttered from time to time, and teeth ground together, with that strange wild look that heralds insanity. Once or twice I fancied that I observed a look of still stranger, still wilder expression, when the black ring forms around the eye—when the muscles twitch and quiver along gaunt, famished jaws—when men gaze guilty-like at each other. O God! it was fearful! The half-robber discipline, voluntary at the best, had vanished under the levelling-rod of a common suffering, and I trembled to think—“‘It clars a leetle, out tharawa!’“It was the voice of the trapper, Garey, who had risen and stood pointing toward the East.“In an instant we were all upon our feet, looking in the direction, indicated. Sure enough, there was a break in the lead-coloured sky—a yellowish streak, that widened out as we continued gazing—the flakes fell lighter and thinner, and in two hours more it had ceased snowing altogether.“Half-a-dozen of us, shouldering our rifles, struck down the valley. We would make one more attempt to trample a road through the drift. It was a vain one. The snow was over our heads, and after struggling for two hours, we had not gained above two hundred yards. Here we caught a glimpse of what lay before us. As far as the eye could reach, it rested upon the same deep impassable masses. Despair and hunger paralysed our exertions, and, dropping off one by one, we returned to the camp. We fell down around the fires in sullen silence. Garey continued pacing back and forth, now glancing up at the sky, and at times kneeling down, and running his hand over the surface of the snow. At length he approached the fire, and in his slow, drawling manner, remarked—“‘It’s a-gwine to friz, I reckin.’“‘Well! and if it does?’ asked one of his comrades, without caring for an answer to the question.“‘Wal, an iv it does,’ repeated the trapper, ‘we’ll walk out o’ this hyar jug afore sun-up, an’ upon a good hard trail too.’“The expression of every face was changed, as if by magic. Several leaped to their feet. Godé, the Canadian, skilled in snow-craft, ran to a bank, and drawing his hand along the combing, shouted back—“‘C’est vrai; il gèle; il gèle!’“A cold wind soon after set in, and, cheered by the brightening prospect, we began to think of the fires, that, during our late moments of reckless indifference, had been almost suffered to burn out. The Delawares, seizing their tomahawks, commenced hacking at the pines, while others dragged forward the fallen trees, lopping off their branches with the keen scalping-knife.“At this moment a peculiar cry attracted our attention, and, looking around, we perceived one of the Indians drop suddenly upon his knees, striking the ground with his hatchet.“‘What is it? what is it?’ shouted several voices, in almost as many languages.“‘Yam-yam! yam-yam!’ replied the Indian, still digging at the frozen ground.“‘The Injun’s right; it’sman-root!’ said Garey, picking up some leaves which the Delaware had chopped off.“I recognised a plant well-known to the mountain-men—a rare, but wonderful convolvulus, theIponea leptophylla. The name of ‘man-root’ is given to it by the hunters from the similarity of its root in shape, and sometimes in size, to the body of a man. It is esculent, and serves to sustain human life.“In an instant, half-a-dozen men were upon their knees, chipping and hacking the hard clay, but their hatchets glinted off as from the surface of a rock.“‘Look hyar!’ cried Garey; ‘ye’re only spoilin’ yer tools. Cut down a wheen o’ these pine saplin’s, and make a fire over him!’“The hint was instantly followed, and in a few minutes a dozen pieces of pine were piled upon the spot, and set on fire.“We stood around the burning branches with eager anticipation. Should the root prove a ‘full-grown man,’ it would make a supper for our whole party; and with the cheering idea of supper, jokes were ventured upon—the first we had heard for some time—the hunters tickled with the novelty of unearthing the ‘old man’ ready roasted, and speculating whether he would prove a ‘fat old hoss.’“A hollow crack sounded from above, like the breaking of a dead tree. We looked up. A large object—an animal—was whirling outward and downward from a ledge that projected half-way up the cliff. In an instant it struck the earth, head foremost, with a loud ‘bump,’ and, bounding to the height of several feet, came back with a somersault on its legs, and stood firmly.“An involuntary ‘hurrah!’ broke from the hunters, who all recognised, at a glance, the ‘Carnero cimmaron,’ or ‘bighorn.’ He had cleared the precipice at two leaps, alighting each time on his huge crescent-shaped horns.“For a moment, both parties—hunters and game—seemed equally taken by surprise, and stood eyeing each other in mute wonder. It was but for a moment. The men made a rush for their rifles, and the animal, recovering from his trance of astonishment, tossed back his horns, and bounded across the platform. In a dozen springs he had readied the selvedge of the snow, and plunged into its yielding bank; but, at the same instant, several rifles cracked, and the white wreath was crimsoned behind him. He still kept on, however, leaning and breaking through the drift.“We struck into his track, and followed with the eagerness of hungry wolves. We could tell by the numerousgoûtsthat he was shedding his life-blood, and about fifty paces farther on we found him dead.“A shout apprised our companions of our success, and we had commenced dragging back the prize, when wild cries reached us from the platform,—the yells of men, the screams of women, mingled with oaths and exclamations of terror!“We ran on towards the entrance of the track. On reaching it, a sight was before us that caused the stoutest to tremble. Hunters, Indians, and women were running to and fro in frantic confusion, uttering their varied cries, and pointing upward. We looked in that direction—a row of fearful objects stood upon the brow of the cliff. We knew our enemy at a glance,—the dreaded monsters of the mountains—the grizzly bears!“There were; five of them—five in sight—there might be others in the background. Five were enough to destroy our whole party, caged as we were, and weakened by famine.“They had reached the cliff in chase of the cimmaron, and hunger and disappointment were visible in their horrid aspects. Two of them had already crawled close to the scarp, and were pawing over and snuffing the air, as if searching for a place to descend. The other three reared themselves up on their hams, and commenced manoeuvring with their forearms, in a human-like and comical pantomime!“We were in no condition to relish this amusement. Every man hastened to arm himself, those who had emptied their rifles hurriedly re-loading them.“‘For your life don’t!’ cried Garey, catching at the gun of one of the hunters.“The caution came too late: half-a-dozen bullets were already whistling upwards.“The effect was just what the trapper had anticipated. The bears, maddened by the bullets, which had harmed them no more than the pricking of as many pins, dropped to their all-fours again, and, with fierce growls, commenced descending the cliff.“The scene of confusion was now at its height. Several of the men, less brave than their comrades, ran off to hide themselves in the snow, while others commenced climbing the low pine-trees!“‘Caché the gals!’ cried Garey. ‘Hyar, yer darned Spanish greasers! if yer won’t light, hook on to the weemen a wheen o’ yer, and toat them to the snow. Cowardly slinks,—wagh!’“‘See to them, doctor,’ I shouted to the German, who, I thought, might be best spared from the fight; and the next, moment, the doctor, assisted by several Mexicans, was hurrying the terrified girls towards the spot where we had left the cimmaron.“Many of us knew that to hide, under the circumstances, would be worse than useless. The fierce but sagacious brutes would have discovered, us one by one, and destroyed, us in detail. ‘They must, be met and fought!’ that was the word; and we resolved to carry it into execution.“There were about a dozen of us who ‘stood up to it’—all the Delaware and Shawanoes, with Garey and the mountain-men.“We kept firing at the bears as they ran along the ledges in their zigzag descent, but our rifles were out of order, our fingers were numbed with cold, and our nerves weakened with hunger. Our bullets drew blood from the hideous brutes, yet not a shot proved deadly. It only stung them into fiercer rage.“It was a fearful moment when the last shot was fired, and still not an enemy the less. We flung away the guns, and, clutching the hatchets and hunting-knives, silently awaited our grizzly foes.“We had taken our stand close to the rock. It was our design to have the first blow, as the animals, for the most part, came stern-foremost down the cliff. In this we were disappointed. On reaching a ledge some ten feet from the platform, the foremost bear halted, and, seeing our position, hesitated to descend. The next moment, his companions, maddened with wounds, came tumbling down upon the same ledge, and, with fierce growls, the five huge bodies were precipitated into our midst.“Then came the desperate struggle, which I cannot describe,—the shouts of the hunters, the wilder yells of our Indian allies, the hoarse worrying of the bears, the ringing of tomahawks from skulls like flint, the deep, dull ‘thud’ of the stabbing-knife, and now and then a groan, as the crescent claw tore up the clinging muscle. O God! it was a fearful scene!“Over the platform bears and men went rolling and struggling, in the wild battle of life and death. Through the trees, and into the deep drift, staining the snow with their mingled blood! Here, two or three men were engaged with a single foe—there, some brave hunter stood battling alone. Several were sprawling upon the ground. Every moment, the bears were lessening the number of their assailants!“I had been struck down at the commencement of the struggle. On regaining my feet, I saw the animal that had felled me hugging the prostrate body of a man.“It was Godé. I leaned over the bear, clutching its shaggy skin. I did this to steady myself; I was weak and dizzy; so were we all. I struck with all my force, stabbing the animal on the ribs.“Letting go the Frenchman, the bear turned suddenly, and reared upon me. I endeavoured to avoid the encounter, and ran backward, fending him off with my knife.“All at once I came against the snow-drift, and fell over on my back. Next moment, the heavy body was precipitated upon me, the sharp claws pierced deep into my shoulder,—I inhaled the monster’s fetid breath; and striking wildly with my right arm, still free, we rolled over and over in the snow.“I was blinded by the dry drift. I felt myself growing weaker and weaker; it was the loss of blood. I shouted—a despairing shout—but it could not have been heard at ten paces’ distance. Then there was a strange hissing sound in my ears,—a bright light flashed across my eyes; a burning object passed over my face, scorching the skin; there was a smell as of singeing hair; I could hear voices, mixed with the roars of my adversary; and all at once the claws were drawn out of my flesh, the weight was lifted from my breast, and I was alone!“I rose to my feet, and, rubbing the snow out of my eyes, looked around. I could see no one. I was in a deep hollow made by our struggles, but I was alone!“The snow all around me was dyed to a crimson; but what had become of my terrible antagonist? Who had rescued me from his deadly embrace?“I staggered forward to the open ground. Here a new scene met my gaze: a strange-looking man was running across the platform, with a huge firebrand,—the bole of a burning pine-tree,—which he waved in the air. He was chasing one of the hears, that, growling with rage and pain, was making every effort to reach the cliffs. Two others were already half-way up, and evidently clambering with great difficulty, as the blood dripped back from their wounded flanks.“The bear that was pursued soon took to the rocks, and, urged by the red brand scorching his shaggy hams, was soon beyond the reach of his pursuer. The latter now made towards a fourth, that was still battling with two or three weak antagonists. This one was ‘routed’ in a twinkling, and with yells of terror followed his comrades up the bluff. The strange man looked around for the fifth. It had disappeared. Prostrate, wounded men were strewed over the ground, but the bear was nowhere to be seen. He had doubtless escaped through the snow.“I was still wondering who was the hero of the firebrand, and where he had come from. I have said he was a strange-looking man. He was so—and like no one of our party that I could think of. His head was bald,—no, not bald, but naked,—there was not a hair upon it, crown or sides, and it glistened in the clear light like polished ivory. I was puzzled beyond expression, when a man—Garey—who had been felled upon the platform by a blow from one of the bears, suddenly sprang to his feet, exclaiming,—“‘Go it, Doc! Three chyars for the doctor!’“To my astonishment, I now recognised the features of that individual, the absence of whose brown locks had produced such a metamorphosis as, I believe, was never effected by means of borrowed hair.“‘Here’s your scalp, Doc,’ cried Garey, running up with the wig, ‘by the livin’ thunder! yer saved us all;’ and the hunter seized the German in his wild embrace.“Wounded men were all around, and commenced crawling together. But where was the fifth of the bears? Four only had escaped by the cliff.“‘Yonder he goes!’ cried a voice, as a light spray, rising above the snow-wreath, showed that some animal was struggling through the drift.“Several commenced loading their rifles, intending to follow, and, if possible, secure him. The doctor armed himself with a fresh pine; but before these, arrangements were completed, a strange cry came from the spot, that caused our blood to run cold again. The Indians leaped to their feet, and, seizing their tomahawks, rushed to the gap. They knew the meaning of that cry—it was the death-yell of their tribe!“They entered the road that we had trampled down in the morning, followed by those who had loaded their guns. We watched them from the platform with anxious expectation, but before they had reached the spot, we could see that, the ‘stoor’ was slowly settling down. It was plain that the struggle had ended.“We still stood waiting in breathless silence, and watching the floating spray that noted their progress through the drift. At length they had reached the scene of the struggle. There was an ominous stillness, that lasted for a moment, and then the Indian’s fate was announced in the sad, wild note that came wailing up the valley. It was the dirge of a Shawano warrior!“They had found their brave comrade dead, with his scalping-knife buried in the heart of his terrible antagonist!“It was a costly supper, that bear-meat, but, perhaps, the sacrifice had saved many lives. We would keep the ‘cimmaron’ for to-morrow; next day, the man-root; and the next,—what next? Perhaps—the man!“Fortunately, we were not, driven to this extremity. The frost, had again set in, and the surface of the snow, previously moistened by the sun and rain, soon became caked into ice strong enough to bear us, and upon its firm crust we escaped out of the perilous pass, and gained the warmer region of the plains in safety.”
As adventure with grizzly bears which had befallen the “captain” was next related. He had been travelling with a strange party—the “scalp-hunters,”—in the mountains near Santa Fé, when they were overtaken by a sudden and heavy fall of snow that rendered farther progress impossible. The “canon,” a deep valley in which they had encamped, was difficult to get through at any time, but now the path, on account of the deep soft snow, was rendered impassable. When morning broke they found themselves fairly “in the trap.”
“Above and below, the valley was choked up with snow five fathoms deep. Vast fissures—barrancas—were filled with the drift; and it was perilous to attempt penetrating in either direction. Two men had already disappeared.
“On each side of our camp rose the walls of the canon, almost vertical, to the height of a hundred feet. These we might have climbed had the weather been soft, for the rock was a trap formation, and offered numerous seams and ledges; but now there was a coating of ice and snow upon them that rendered the ascent impossible. The ground had been frozen hard before the storm came on, although it was now freezing no longer, and the snow would not bear our weight. All our efforts to get out of the valley proved idle; and we gave them over, yielding ourselves, in a kind of reckless despair, to wait for—we scarce knew what.
“For three days we sat shivering around the fires, now and then casting looks of gloomy inquiry around the sky. The same dull grey for an answer, mottled with flakes slanting earthward, for it still continued to know. Not a bright spot cheered the aching eye.
“The little platform on which we rested—a space of two or three acres—was still free from the snow-drift, on account of its exposure to the wind. Straggling pines, stunted and leafless, grew over its surface, in all about fifty or sixty trees. From these we obtained our fires; but what were fires when we had no meat to cook upon them!
“We were now in the third day without food! Without food, though not absolutely without eating—the men had bolted their gun-covers and the cat-skin flaps of their bullet-pouches, and were now seen—the last shift but one—stripping theparflèchefrom the soles of their moccasins!
“The women, wrapped in theirtilmas, nestled closely in the embrace of father, brother, husband, and lover; for all these affections were present. The last string oftasajo, hitherto economised for their sake, had been parcelled out to them in the morning. That was gone, and whence was their next morsel to come? At long intervals, ‘Ay da mi! Dios de mi alma!’ were heard only in low murmurs, as some colder blast swept down the canon. In the faces of those beautiful creatures might be read that uncomplaining patience—that high endurance—so characteristic of the Hispano-Mexican women.
“Even the stern men around them bore up with less fortitude. Rude oaths were muttered from time to time, and teeth ground together, with that strange wild look that heralds insanity. Once or twice I fancied that I observed a look of still stranger, still wilder expression, when the black ring forms around the eye—when the muscles twitch and quiver along gaunt, famished jaws—when men gaze guilty-like at each other. O God! it was fearful! The half-robber discipline, voluntary at the best, had vanished under the levelling-rod of a common suffering, and I trembled to think—
“‘It clars a leetle, out tharawa!’
“It was the voice of the trapper, Garey, who had risen and stood pointing toward the East.
“In an instant we were all upon our feet, looking in the direction, indicated. Sure enough, there was a break in the lead-coloured sky—a yellowish streak, that widened out as we continued gazing—the flakes fell lighter and thinner, and in two hours more it had ceased snowing altogether.
“Half-a-dozen of us, shouldering our rifles, struck down the valley. We would make one more attempt to trample a road through the drift. It was a vain one. The snow was over our heads, and after struggling for two hours, we had not gained above two hundred yards. Here we caught a glimpse of what lay before us. As far as the eye could reach, it rested upon the same deep impassable masses. Despair and hunger paralysed our exertions, and, dropping off one by one, we returned to the camp. We fell down around the fires in sullen silence. Garey continued pacing back and forth, now glancing up at the sky, and at times kneeling down, and running his hand over the surface of the snow. At length he approached the fire, and in his slow, drawling manner, remarked—
“‘It’s a-gwine to friz, I reckin.’
“‘Well! and if it does?’ asked one of his comrades, without caring for an answer to the question.
“‘Wal, an iv it does,’ repeated the trapper, ‘we’ll walk out o’ this hyar jug afore sun-up, an’ upon a good hard trail too.’
“The expression of every face was changed, as if by magic. Several leaped to their feet. Godé, the Canadian, skilled in snow-craft, ran to a bank, and drawing his hand along the combing, shouted back—
“‘C’est vrai; il gèle; il gèle!’
“A cold wind soon after set in, and, cheered by the brightening prospect, we began to think of the fires, that, during our late moments of reckless indifference, had been almost suffered to burn out. The Delawares, seizing their tomahawks, commenced hacking at the pines, while others dragged forward the fallen trees, lopping off their branches with the keen scalping-knife.
“At this moment a peculiar cry attracted our attention, and, looking around, we perceived one of the Indians drop suddenly upon his knees, striking the ground with his hatchet.
“‘What is it? what is it?’ shouted several voices, in almost as many languages.
“‘Yam-yam! yam-yam!’ replied the Indian, still digging at the frozen ground.
“‘The Injun’s right; it’sman-root!’ said Garey, picking up some leaves which the Delaware had chopped off.
“I recognised a plant well-known to the mountain-men—a rare, but wonderful convolvulus, theIponea leptophylla. The name of ‘man-root’ is given to it by the hunters from the similarity of its root in shape, and sometimes in size, to the body of a man. It is esculent, and serves to sustain human life.
“In an instant, half-a-dozen men were upon their knees, chipping and hacking the hard clay, but their hatchets glinted off as from the surface of a rock.
“‘Look hyar!’ cried Garey; ‘ye’re only spoilin’ yer tools. Cut down a wheen o’ these pine saplin’s, and make a fire over him!’
“The hint was instantly followed, and in a few minutes a dozen pieces of pine were piled upon the spot, and set on fire.
“We stood around the burning branches with eager anticipation. Should the root prove a ‘full-grown man,’ it would make a supper for our whole party; and with the cheering idea of supper, jokes were ventured upon—the first we had heard for some time—the hunters tickled with the novelty of unearthing the ‘old man’ ready roasted, and speculating whether he would prove a ‘fat old hoss.’
“A hollow crack sounded from above, like the breaking of a dead tree. We looked up. A large object—an animal—was whirling outward and downward from a ledge that projected half-way up the cliff. In an instant it struck the earth, head foremost, with a loud ‘bump,’ and, bounding to the height of several feet, came back with a somersault on its legs, and stood firmly.
“An involuntary ‘hurrah!’ broke from the hunters, who all recognised, at a glance, the ‘Carnero cimmaron,’ or ‘bighorn.’ He had cleared the precipice at two leaps, alighting each time on his huge crescent-shaped horns.
“For a moment, both parties—hunters and game—seemed equally taken by surprise, and stood eyeing each other in mute wonder. It was but for a moment. The men made a rush for their rifles, and the animal, recovering from his trance of astonishment, tossed back his horns, and bounded across the platform. In a dozen springs he had readied the selvedge of the snow, and plunged into its yielding bank; but, at the same instant, several rifles cracked, and the white wreath was crimsoned behind him. He still kept on, however, leaning and breaking through the drift.
“We struck into his track, and followed with the eagerness of hungry wolves. We could tell by the numerousgoûtsthat he was shedding his life-blood, and about fifty paces farther on we found him dead.
“A shout apprised our companions of our success, and we had commenced dragging back the prize, when wild cries reached us from the platform,—the yells of men, the screams of women, mingled with oaths and exclamations of terror!
“We ran on towards the entrance of the track. On reaching it, a sight was before us that caused the stoutest to tremble. Hunters, Indians, and women were running to and fro in frantic confusion, uttering their varied cries, and pointing upward. We looked in that direction—a row of fearful objects stood upon the brow of the cliff. We knew our enemy at a glance,—the dreaded monsters of the mountains—the grizzly bears!
“There were; five of them—five in sight—there might be others in the background. Five were enough to destroy our whole party, caged as we were, and weakened by famine.
“They had reached the cliff in chase of the cimmaron, and hunger and disappointment were visible in their horrid aspects. Two of them had already crawled close to the scarp, and were pawing over and snuffing the air, as if searching for a place to descend. The other three reared themselves up on their hams, and commenced manoeuvring with their forearms, in a human-like and comical pantomime!
“We were in no condition to relish this amusement. Every man hastened to arm himself, those who had emptied their rifles hurriedly re-loading them.
“‘For your life don’t!’ cried Garey, catching at the gun of one of the hunters.
“The caution came too late: half-a-dozen bullets were already whistling upwards.
“The effect was just what the trapper had anticipated. The bears, maddened by the bullets, which had harmed them no more than the pricking of as many pins, dropped to their all-fours again, and, with fierce growls, commenced descending the cliff.
“The scene of confusion was now at its height. Several of the men, less brave than their comrades, ran off to hide themselves in the snow, while others commenced climbing the low pine-trees!
“‘Caché the gals!’ cried Garey. ‘Hyar, yer darned Spanish greasers! if yer won’t light, hook on to the weemen a wheen o’ yer, and toat them to the snow. Cowardly slinks,—wagh!’
“‘See to them, doctor,’ I shouted to the German, who, I thought, might be best spared from the fight; and the next, moment, the doctor, assisted by several Mexicans, was hurrying the terrified girls towards the spot where we had left the cimmaron.
“Many of us knew that to hide, under the circumstances, would be worse than useless. The fierce but sagacious brutes would have discovered, us one by one, and destroyed, us in detail. ‘They must, be met and fought!’ that was the word; and we resolved to carry it into execution.
“There were about a dozen of us who ‘stood up to it’—all the Delaware and Shawanoes, with Garey and the mountain-men.
“We kept firing at the bears as they ran along the ledges in their zigzag descent, but our rifles were out of order, our fingers were numbed with cold, and our nerves weakened with hunger. Our bullets drew blood from the hideous brutes, yet not a shot proved deadly. It only stung them into fiercer rage.
“It was a fearful moment when the last shot was fired, and still not an enemy the less. We flung away the guns, and, clutching the hatchets and hunting-knives, silently awaited our grizzly foes.
“We had taken our stand close to the rock. It was our design to have the first blow, as the animals, for the most part, came stern-foremost down the cliff. In this we were disappointed. On reaching a ledge some ten feet from the platform, the foremost bear halted, and, seeing our position, hesitated to descend. The next moment, his companions, maddened with wounds, came tumbling down upon the same ledge, and, with fierce growls, the five huge bodies were precipitated into our midst.
“Then came the desperate struggle, which I cannot describe,—the shouts of the hunters, the wilder yells of our Indian allies, the hoarse worrying of the bears, the ringing of tomahawks from skulls like flint, the deep, dull ‘thud’ of the stabbing-knife, and now and then a groan, as the crescent claw tore up the clinging muscle. O God! it was a fearful scene!
“Over the platform bears and men went rolling and struggling, in the wild battle of life and death. Through the trees, and into the deep drift, staining the snow with their mingled blood! Here, two or three men were engaged with a single foe—there, some brave hunter stood battling alone. Several were sprawling upon the ground. Every moment, the bears were lessening the number of their assailants!
“I had been struck down at the commencement of the struggle. On regaining my feet, I saw the animal that had felled me hugging the prostrate body of a man.
“It was Godé. I leaned over the bear, clutching its shaggy skin. I did this to steady myself; I was weak and dizzy; so were we all. I struck with all my force, stabbing the animal on the ribs.
“Letting go the Frenchman, the bear turned suddenly, and reared upon me. I endeavoured to avoid the encounter, and ran backward, fending him off with my knife.
“All at once I came against the snow-drift, and fell over on my back. Next moment, the heavy body was precipitated upon me, the sharp claws pierced deep into my shoulder,—I inhaled the monster’s fetid breath; and striking wildly with my right arm, still free, we rolled over and over in the snow.
“I was blinded by the dry drift. I felt myself growing weaker and weaker; it was the loss of blood. I shouted—a despairing shout—but it could not have been heard at ten paces’ distance. Then there was a strange hissing sound in my ears,—a bright light flashed across my eyes; a burning object passed over my face, scorching the skin; there was a smell as of singeing hair; I could hear voices, mixed with the roars of my adversary; and all at once the claws were drawn out of my flesh, the weight was lifted from my breast, and I was alone!
“I rose to my feet, and, rubbing the snow out of my eyes, looked around. I could see no one. I was in a deep hollow made by our struggles, but I was alone!
“The snow all around me was dyed to a crimson; but what had become of my terrible antagonist? Who had rescued me from his deadly embrace?
“I staggered forward to the open ground. Here a new scene met my gaze: a strange-looking man was running across the platform, with a huge firebrand,—the bole of a burning pine-tree,—which he waved in the air. He was chasing one of the hears, that, growling with rage and pain, was making every effort to reach the cliffs. Two others were already half-way up, and evidently clambering with great difficulty, as the blood dripped back from their wounded flanks.
“The bear that was pursued soon took to the rocks, and, urged by the red brand scorching his shaggy hams, was soon beyond the reach of his pursuer. The latter now made towards a fourth, that was still battling with two or three weak antagonists. This one was ‘routed’ in a twinkling, and with yells of terror followed his comrades up the bluff. The strange man looked around for the fifth. It had disappeared. Prostrate, wounded men were strewed over the ground, but the bear was nowhere to be seen. He had doubtless escaped through the snow.
“I was still wondering who was the hero of the firebrand, and where he had come from. I have said he was a strange-looking man. He was so—and like no one of our party that I could think of. His head was bald,—no, not bald, but naked,—there was not a hair upon it, crown or sides, and it glistened in the clear light like polished ivory. I was puzzled beyond expression, when a man—Garey—who had been felled upon the platform by a blow from one of the bears, suddenly sprang to his feet, exclaiming,—
“‘Go it, Doc! Three chyars for the doctor!’
“To my astonishment, I now recognised the features of that individual, the absence of whose brown locks had produced such a metamorphosis as, I believe, was never effected by means of borrowed hair.
“‘Here’s your scalp, Doc,’ cried Garey, running up with the wig, ‘by the livin’ thunder! yer saved us all;’ and the hunter seized the German in his wild embrace.
“Wounded men were all around, and commenced crawling together. But where was the fifth of the bears? Four only had escaped by the cliff.
“‘Yonder he goes!’ cried a voice, as a light spray, rising above the snow-wreath, showed that some animal was struggling through the drift.
“Several commenced loading their rifles, intending to follow, and, if possible, secure him. The doctor armed himself with a fresh pine; but before these, arrangements were completed, a strange cry came from the spot, that caused our blood to run cold again. The Indians leaped to their feet, and, seizing their tomahawks, rushed to the gap. They knew the meaning of that cry—it was the death-yell of their tribe!
“They entered the road that we had trampled down in the morning, followed by those who had loaded their guns. We watched them from the platform with anxious expectation, but before they had reached the spot, we could see that, the ‘stoor’ was slowly settling down. It was plain that the struggle had ended.
“We still stood waiting in breathless silence, and watching the floating spray that noted their progress through the drift. At length they had reached the scene of the struggle. There was an ominous stillness, that lasted for a moment, and then the Indian’s fate was announced in the sad, wild note that came wailing up the valley. It was the dirge of a Shawano warrior!
“They had found their brave comrade dead, with his scalping-knife buried in the heart of his terrible antagonist!
“It was a costly supper, that bear-meat, but, perhaps, the sacrifice had saved many lives. We would keep the ‘cimmaron’ for to-morrow; next day, the man-root; and the next,—what next? Perhaps—the man!
“Fortunately, we were not, driven to this extremity. The frost, had again set in, and the surface of the snow, previously moistened by the sun and rain, soon became caked into ice strong enough to bear us, and upon its firm crust we escaped out of the perilous pass, and gained the warmer region of the plains in safety.”
Chapter Twenty Seven.The Swans of America.In our journey we had kept far enough to the north to avoid the difficult route of the Ozark Hills; and we at length encamped upon the Marais de Cygnes, a branch of the Osage River. Beyond this we expected to fall in with the buffalo, and of course we were full of pleasant anticipation. Near the point where we had pitched our camp, the banks of the river were marshy, with here and there small lakes of stagnant water. In these a large number of swans, with wild geese and other aquatic birds, were swimming and feeding.Of course our guns were put in requisition, and we succeeded in killing a brace of swans, with a grey goose (AnserCanadensis), and a pair of ducks. The swans were very large ones—of the Trumpeter species—and one of them was cooked for supper. It was in excellent condition, and furnished a meal for the whole of our party! The other swan, with the goose and ducks, were stowed away for another occasion.While “discussing” the flesh of this great and noble bird, we also discussed many of the points in its natural history.“White as a swan” is a simile old as language itself. It would, no doubt, puzzle an Australian, used to look upon those beautiful and stately birds as being of a very different complexion. The simile holds good, however, with the North-American species, all three of which—for there are three of them—are almost snow-white.We need not describe the form or general appearance of the swan. These are familiar to every one. The long, upright, and gracefully-curving neck; the finely-moulded breast, the upward-tending tail-tip, the light “dip,” and easy progression through the water, are points that everybody has observed, admired, and remembered. These are common to all birds of the genusCygnus, and are therefore not peculiar to the swans of America.Many people fancy there are but two kinds of swans—the white and black. It is not long since the black ones have been introduced to general notoriety, as well as to general admiration. But there are many distinct species besides—species differing from each other in size, voice, and other peculiarities. In Europe alone, there are four native swans, specifically distinct.It was long believed that the common American swan (Cygnus Americanus) was identical with the common European species, so well-known in England. It is now ascertained, however, not only that these two are specifically distinct, but that in North America there exist two other species, differing from theCygnus Americanus, and from each other. These are the Trumpeter (Cygnus buccinnator) and the small swan of Bewick (Cygnus Bewickii), also an inhabitant of European countries.The common American species is of a pure white, with black hill, logs, and feet. A slight tinge of brownish red is found on some individuals on the crown of the head, and a small patch of orange-yellow extends from the angles of the mouth to the eye. On the base of the bill is a fleshy tubercle or knob, and the upper mandible is curved at the tip.The young of this species are of a bluish-grey colour, with more of the brown-red tinge upon the head. The naked yellow patch, extending from the angles of the mouth to the eye, in the young birds, is covered with feathers, and their bills are flesh-coloured. This description answers in every respect for the swan of Bewick; but the latter species is only three-fourths the size of the former; and, besides, it has only eighteen tail feathers, while the American swan has twenty. Their note is also entirely unlike.The “Trumpeter” is different from either. He is the largest, being frequently met with of nearly six feet in length, while the common swan rarely exceeds five. The bill of the Trumpeter is not tuberculated; and the yellow patch under the eye is wanting. The bill, legs, and feet are entirely black. All the rest is white, with the exception of the head, which is usually tinged with chestnut or red-brown. When young, he is of a greyish-white, with a yellow mixture, and the head of deeper red-brown. His tail feathers are twenty-four in number; but there is a material difference between him and his congeners in the arrangement of the windpipe. In the Trumpeter this enters a protuberance that stands out on the dorsal aspect of the sternum, which is wanting in both the other kinds. It may be that this arrangement has something to do with his peculiar note, which differs altogether from that of the others. It is much fuller and louder, and at a distance bears a considerable resemblance to the trumpet or French horn. Hence the trivial name by which this species is known to the hunters.All the American swans are migratory—that is, they pass from north to south, every autumn, and back again from south to north in the beginning of spring.The period of their migration is different with the three species. The Trumpeter is the earliest, preceding all other birds, with the exception of the eagles. TheCygnus Americanuscomes next; and, lastly, the small swans, that are among the very latest of migratory birds.The Trumpeters seek the north at the breaking up of the ice. Sometimes they arrive at a point in their journey where this has not taken place. In such cases they fly back again until they reach some river or lake from which the ice has disappeared, where they remain a few days, and wait the opening of the waters farther north. When they are thus retarded and sent back, it is always in consequence of some unusual and unseasonable weather.The swans go northward to breed. Why they do so is a mystery. Perhaps they feel more secure in the inhospitable wastes that lie within the Arctic circle. The Trumpeters breed as far south as latitude 61 degrees, but most of them retire within the frigid zone.The small swans do not nest so far south, but pursue their course still onward to the Polar Sea. Here they build immense nests by raising heaps of peat moss, six feet in length by four in width, and two feet high. In the top of these heaps is situated the nest, which consists of a cavity a foot deep, and a foot and a half in diameter.The Trumpeters and American swans build in marshes and the islands of lakes. Where the muskrat (Fiber zibethicus) abounds, his dome-shaped dwelling—at that season, of course, deserted—serves often as the breeding-place boll? for the swans and wild geese. On the top of this structure, isolated in the midst of great marshes, these birds are secure from all their enemies—the eagle excepted.The eggs of the Trumpeter are very large, one of them being enough to make a good meal for a man. The eggs of the American species are smaller and of a greenish appearance, while those of the Bewick swan are still smaller and of a brownish-white colour, with a slight clouding of darker hue.Six or seven eggs is the usual “setting.” The cygnets, when half or full-grown, are esteemed good eating, and are much sought after by the hunters and Indians of the fur countries.When the cygnets are full-grown, and the frost makes its appearance upon the lakes and rivers of the hyperborean regions, the swans begin to shift southwards. They do not migrate directly, as in the spring, but take more time on their journey, and remain longer in the countries through which they pass. This no doubt arises from the fact that a different motive or instinct now urges them. In the spring they are under the impulse of philo-progenitiveness. Now they range from lake to lake and stream to stream in search only of food. Again, as in the spring, the Trumpeters lead the van—winging their way to the great lakes, and afterwards along the Atlantic coast, and by the line of the Mississippi, to the marshy shores of the Mexican Sea.It may be remarked that this last-mentioned species—the Trumpeter—is rare upon the Atlantic coast, where the common swan is seen in greatest plenty. Again, the Trumpeter does not appear on the Pacific or by the Colombia River, where the common swan is met with, but the latter is there outnumbered by the small species (Cygnus Bewickii) in the ratio of five to one. This last again is not known in the fur countries of the interior, where theCygnus Americanusis found, but where the Trumpeter exists in greatest numbers. Indeed the skins of the Trumpeter are those which are mostly exported by the Hudson’s Bay Company, and which form an important article of their commerce.The swan is eagerly hunted by the Indians who inhabit the fur countries. Its skin brings a good price from the traders, and its quills are valuable. Besides, the flesh is a consideration with these people, whose life, it must be borne in mind, is one continuous struggle for food; and who, for one-half the year, live upon the very verge of starvation.The swan, therefore, being a bird that weighs between twenty and thirty pounds, ranks among large game, and is hunted with proportionate ardour. Every art the Indian can devise is made use of to circumvent these great birds, and snares, traps, and decoys of all kinds are employed in the pursuit.But the swans are among the shyest of God’s creatures. They fly so rapidly, unless when beating against the wind, that it requires a practised shot to hit them on the wing. Even when moulting their feathers, or when young, they can escape—fluttering over the surface of the water faster than a canoe can be paddled.The most usual method of hunting them is by snares. These are set in the following manner:—A lake or river is chosen, where it is known the swans are in the habit of resting for some time on their migration southward—for this is the principal season of swan-catching.Some time before the birds make their appearance, a number of wicker hedges are constructed, running perpendicularly out from the bank, and at the distance of a few yards from each other. In the spaces between, as well as in openings left in the fences themselves, snares are set. These snares are made of the intestines of the deer, twisted into a round shape, and looped. They are placed so that several snares may embrace the opening, and the swans cannot pass through without being caught.The snare is fastened to a stake, driven into the mud with sufficient firmness to hold the bird when caught and struggling. That the snare may not be blown out of its proper place by the wind, or carried astray by the current, it is attached to the wattles of the hedge by some strands of grass. These, of course, are easily broken, and give way the moment a bird presses against the loop.The fences or wattle-hedges are always constructed projecting out from the shore—for it is known that the swans must keep close in to the land while feeding. Whenever a lake or river is sufficiently shallow to make it possible to drive in stakes, the hedges are continued across it from one side to the other.Swans are also snared upon their nests. When a nest is found, the snare is set so as to catch the bird upon her return to the eggs. These birds, like many others, have the habit of entering the nest on one side, and going out by the other, and it is upon the entrance side that the snare is set.The Indians have a belief that if the hands of the persons setting the snare be not clean, the bird will not approach it, but rather desert her eggs, even though she may have been hatching them for some time.It is, indeed, true that this is a habit of many birds, and may be so of the wild swan. Certain it is that the nest is always reconnoitred by the returning bird with great caution, and any irregularity appearing about it will render her extremely shy of approaching it.Swans are shot, like other birds, by “approaching” them under cover. It requires very large shot to kill them—the same that is used for deer, and known throughout America as “buck-shot.” In England this size of shot is termed “swan shot.”It is difficult to get within range of the wild swan, he is by nature a shy bird; and his long neck enables him to see over the sedge that surrounds him. Where there happens to be no cover—and this is generally the case where he haunts—it is impossible to approach him.Sometimes the hunter floats down upon him with his canoe hidden by a garniture of reeds and bushes. At other times he gets near enough in the disguise of a deer or other quadruped—for the swan, like most wild birds, is less afraid of the lower animals than of man.During the spring migration, when the swan is moving northward, the hunter, hidden under some rock, bank, or tree, frequently lures him from his high flight by the imitation of his well-known “hoop.” This does not succeed so well in the autumn.When the swans arrive prematurely on their spring journey, they resort sometimes in considerable flocks to the springs and waterfalls, all other places being then ice-bound. At this time the hunters concealing themselves in the neighbourhood, obtain the desired proximity, and deal destruction with their guns.A— related an account of a swan hunt by torch-light, which he had made some years before.“I was staying some days,” said he, “at a remote, settlement upon one of the streams that run into the Red river of the north, it was in the autumn season, and the Trumpeter-swans had arrived in the neighbourhood on their annual migration to the south. I had been out several times after them with my gun, but was unable to get a shot at them in consequence of their shyness. I had adopted every expedient I could think of—calls, disguises, and decoys—but all to no purpose. I resolved, at length, to try them by torch-light.“It so happened that none of the hunters, at the settlement had ever practised this method; but as most of them had succeeded, by some means or other, in decoying and capturing several swans by other means, my hunter-pride was touched, and I was most anxious to show that I could kill swans as well as they. I had never seen Swans shot by torch-light, but I had employed the plan for killing deer, as you already know, and I was determined to make a trial of it upon the swans.“I set secretly about it, resolved to steal a march upon my neighbours, if possible. My servant alone was admitted into my confidence, and we proceeded to make the necessary arrangements.“These were precisely similar to those already described in my limit of the long-tails, except that the canoe, instead of being ‘a dug-out,’ was a light craft of birch-bark, such as are in use among the Chippowas and other Indians of the northern countries. The canoe was obtained from a settler, and tilled with torch-wood and other necessary articles, but these were clandestinely put on board.“I was now ready, and a dark night was all that was wanted to enable me to carry out my plan.“Fortunately I soon obtained this to my heart’s satisfaction. A night arrived as dark as Erebus; and with my servant using the paddle, we pushed out and shot swiftly down stream.“As soon as we had cleared the ‘settlement,’ we lit our pine-knots in the frying-pan. The blaze refracted from the concave and blackened surface of the bark, cast a brilliant light over the semicircle ahead of us, at the same time that we, behind the screen of birch-bark, were hid in utter darkness. I had heard that the swans, instead of being frightened by torch-light, only became amazed, and even at times curious enough to approach it, just as the deer and some other animals do. This proved to be correct, as we had very soon a practical illustration of it.“We had not gone a mile down the river when we observed several white objects within the circle of our light; and paddling a little nearer, we saw that they were swans. We could distinguish their long, upright necks; and saw that they had given up feeding, and were gazing with wonder at the odd object that was approaching them.“There were five of them in the flock; and I directed my servant to paddle towards that which seemed nearest, and to use his oar with as much silence as possible. At the same time I looked to the caps of my double-barrelled gun.“The swans for a time remained perfectly motionless, sitting high in the water, with their long necks raised far above the surface. They appeared to be more affected by surprise than fear.“When we had got within about a hundred yards of them, I saw that they began to move about, and close in to one another; at the same time was heard proceeding from them a strange sound resembling very much the whistle of the fallow deer. I had heard of the singing of the swan, as a prelude to its death, and I hoped that which now reached my ears was a similar foreboding.“In order to make it so, I leaned forward, levelled my double-barrel—both barrels being cocked—and waited themoment.“The birds had ‘clumped’ together, until their long serpent-like necks crossed each other. A few more noiseless strokes of the paddle brought me within reach, and aiming for the heads of three that ‘lined,’ I pulled both triggers at once.“The immense recoil flung me back, and the smoke for a moment prevented us from seeing the effect.“As soon as it had been wafted aside, our eyes were feasted by the sight of two large white objects floating down the current, while a third, evidently wounded, struggled along the surface, and beating the water into foam with its broad wings.“The remaining two had risen high into the air, and were heard uttering their loud trumpet-notes as they winged their flight through the dark heavens.“We soon bagged our game, both dead and wounded, and saw that they were a large ‘gander’ and two young birds.“It was a successful beginning; and having replenished our torch, we continued to float downward in search of more. Half a mile farther on, we came in sight of three others, one of which we succeeded in killing.“Another ‘spell’ of paddling brought us to a third flock, out of which I got one for each barrel of my gun; and a short distance below I succeeded in killing a pair of the grey wild geese.“In this way we kept down the river for at least ten miles I should think, killing both swans and geese as we went. Indeed, the novelty of the thing, the wild scenery through which we passed—rendered more wild and picturesque by the glare of the torch—and the excitement of success, all combined to render the sport most attractive; and but that our ‘pine-knots’ had run out, I would have continued it until morning.“The failure of these at length brought our shooting to a termination, and we were compelled to put about, and undertake the much less pleasant, and much more laborious, task, of paddling ten miles up-stream. The consciousness, however, of having performed a great feat—in the language of the Canadian hunters, a grand ‘coup,’ made the labour seem more light, and we soon arrived at the settlement, and next morning triumphantly paraded our game-bag in front of our ‘lodge.’“Its contents were twelve trumpeter-swans, besides three of the ‘hoopers.’ We had also a pair of Canada geese; a snow-goose, and three brant,—these last being the produce of a single shot.“The hunters of the settlement were quite envious, and could not understand what means I had employed to get up such a ‘game-bag.’ I intended to have kept that for some time a secret; but the frying-pan and the piece of blackened bark were found, and these betrayed my stratagem; so that on the night after, a dozen canoes, with torches at their bows, might have been seen floating down the waters of the stream.”
In our journey we had kept far enough to the north to avoid the difficult route of the Ozark Hills; and we at length encamped upon the Marais de Cygnes, a branch of the Osage River. Beyond this we expected to fall in with the buffalo, and of course we were full of pleasant anticipation. Near the point where we had pitched our camp, the banks of the river were marshy, with here and there small lakes of stagnant water. In these a large number of swans, with wild geese and other aquatic birds, were swimming and feeding.
Of course our guns were put in requisition, and we succeeded in killing a brace of swans, with a grey goose (AnserCanadensis), and a pair of ducks. The swans were very large ones—of the Trumpeter species—and one of them was cooked for supper. It was in excellent condition, and furnished a meal for the whole of our party! The other swan, with the goose and ducks, were stowed away for another occasion.
While “discussing” the flesh of this great and noble bird, we also discussed many of the points in its natural history.
“White as a swan” is a simile old as language itself. It would, no doubt, puzzle an Australian, used to look upon those beautiful and stately birds as being of a very different complexion. The simile holds good, however, with the North-American species, all three of which—for there are three of them—are almost snow-white.
We need not describe the form or general appearance of the swan. These are familiar to every one. The long, upright, and gracefully-curving neck; the finely-moulded breast, the upward-tending tail-tip, the light “dip,” and easy progression through the water, are points that everybody has observed, admired, and remembered. These are common to all birds of the genusCygnus, and are therefore not peculiar to the swans of America.
Many people fancy there are but two kinds of swans—the white and black. It is not long since the black ones have been introduced to general notoriety, as well as to general admiration. But there are many distinct species besides—species differing from each other in size, voice, and other peculiarities. In Europe alone, there are four native swans, specifically distinct.
It was long believed that the common American swan (Cygnus Americanus) was identical with the common European species, so well-known in England. It is now ascertained, however, not only that these two are specifically distinct, but that in North America there exist two other species, differing from theCygnus Americanus, and from each other. These are the Trumpeter (Cygnus buccinnator) and the small swan of Bewick (Cygnus Bewickii), also an inhabitant of European countries.
The common American species is of a pure white, with black hill, logs, and feet. A slight tinge of brownish red is found on some individuals on the crown of the head, and a small patch of orange-yellow extends from the angles of the mouth to the eye. On the base of the bill is a fleshy tubercle or knob, and the upper mandible is curved at the tip.
The young of this species are of a bluish-grey colour, with more of the brown-red tinge upon the head. The naked yellow patch, extending from the angles of the mouth to the eye, in the young birds, is covered with feathers, and their bills are flesh-coloured. This description answers in every respect for the swan of Bewick; but the latter species is only three-fourths the size of the former; and, besides, it has only eighteen tail feathers, while the American swan has twenty. Their note is also entirely unlike.
The “Trumpeter” is different from either. He is the largest, being frequently met with of nearly six feet in length, while the common swan rarely exceeds five. The bill of the Trumpeter is not tuberculated; and the yellow patch under the eye is wanting. The bill, legs, and feet are entirely black. All the rest is white, with the exception of the head, which is usually tinged with chestnut or red-brown. When young, he is of a greyish-white, with a yellow mixture, and the head of deeper red-brown. His tail feathers are twenty-four in number; but there is a material difference between him and his congeners in the arrangement of the windpipe. In the Trumpeter this enters a protuberance that stands out on the dorsal aspect of the sternum, which is wanting in both the other kinds. It may be that this arrangement has something to do with his peculiar note, which differs altogether from that of the others. It is much fuller and louder, and at a distance bears a considerable resemblance to the trumpet or French horn. Hence the trivial name by which this species is known to the hunters.
All the American swans are migratory—that is, they pass from north to south, every autumn, and back again from south to north in the beginning of spring.
The period of their migration is different with the three species. The Trumpeter is the earliest, preceding all other birds, with the exception of the eagles. TheCygnus Americanuscomes next; and, lastly, the small swans, that are among the very latest of migratory birds.
The Trumpeters seek the north at the breaking up of the ice. Sometimes they arrive at a point in their journey where this has not taken place. In such cases they fly back again until they reach some river or lake from which the ice has disappeared, where they remain a few days, and wait the opening of the waters farther north. When they are thus retarded and sent back, it is always in consequence of some unusual and unseasonable weather.
The swans go northward to breed. Why they do so is a mystery. Perhaps they feel more secure in the inhospitable wastes that lie within the Arctic circle. The Trumpeters breed as far south as latitude 61 degrees, but most of them retire within the frigid zone.
The small swans do not nest so far south, but pursue their course still onward to the Polar Sea. Here they build immense nests by raising heaps of peat moss, six feet in length by four in width, and two feet high. In the top of these heaps is situated the nest, which consists of a cavity a foot deep, and a foot and a half in diameter.
The Trumpeters and American swans build in marshes and the islands of lakes. Where the muskrat (Fiber zibethicus) abounds, his dome-shaped dwelling—at that season, of course, deserted—serves often as the breeding-place boll? for the swans and wild geese. On the top of this structure, isolated in the midst of great marshes, these birds are secure from all their enemies—the eagle excepted.
The eggs of the Trumpeter are very large, one of them being enough to make a good meal for a man. The eggs of the American species are smaller and of a greenish appearance, while those of the Bewick swan are still smaller and of a brownish-white colour, with a slight clouding of darker hue.
Six or seven eggs is the usual “setting.” The cygnets, when half or full-grown, are esteemed good eating, and are much sought after by the hunters and Indians of the fur countries.
When the cygnets are full-grown, and the frost makes its appearance upon the lakes and rivers of the hyperborean regions, the swans begin to shift southwards. They do not migrate directly, as in the spring, but take more time on their journey, and remain longer in the countries through which they pass. This no doubt arises from the fact that a different motive or instinct now urges them. In the spring they are under the impulse of philo-progenitiveness. Now they range from lake to lake and stream to stream in search only of food. Again, as in the spring, the Trumpeters lead the van—winging their way to the great lakes, and afterwards along the Atlantic coast, and by the line of the Mississippi, to the marshy shores of the Mexican Sea.
It may be remarked that this last-mentioned species—the Trumpeter—is rare upon the Atlantic coast, where the common swan is seen in greatest plenty. Again, the Trumpeter does not appear on the Pacific or by the Colombia River, where the common swan is met with, but the latter is there outnumbered by the small species (Cygnus Bewickii) in the ratio of five to one. This last again is not known in the fur countries of the interior, where theCygnus Americanusis found, but where the Trumpeter exists in greatest numbers. Indeed the skins of the Trumpeter are those which are mostly exported by the Hudson’s Bay Company, and which form an important article of their commerce.
The swan is eagerly hunted by the Indians who inhabit the fur countries. Its skin brings a good price from the traders, and its quills are valuable. Besides, the flesh is a consideration with these people, whose life, it must be borne in mind, is one continuous struggle for food; and who, for one-half the year, live upon the very verge of starvation.
The swan, therefore, being a bird that weighs between twenty and thirty pounds, ranks among large game, and is hunted with proportionate ardour. Every art the Indian can devise is made use of to circumvent these great birds, and snares, traps, and decoys of all kinds are employed in the pursuit.
But the swans are among the shyest of God’s creatures. They fly so rapidly, unless when beating against the wind, that it requires a practised shot to hit them on the wing. Even when moulting their feathers, or when young, they can escape—fluttering over the surface of the water faster than a canoe can be paddled.
The most usual method of hunting them is by snares. These are set in the following manner:—
A lake or river is chosen, where it is known the swans are in the habit of resting for some time on their migration southward—for this is the principal season of swan-catching.
Some time before the birds make their appearance, a number of wicker hedges are constructed, running perpendicularly out from the bank, and at the distance of a few yards from each other. In the spaces between, as well as in openings left in the fences themselves, snares are set. These snares are made of the intestines of the deer, twisted into a round shape, and looped. They are placed so that several snares may embrace the opening, and the swans cannot pass through without being caught.
The snare is fastened to a stake, driven into the mud with sufficient firmness to hold the bird when caught and struggling. That the snare may not be blown out of its proper place by the wind, or carried astray by the current, it is attached to the wattles of the hedge by some strands of grass. These, of course, are easily broken, and give way the moment a bird presses against the loop.
The fences or wattle-hedges are always constructed projecting out from the shore—for it is known that the swans must keep close in to the land while feeding. Whenever a lake or river is sufficiently shallow to make it possible to drive in stakes, the hedges are continued across it from one side to the other.
Swans are also snared upon their nests. When a nest is found, the snare is set so as to catch the bird upon her return to the eggs. These birds, like many others, have the habit of entering the nest on one side, and going out by the other, and it is upon the entrance side that the snare is set.
The Indians have a belief that if the hands of the persons setting the snare be not clean, the bird will not approach it, but rather desert her eggs, even though she may have been hatching them for some time.
It is, indeed, true that this is a habit of many birds, and may be so of the wild swan. Certain it is that the nest is always reconnoitred by the returning bird with great caution, and any irregularity appearing about it will render her extremely shy of approaching it.
Swans are shot, like other birds, by “approaching” them under cover. It requires very large shot to kill them—the same that is used for deer, and known throughout America as “buck-shot.” In England this size of shot is termed “swan shot.”
It is difficult to get within range of the wild swan, he is by nature a shy bird; and his long neck enables him to see over the sedge that surrounds him. Where there happens to be no cover—and this is generally the case where he haunts—it is impossible to approach him.
Sometimes the hunter floats down upon him with his canoe hidden by a garniture of reeds and bushes. At other times he gets near enough in the disguise of a deer or other quadruped—for the swan, like most wild birds, is less afraid of the lower animals than of man.
During the spring migration, when the swan is moving northward, the hunter, hidden under some rock, bank, or tree, frequently lures him from his high flight by the imitation of his well-known “hoop.” This does not succeed so well in the autumn.
When the swans arrive prematurely on their spring journey, they resort sometimes in considerable flocks to the springs and waterfalls, all other places being then ice-bound. At this time the hunters concealing themselves in the neighbourhood, obtain the desired proximity, and deal destruction with their guns.
A— related an account of a swan hunt by torch-light, which he had made some years before.
“I was staying some days,” said he, “at a remote, settlement upon one of the streams that run into the Red river of the north, it was in the autumn season, and the Trumpeter-swans had arrived in the neighbourhood on their annual migration to the south. I had been out several times after them with my gun, but was unable to get a shot at them in consequence of their shyness. I had adopted every expedient I could think of—calls, disguises, and decoys—but all to no purpose. I resolved, at length, to try them by torch-light.
“It so happened that none of the hunters, at the settlement had ever practised this method; but as most of them had succeeded, by some means or other, in decoying and capturing several swans by other means, my hunter-pride was touched, and I was most anxious to show that I could kill swans as well as they. I had never seen Swans shot by torch-light, but I had employed the plan for killing deer, as you already know, and I was determined to make a trial of it upon the swans.
“I set secretly about it, resolved to steal a march upon my neighbours, if possible. My servant alone was admitted into my confidence, and we proceeded to make the necessary arrangements.
“These were precisely similar to those already described in my limit of the long-tails, except that the canoe, instead of being ‘a dug-out,’ was a light craft of birch-bark, such as are in use among the Chippowas and other Indians of the northern countries. The canoe was obtained from a settler, and tilled with torch-wood and other necessary articles, but these were clandestinely put on board.
“I was now ready, and a dark night was all that was wanted to enable me to carry out my plan.
“Fortunately I soon obtained this to my heart’s satisfaction. A night arrived as dark as Erebus; and with my servant using the paddle, we pushed out and shot swiftly down stream.
“As soon as we had cleared the ‘settlement,’ we lit our pine-knots in the frying-pan. The blaze refracted from the concave and blackened surface of the bark, cast a brilliant light over the semicircle ahead of us, at the same time that we, behind the screen of birch-bark, were hid in utter darkness. I had heard that the swans, instead of being frightened by torch-light, only became amazed, and even at times curious enough to approach it, just as the deer and some other animals do. This proved to be correct, as we had very soon a practical illustration of it.
“We had not gone a mile down the river when we observed several white objects within the circle of our light; and paddling a little nearer, we saw that they were swans. We could distinguish their long, upright necks; and saw that they had given up feeding, and were gazing with wonder at the odd object that was approaching them.
“There were five of them in the flock; and I directed my servant to paddle towards that which seemed nearest, and to use his oar with as much silence as possible. At the same time I looked to the caps of my double-barrelled gun.
“The swans for a time remained perfectly motionless, sitting high in the water, with their long necks raised far above the surface. They appeared to be more affected by surprise than fear.
“When we had got within about a hundred yards of them, I saw that they began to move about, and close in to one another; at the same time was heard proceeding from them a strange sound resembling very much the whistle of the fallow deer. I had heard of the singing of the swan, as a prelude to its death, and I hoped that which now reached my ears was a similar foreboding.
“In order to make it so, I leaned forward, levelled my double-barrel—both barrels being cocked—and waited themoment.
“The birds had ‘clumped’ together, until their long serpent-like necks crossed each other. A few more noiseless strokes of the paddle brought me within reach, and aiming for the heads of three that ‘lined,’ I pulled both triggers at once.
“The immense recoil flung me back, and the smoke for a moment prevented us from seeing the effect.
“As soon as it had been wafted aside, our eyes were feasted by the sight of two large white objects floating down the current, while a third, evidently wounded, struggled along the surface, and beating the water into foam with its broad wings.
“The remaining two had risen high into the air, and were heard uttering their loud trumpet-notes as they winged their flight through the dark heavens.
“We soon bagged our game, both dead and wounded, and saw that they were a large ‘gander’ and two young birds.
“It was a successful beginning; and having replenished our torch, we continued to float downward in search of more. Half a mile farther on, we came in sight of three others, one of which we succeeded in killing.
“Another ‘spell’ of paddling brought us to a third flock, out of which I got one for each barrel of my gun; and a short distance below I succeeded in killing a pair of the grey wild geese.
“In this way we kept down the river for at least ten miles I should think, killing both swans and geese as we went. Indeed, the novelty of the thing, the wild scenery through which we passed—rendered more wild and picturesque by the glare of the torch—and the excitement of success, all combined to render the sport most attractive; and but that our ‘pine-knots’ had run out, I would have continued it until morning.
“The failure of these at length brought our shooting to a termination, and we were compelled to put about, and undertake the much less pleasant, and much more laborious, task, of paddling ten miles up-stream. The consciousness, however, of having performed a great feat—in the language of the Canadian hunters, a grand ‘coup,’ made the labour seem more light, and we soon arrived at the settlement, and next morning triumphantly paraded our game-bag in front of our ‘lodge.’
“Its contents were twelve trumpeter-swans, besides three of the ‘hoopers.’ We had also a pair of Canada geese; a snow-goose, and three brant,—these last being the produce of a single shot.
“The hunters of the settlement were quite envious, and could not understand what means I had employed to get up such a ‘game-bag.’ I intended to have kept that for some time a secret; but the frying-pan and the piece of blackened bark were found, and these betrayed my stratagem; so that on the night after, a dozen canoes, with torches at their bows, might have been seen floating down the waters of the stream.”
Chapter Twenty Eight.Hunting the Moose.While crossing the marshy bottom through which our road led, a singular hoof-track was observed in the mud. Some were of opinion that it was a track of the great moose-deer, but the hunter-naturalist, better informed, scouted the idea—declaring that moose never ranged, so far to the south. It was no doubt a very large elk that had made the track, and to this conclusion all at length came.The great moose-deer, however, was an interesting theme, and we rode along conversing upon it.The moose (Cervus alces) is the largest of the deer kind. The male is ordinarily as large as a mule; specimens have been killed of still greater dimensions. One that has been measured stood seventeen bands, and weighed 1200 pounds; it was consequently larger than most horses. The females are considerably smaller than the males.The colour of the moose, like that of other animals of the deer kind, varies with the season; it varies also with the sex. The male is tawny-brown over the back, sides, head, and thighs; this changes to a darker hue in winter, and in very old animals it is nearly black; hence the name “black elk,” which is given in some districts to the moose. The under parts of the body are light-coloured, with a tinge of yellow or soiled white.The female is of a sandy-brown colour above, and beneath almost white. The calves are sandy-brown, but never spotted, as are the fawns of the common deer.The moose is no other than the elk of Northern Europe; but the elk of America (Cervus Canadensis), as already stated, is altogether a different animal. These two species may be mistaken for each other, in the season when their antlers are young, or in the velvet; then they are not unlike to a superficial observer. But the animals are rarely confounded—only the names. The American elk is not found indigenous in the eastern hemisphere, although he is the ornament of many a lordly park.The identity of the moose with the European elk is a fact that leads to curious considerations. A similar identity exists between the caribou of Canada and the reindeer of Northern Europe—they are both theCervus tarandusof Pliny. So also with the polar hear of both hemispheres, the arctic, fox, and several other animals. Hence we infer, that there existed at some period either a land connection, or some other means of communication, between the northern parts of both continents.Besides being the largest, the moose is certainly the most ungraceful of the deer family. His head is long, out of all proportion; so, too, are his legs; while his neck is short in an inverse ratio. His ears are nearly a foot in length, asinine, broad, and slouching; his eyes are small; and his muzzle square, with a deepsulcusin the middle, which gives it the appearance of being bifid. The upper lip overhangs the under by several inches, and is highly prehensile. A long tuft of coarse hair grows out of an excrescence on the throat, in the angle between the head and neck. This tuft is observed both in the male and female, though only when full-grown. In the young, the excrescence is naked.An erect mane, somewhat resembling that of a cropped Shetland pony, runs from the base of the horns over the withers, and some way down the back. This adds to the stiff and ungainly appearance of the animal.The horns of the moose are a striking characteristic: they are palmated or flattened out like shovels, while along the edge rise the points or antlers. The width from horn to horn at their tops is often more than four feet, and the breadth of a single one, antlers included, is frequently above thirty inches. A single pair has been known to weigh as much as 60 pounds avoirdupois!Of course this stupendous head-dress gives the moose quite an imposing appearance; and it is one of the wonders of the naturalist what can be its object.The horns are found only on the males, and attain their full size only when these have reached their seventh year. In the yearlings appear two knobs, about an inch in length; in two-year-olds, these knobs have become spikes a foot high; in the third year they begin to palmate, and antlers rise along their edges; and so on, until the seventh year, when they become fully developed. They are annually caducous, however, as with the common deer, so that these immense appendages are the growth of a few weeks!The haunts and habits of the moose differ materially from those of other deer. He cannot browse upon level ground without kneeling or widening his legs to a great extent: this difficulty arises from the extreme length of his legs, and the shortness of his neck. He can do better upon the sides of steep hills, and he is often seen in such places grazingupward.Grass, however, is not his favourite food: he prefers the twigs and leaves of trees—such as birch, willow, and maple. There is one species of the last of which he is extremely fond; it is that known as striped maple (Acer striatum), or, in the language of hunters, “moose-wood.” He peels off the bark from old trees of this sort, and feeds upon it, as well as upon several species of mosses with which the arctic regions abound. It will be seen that in these respects he resembles the giraffe: he may be regarded as the giraffe of the frigid zone.The moose loves the forest; he is rarely found in the open ground—on the prairie, never.On open level ground, he is easily overtaken by the hunter, as he makes but a poor run in such a situation. His feet are tender, and his wind short; besides, as we have already said, he cannot browse there without great inconvenience. He keeps in the thick forest and the impenetrable swamp, where he finds the food most to his liking.In summer, he takes to the water, wading into lakes and rivers, and frequently swimming across both. This habit renders him at that season an easy prey to his enemies, the Indian hunters, for in the water he is easily killed. Nevertheless, he loves to bury himself in the water, because along the shores of lakes and margins of rivers he finds the tall reed-grass, and the pond-lily—the latter a particular favourite with him. In this way, too, he rids himself of the biting gnats and stinging mosquitoes that swarm there; and also cools his blood, fevered by parasites, larvae, and the hot sun.The female moose produces one, two, and sometimes three calves at a birth; this is in April or May. The period of gestation is nine-months.During the summer, they are seen in families—that is, a bull, a cow, and two calves. Sometimes the group includes three or four cows; but this is rare.Occasionally, when the winter comes on, several of these family parties unite, and form herds of many individuals. When the snow is deep, one of these herds will tread down a space of several acres, in which they will be found browsing on the bark and twigs of the trees. A place of this sort is termed by the hunters a “moose-yard;” and in such a situation the animals become an easy prey. They are shot down on the spot, and those that attempt to escape through the deep snow are overtaken and brought to bay by dogs. This can only happen, however, when the snow is deep and crusted with frost; otherwise, the hunters and their dogs, as well as their heavier game, would sink in it. When the snow is of old standing, it becomes icy on the surface through the heat of the sun, rain, and frost; then it will bear the hunter, but not the deer. The latter break through it, and as these animals are tender-hoofed, they are lacerated at every jump. They soon feel the pain, give up the attempt to escape, and come to bay.It is dangerous for dogs to approach them when in this mood. They strike with the hoofs of their forefeet, a single blow of which often knocks the breath out of the stoutest deer-hound. There are many records of hunters having been sacrificed in a similar manner.Where the moose are plentiful, the Indians hunt them by pounding. This is done simply by inclosing a large tract of woods, with a funnel-shaped entrance leading into the inclosure. The wide mouth of the entrance embraces a path which the deer habitually take; upon this they are driven by the Indians, deployed in a wide curve, until they enter the funnel, and the pound itself. Here there are nooses set, in which many are snared, while others are shot down by the hunters who follow. This method is more frequently employed with the caribou, which are much smaller, and more gregarious than the moose-deer.We have already said that the moose are easily captured in summer, when they resort to the lakes and rivers to wade and swim. The biting of gnats and mosquitoes renders them less fearful of the approach of man. The Indians then attack them in their canoes, and either shoot or spear them while paddling alongside.They are much less dangerous to assail in this way than the elk or even the common deer (Cervus Virginianus), as the latter, when brought in contact with the frail birch-canoe, often kick up in such a manner as to upset it, or break a hole through its side. On the contrary, the moose is frequently caught by the antlers while swimming, and in this way carried alongside without either difficulty or danger.Although in such situations these huge creatures are easily captured, it is far otherwise as a general rule. Indeed, few animals are more shy than the moose. Its sight is acute; so, too, with its sense of smell; but that organ in which it chiefly confides is the ear. It can hear the slightest noise to a great distance; and the hunter’s foot among the dead leaves, or upon the frozen snow-crust, often betrays him long before he can creep within range. They are, however, frequently killed by the solitary hunter stealing upon them, or “approaching,” as it is termed. To do this, it is absolutely necessary to keep to leeward of them, else the wind would carry to their quick ears even the cautious tread of the Indian hunter.There is one other method of hunting the moose often practised by the Indians—that is, trailing them withrackets, or snow-shoes, and running them down. As I had partaken of this sport I was able to give an account of it to my companions.“In the winter of 18—, I had occasion to visit a friend who lived in the northern part of the state of Maine. My friend was a backwood settler; dwelt in a comfortable log-house; raised corn, cattle, and hogs; and for the rest, amused himself occasionally with a hunt in the neighbouring woods. This he could do without going far from home, as the great forests of pine, birch, and maple trees on all sides surrounded his solitary clearing, and his nearest neighbour was about twenty miles off. Literally, my friend lived in the woods, and the sports of the chase were with him almost a necessity; at all events, they were an everyday occupation.“Up to the time of my visit, I had never seen a moose, except in museums. I had never been so far north upon the American Continent; and it must be remembered, that the geographical range of the moose is confined altogether to the cold countries. It is only in the extreme northern parts of the United States that he appears at all. Canada, with the vast territories of the Hudson’s Bay Company, even to the shores of the Arctic Sea, is the properhabitatof this animal.“I was familiar with bears; cougars I had killed; elk and fallow deer I had driven; ’coons and ’possums I had treed; in short, I had been on hunting terms with almost every game in America except the moose. I was most eager, therefore, to have a shot at one of these creatures, and I well remember the delight I experienced when my friend informed me there were moose in the adjacent woods.“On the day after my arrival, we set forth in search of them, each armed with a hunting-knife and a heavy deer-gun. We went afoot; we could not go otherwise, as the snow lay to the depth of a yard, and a horse would have plunged through it with difficulty. It was an old snow, moreover, thickly crusted, and would have maimed our horses in a few minutes. We, with our broad rackets, could easily skim along without sinking below the surface.“I know not whether you have ever seen a pair of rackets, or Indian snow-shoes, but their description is easy. You have seen the rackets used in ball-play. Well, now, fancy a hoop, not of circular form, but forced into an elongated pointed ellipse, very much after the shape of the impression that a capsized boat would make in snow; fancy this about three feet long, and a foot across at its widest, closely netted over with gut or deer-thong, with bars in the middle to rest the foot upon, and a small hole to allow play to the toes, and you will have some idea of a snow-shoe. Two of these—right and left—make a pair. They are simply strapped on to your boots, and then their broad surface sustains you, even when the snow is comparatively soft, but perfectly when it is frozen.“Thus equipped, my friend and I set outà pied, followed by a couple of stout deer-hounds. We made directly for a part of the woods where it was known to my friend that the striped maple grew in great plenty. It has been stated already, that the moose are particularly fond of these trees, and there we would be most likely to fall in with them.“The striped maple is a beautiful deciduous little tree or shrub, growing to the height of a dozen feet or so in its naturalhabitat. When cultivated, it often reaches thirty feet. There is one at Schonbrunn, near Vienna, forty feet high, but this is an exception, and is the largest known. The usual height is ten or twelve feet, and it is more often the underwood of the forest than the forest itself. When thus situated, under the shade of loftier trees, it degenerates almost to the character of a shrub.“The trunk and branches of the striped maple are covered with a smooth green bark, longitudinally marked with light and dark stripes, by which the tree is easily distinguished from others, and from which it takes its name. It has other trivial names in different parts of the country. In New York state, it is called ‘dogwood;’ but improperly so, as the real dogwood (Cornus florida) is a very different tree. It is known also as ‘false dogwood,’ and ‘snake-barked maple.’ The name ‘moose-wood’ is common among the hunters and frontiers-men for reasons already given. Where the striped maple is indigenous, it is one of the first productions that announces the approach of spring. Its buds and leaves, when beginning to unfold, are of a roseate hue, and soon change to a yellowish green; the leaves are thick, cordate, rounded at the base, with three sharp lobes at the other extremity, and finely serrated. They are usually four or five inches in length and breadth. The tree flowers in May and June, and its flowers are yellow-green, grouped on long peduncles. The fruit, like all other maples, consists ofsamaraeor ‘keys;’ it is produced in great abundance, and is ripe in September or October.“The wood is white and finely grained; it is sometimes used by cabinet-makers as a substitute for holly, in forming the lines with which they inlay mahogany.“In Canada, and those parts of the United States where it grows in great plenty, the farmers in spring turn out their cattle and horses to feed upon its leaves and young shoots, of which these animals are extremely fond; the more so, as it is only in very cold regions that it grows, and the budding of its foliage even precedes the springing of the grass. Such is the tree which forms the favourite browsing of the moose.“To return to my narrative.“After we had shuffled about two miles over the snow, my friend and I entered a tract of heavy timber, where the striped maple formed the underwood. It did not grow regularly, but in copses or small thickets. We had already started some small game, but declined following it, as we were bent only on a moose-chase.“We soon fell in with signs that indicated the propinquity of the animals we were in search of. In several of the thickets, the maples were stripped of their twigs and bark, but this had been done previous to the falling of the snow. As yet, there were no tracks: we were not long, however, before this welcome indication was met with. On crossing a glade where there was but little snow, the prints of a great split hoof were seen, which my friend at once pronounced to be those of the moose.“We followed this trail for some distance, until it led into deeper snow and a more retired part of the forest. The tracks were evidently fresh ones, and those, as my friend asserted, of an old bull.“Half-a-mile farther on, they were joined by others; and the trail became a broken path through the deep snow, as if it had been made by farm-cattle following each other in single file. Four moose had passed, as my friend—skilled in woodcraft—confidently asserted, although I could not have told that from the appearance of the trail. He went still farther in his ‘reckoning,’ and stated that they were a bull, a cow, and two nine-months’ calves.“‘You shall soon see,’ he said, perceiving that I was somewhat incredulous. ‘Look here!’ he continued, bending down and pressing the broken snow with his fingers; ‘they are quite fresh—made within the hour. Speak low—the cattle can’t be far off. Yonder, as I live! yonder they are—hush!’“My friend, as he spoke, pointed to a thicket about three hundred yards distant; I looked in that direction, but at first could perceive nothing more than the thickly-growing branches of the maples.“After a moment, however, I could trace among the twigs the long dark outlines of a strange animal’s back, with a huge pair of palmated horns rising above the underwood. It was the bull-moose—there was no mistaking him for any other creature. Near him other forms—three of them—were visible: these were of smaller stature, and I could see that they were hornless. They were the cow and calves; and the herd was made up, as my companion had foretold, of these four individuals.“We had halted on the moment, each of us holding one of the dogs, and endeavouring to quiet them, as they already scented the game. We soon saw that it was of no use remaining where we were, as the herd was fully three hundred yards from us, far beyond the reach of even our heavy deer-guns.“It would be of no use either to attempt stealing forward. There was no cover that would effectually conceal us, for the timber around was not large, and we could not, therefore, make shift with the tree-trunks.“There was no other mode, then, but to let the dogs free of their leashes, and dash right forward. We knew we should not get a shot until after a run; but this would not be long, thought we, as the snow was in perfect order for our purpose.“Our dogs were therefore unleashed, and went off with a simultaneous ‘gowl,’ while my friend and I followed as fast as we could.“The first note of the deer-hounds was a signal for the herd, and we could hear their huge bodies crashing through the underwood, as they started away.“They ran across some open ground, evidently with the intention of gaining the heavy timber beyond. On this ground there was but little snow; and as we came out through the thicket we had a full view of the noble game. The old bull was in the lead, followed by the others in a string. I observed that none of them galloped—a gait they rarely practise—but all went in a shambling trot, which, however, was a very fast one, equal to the speed of a horse. They carried their heads horizontally, with their muzzles directed forward, while the huge antlers of the bull leaned back upon his shoulders as he ran. Another peculiarity that struck me—the divisions of their great split hoofs, as they lifted them from the ground, met with a cracking sound, like the bursting of percussion-caps; and the four together rattled as they ran, as though a string of Christmas crackers had been touched off. I have often heard a similar cracking from the hoofs of farm-cattle; but with so many hoofs together, keeping up the fire incessantly, it produced a very odd impression upon me.“In a short time they were out of sight, but we could hear the baying of the dogs as the latter closed upon them, and we followed, guided by the trail they had made.“We had skated along for nearly a mile, when the howl of the hounds began to sound through the woods with more abrupt and fiercer echoes. We knew by this that the moose had been brought to bay, and we hurried forward, eager to have a shot.“On arriving at the place, we found that only the old bull had made stand, and he was successfully engaged in keeping off the dogs, both with feet and horns. The others had gone forward, and were out of view.“The bull, on seeing us approach, once more took the trot, and, followed by the dogs, was soon out of sight.“On reaching the spot where he had made his temporary halt, we found that his trail there parted from that of the other three, as he had taken almost an opposite direction. Whether he had done so considerately, in order to lead the dogs away from his weaker companions, I know not; perhaps our sudden appearance had terrified him into confusion, and he had struck out without looking before him.“We did not reflect on these points at the time. My friend, who probably was thinking more about the meat than the sport, without halting a moment, followed the trail of the cow and calves; while I, guided by different motives, took after the bull. I was in too great a hurry to heed some admonitions which were given by my friend as we parted company. As our trails separated, I heard him shouting to me to mind what I was about; but the courses we followed soon carried us beyond earshot or sight of each other.“I followed the chase about half a mile farther, guided by the tracks, as well as by the baying of the hounds. Again this assumed the fierce angry tone that denoted a battle going on between the dogs and the deer.“As I neared the spot, the voices of the former seemed to grow feebler; then there was a continued howling, as if the hounds were being roughly handled, and one of them I noticed was altogether silent.“On arriving on the scene, which I did soon after, I learned the cause of this change of tune. One of the dogs met me running back on the trail on three legs only, and woefully mangled. The moose was standing in a snow-pit, which had been trodden out by the animals while battling, and near his feet lay the other dog, mutilated in a most fearful manner, and evidently quite dead. The bull, in his rage, still continued to assail the dead body of the hound, rising and pouncing down upon it with his fore-hoofs until the ribs cracked under the concussion!“On seeing me, he again struck into the snow, and made off; I saw, however, that his limbs were much lacerated by the frozen crust, and that he ran slowly, leaving red tracks behind him.“I did not stop by the dogs—one being dead, and the survivor but little better—but kept on after the game.“We had now got into a tract where the snow lay of more than usual depth, and my snow-shoes enabled me to skim along faster than the moose himself, that I could easily perceive was growing feebler at every plunge. I saw that I was gaining upon him, and would soon be alongside. The woods through which we were passing were pretty open, and I could note every movement of the chase.“I had got within a hundred yards of him, and was thinking of firing at him as he ran, when all at once he came to a stop, and wheeling suddenly round, stood facing me. His huge antlers were thrown back until they touched his withers; his mane stood erect; all the hair upon his body seemed to bristle forward; and his whole attitude was one of rage and defiance: he was altogether as formidable-looking an enemy as it had ever been my lot to encounter.“My first thought, on getting near enough, was to raise my rifle and fire, which I did. I aimed for his chest, that was fair before me; but I shot wide, partly because my fingers were numbed with cold, and partly because the sun at the moment flashed in my eyes as I glanced along the barrel. I hit the moose, however, but in a part that was not mortal—in the shoulder.“The shot enraged him, and without waiting for me to re-load, he dashed madly forward and towards me; a few plunges brought him up, and I had no resource but to get behind a tree.“Fortunately there were some large pines in the neighbourhood, and behind one of these I took shelter—not, however, before the enraged animal had almost impaled me upon his antlers. As I slipped behind the trunk, he was following me so close that his horns came in contact with the tree, causing it to vibrate by the terrific shock. He himself drew back a pace or two, and then stopped and stood fast, eyeing the tree with sullen rage; his eyes glared, and his long stiff hair seemed to quiver as he threatened.“In the hope that he would allow me time, I again bethought me of re-loading my gun. What was my chagrin to find that I had not a grain of powder about me! My friend and I had started with but one powder-flask, and that he had carried with him. My gun was as useless as a bar of iron.“What was to be done? I dared not, approach the bull with my knife: my life would not have been worth five minutes’ purchase. His horns and great sharp hoofs were weapons superior to mine. He might throw me down at the first outset, gore me to death, or trample me in the snow. I dared not risk such an encounter.“After reflecting for some time, I concluded that it would be wiser for me to leave the moose where he was, and take the back track without him. But how was I to get away from the spot? I was still behind the tree, and the enraged bull was within three feet of it on the other side, without showing any symptoms of retiring. Should I step either to one side or the other, he would launch himself upon me, and the result would be my certain destruction.“I now began to perceive that I was in a fix—regularly ‘treed,’ in fact; and the knowledge was anything but cheering. I did not know how long I might be kept so; perhaps the moose might not leave me at all, or until hunger had done its work. The wound I had given him had certainly rendered him desperate and vengeful, and he appeared as if determined to protract the siege indefinitely.“After remaining nearly an hour in this situation, I began to grow angry and impatient. I had shouted to frighten the bull, but to no purpose; I had shouted, and at the top of my voice, in hopes that I might be heard by my friend, but there was no response except the echoes of my own voice borne hoarsely through the aisles of the winter forest. I grew impatient of my odd captivity, and determined to stand it no longer.“On stealing a glance behind me, I perceived a tree as large as the one which sheltered me. I resolved to make for that one, as it would at least not render my situation worse should I reach it in safety. This I effected, but not without having my speed put to the test, for the moose followed so close as almost to touch me with his brow-antlers. Once behind this new tree, I was no better off than before, except that it brought me some twenty paces nearer home. The moose—still stood in front of me only a few feet distant, and threatening as fiercely as ever.“After waiting some minutes for my breath, I selected a third tree in the right direction, and made for it in a similar manner, the moose following as before.“Another rest and another run brought me behind a fresh tree, and another and another, until I must have made a full mile through the woods, still followed by my implacable and untiring enemy. I knew, however, that I was going homeward, for I guided myself by the trail which we had made in the chase.“I was in hopes that I might make the whole back-journey in this way, when all at once I perceived that the heavy timber came to an end, and a wide, almost open tract intersected the country, over this the trees were small stunted pines, far apart, and offering no hope of shelter from my relentless persecutor.“I had no alternative now but to remain where I was, and await the arrival of my friend, who, I presumed, would come after me as soon as he had finished his own hunt.“With this dubious hope, I kept my stand, although I was ready to drop with fatigue. To add to my misery, it commenced snowing. I saw this with feelings akin to terror, for I knew that the snow would soon blind the trail; and how, then, was my friend to follow it, and find me? The bull still stood before me in the same threatening attitude, occasionally snorting, striking the ground with his hoofs, and ready to spring after me whenever I should move. Ever as I changed the attitude of my body, he would start forward again, until I could almost touch him with the muzzle of my gun.“These manoeuvres on his part suggested to me an experiment, and I wondered that I had not thought of it before. I was not long in resolving to carry it out. I was armed with a stout hunting-knife, a bowie; it was pointed as sharp as a needle; and could I only have ventured near enough to the bull, I would soon have settled the dispute with him. The idea now occurred to me of converting my bowie into a lance by splicing it upon the barrel of my gun. With this I had hopes of being able to reach my powerful assailant without coming within range either of his hoofs or horns.“The lance was soon made, a pair of buckskin gaiters which I wore furnished me with thongs. My gun happened to be a long rifle; and the knife, spliced firmly to the muzzle, rendered it a formidable weapon, so that in a few minutes I stood in a better attitude than I had assumed for hours before.“The affair soon came to an issue. As I had anticipated, by showing myself a little to one side of the tree, the bull sprang forward, and I was enabled, by a dexterous thrust, to plant the knife between his ribs. It entered his heart, and the next moment I saw him rolling over, and kicking the crimsoned snow around him in the struggles of death.“I had scarcely completed my victory, when a loud whoop sounded in my ears, and looking up, I saw my friend making towards me across the open ground. He had completed his chase, having killed all three, cut them up, and hung their meat upon the trees, to be sent for on our return to the house.“By his aid the bull was disposed of in a similar manner; and being now satisfied with our day’s sport—though my friend very much regretted the loss of his fine dog—we commenced shuffling homeward.”
While crossing the marshy bottom through which our road led, a singular hoof-track was observed in the mud. Some were of opinion that it was a track of the great moose-deer, but the hunter-naturalist, better informed, scouted the idea—declaring that moose never ranged, so far to the south. It was no doubt a very large elk that had made the track, and to this conclusion all at length came.
The great moose-deer, however, was an interesting theme, and we rode along conversing upon it.
The moose (Cervus alces) is the largest of the deer kind. The male is ordinarily as large as a mule; specimens have been killed of still greater dimensions. One that has been measured stood seventeen bands, and weighed 1200 pounds; it was consequently larger than most horses. The females are considerably smaller than the males.
The colour of the moose, like that of other animals of the deer kind, varies with the season; it varies also with the sex. The male is tawny-brown over the back, sides, head, and thighs; this changes to a darker hue in winter, and in very old animals it is nearly black; hence the name “black elk,” which is given in some districts to the moose. The under parts of the body are light-coloured, with a tinge of yellow or soiled white.
The female is of a sandy-brown colour above, and beneath almost white. The calves are sandy-brown, but never spotted, as are the fawns of the common deer.
The moose is no other than the elk of Northern Europe; but the elk of America (Cervus Canadensis), as already stated, is altogether a different animal. These two species may be mistaken for each other, in the season when their antlers are young, or in the velvet; then they are not unlike to a superficial observer. But the animals are rarely confounded—only the names. The American elk is not found indigenous in the eastern hemisphere, although he is the ornament of many a lordly park.
The identity of the moose with the European elk is a fact that leads to curious considerations. A similar identity exists between the caribou of Canada and the reindeer of Northern Europe—they are both theCervus tarandusof Pliny. So also with the polar hear of both hemispheres, the arctic, fox, and several other animals. Hence we infer, that there existed at some period either a land connection, or some other means of communication, between the northern parts of both continents.
Besides being the largest, the moose is certainly the most ungraceful of the deer family. His head is long, out of all proportion; so, too, are his legs; while his neck is short in an inverse ratio. His ears are nearly a foot in length, asinine, broad, and slouching; his eyes are small; and his muzzle square, with a deepsulcusin the middle, which gives it the appearance of being bifid. The upper lip overhangs the under by several inches, and is highly prehensile. A long tuft of coarse hair grows out of an excrescence on the throat, in the angle between the head and neck. This tuft is observed both in the male and female, though only when full-grown. In the young, the excrescence is naked.
An erect mane, somewhat resembling that of a cropped Shetland pony, runs from the base of the horns over the withers, and some way down the back. This adds to the stiff and ungainly appearance of the animal.
The horns of the moose are a striking characteristic: they are palmated or flattened out like shovels, while along the edge rise the points or antlers. The width from horn to horn at their tops is often more than four feet, and the breadth of a single one, antlers included, is frequently above thirty inches. A single pair has been known to weigh as much as 60 pounds avoirdupois!
Of course this stupendous head-dress gives the moose quite an imposing appearance; and it is one of the wonders of the naturalist what can be its object.
The horns are found only on the males, and attain their full size only when these have reached their seventh year. In the yearlings appear two knobs, about an inch in length; in two-year-olds, these knobs have become spikes a foot high; in the third year they begin to palmate, and antlers rise along their edges; and so on, until the seventh year, when they become fully developed. They are annually caducous, however, as with the common deer, so that these immense appendages are the growth of a few weeks!
The haunts and habits of the moose differ materially from those of other deer. He cannot browse upon level ground without kneeling or widening his legs to a great extent: this difficulty arises from the extreme length of his legs, and the shortness of his neck. He can do better upon the sides of steep hills, and he is often seen in such places grazingupward.
Grass, however, is not his favourite food: he prefers the twigs and leaves of trees—such as birch, willow, and maple. There is one species of the last of which he is extremely fond; it is that known as striped maple (Acer striatum), or, in the language of hunters, “moose-wood.” He peels off the bark from old trees of this sort, and feeds upon it, as well as upon several species of mosses with which the arctic regions abound. It will be seen that in these respects he resembles the giraffe: he may be regarded as the giraffe of the frigid zone.
The moose loves the forest; he is rarely found in the open ground—on the prairie, never.
On open level ground, he is easily overtaken by the hunter, as he makes but a poor run in such a situation. His feet are tender, and his wind short; besides, as we have already said, he cannot browse there without great inconvenience. He keeps in the thick forest and the impenetrable swamp, where he finds the food most to his liking.
In summer, he takes to the water, wading into lakes and rivers, and frequently swimming across both. This habit renders him at that season an easy prey to his enemies, the Indian hunters, for in the water he is easily killed. Nevertheless, he loves to bury himself in the water, because along the shores of lakes and margins of rivers he finds the tall reed-grass, and the pond-lily—the latter a particular favourite with him. In this way, too, he rids himself of the biting gnats and stinging mosquitoes that swarm there; and also cools his blood, fevered by parasites, larvae, and the hot sun.
The female moose produces one, two, and sometimes three calves at a birth; this is in April or May. The period of gestation is nine-months.
During the summer, they are seen in families—that is, a bull, a cow, and two calves. Sometimes the group includes three or four cows; but this is rare.
Occasionally, when the winter comes on, several of these family parties unite, and form herds of many individuals. When the snow is deep, one of these herds will tread down a space of several acres, in which they will be found browsing on the bark and twigs of the trees. A place of this sort is termed by the hunters a “moose-yard;” and in such a situation the animals become an easy prey. They are shot down on the spot, and those that attempt to escape through the deep snow are overtaken and brought to bay by dogs. This can only happen, however, when the snow is deep and crusted with frost; otherwise, the hunters and their dogs, as well as their heavier game, would sink in it. When the snow is of old standing, it becomes icy on the surface through the heat of the sun, rain, and frost; then it will bear the hunter, but not the deer. The latter break through it, and as these animals are tender-hoofed, they are lacerated at every jump. They soon feel the pain, give up the attempt to escape, and come to bay.
It is dangerous for dogs to approach them when in this mood. They strike with the hoofs of their forefeet, a single blow of which often knocks the breath out of the stoutest deer-hound. There are many records of hunters having been sacrificed in a similar manner.
Where the moose are plentiful, the Indians hunt them by pounding. This is done simply by inclosing a large tract of woods, with a funnel-shaped entrance leading into the inclosure. The wide mouth of the entrance embraces a path which the deer habitually take; upon this they are driven by the Indians, deployed in a wide curve, until they enter the funnel, and the pound itself. Here there are nooses set, in which many are snared, while others are shot down by the hunters who follow. This method is more frequently employed with the caribou, which are much smaller, and more gregarious than the moose-deer.
We have already said that the moose are easily captured in summer, when they resort to the lakes and rivers to wade and swim. The biting of gnats and mosquitoes renders them less fearful of the approach of man. The Indians then attack them in their canoes, and either shoot or spear them while paddling alongside.
They are much less dangerous to assail in this way than the elk or even the common deer (Cervus Virginianus), as the latter, when brought in contact with the frail birch-canoe, often kick up in such a manner as to upset it, or break a hole through its side. On the contrary, the moose is frequently caught by the antlers while swimming, and in this way carried alongside without either difficulty or danger.
Although in such situations these huge creatures are easily captured, it is far otherwise as a general rule. Indeed, few animals are more shy than the moose. Its sight is acute; so, too, with its sense of smell; but that organ in which it chiefly confides is the ear. It can hear the slightest noise to a great distance; and the hunter’s foot among the dead leaves, or upon the frozen snow-crust, often betrays him long before he can creep within range. They are, however, frequently killed by the solitary hunter stealing upon them, or “approaching,” as it is termed. To do this, it is absolutely necessary to keep to leeward of them, else the wind would carry to their quick ears even the cautious tread of the Indian hunter.
There is one other method of hunting the moose often practised by the Indians—that is, trailing them withrackets, or snow-shoes, and running them down. As I had partaken of this sport I was able to give an account of it to my companions.
“In the winter of 18—, I had occasion to visit a friend who lived in the northern part of the state of Maine. My friend was a backwood settler; dwelt in a comfortable log-house; raised corn, cattle, and hogs; and for the rest, amused himself occasionally with a hunt in the neighbouring woods. This he could do without going far from home, as the great forests of pine, birch, and maple trees on all sides surrounded his solitary clearing, and his nearest neighbour was about twenty miles off. Literally, my friend lived in the woods, and the sports of the chase were with him almost a necessity; at all events, they were an everyday occupation.
“Up to the time of my visit, I had never seen a moose, except in museums. I had never been so far north upon the American Continent; and it must be remembered, that the geographical range of the moose is confined altogether to the cold countries. It is only in the extreme northern parts of the United States that he appears at all. Canada, with the vast territories of the Hudson’s Bay Company, even to the shores of the Arctic Sea, is the properhabitatof this animal.
“I was familiar with bears; cougars I had killed; elk and fallow deer I had driven; ’coons and ’possums I had treed; in short, I had been on hunting terms with almost every game in America except the moose. I was most eager, therefore, to have a shot at one of these creatures, and I well remember the delight I experienced when my friend informed me there were moose in the adjacent woods.
“On the day after my arrival, we set forth in search of them, each armed with a hunting-knife and a heavy deer-gun. We went afoot; we could not go otherwise, as the snow lay to the depth of a yard, and a horse would have plunged through it with difficulty. It was an old snow, moreover, thickly crusted, and would have maimed our horses in a few minutes. We, with our broad rackets, could easily skim along without sinking below the surface.
“I know not whether you have ever seen a pair of rackets, or Indian snow-shoes, but their description is easy. You have seen the rackets used in ball-play. Well, now, fancy a hoop, not of circular form, but forced into an elongated pointed ellipse, very much after the shape of the impression that a capsized boat would make in snow; fancy this about three feet long, and a foot across at its widest, closely netted over with gut or deer-thong, with bars in the middle to rest the foot upon, and a small hole to allow play to the toes, and you will have some idea of a snow-shoe. Two of these—right and left—make a pair. They are simply strapped on to your boots, and then their broad surface sustains you, even when the snow is comparatively soft, but perfectly when it is frozen.
“Thus equipped, my friend and I set outà pied, followed by a couple of stout deer-hounds. We made directly for a part of the woods where it was known to my friend that the striped maple grew in great plenty. It has been stated already, that the moose are particularly fond of these trees, and there we would be most likely to fall in with them.
“The striped maple is a beautiful deciduous little tree or shrub, growing to the height of a dozen feet or so in its naturalhabitat. When cultivated, it often reaches thirty feet. There is one at Schonbrunn, near Vienna, forty feet high, but this is an exception, and is the largest known. The usual height is ten or twelve feet, and it is more often the underwood of the forest than the forest itself. When thus situated, under the shade of loftier trees, it degenerates almost to the character of a shrub.
“The trunk and branches of the striped maple are covered with a smooth green bark, longitudinally marked with light and dark stripes, by which the tree is easily distinguished from others, and from which it takes its name. It has other trivial names in different parts of the country. In New York state, it is called ‘dogwood;’ but improperly so, as the real dogwood (Cornus florida) is a very different tree. It is known also as ‘false dogwood,’ and ‘snake-barked maple.’ The name ‘moose-wood’ is common among the hunters and frontiers-men for reasons already given. Where the striped maple is indigenous, it is one of the first productions that announces the approach of spring. Its buds and leaves, when beginning to unfold, are of a roseate hue, and soon change to a yellowish green; the leaves are thick, cordate, rounded at the base, with three sharp lobes at the other extremity, and finely serrated. They are usually four or five inches in length and breadth. The tree flowers in May and June, and its flowers are yellow-green, grouped on long peduncles. The fruit, like all other maples, consists ofsamaraeor ‘keys;’ it is produced in great abundance, and is ripe in September or October.
“The wood is white and finely grained; it is sometimes used by cabinet-makers as a substitute for holly, in forming the lines with which they inlay mahogany.
“In Canada, and those parts of the United States where it grows in great plenty, the farmers in spring turn out their cattle and horses to feed upon its leaves and young shoots, of which these animals are extremely fond; the more so, as it is only in very cold regions that it grows, and the budding of its foliage even precedes the springing of the grass. Such is the tree which forms the favourite browsing of the moose.
“To return to my narrative.
“After we had shuffled about two miles over the snow, my friend and I entered a tract of heavy timber, where the striped maple formed the underwood. It did not grow regularly, but in copses or small thickets. We had already started some small game, but declined following it, as we were bent only on a moose-chase.
“We soon fell in with signs that indicated the propinquity of the animals we were in search of. In several of the thickets, the maples were stripped of their twigs and bark, but this had been done previous to the falling of the snow. As yet, there were no tracks: we were not long, however, before this welcome indication was met with. On crossing a glade where there was but little snow, the prints of a great split hoof were seen, which my friend at once pronounced to be those of the moose.
“We followed this trail for some distance, until it led into deeper snow and a more retired part of the forest. The tracks were evidently fresh ones, and those, as my friend asserted, of an old bull.
“Half-a-mile farther on, they were joined by others; and the trail became a broken path through the deep snow, as if it had been made by farm-cattle following each other in single file. Four moose had passed, as my friend—skilled in woodcraft—confidently asserted, although I could not have told that from the appearance of the trail. He went still farther in his ‘reckoning,’ and stated that they were a bull, a cow, and two nine-months’ calves.
“‘You shall soon see,’ he said, perceiving that I was somewhat incredulous. ‘Look here!’ he continued, bending down and pressing the broken snow with his fingers; ‘they are quite fresh—made within the hour. Speak low—the cattle can’t be far off. Yonder, as I live! yonder they are—hush!’
“My friend, as he spoke, pointed to a thicket about three hundred yards distant; I looked in that direction, but at first could perceive nothing more than the thickly-growing branches of the maples.
“After a moment, however, I could trace among the twigs the long dark outlines of a strange animal’s back, with a huge pair of palmated horns rising above the underwood. It was the bull-moose—there was no mistaking him for any other creature. Near him other forms—three of them—were visible: these were of smaller stature, and I could see that they were hornless. They were the cow and calves; and the herd was made up, as my companion had foretold, of these four individuals.
“We had halted on the moment, each of us holding one of the dogs, and endeavouring to quiet them, as they already scented the game. We soon saw that it was of no use remaining where we were, as the herd was fully three hundred yards from us, far beyond the reach of even our heavy deer-guns.
“It would be of no use either to attempt stealing forward. There was no cover that would effectually conceal us, for the timber around was not large, and we could not, therefore, make shift with the tree-trunks.
“There was no other mode, then, but to let the dogs free of their leashes, and dash right forward. We knew we should not get a shot until after a run; but this would not be long, thought we, as the snow was in perfect order for our purpose.
“Our dogs were therefore unleashed, and went off with a simultaneous ‘gowl,’ while my friend and I followed as fast as we could.
“The first note of the deer-hounds was a signal for the herd, and we could hear their huge bodies crashing through the underwood, as they started away.
“They ran across some open ground, evidently with the intention of gaining the heavy timber beyond. On this ground there was but little snow; and as we came out through the thicket we had a full view of the noble game. The old bull was in the lead, followed by the others in a string. I observed that none of them galloped—a gait they rarely practise—but all went in a shambling trot, which, however, was a very fast one, equal to the speed of a horse. They carried their heads horizontally, with their muzzles directed forward, while the huge antlers of the bull leaned back upon his shoulders as he ran. Another peculiarity that struck me—the divisions of their great split hoofs, as they lifted them from the ground, met with a cracking sound, like the bursting of percussion-caps; and the four together rattled as they ran, as though a string of Christmas crackers had been touched off. I have often heard a similar cracking from the hoofs of farm-cattle; but with so many hoofs together, keeping up the fire incessantly, it produced a very odd impression upon me.
“In a short time they were out of sight, but we could hear the baying of the dogs as the latter closed upon them, and we followed, guided by the trail they had made.
“We had skated along for nearly a mile, when the howl of the hounds began to sound through the woods with more abrupt and fiercer echoes. We knew by this that the moose had been brought to bay, and we hurried forward, eager to have a shot.
“On arriving at the place, we found that only the old bull had made stand, and he was successfully engaged in keeping off the dogs, both with feet and horns. The others had gone forward, and were out of view.
“The bull, on seeing us approach, once more took the trot, and, followed by the dogs, was soon out of sight.
“On reaching the spot where he had made his temporary halt, we found that his trail there parted from that of the other three, as he had taken almost an opposite direction. Whether he had done so considerately, in order to lead the dogs away from his weaker companions, I know not; perhaps our sudden appearance had terrified him into confusion, and he had struck out without looking before him.
“We did not reflect on these points at the time. My friend, who probably was thinking more about the meat than the sport, without halting a moment, followed the trail of the cow and calves; while I, guided by different motives, took after the bull. I was in too great a hurry to heed some admonitions which were given by my friend as we parted company. As our trails separated, I heard him shouting to me to mind what I was about; but the courses we followed soon carried us beyond earshot or sight of each other.
“I followed the chase about half a mile farther, guided by the tracks, as well as by the baying of the hounds. Again this assumed the fierce angry tone that denoted a battle going on between the dogs and the deer.
“As I neared the spot, the voices of the former seemed to grow feebler; then there was a continued howling, as if the hounds were being roughly handled, and one of them I noticed was altogether silent.
“On arriving on the scene, which I did soon after, I learned the cause of this change of tune. One of the dogs met me running back on the trail on three legs only, and woefully mangled. The moose was standing in a snow-pit, which had been trodden out by the animals while battling, and near his feet lay the other dog, mutilated in a most fearful manner, and evidently quite dead. The bull, in his rage, still continued to assail the dead body of the hound, rising and pouncing down upon it with his fore-hoofs until the ribs cracked under the concussion!
“On seeing me, he again struck into the snow, and made off; I saw, however, that his limbs were much lacerated by the frozen crust, and that he ran slowly, leaving red tracks behind him.
“I did not stop by the dogs—one being dead, and the survivor but little better—but kept on after the game.
“We had now got into a tract where the snow lay of more than usual depth, and my snow-shoes enabled me to skim along faster than the moose himself, that I could easily perceive was growing feebler at every plunge. I saw that I was gaining upon him, and would soon be alongside. The woods through which we were passing were pretty open, and I could note every movement of the chase.
“I had got within a hundred yards of him, and was thinking of firing at him as he ran, when all at once he came to a stop, and wheeling suddenly round, stood facing me. His huge antlers were thrown back until they touched his withers; his mane stood erect; all the hair upon his body seemed to bristle forward; and his whole attitude was one of rage and defiance: he was altogether as formidable-looking an enemy as it had ever been my lot to encounter.
“My first thought, on getting near enough, was to raise my rifle and fire, which I did. I aimed for his chest, that was fair before me; but I shot wide, partly because my fingers were numbed with cold, and partly because the sun at the moment flashed in my eyes as I glanced along the barrel. I hit the moose, however, but in a part that was not mortal—in the shoulder.
“The shot enraged him, and without waiting for me to re-load, he dashed madly forward and towards me; a few plunges brought him up, and I had no resource but to get behind a tree.
“Fortunately there were some large pines in the neighbourhood, and behind one of these I took shelter—not, however, before the enraged animal had almost impaled me upon his antlers. As I slipped behind the trunk, he was following me so close that his horns came in contact with the tree, causing it to vibrate by the terrific shock. He himself drew back a pace or two, and then stopped and stood fast, eyeing the tree with sullen rage; his eyes glared, and his long stiff hair seemed to quiver as he threatened.
“In the hope that he would allow me time, I again bethought me of re-loading my gun. What was my chagrin to find that I had not a grain of powder about me! My friend and I had started with but one powder-flask, and that he had carried with him. My gun was as useless as a bar of iron.
“What was to be done? I dared not, approach the bull with my knife: my life would not have been worth five minutes’ purchase. His horns and great sharp hoofs were weapons superior to mine. He might throw me down at the first outset, gore me to death, or trample me in the snow. I dared not risk such an encounter.
“After reflecting for some time, I concluded that it would be wiser for me to leave the moose where he was, and take the back track without him. But how was I to get away from the spot? I was still behind the tree, and the enraged bull was within three feet of it on the other side, without showing any symptoms of retiring. Should I step either to one side or the other, he would launch himself upon me, and the result would be my certain destruction.
“I now began to perceive that I was in a fix—regularly ‘treed,’ in fact; and the knowledge was anything but cheering. I did not know how long I might be kept so; perhaps the moose might not leave me at all, or until hunger had done its work. The wound I had given him had certainly rendered him desperate and vengeful, and he appeared as if determined to protract the siege indefinitely.
“After remaining nearly an hour in this situation, I began to grow angry and impatient. I had shouted to frighten the bull, but to no purpose; I had shouted, and at the top of my voice, in hopes that I might be heard by my friend, but there was no response except the echoes of my own voice borne hoarsely through the aisles of the winter forest. I grew impatient of my odd captivity, and determined to stand it no longer.
“On stealing a glance behind me, I perceived a tree as large as the one which sheltered me. I resolved to make for that one, as it would at least not render my situation worse should I reach it in safety. This I effected, but not without having my speed put to the test, for the moose followed so close as almost to touch me with his brow-antlers. Once behind this new tree, I was no better off than before, except that it brought me some twenty paces nearer home. The moose—still stood in front of me only a few feet distant, and threatening as fiercely as ever.
“After waiting some minutes for my breath, I selected a third tree in the right direction, and made for it in a similar manner, the moose following as before.
“Another rest and another run brought me behind a fresh tree, and another and another, until I must have made a full mile through the woods, still followed by my implacable and untiring enemy. I knew, however, that I was going homeward, for I guided myself by the trail which we had made in the chase.
“I was in hopes that I might make the whole back-journey in this way, when all at once I perceived that the heavy timber came to an end, and a wide, almost open tract intersected the country, over this the trees were small stunted pines, far apart, and offering no hope of shelter from my relentless persecutor.
“I had no alternative now but to remain where I was, and await the arrival of my friend, who, I presumed, would come after me as soon as he had finished his own hunt.
“With this dubious hope, I kept my stand, although I was ready to drop with fatigue. To add to my misery, it commenced snowing. I saw this with feelings akin to terror, for I knew that the snow would soon blind the trail; and how, then, was my friend to follow it, and find me? The bull still stood before me in the same threatening attitude, occasionally snorting, striking the ground with his hoofs, and ready to spring after me whenever I should move. Ever as I changed the attitude of my body, he would start forward again, until I could almost touch him with the muzzle of my gun.
“These manoeuvres on his part suggested to me an experiment, and I wondered that I had not thought of it before. I was not long in resolving to carry it out. I was armed with a stout hunting-knife, a bowie; it was pointed as sharp as a needle; and could I only have ventured near enough to the bull, I would soon have settled the dispute with him. The idea now occurred to me of converting my bowie into a lance by splicing it upon the barrel of my gun. With this I had hopes of being able to reach my powerful assailant without coming within range either of his hoofs or horns.
“The lance was soon made, a pair of buckskin gaiters which I wore furnished me with thongs. My gun happened to be a long rifle; and the knife, spliced firmly to the muzzle, rendered it a formidable weapon, so that in a few minutes I stood in a better attitude than I had assumed for hours before.
“The affair soon came to an issue. As I had anticipated, by showing myself a little to one side of the tree, the bull sprang forward, and I was enabled, by a dexterous thrust, to plant the knife between his ribs. It entered his heart, and the next moment I saw him rolling over, and kicking the crimsoned snow around him in the struggles of death.
“I had scarcely completed my victory, when a loud whoop sounded in my ears, and looking up, I saw my friend making towards me across the open ground. He had completed his chase, having killed all three, cut them up, and hung their meat upon the trees, to be sent for on our return to the house.
“By his aid the bull was disposed of in a similar manner; and being now satisfied with our day’s sport—though my friend very much regretted the loss of his fine dog—we commenced shuffling homeward.”