Mooswa & Others of the Boundaries Part 10

"How comes Francois here to the Pelican this year, then?" growled Blue Wolf.

"Because of the thing Men call Fate," answered Black King, learnedly; "though they do not understand the shape of it. We call it the Whisper of Wiesahkechack. Wiesahke whispered to me that because of the fire there were no Berries at Hay River, that the Birds had all come to the Pelican; and I have no doubt that He, who is the King of evil Mischief Makers, has also talked in thought-words to Francois, that here is much fur to be had for the killing."

"I should like to see Francois," exclaimed Nekik, the Otter.

"And The Boy!" suggested Mooswa. "It's years since I saw a Man-cub."

"W-h-e-u-f-f-!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Muskwa. "I saw a Man once--Nichemous. Did I tell you about--"

"Save me from Owls!" interrupted Whisky-Jack; "that's your stock-story, old Squeaky Nose. I've heard it fifty times in the last two years."

The Bear stood rocking his big body back and forth while the saucy bird chattered.

"But I should like to see more of Man," he continued, when Jay had finished. "Tell me, Jack, do they always walk on their hind-legs--or only when they are going to kill or fight--as I do? I think we must be cousins," he went on, meditatively.

"You ought to be ashamed of it, then!" snapped the Bird.

"They leave a trail just like mine," proceeded Muskwa, paying no attention to the Jay. "I once saw a Man's track on the mud bank of the river; I could have sworn it was one of my family had pa.s.sed--a long foot-print with a heel."

"Perhaps it was your own track--you are so terribly stupid at times,"

suggested Jack.

"You might have made that mistake," retorted Muskwa, "for you can't scent; but when I investigated with my nose, I knew that it was Man.

There was the same horrible smell that came to me once as two of these creatures pa.s.sed down the river in a canoe, whilst I was eating Berries by the water's edge. But you spend most of your time begging a living from these Men, Jack--tell me if they generally walk as I do, on all fours?"

"Long ago they did, Muskwa; when their brains were small, like yours.

Then they developed, and got more sense, and learned to balance themselves on their hind-legs."

"What's the use of having four legs and only using two?" grunted Bear, with a dissatisfied air.

"You'll find out, my Fat Friend, if you come within range of the Ironstick--what did Nichemous try to do? After that you won't ask silly questions, for Francois will take your skin, dry it in the sun, and put your brainless head on a tree as a Medicine Offering to the Hunt Spirit; and he'll take your big carca.s.s home, and The Boy will help him eat it.

Don't bother me about Man--if you want to know his ways, come and see for yourself."

"I'd like to, Clerk," answered Bear, humbly.

"They're going to build a house," a.s.serted Whisky-Jack.

"A lodge!" exclaimed Beaver. "Oh, I must see that."

"What say you, Black King?" queried Carcajou. "May we all go to-morrow, and see this Trapper and The Boy--think you it's safe?"

"Better now than when the Traps are set and Firestick loaded."

So they arranged amongst themselves to go at dawn the next day, and watch from the bush Francois and Roderick.

Then the meeting broke up.

THE BUILDING OF THE SHACK

Next morning, just as the gray oncoming Day was rolling back into the Forest depths the Night curtain, Muskwa, who was swinging along leisurely, with a walk like a Blue-Jacket, towards the Trapper's Camp, discovered Wapoos sitting in his path.

"A snareless runway to you, Little Brother! Are you heading for the Shack?"

"Yes," bleated Wapoos; "I'm still weak from the Seventh Year sickness, and hop badly, I fear."

"Jump up, Afflicted One, your furry stomach will feel warm on my back,--Huh! huh! this beastly fog that comes up from the waters of the Athabasca to battle with the sunlight gets into my lungs. I shall soon have to creep into a warm nest for my long sleep."

"Hast seen any of our Comrades?" queried Wapoos, as he lay in the velvet cushion of black fur that was a good four inches deep on Bear's back.

"I heard Rof's hoa.r.s.e bay as he called across the Pelican to some one.

Here is Nekik's trail, where his belly has sc.r.a.ped all the mud spots."

"Aren't we a funny lot?" giggled Wapoos. "Mooswa's legs are like the posts of Man's cache--so long; and Otter's are like the knots on a tree--too short. See! there goes Black King and his red-headed Mother."

"That is the queerest outfit in the Boundaries," chuckled Muskwa. "The Widow is red, and three of the Sons; the Babe, Stripes, is brown, with a dark cross on his back; while the King is as black as my Daddy was.

Sweet Honey! but his coat was beautiful--like the inside of a hole on a pitch-dark night. There is a family of Half-breeds up at The Landing just like the Widow's lot. Some are red-haired, some are brown, and some are black. I saw them once Fishing at Duck Lake."

"Did they see you, Muskwa?"

"Am I not here, Little Brother--therefore their eyes were busy with the Fish. Wu-u-f-f! I catch the scent of Man. Jump down, Wapoos; push through the Willows and tell me what thou seest."

Bear sat on his haunches and waited.

"There's a white lodge," reported Rabbit, as he hopped back, "and inside is a throat-call that is not of our Comrades."

"That's Man's tepee; most like it was The Boy's song your big ears heard."

They went forward gingerly, Wapoos acting as pilot. In a little open s.p.a.ce where Red Stone Brook emptied into the Athabasca was a small "A"

tent. The two comrades lay down in the willows to watch. Soon they were joined by Black King; Otter was already there. Then came Blue Wolf and Mooswa. As Carcajou joined them, Whisky-Jack fluttered into the centre of the party.

"That's a Tent," he said, with the air of a courier explaining sights to a party of tourists. "The Boy is putting on his fur. Do you hear his song-cry?"

"He hath a full stomach," growled Rof, "for his voice is rich in content. What is the cry, Bird of Knowledge?"

"It's a song of my Crow Cousins. I'll repeat a line for your fur-filled ears:--

"'There were three crows sat on a tree, And they were black as crows could be; Said one of them unto his mate, Let's catch old Carcajou to ate!'"

"All of a kind flock together," retorted Wolverine; "Birds, and Boys, and Fools!"

Jack chuckled. To have roused Carcajou's anger was something to start the day with.

"Plenty of Water to you all, Comrades," greeted Beaver pleasantly, patting a smooth seat for himself with his tail, as he joined the others.