The Wilderness Castaways Part 17

"Anywheres you finds runs. Work up through th' timber an' don't lose sight o' th' river. Mark th' places where you sets un by blazin' a tree clost by un, like this," and as high as he could conveniently reach with the axe, Dan chipped a piece of bark as big as his hand from either side of a tree, where the white bared wood could be readily seen by one following up or down the river.

"I'll take th' shotgun an' leave my rifle with you. 'Twill be easier t' get pa'tridges with th' shotgun, an' I sees any."

"Will you come back here for me?"

"Yes, I'll be lookin' you up," and Dan strode away.

Setting snares was a novel occupation for Paul, and he found the work intensely interesting. Upon every new run that he discovered he duplicated as exactly and as carefully as possible the snare that Dan had set, and then blazed a tree to mark its position.

He was thinking now constantly of good things to eat, and feasts that he would have when he reached home. This kept his mind occupied with pleasant thoughts while his hands were at work.

Several hours had pa.s.sed, several snares had been set, and he was still busily engaged when Dan, right at his elbow, said:

"Feelin' hungry?"

"Oh!" and Paul jumped. "Dan, I didn't see you. You frightened me."

Dan laughed.

"See what I'm gettin'," and he held up seven fat ptarmigans.

"Oh, Dan, but that's fine!" exclaimed Paul, handling the birds caressingly.

"Let's put on a fire an' have a snack," said Dan. "Seems like I can't walk no farther till I eats."

Dan collected some small dry twigs and a handful of the dry moss which in northern forests collects beneath the limbs of spruce trees. With his foot he sc.r.a.ped the snow from a small area, baring the ground. In the center of this he placed the moss, arranged the sticks about it with much care, struck a match to the moss, and in an incredibly short time had a cheery fire blazing.

"Break some boughs for a seat, Paul, while I plucks th' pa'tridges,"

he suggested.

Two of the birds were quickly plucked and drawn, Dan placing the entrails carefully aside on clean snow. Then he cut two dead sticks a couple of feet in length, sharpened them at each end, impaled a ptarmigan on each, and stuck the other sharpened end of the sticks in the ground in such position that the birds were near enough to the fire to broil without burning.

"'Tis wonderful extravagant for each of us t' be eatin' a whole pa'tridge," said he, as he sat down upon the seat of boughs Paul had provided, "but we ain't been eatin' much lately, an' I finds myself gettin' weak, an' I'm thinkin' we'll be hungry yet after we eats un, for one pa'tridge with nothin' t' go with un ain't much."

"I feel as though I could eat both of them myself. I wonder if I'll ever get enough to eat again," said Paul. "I've been planning the things I'm going to eat when I get home."

While Dan turned the birds now and again they planned feasts and talked of good things they had eaten and longed to eat again, until Dan finally announced:

"Well, they's done."

"It was just enough to make me hungrier," declared Paul when the last morsel had been eaten, even to the tender bones, and thoroughly enjoyed, though they had no salt for seasoning.

Dan reached over for the entrails, wound one upon the end of each stick, and, handing Paul one of the sticks, began to broil his own over the coals.

"What you going to do with them?" asked Paul.

"Eat 'em," announced Dan. "You remember th' way th' huskies done? I'm thinkin' if they's good for huskies they's good for us."

"I don't know," said Paul, hesitating. Then like one plunging into a cold bath he followed Dan's example, remarking, as he watched the swelling, sputtering things: "It's funny the way people change. When I saw the Eskimos eat them I thought it was a terrible thing to do, but it doesn't seem so bad now."

"Dad says folks can eat most anything if they's hungry enough."

"I guess he's right."

"They're not so bad," said Dan, tasting an end of his.

"They're really pretty good," a.s.serted Paul, gingerly taking a mouthful.

"I was thinkin' we better not waste un. We'll have t' save th' little grub we has in th' tent for a time when we'll need un more, an' be livin' now on what we kills."

It was a day of good fortune. On their return to camp they made a wide detour, exploring a section that Dan had not yet visited, and suddenly, while skirting a marsh in the center of which was a pond, Dan grabbed Paul by the arm.

"Geese!" he exclaimed.

The pond was discovered to be a widening of a brook, flowing to the southward to join their river.

"Now we'll crawl up along th' willow brush, an' don't be shootin' till I says to," directed Dan. "When I says 'shoot,' take th' nighest one with one barrel an' th' next nighest with t' other barrel, an' be steady, fer 't means grub. I'll give 'em bullets with th' rifle."

Cautiously and silently they crawled foot by foot along the lee of the willow bushes that lined the brook. Once Paul inadvertently broke a twig and an old gander held up his head in alarm. They threw themselves flat and lay like logs in the snow until the gander a.s.suming that he was mistaken in his premonition of danger, resumed feeding. It was a moment of intense excitement for the young hunters.

"Now," whispered Dan, when they had at length come abreast of the geese, "an' be careful."

Slowly they brought their guns to their shoulders, still lying flat on the ground, and fired.

Instantly there was a great commotion among the geese, which, instead of rising and flying away, half ran on the surface of the water, flapping their wings to help them in their retreat.

The guns rang out again. Before Paul, in his excitement, could reload, the game was quite out of range of his shotgun, but Dan with his rifle fired several more shots after the retreating birds.

Five geese lay upon the water when the fusillade was over, and the boys hugged each other in an ecstasy of delight.

"How'll we get them? They're away out in deep water," asked Paul.

"I'll get un," said Dan, beginning to undress, "I'll go in for un."

"Let me do it, Dan," suggested Paul. "You do all the hard and disagreeable work."

"Oh, I don't mind goin' in. 'Tain't so cold," declared Dan, who was now stripped, and plunged fearlessly into the icy water.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Fired several more shots after the retreating birds]

It was but a moment's work to secure the geese, and Dan, standing barefooted in the snow, donned his clothes as quickly as possible, declaring the moment he was dressed that he "felt fine and warm."

"What luck!" exclaimed Paul, lifting goose after goose to test its weight. "We've got enough to last us a whole week."

"'Tis not luck," remonstrated Dan, who never admitted that anything came by mere luck. "Th' Lord were skimpin' our grub so's we'd be careful of what we gets when we gets un, an' then He sends along th'

pa'tridges an' geese. Dad says 'tis th' Lord's way, when a feller's doin' all he kin for hisself."

"Anyhow we got the geese."