Rolf in the Woods Part 10

"These are fool hens," he explained. "You can mostly get them this way; sure, if you have a dog to help, but ruffed grouse is no such fool."

Rolf dressed the birds and as usual threw the entrails Skook.u.m. Poor little dog! he was, indeed, a sorry sight. He looked sadly out of his bulging eyes, feebly moved swollen jaws, but did not touch the food he once would have pounced on. He did not eat because he could not open his mouth.

At camp the trappers made a log trap and continued the line with blazes and deadfalls, until, after a mile, they came to a broad tamarack swamp, and, skirting its edge, found a small, outflowing stream that brought them to an eastward-facing hollow. Everywhere there were signs game, but they were not prepared for the scene that opened as they cautiously pushed through the thickets into a high, hardwood bush. A deer rose out of the gra.s.s and stared curiously at them; then another and another until nearly a dozen were in sight; still farther many others appeared; to the left were more, and movements told of yet others to the right.

Then their white flags went up and all loped gently away on the slope that rose to the north. There may have been twenty or thirty deer in sight, but the general effect of all their white tails, bobbing away, was that the woods were full of deer. They seemed to be there by the hundreds and the joy of seeing so many beautiful live things was helped in the hunters by the feeling that this was their own hunting-ground.

They had, indeed, reached the land of plenty.

The stream increased as they marched; many springs and some important rivulets joined on. They found some old beaver signs but none new; and they left their deadfalls every quarter mile or less.

The stream began to descend more quickly until it was in a long, narrow valley with steep clay sides and many pools. Here they saw again and again the tracks and signs of otter and coming quietly round a turn that opened a new reach they heard a deep splash, then another and another.

The hunters' first thought was to tie up Skook.u.m, but a glance showed that this was unnecessary. They softly dropped the packs and the sick dog lay meekly down beside them. Then they crept forward with hunter caution, favoured by an easterly breeze. Their first thought was of beaver, but they had seen no recent sign, nor was there anything that looked like a beaver pond. The measured splash, splash, splash--was not so far ahead. It might be a bear s.n.a.t.c.hing fish, or--no, that was too unpleasant--a man baling out a canoe. Still the slow splash, splash, went on at intervals, not quite regular.

Now it seemed but thirty yards ahead and in the creek.

With the utmost care they crawled to the edge of the clay and opposite they saw a sight but rarely glimpsed by man. Here were six otters; two evidently full-grown, and four seeming young of the pair, engaged in a most hilarious and human game of tobogganing down a steep clay hill to plump into a deep part at its foot.

Plump went the largest, presumably the father; down he went, to reappear at the edge, scramble out and up an easy slope to the top of the twenty-foot bank. Splash, splash, splash, came three of the young ones; splash, splash, the mother and one of the cubs almost together.

"Scoot" went the big male again, and the wet furslopping and rubbing on the long clay chute made it greasier and slipperier every time.

Splash, plump, splash--splash, plump, splash, went the otter family gleefully, running up the bank again, eager each to be first, it seemed, and to do the chute the oftenest.

The gambolling grace, the obvious good humour, the animal hilarity of it all, was absorbingly amusing. The trappers gazed with pleasure that showed how near akin are naturalist and hunter. Of course, they had some covetous thought connected with those glossy hides, but this was September still, and even otter were not yet prime. Shoot, plump, splash, went the happy crew with apparently unabated joy and hilarity.

The slide improved with use and the otters seemed tireless; when all at once a loud but m.u.f.fled yelp was heard and Skook.u.m, forgetting all caution, came leaping down the bank to take a hand.

With a succession of shrill, birdy chirps the old otters warned their young. Plump, plump, plump, all shot into the pool, but to reappear, swimming with heads out, for they were but slightly alarmed. This was too much for Quon.o.b; he levelled his flintlock; snap, bang, it went, pointed at the old male, but he dived at the snap and escaped. Down the bank now rushed the hunters, joined by Skook.u.m, to attack the otters in the pool, for it was small and shallow; unless a burrow led from it, they were trapped.

But the otters realized the peril. All six dashed out of the pool, down the open, gravelly stream the old ones uttering loud chirps that rang like screams. Under the fallen logs and brush they glided, dodging beneath roots and over banks, pursued by the hunters, each armed with a club and by Skook.u.m not armed at all.

The otters seemed to know where they were going and distanced all but the dog. Forgetting his own condition Skook.u.m had almost overtaken one of the otter cubs when the mother wheeled about and, hissing and snarling, charged. Skook.u.m was lucky to get off with a slight nip, for the otter is a dangerous fighter. But the unlucky dog was sent howling back to the two packs that he never should have left.

The hunters now found an open stretch of woods through which Quonab could run ahead and intercept the otters as they bounded on down the stream bed, pursued by Rolf, who vainly tried to deal a blow with his club. In a few seconds the family party was up to Quonab, trapped it seemed, but there is no more desperate a.s.sailant than an otter fighting for its young. So far from being cowed the two old ones made a simultaneous, furious rush at the Indian. Wholly taken by surprise, he missed with his club, and sprang aside to escape their jaws. The family dashed around then past him, and, urged by the continuous chirps of the mother, they plunged under a succession of log jams and into a willow swamp that spread out into an ancient beaver lake and were swallowed up in the silent wilderness.

Chapter 26. Back to the Cabin

The far end of the long swamp the stream emerged, now much larger, and the trappers kept on with their work. When night fell they had completed fifty traps, all told, and again they camped without shelter overhead.

Next day Skook.u.m was so much worse that they began to fear for his life.

He had eaten nothing since the sad encounter. He could drink a little, so Rolf made a pot of soup, and when it was cool the poor doggie managed to swallow some of the liquid after half an hour's patient endeavour.

They were now on the home line; from a hill top they got a distant view of their lake, though it was at least five miles away. Down the creek they went, still making their deadfalls at likely places and still seeing game tracks at the muddy spots. The creek came at length to an extensive, open, hardwood bush, and here it was joined by another stream that came from the south, the two making a small river. From then on they seemed in a land of game; trails of deer were seen on the ground everywhere, and every few minutes they started one or two deer. The shady oak wood itself was flanked and varied with dense cedar swamps such as the deer love to winter in, and after they had tramped through two miles of it, the Indian said, "Good! now we know where to come in winter when we need meat."

At a broad, muddy ford they pa.s.sed an amazing number of tracks, mostly deer, but a few of panther, lynx, fisher, wolf, otter, and mink.

In the afternoon they reached the lake. The stream, quite a broad one here, emptied in about four miles south of the camp. Leaving a deadfall near its mouth they followed the sh.o.r.e and made a log trap every quarter mile just above the high water mark.

When they reached the place of Rolf's first deer they turned aside to see it. The gray jays had picked a good deal of the loose meat. No large animal had troubled it, and yet in the neighbourhood they found the tracks of both wolves and foxes.

"Ugh," said Quonab, "they smell it and come near, but they know that a man has been here; they are not very hungry, so keep away. This is good for trap."

So they made two deadfalls with the carrion half way between them. Then one or two more traps and they reached home, arriving at the camp just as darkness and a heavy rainfall began.

"Good," said Quonab, "our deadfalls are ready; we have done all the work our fingers could not do when the weather is very cold, and the ground too hard for stakes to be driven. Now the traps can get weathered before we go round and set them. Yet we need some strong medicine, some trapper charm."

Next morning he went forth with fish-line and fish-spear; he soon returned with a pickerel. He filled a bottle with cut-up shreds of this, corked it up, and hung it on the warm, sunny side of the shanty. "That will make a charm that every bear will come to," he said, and left it to the action of the sun.

Chapter 27. Sick Dog Skook.u.m

Getting home is always a joy; but walking about the place in the morning they noticed several little things that were wrong. Quonab's lodge was down, the paddles that stood against the shanty were scattered on the ground, and a bag of venison hung high at the ridge was opened and empty.

Quonab studied the tracks and announced "a bad old black bear; he has rollicked round for mischief, upsetting things. But the venison he could not reach; that was a marten that ripped open the bag."

"Then that tells what we should do; build a storehouse at the end of the shanty," said Rolf, adding, "it must be tight and it must be cool."

"Maybe! sometime before winter," said the Indian; "but now we should make another line of traps while the weather is fine."

"No," replied the lad, "Skook.u.m is not fit to travel now. We can't leave him behind, and we can make a storehouse in three days."

The unhappy little dog was worse than ever. He could scarcely breathe, much less eat or drink, and the case was settled.

First they bathed the invalid's head in water as hot as he could stand it. This seemed to help him so much that he swallowed eagerly some soup that they poured into his mouth. A bed was made for him in a sunny place and the hunters set about the new building.

In three days the storehouse was done, excepting the c.h.i.n.king. It was October now, and a sharp night frost warned them of the hard white moons to come. Quonab, as he broke the ice in a tin cup and glanced at the low-hung sun, said: "The leaves are falling fast; snow comes soon; we need another line of traps."

He stopped suddenly; stared across the lake. Rolf looked, and here came three deer, two bucks and a doe, trotting, walking, or lightly clearing obstacles, the doe in advance; the others, rival followers. As they kept along the sh.o.r.e, they came nearer the cabin. Rolf glanced at Quonab, who nodded, then slipped in, got down the gun, and quickly glided unseen to the river where the deer path landed. The bucks did not actually fight, for the season was not yet on, but their horns were clean, their necks were swelling, and they threatened each other as they trotted after the leader. They made for the ford as for some familiar path, and splashed through, almost without swimming. As they landed, Rolf waited a clear view, then gave a short sharp "Hist!" It was like a word of magic, for it turned the three moving deer to three stony-still statues. Rolf's sights were turned on the smaller buck, and when the great cloud following the bang had deared away, the two were gone and the lesser buck was kicking on the ground some fifty yards away.

"We have found the good hunting; the deer walk into camp," said Quonab; and the product of the chase was quickly stored, the first of the supplies to be hung in the new storehouse.

The entrails were piled up and covered with brush and stones. "That will keep off ravens and jays; then in winter the foxes will come and we can take their coats."

Now they must decide for the morning. Skook.u.m was somewhat better, but still very sick, and Rolf suggested: "Quonab, you take the gun and axe and lay a new line. I will stay behind and finish up the cabin for the winter and look after the dog." So it was agreed. The Indian left the camp alone this time and crossed to the east sh.o.r.e of the lake; there to follow up another stream as before and to return in three or four days to the cabin.

Chapter 28. Alone in the Wilderness

Rolf began the day by giving Skook.u.m a bath as hot as he could stand it, and later his soup. For the first he whined feebly and for the second faintly wagged his tail; but clearly he was on the mend.

Now the c.h.i.n.king and moss-plugging of the new cabin required all attention. That took a day and looked like the biggest job on hand, but Rolf had been thinking hard about the winter. In Connecticut the wiser settlers used to bank their houses for the cold weather; in the Adirondacks he knew it was far, far colder, and he soon decided to bank the two shanties as deeply as possible with earth. A good spade made of white oak, with its edge hardened by roasting it brown, was his first necessity, and after two days of digging he had the cabin with its annex buried up to "the eyes" in fresh, clean earth.

A stock of new, dry wood for wet weather helped to show how much too small the cabin was; and now the heavier work was done, and Rolf had plenty of time to think.

Which of us that has been left alone in the wilderness does not remember the sensations of the first day! The feeling of self-dependency, not unmixed with unrestraint; the ending of civilized thought; the total reversion to the primitive; the nearness of the wood-folk; a sense of intimacy; a recurrent feeling of awe at the silent inexorability of all around; and a sweet pervading sense of mastery in the very freedom.

These were among the feelings that swept in waves through Rolf, and when the first night came, he found such comfort--yes, he had to confess it--in the company of the helpless little dog whose bed was by his own.