Rocky Mountain Boys Part 6

At home, and cooked in the civilized fashion, with possibly only a poor appet.i.te spurring one on, venison is apt to seem dry eating; but take it out in the woods with the proper surroundings, and hunger that is clamorous in its demands; with the game cooked after the hunter's fashion, and there is nothing more delightful. Just so the coffee tastes like nectar out of a rusty old tin cup, while at home much of the pleasure is lost if there happens to be a crack in the delicate china cup in which the fragrant juice of the Java bean is served. The conditions and surroundings have a great deal to do with the enjoyment of a thing; and venison was never intended to be eaten over a snow-white table cloth, and flanked by cut gla.s.s and china and silverware.

While Felix commenced to get supper Tom gave his attention to taking off the gray "jackets," as he called them, of the wolves.

"Some day, not a great ways off," he remarked, "they'll be keeping a chauffeur or a gentleman in a car snug and warm, and that's a better use for them, than just covering three pesky calf-killers. I'm always tickled all to death to see a wolf knocked over, I despise the breed so; they're so sneaky and so cruel."

"Well, they looked that way to me, let me tell you," remarked Felix from within the shack, where he was busily employed; "especially when they drew back their lips and showed me what long fangs they had, all of 'em.

But all's well that ends well; and we've got a nice bunch of wolf pelts to start on."

After awhile the tantalizing odor of coffee began to steal out to Tom; and then this was supplemented by the delightful smell of frying meat; for they had fetched along a good-sized frying pan, without which Tom never would go camping.

He had just washed up, after completing his job, so far as the first part of it went, when Felix announced that supper was ready.

"I reckon you'd better take a look around tomorrow," Tom remarked, as they sat there by the fire, enjoying a bountiful meal that made both boys as contented as kings. "I had my inning today; and besides, I've got lots of work to do, what with getting these wolf pelts fastened on stretchers; and setting a few traps in places not a great ways from the shack. And after the time you had, I give you fair warning that I'll never be caught out, with my gun at home. If you'd had time, of course, you could have climbed a tree; but those hungry chaps didn't mean to let you try such a dodge. Chances were they'd have nabbed you in three shakes of a lamb's tail."

"But we've got enough meat for awhile, haven't we?" asked Felix.

"Better lay in a stock while the chance offers," replied the other, wisely. "If we want to keep it I know how the Indians jerk their venison, and it ain't half way bad, cooked in a stew, or eaten as it's dried. Pemmican they call it, and some of the lot they carry is about as black as your hat, from the smoke it was dried in. An Indian brave can run for days with only a handful of that stuff along to nibble at when he feels faint. It's a life saver, all right."

"Perhaps, then, I will take a look around," Felix admitted; for he was eager to try his luck with the deer, as well as have a chance to observe what the surrounding country looked like.

They pa.s.sed a pleasant evening, both busy doing some little thing; for there could always be found plenty that needed attention; and Tom was a great hand to want to have everything about him shipshape.

And when finally, becoming tired, the two chums turned in, they did not need any rocking to put them to sleep.

CHAPTER VI

FELIX TAKES HIS TURN

So another day found the campers under the shadow of the great Rockies.

They were up early, for it had been about nine o'clock when they turned in on the preceding night; and there was plenty waiting to be done.

"Suppose you let the pelts go until later in the day, Tom," remarked Felix as they ate breakfast at the rough table, which Old Sol had built for his use when he used to spend so many months every winter up here, in this favorite nook.

"What for?" asked the other, well knowing that Felix would never make this odd proposition without having some good reason for it.

"Well," said his chum, slowly, "I'd like to go with you for a little while, and see how you set the traps you think of putting out. Then, later on in the day, perhaps after we've had a bite of lunch, I might try a tramp in another quarter from where you went, just to see what the country looks like."

"Just as you say," replied Tom, readily enough. "I didn't stop to think that perhaps you'd like to see the operation. And I guess it's just as well that you pick up some information about how to do the job; because some days perhaps you'll want to run the line of traps yourself; and then you'll have to know how to set them, as well as keep your scent from staying around, and warning timid animals away."

In about half an hour they started forth, each carrying a few traps. Tom had been cudgeling his brains to remember all that Old Sol had told him about his favorite places for setting his mink traps. There was a little ravine close by, through which a stream of water ran; and along the banks of this the wary animals abound.

Perhaps Tom may not have gone about his task in exactly the same way an experienced trapper would; for it takes years of work to learn all there is to know in connection with the cunning little fur-bearing animals that look on man as their most implacable foe, as indeed he has been ever since the world began.

Some people have a knack for doing this sort of thing, while others never seem able to learn anything about the game. Tom was one of the former. He had spent enough time with Old Sol to learn a great many points that were worth knowing. The rest could only come through personal experience in the field.

These mink traps were set in front of certain openings in the banks which, from the signs, were "used" by the mink in traveling about, a peculiar habit they have of doing at certain times of the year.

Then a couple of fox traps were left at spots which Tom understood were likely to bring about results. Great care had to be exercised in setting these traps, so as to conceal the human scent, which would come to the acute sense of smell of the sly fox, and completely baffle the designs of the would-be trappers.

After that some muskrats traps were placed in a little marsh where the rodents lived in great numbers. They are possibly the easiest animal to trap there is; and as the price of their skins has been going steadily up from next to nothing, until now they bring as high as sixty-five cents apiece, it pays a trapper to devote his entire time to taking the rats; which, truth to tell, are really no relation to the ordinary house rats, but are called musquash by the Indians, and are really very tasty as food.

It was when the boys were starting back to the dugout, after locating the last of their muskrat traps in the marsh, that Tom made a discovery.

"Looky here!" he exclaimed, pointing to one side; "what's been going on, d'ye suppose? Part of a deer, and it hasn't been killed more'n a week.

Why, the foxes haven't made way with it all. Queer those hungry wolves didn't scent it; but then they don't eat carrion as a rule, like the coyotes. They're daintier in their choice of food."

"Whatever do you suppose killed this deer?" asked Felix, as they turned that way.

"We'll soon find out," replied his chum; "but the chances are ten to one it was a bullet from a rifle."

He bent over to examine the few remains, and presently looked up with a smile.

"What did I tell you, Felix?" he demanded, holding some small object before his chum's eyes.

It was a bullet, somewhat flattened from having struck the heavier bones, when it pierced the body of the deer.

"And only a week back, you say, Tom?" remarked Felix, a frown appearing on his face. "Then some party has been around here a short time ago? I had begun to believe we were going to have it all to ourselves; but I suppose that would be too good luck. Any idea what sort of a man the hunter was?"

"Injun," replied Tom, laconically, as he pointed to the mark of a moccasin in the soft soil near by; and which Felix noticed "toed-in;"

for an Indian always walks that way; as Nature intended man should, before he began to wear stiff boots, and started to use his feet the wrong way, by "toeing-out."

"Whew! then all I hope is, that it turns out to be that good old halfbreed we heard so much about, Charley Crow they call him, because his other name is too much for a fellow's tongue. I wouldn't mind him so much; and if he's starting to put in a season trapping in this neighborhood, why, we might make friends with him, you know."

"As for me," declared Tom, with a disconsolate look on his sun-burned face; "you know, I don't take much stock in any Injun or half-breed. I only hope we have the good fortune not to run across this fellow, or any of his kind, all the time we stick it out up here. But then I'm prejudiced, I own up. Charley may be all they say about him. We'll let it go at that. If he doesn't bother us, be sure I'll not go ten steps out of my way to look him up."

All the same, it made them a little serious as they walked back to the camp. If there were others hunting and trapping in that section, such a thing always opened the door for all sorts of new troubles.

Supposing there should turn out to be a whole hunting party of Shoshones or Flatfoot Indians off their reservation, and engaged in a grand hunt; they would make things look pretty "sick," as Tom expressed it, around there, in short order.

But then, fortunately perhaps, boys are not much given to forebodings; and presently both Tom and his chum were feeling themselves again.

Doubtless the recollection of that deer would return to them more than a few times to arouse these same doubts and speculations. And every time Tom felt that smashed bit of lead in his pocket, he would allow himself to indulge in guesses that could hardly lead to anywhere in particular.

It was now getting on toward noon, and Felix announced that he would not bother making a start until some time afterwards. There was no need of hurry, and inside of a couple of hours, he thought he ought to cover as much ground as he wanted to get over for that time.

"I'd better be making a start with those wolf pelts," said Tom; "because there's no telling what we may have on our hands by tomorrow, if only a third of those nine traps bring us returns. Makes me think I'm out again with Old Sol. How much I'd like to have him along, right now, he's such a bully old chap; and with a lot of queer things to tell about his experiences."

Although Felix did not bother to say so, truth to tell, he was entirely satisfied with the way things ran just then; there could not be a better comrade than Tom Tucker, and according to his mind, two was always a better number than three.

He watched Tom get busy with one of the pelts, and affix it to the large stretching board; after he had done considerable sc.r.a.ping, so as to get the skin as free from flesh as possible.

"They're prime skins, and that's what," the worker declared. "And if you'd shot this fellow on purpose so as not to injure his hide, you couldn't have done better."

"That must be the one that was trying to b.u.t.t in at the door when I opened it just a mite," declared Felix. "I gave him his right down his throat; for he had his mouth open, and I could see the rows of shining white teeth; besides his red tongue hanging out."

"Of course that's it," remarked Tom. "I remember now that the others are shot in the side, and both of them just back of the foreleg. Great work, that, my boy; and when it comes to shooting I'll have to take a back seat, I reckon."