The Wilderness Castaways Part 32

"Are there any bears?" asked Paul.

"Bears? Yes, there are bears, but you won't see any. They're all in their dens and won't come out till spring."

Long before dawn on Monday morning the boys were awakened from sound slumber by Amesbury singing, in full, melodious tones:

"'Awake, arise, pull out your eyes, And hear what time of day; And when you have done, Pull out your tongue, And see what you can say.'"

Amesbury was cooking breakfast by candlelight, and the room was filled with the odor of coffee and frying venison steak. Ahmik was getting his things ready, preparatory to leaving. The boys crawled drowsily from their sleeping bags.

"Good morning, fellows," called Amesbury cheerily. "Too bad to get you out so early, but Ahmik and I'll have to be going. Wash up; breakfast's ready."

"We'll miss you terribly," said Paul. "It's going to be pretty lonely when you're gone."

"It'll be good to know I'm missed," Amesbury laughed. Then more soberly: "I tell you it's good to have you chaps here. I'll look forward every day I'm gone to getting back. When I'm alone I never care much whether I'm here or somewhere else. But now I've the pleasant antic.i.p.ation before me of coming home to a jolly good day or two each week with you fellows. Your coming here means a lot to me."

"You're mighty good to say so. It was so splendid of you to bring us from the post!" declared Paul.

"You've got to earn your way, you know, and if you work hard you'll earn a little money besides."

With the first hint of gray dawn Amesbury and Ahmik donned their snowshoes, said adieu, and, each hauling his flat-sled, were quickly swallowed by the black shadows of the forest.

It was a marvelously beautiful day. The rising sun set the frost-clad trees and snow sparkling and scintillating, the atmosphere was clear and transparent, and it was altogether too entrancing out of doors for the lads to forego an excursion. They had become well inured to the severe cold, growing more intense with the lengthening January days, and shrank from it not at all.

"Let's begin our trapping today," Paul suggested. "It's just too great to stick inside."

"Now I were thinkin' that," said Dan. "We might be settin' some traps, an' get our trails begun."

"All right; that's bully!" Paul exclaimed enthusiastically. "I never did any trapping, and I'd like to learn how."

They selected a dozen traps each, and cut some bits of venison to bait them with. Dan carried one of Amesbury's axes and Paul's shotgun, explaining: "We might be seein' some birds, now," but Paul, with his own light axe and his share of traps, decided his rifle would be too heavy to carry.

Half a mile from the cabin, in a creek valley, Dan stopped, and pointing to tracks in the snow, explained:

"Them's marten tracks, an' I'm thinkin' we'll set a trap here."

He accordingly selected a spruce tree about four inches in diameter, cut it off four feet above the snow, and in the top of the stump made a V-shaped notch. He then trimmed all the branches, except the brush at the top, from the tree, and with the brush end lying in the snow, laid the b.u.t.t end firmly in the notch cut in the top of the stump, with the b.u.t.t projecting, probably, four feet beyond the stump. With his axe he now split the b.u.t.t of the tree, and prying it open inserted a piece of the venison they had brought for bait. Just back of the bait, and on top of the tree trunk, he fastened and set a trap.

"There," remarked Dan, "I finds that a rare easy way t' set marten traps, an' a good un, too. Th' marten walks up th' tree t' get th'

bait, an' right in th' trap."

"I can do that all right," said Paul.

"Oh, yes, you can do un. 'Tis easy, now you knows how. I'm thinkin'

you might be workin' up this brook, an' set th' traps you has, an' I cuts over t' th' west'ard an' finds another place t' set mine."

"All right," a.s.sented Paul, "and then we'll each have our own traps to look after. It's going to be great sport, Dan."

"'T will be fine t' blaze trees high up where you sets traps, t' mark th' traps," cautioned Dan. "When you gets through now, don't be waitin' for me. I'll make back t' th' cabin."

Accordingly they parted. Dan, turning to the right, disappeared, and Paul, pa.s.sing up the valley, was presently deeply engrossed in his work. Once he fancied he heard something behind him, but there was nothing to be seen when he turned to look, and concluding he had imagined it he dismissed it from his mind and continued his work.

His last trap was set late in the afternoon, and, very hungry, he turned toward the cabin. A little way down the trail he again had the sensation that some creature was stealthily following him, but still there was nothing visible. This feeling clung to him now, and presently made him so nervous that he increased his pace to a trot.

He was still a full mile from the cabin when, again glancing behind, he discovered two great, skulking animals a hundred yards in his rear.

"Husky dogs!" he said aloud, and felt momentary relief from his anxiety. Then like a flash he realized that they were not dogs at all, but big, savage gray wolves. A cold chill ran up Paul's back. He had no arms save his axe. The wolves had stopped. They were sitting upon their haunches, eyeing him hungrily.

CHAPTER XIX

ON THE FUR TRAILS

Paul and the wolves watched each other for a full minute. When Paul's first terror left him somewhat, and when he remembered what Dan had so often said: "They ain't no beast to be skeered of in this country,"

and again: "Wolves is big cowards unless they's in packs," he regained his self composure somewhat. Here were two, to be sure, but two could hardly be designated as a pack.

He also remembered that he had heard that a loud scream would sometimes frighten savage animals, and gathering his energies for it, he took a step toward the wolves, at the same instant opening his lungs in one wild, vociferous yell. The wolves, however, were not to be frightened so easily. They sat with their tongues lolling, and if an animal's countenance can display amused wonder, theirs certainly did.

Paul, with a renewal of his fear, resumed his trail home. He wished to run, but Amesbury had told a story of having been followed by three or four once, when he was unarmed, and had stated that the fact that he had not increased his pace, and had given the animals no evidence of fear, had prevented them from attacking him. "An animal knows when you're frightened," explained Amesbury. "Let him feel that you're in fear of him, and he'll attack. If you're ever followed, keep an even, unhurried gait, and they'll be shy of you. But start to run and the beast will do the same, and overtake you every time."

So Paul kept as even a pace as he could maintain under the circ.u.mstances. Now and again he glanced back. The wolves were following. For a little way they seemed not to be lessening the distance between him and them. At length, however, he discovered that they were coming closer and closer--very gradually, but still gaining upon him. Once or twice he stopped and they stopped, but when he started forward so did they.

When Paul made the second halt he noted with alarm that the wolves had shortened the distance between him and them, since he had first discovered them, by half. He knew then without a doubt that they had marked him for their prey.

He had not yet reached the point where Dan had parted from him in the morning. It was all he could do to restrain himself from breaking into a run, but this he was satisfied would prove immediately fatal.

At length the wolves were less than a hundred feet from his heels, and when he reached the branching of his own and Dan's trails they were less than fifty feet away. He realized now that they were preparing for the attack. He could not hope to reach the cabin.

He halted before a clump of thick willow brush that grew along the stream, and faced about. The wolves stopped, sat on their haunches as before, their red tongues hanging from their mouths. He could see the fierce gleam of their eyes now.

He resolved to try again to frighten them, and again he gave a wild yell, stepping a pace toward them. They drew in their tongues and snarled, showing their wicked fangs. He who has seen the snarl of a wolf will understand Paul's sensations. There was no doubt now of their intentions.

Paul was afraid to turn his back upon them. He felt the moment he did so they would spring. The cabin was still a half mile away. He waited, his axe grasped in both hands, prepared to strike.

This position was held for ten minutes, though it seemed an hour to Paul. Presently the animals took to their feet, and gradually edged in, snarling now in savage malevolence. One at last made a spring.

Paul saw the preparatory move, swung his axe with all his strength, caught the beast square on the head, and it fell lifeless at his feet.

At the same instant a rifle shot rang out, and the other wolf rolled over, also dead.

With the severe nervous strain and excitement ended, Paul nearly collapsed, but a shout from Dan brought him to his senses.

"Is you hurt, Paul? Is you hurt?" Dan asked as he came up, intense anxiety in his voice.

"No," answered Paul, putting, on a bold face, "but they did give me a run for it."

"'T was a wonderful close call!" exclaimed Dan. "I were comin' t' meet you when I hears you holler. I were leavin' th' gun in th' cabin, an'

I has none, so I runs back an' gets your rifle. 'T weren't no common holler you gives, an' I knows when I hears un things is amiss somehow, so I gets th' rifle, an' 't were well I got un."