[Contents]CHAPTER XXVIITHE STORM CAMPThey had gone about a mile when Ganawa put down the moose-hide and his blanket at the foot of a high granite cliff in the lee of a dense spruce forest that sloped down to one of those innumerable small streams that wind their way through every valley and ravine of the Lake Superior region, little streams that are destined to feed the Big Lake as long as the northern forest shades their pools and ripples. The trees of the north: pine, spruce, balsam, birch, poplar, and alder; they are indeed the keepers, the preservers of the small brooks in whose pools the wild violets are mirrored in June; and if the forests are ever destroyed, the music of the little brooks will die away.“Here we must camp till the storm has passed,” said Ganawa. “We must lean our tepee-poles against the cliff.”[212]The lads understood at once what was wanted. Bruce swung his big ax, and with one or two blows a pole came down. As Bruce felled the poles, the other two hunters trimmed them and leaned them against the cliff. “We must make a long tepee,” the Chippewa told his white sons, “long enough for two beds.”In a surprisingly short time the frame of the long tepee stood complete, and now Ganawa again displayed to the lads the resourcefulness of the Indian in the wilderness. He first tied the moose-hide to the lower part of the poles, with the hair side in. “It will soon freeze hard,” he said, “and will not slip.” Then he tied several slender poles crosswise to the upper half of the leaning tepee-poles, and with the aid of a supply of rawhide strings, he fastened a thatch of spruce and balsam boughs to the upper part of the long tepee.The most difficult part of the work was making a bed for the boys. There was a fairly level sleeping-place for Ganawa, but[213]the rest of the tepee floor was a jumble of angular rocks, and over these the lads had to build a pole platform. However, as young spruces and poplars grew in abundance close by, even this was finished in a short time. When in addition to all this an abundant supply of spruce and balsam boughs had been cut and spread on the two beds, the camp itself was ready for the night, but more work had to be done before it would be a safe place for the hunters during the coming storm. Such severe weather would require a good shelter.Bruce now set to work cutting firewood: green spruce and birch, with some dry stuff mixed in for giving the fire a good start or for making it come to quickly when it was low. While Bruce was cutting wood, Ganawa first made the beds and then carried the heavy billets to the camp, where he piled them up, some inside and others just outside the entrance. Ray also had work to do. He brought a kettleful of water from the stream, washed the moose tripe in the brook, started[214]a fire under the slanting granite wall and began preparations for the feast.The tongue, the kidneys, and a piece of tripe he set boiling in the kettle. On a grill of green sticks, as soon as he had enough live coals, he broiled some choice steak, while he fried other pieces of steak and liver in a panful of melted suet.Daylight was just beginning to fade outside when the three hunters were ready for the feast. Ganawa, who was the last one in, closed the opening with a piece of buckskin and the boys could not help wondering at the shelter they had contrived to put up in this lonely uninhabited wilderness. The fire burnt freely in front of the red granite and the smoke drew off perfectly through an opening between two poplar poles. The hot bed of coals and the heated rock spread a gentle warmth through the camp which, for the time, made this makeshift shelter as comfortable as a log-house with a fireplace.“My sons, you must not eat too fast,”[215]said Ganawa, “because we have now much time to eat and to sleep and to talk.”The broiled and the fried steak was soon disposed of, and the boys agreed it was the best meat they had ever eaten. The young moose had been in good condition and the meat was tender and well-flavored.Within an hour the meat in the kettle was done; and with his hunting-knife every one fished out what he liked, using a piece of bark for a plate. The white boys ate their meat and drank the hot broth with a little salt, but Ganawa ate his meat and drank his broth without any salt.“I can’t eat any more,” Ray admitted, after he had sampled every kind of meat and had emptied his second cup of soup, “and I’m as warm as I ever was at home in Vermont.”To both of the lads it seemed a little unreal that they should be sitting here warm and cozy at a bright fire, inhaling the odor of fresh spruce and balsam. The long, weary trailing after the moose seemed like[216]a dream of something that happened long ago.Outside over the tops of the spruces and through the scattered pines on the cliff above, the storm began to roar with that peculiar dull monotone which makes one be truly grateful for a safe and warm camp.Ray put his head out for a few seconds. “Ugh,” he exclaimed. “It is pitch-dark, the snow is coming down fast, and it is getting awfully cold. We should surely freeze to death if we had not put up this camp.”As the hunters were very tired they soon stretched out on their beds of spruce and balsam. The moose-hide kept the cold air from their beds and both dog and men were soon sound asleep. Bruce and Ganawa each arose once to replenish the fire. Ray had also intended to take his turn at this work, but when he woke up, daylight was shining through the smoke-hole, and over a fire of birchwood coals Bruce was broiling moose meat for breakfast, while Tawny was sitting[217]up, intently watching the cook, in anticipation of his own breakfast.Ray muttered as he sat up and rubbed his eyes, “I never slept as I did in this storm camp. I tell you, Bruce, a good Indian hunter certainly knows how to take care of himself in the woods.”[218]
[Contents]CHAPTER XXVIITHE STORM CAMPThey had gone about a mile when Ganawa put down the moose-hide and his blanket at the foot of a high granite cliff in the lee of a dense spruce forest that sloped down to one of those innumerable small streams that wind their way through every valley and ravine of the Lake Superior region, little streams that are destined to feed the Big Lake as long as the northern forest shades their pools and ripples. The trees of the north: pine, spruce, balsam, birch, poplar, and alder; they are indeed the keepers, the preservers of the small brooks in whose pools the wild violets are mirrored in June; and if the forests are ever destroyed, the music of the little brooks will die away.“Here we must camp till the storm has passed,” said Ganawa. “We must lean our tepee-poles against the cliff.”[212]The lads understood at once what was wanted. Bruce swung his big ax, and with one or two blows a pole came down. As Bruce felled the poles, the other two hunters trimmed them and leaned them against the cliff. “We must make a long tepee,” the Chippewa told his white sons, “long enough for two beds.”In a surprisingly short time the frame of the long tepee stood complete, and now Ganawa again displayed to the lads the resourcefulness of the Indian in the wilderness. He first tied the moose-hide to the lower part of the poles, with the hair side in. “It will soon freeze hard,” he said, “and will not slip.” Then he tied several slender poles crosswise to the upper half of the leaning tepee-poles, and with the aid of a supply of rawhide strings, he fastened a thatch of spruce and balsam boughs to the upper part of the long tepee.The most difficult part of the work was making a bed for the boys. There was a fairly level sleeping-place for Ganawa, but[213]the rest of the tepee floor was a jumble of angular rocks, and over these the lads had to build a pole platform. However, as young spruces and poplars grew in abundance close by, even this was finished in a short time. When in addition to all this an abundant supply of spruce and balsam boughs had been cut and spread on the two beds, the camp itself was ready for the night, but more work had to be done before it would be a safe place for the hunters during the coming storm. Such severe weather would require a good shelter.Bruce now set to work cutting firewood: green spruce and birch, with some dry stuff mixed in for giving the fire a good start or for making it come to quickly when it was low. While Bruce was cutting wood, Ganawa first made the beds and then carried the heavy billets to the camp, where he piled them up, some inside and others just outside the entrance. Ray also had work to do. He brought a kettleful of water from the stream, washed the moose tripe in the brook, started[214]a fire under the slanting granite wall and began preparations for the feast.The tongue, the kidneys, and a piece of tripe he set boiling in the kettle. On a grill of green sticks, as soon as he had enough live coals, he broiled some choice steak, while he fried other pieces of steak and liver in a panful of melted suet.Daylight was just beginning to fade outside when the three hunters were ready for the feast. Ganawa, who was the last one in, closed the opening with a piece of buckskin and the boys could not help wondering at the shelter they had contrived to put up in this lonely uninhabited wilderness. The fire burnt freely in front of the red granite and the smoke drew off perfectly through an opening between two poplar poles. The hot bed of coals and the heated rock spread a gentle warmth through the camp which, for the time, made this makeshift shelter as comfortable as a log-house with a fireplace.“My sons, you must not eat too fast,”[215]said Ganawa, “because we have now much time to eat and to sleep and to talk.”The broiled and the fried steak was soon disposed of, and the boys agreed it was the best meat they had ever eaten. The young moose had been in good condition and the meat was tender and well-flavored.Within an hour the meat in the kettle was done; and with his hunting-knife every one fished out what he liked, using a piece of bark for a plate. The white boys ate their meat and drank the hot broth with a little salt, but Ganawa ate his meat and drank his broth without any salt.“I can’t eat any more,” Ray admitted, after he had sampled every kind of meat and had emptied his second cup of soup, “and I’m as warm as I ever was at home in Vermont.”To both of the lads it seemed a little unreal that they should be sitting here warm and cozy at a bright fire, inhaling the odor of fresh spruce and balsam. The long, weary trailing after the moose seemed like[216]a dream of something that happened long ago.Outside over the tops of the spruces and through the scattered pines on the cliff above, the storm began to roar with that peculiar dull monotone which makes one be truly grateful for a safe and warm camp.Ray put his head out for a few seconds. “Ugh,” he exclaimed. “It is pitch-dark, the snow is coming down fast, and it is getting awfully cold. We should surely freeze to death if we had not put up this camp.”As the hunters were very tired they soon stretched out on their beds of spruce and balsam. The moose-hide kept the cold air from their beds and both dog and men were soon sound asleep. Bruce and Ganawa each arose once to replenish the fire. Ray had also intended to take his turn at this work, but when he woke up, daylight was shining through the smoke-hole, and over a fire of birchwood coals Bruce was broiling moose meat for breakfast, while Tawny was sitting[217]up, intently watching the cook, in anticipation of his own breakfast.Ray muttered as he sat up and rubbed his eyes, “I never slept as I did in this storm camp. I tell you, Bruce, a good Indian hunter certainly knows how to take care of himself in the woods.”[218]
CHAPTER XXVIITHE STORM CAMP
They had gone about a mile when Ganawa put down the moose-hide and his blanket at the foot of a high granite cliff in the lee of a dense spruce forest that sloped down to one of those innumerable small streams that wind their way through every valley and ravine of the Lake Superior region, little streams that are destined to feed the Big Lake as long as the northern forest shades their pools and ripples. The trees of the north: pine, spruce, balsam, birch, poplar, and alder; they are indeed the keepers, the preservers of the small brooks in whose pools the wild violets are mirrored in June; and if the forests are ever destroyed, the music of the little brooks will die away.“Here we must camp till the storm has passed,” said Ganawa. “We must lean our tepee-poles against the cliff.”[212]The lads understood at once what was wanted. Bruce swung his big ax, and with one or two blows a pole came down. As Bruce felled the poles, the other two hunters trimmed them and leaned them against the cliff. “We must make a long tepee,” the Chippewa told his white sons, “long enough for two beds.”In a surprisingly short time the frame of the long tepee stood complete, and now Ganawa again displayed to the lads the resourcefulness of the Indian in the wilderness. He first tied the moose-hide to the lower part of the poles, with the hair side in. “It will soon freeze hard,” he said, “and will not slip.” Then he tied several slender poles crosswise to the upper half of the leaning tepee-poles, and with the aid of a supply of rawhide strings, he fastened a thatch of spruce and balsam boughs to the upper part of the long tepee.The most difficult part of the work was making a bed for the boys. There was a fairly level sleeping-place for Ganawa, but[213]the rest of the tepee floor was a jumble of angular rocks, and over these the lads had to build a pole platform. However, as young spruces and poplars grew in abundance close by, even this was finished in a short time. When in addition to all this an abundant supply of spruce and balsam boughs had been cut and spread on the two beds, the camp itself was ready for the night, but more work had to be done before it would be a safe place for the hunters during the coming storm. Such severe weather would require a good shelter.Bruce now set to work cutting firewood: green spruce and birch, with some dry stuff mixed in for giving the fire a good start or for making it come to quickly when it was low. While Bruce was cutting wood, Ganawa first made the beds and then carried the heavy billets to the camp, where he piled them up, some inside and others just outside the entrance. Ray also had work to do. He brought a kettleful of water from the stream, washed the moose tripe in the brook, started[214]a fire under the slanting granite wall and began preparations for the feast.The tongue, the kidneys, and a piece of tripe he set boiling in the kettle. On a grill of green sticks, as soon as he had enough live coals, he broiled some choice steak, while he fried other pieces of steak and liver in a panful of melted suet.Daylight was just beginning to fade outside when the three hunters were ready for the feast. Ganawa, who was the last one in, closed the opening with a piece of buckskin and the boys could not help wondering at the shelter they had contrived to put up in this lonely uninhabited wilderness. The fire burnt freely in front of the red granite and the smoke drew off perfectly through an opening between two poplar poles. The hot bed of coals and the heated rock spread a gentle warmth through the camp which, for the time, made this makeshift shelter as comfortable as a log-house with a fireplace.“My sons, you must not eat too fast,”[215]said Ganawa, “because we have now much time to eat and to sleep and to talk.”The broiled and the fried steak was soon disposed of, and the boys agreed it was the best meat they had ever eaten. The young moose had been in good condition and the meat was tender and well-flavored.Within an hour the meat in the kettle was done; and with his hunting-knife every one fished out what he liked, using a piece of bark for a plate. The white boys ate their meat and drank the hot broth with a little salt, but Ganawa ate his meat and drank his broth without any salt.“I can’t eat any more,” Ray admitted, after he had sampled every kind of meat and had emptied his second cup of soup, “and I’m as warm as I ever was at home in Vermont.”To both of the lads it seemed a little unreal that they should be sitting here warm and cozy at a bright fire, inhaling the odor of fresh spruce and balsam. The long, weary trailing after the moose seemed like[216]a dream of something that happened long ago.Outside over the tops of the spruces and through the scattered pines on the cliff above, the storm began to roar with that peculiar dull monotone which makes one be truly grateful for a safe and warm camp.Ray put his head out for a few seconds. “Ugh,” he exclaimed. “It is pitch-dark, the snow is coming down fast, and it is getting awfully cold. We should surely freeze to death if we had not put up this camp.”As the hunters were very tired they soon stretched out on their beds of spruce and balsam. The moose-hide kept the cold air from their beds and both dog and men were soon sound asleep. Bruce and Ganawa each arose once to replenish the fire. Ray had also intended to take his turn at this work, but when he woke up, daylight was shining through the smoke-hole, and over a fire of birchwood coals Bruce was broiling moose meat for breakfast, while Tawny was sitting[217]up, intently watching the cook, in anticipation of his own breakfast.Ray muttered as he sat up and rubbed his eyes, “I never slept as I did in this storm camp. I tell you, Bruce, a good Indian hunter certainly knows how to take care of himself in the woods.”[218]
They had gone about a mile when Ganawa put down the moose-hide and his blanket at the foot of a high granite cliff in the lee of a dense spruce forest that sloped down to one of those innumerable small streams that wind their way through every valley and ravine of the Lake Superior region, little streams that are destined to feed the Big Lake as long as the northern forest shades their pools and ripples. The trees of the north: pine, spruce, balsam, birch, poplar, and alder; they are indeed the keepers, the preservers of the small brooks in whose pools the wild violets are mirrored in June; and if the forests are ever destroyed, the music of the little brooks will die away.
“Here we must camp till the storm has passed,” said Ganawa. “We must lean our tepee-poles against the cliff.”[212]
The lads understood at once what was wanted. Bruce swung his big ax, and with one or two blows a pole came down. As Bruce felled the poles, the other two hunters trimmed them and leaned them against the cliff. “We must make a long tepee,” the Chippewa told his white sons, “long enough for two beds.”
In a surprisingly short time the frame of the long tepee stood complete, and now Ganawa again displayed to the lads the resourcefulness of the Indian in the wilderness. He first tied the moose-hide to the lower part of the poles, with the hair side in. “It will soon freeze hard,” he said, “and will not slip.” Then he tied several slender poles crosswise to the upper half of the leaning tepee-poles, and with the aid of a supply of rawhide strings, he fastened a thatch of spruce and balsam boughs to the upper part of the long tepee.
The most difficult part of the work was making a bed for the boys. There was a fairly level sleeping-place for Ganawa, but[213]the rest of the tepee floor was a jumble of angular rocks, and over these the lads had to build a pole platform. However, as young spruces and poplars grew in abundance close by, even this was finished in a short time. When in addition to all this an abundant supply of spruce and balsam boughs had been cut and spread on the two beds, the camp itself was ready for the night, but more work had to be done before it would be a safe place for the hunters during the coming storm. Such severe weather would require a good shelter.
Bruce now set to work cutting firewood: green spruce and birch, with some dry stuff mixed in for giving the fire a good start or for making it come to quickly when it was low. While Bruce was cutting wood, Ganawa first made the beds and then carried the heavy billets to the camp, where he piled them up, some inside and others just outside the entrance. Ray also had work to do. He brought a kettleful of water from the stream, washed the moose tripe in the brook, started[214]a fire under the slanting granite wall and began preparations for the feast.
The tongue, the kidneys, and a piece of tripe he set boiling in the kettle. On a grill of green sticks, as soon as he had enough live coals, he broiled some choice steak, while he fried other pieces of steak and liver in a panful of melted suet.
Daylight was just beginning to fade outside when the three hunters were ready for the feast. Ganawa, who was the last one in, closed the opening with a piece of buckskin and the boys could not help wondering at the shelter they had contrived to put up in this lonely uninhabited wilderness. The fire burnt freely in front of the red granite and the smoke drew off perfectly through an opening between two poplar poles. The hot bed of coals and the heated rock spread a gentle warmth through the camp which, for the time, made this makeshift shelter as comfortable as a log-house with a fireplace.
“My sons, you must not eat too fast,”[215]said Ganawa, “because we have now much time to eat and to sleep and to talk.”
The broiled and the fried steak was soon disposed of, and the boys agreed it was the best meat they had ever eaten. The young moose had been in good condition and the meat was tender and well-flavored.
Within an hour the meat in the kettle was done; and with his hunting-knife every one fished out what he liked, using a piece of bark for a plate. The white boys ate their meat and drank the hot broth with a little salt, but Ganawa ate his meat and drank his broth without any salt.
“I can’t eat any more,” Ray admitted, after he had sampled every kind of meat and had emptied his second cup of soup, “and I’m as warm as I ever was at home in Vermont.”
To both of the lads it seemed a little unreal that they should be sitting here warm and cozy at a bright fire, inhaling the odor of fresh spruce and balsam. The long, weary trailing after the moose seemed like[216]a dream of something that happened long ago.
Outside over the tops of the spruces and through the scattered pines on the cliff above, the storm began to roar with that peculiar dull monotone which makes one be truly grateful for a safe and warm camp.
Ray put his head out for a few seconds. “Ugh,” he exclaimed. “It is pitch-dark, the snow is coming down fast, and it is getting awfully cold. We should surely freeze to death if we had not put up this camp.”
As the hunters were very tired they soon stretched out on their beds of spruce and balsam. The moose-hide kept the cold air from their beds and both dog and men were soon sound asleep. Bruce and Ganawa each arose once to replenish the fire. Ray had also intended to take his turn at this work, but when he woke up, daylight was shining through the smoke-hole, and over a fire of birchwood coals Bruce was broiling moose meat for breakfast, while Tawny was sitting[217]up, intently watching the cook, in anticipation of his own breakfast.
Ray muttered as he sat up and rubbed his eyes, “I never slept as I did in this storm camp. I tell you, Bruce, a good Indian hunter certainly knows how to take care of himself in the woods.”[218]