by Mayne Reid
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.
AN ODD ALARM.
The first thing our voyageurs did after choosing a suitable situation,was to build a log-hut. Being young backwoodsmen this was but a trifleto them. All four of them knew how to handle an axe with dexterity.The logs were soon cut and notched, and a small cabin was put up, androofed with split clap-boards. With the stones that lay near the shoreof the lake they built a chimney. It was but a rude structure, but itdrew admirably. Clay was wanted to "chink" the cabin, but that couldnot be had, as the ground was hard frozen, and it was quite impossibleto make either clay or mud. Even hot water poured out would freeze intoice in a few minutes. This was a serious want--for in such a coldclimate even the smallest hole in the walls will keep a houseuncomfortable, and to fill the interstices between the logs, so as tomake them air-tight, some soft substance was necessary. Grass wassuggested, and Lucien went off in search of it. After a while hereturned with an armful of half-withered grass, which all agreed wouldbe the very thing; and a large quantity was soon collected, as it grewplentifully at a short distance from the cabin.
They now set to work to stuff it into the chinks; when, to theirastonishment, they found that this grass had a beautiful smell, quite aspowerful and as pleasant as that of mint or thyme! When a smallquantity of it was flung into the fire it filled the cabin with afragrance as agreeable as the costliest perfumes. It was the "scentedgrass," which grows in great profusion in many parts of the Hudson's Bayterritory, and out of which the Indians often make their beds, burningit also upon the fire to enjoy its aromatic perfume.
For the first day or two, at their new abode, the travellers had livedaltogether on fish. They had, of course, brought their net with themfrom the island, and had set it near the shore in the same way asbefore. They had captured as many as they wanted, and, strange to say,at one haul they found no less than five different species in the net!One kind, a white fish, the _Coregonus albus_ of naturalists, but whichis named "tittameg" by the fur-traders, they caught in great plenty.This fish is found in nearly all the lakes and rivers of the Hudson'sBay territory, and is much prized both by whites and Indians for itsdelicate flavour. At some of the trading posts it often forms, forweeks together, the only food which the residents can obtain; and theyare quite satisfied when they can get enough of it. The tittameg is nota large fish; the largest attain to the weight of about eight pounds.
There was another and still smaller species, which, from its colour, thevoyageurs call the "poisson bleu," or blue fish. It is the _Coregonussignifer_ of ichthyologists. It is a species of grayling, and frequentssharp-running water, where it will leap at the fly like a trout.Several kinds of trout also inhabit the Great Slave Lake, and some ofthese attain to the enormous weight of eighty pounds! A few werecaught, but none of so gigantic proportions as this. Pike were alsotaken in the net, and a species of burbot (_Gadus lota_). This last isone of the most voracious of the finny tribe, and preys upon all othersthat it is able to swallow. It devours whole quantities of cray-fish,until its stomach becomes crammed to such a degree as to distort theshape of its whole body. When this kind was drawn out, it was treatedvery rudely by the boys--because its flesh was known to be extremelyunsavoury, and none of them cared to eat it. Marengo, however, had nosuch scruples, and he was wont to make several hearty meals each dayupon the rejected burbot.
A fish diet exclusively was not the thing; and as our party soon grewtired of it, the hunter Basil shouldered his rifle, and strode off intothe woods in search of game. The others remained working upon thecabin, which was still far from being finished.
Basil kept along the edge of the lake in an easterly direction. He hadnot gone more than a quarter of a mile, when he came upon a dry gravellyridge, which was thickly covered with a species of pine-trees thatresembled the Scotch fir (_Pinus sylvestris_). These trees were notover forty feet in height, with very thick trunks and long flexiblebranches. No other trees grew among them, for it is the nature of thispine--which was the "scrub" or grey pine (_Pinus Banksiana)_ tomonopolise the ground wherever it grows. As Basil passed on, he noticedthat many of the trees were completely "barked," particularly on thebranches; and small pieces of the bark lay scattered over the ground, asthough it had been peeled off and gnawed by some animal. He was walkingquietly on and thinking what creature could have made such a wreck, whenhe came to a place where the ground was covered with fine sand or dust.In this, to his astonishment, he observed what he supposed to be thetracks of human feet! They were not those of a man, but small tracks,resembling the footsteps of a child of three or four years of age. Hewas about stooping down to examine them more closely, when a voicesounded in his ears exactly like the cry of a child! This brought himsuddenly to an erect attitude again, and he looked all round to discoverwho or what had uttered that strange cry. He could see no one--child orman--and strange, too, for he had a clear view through the tree-trunksfor several hundred yards around. He was filled with curiosity, notunmixed with alarm; and, stepping forward a few paces, he was about tobend down and examine the tracks a second time, when the singular cryagain startled him. This time it was louder than before, as if he wascloser to whatever had uttered it, but Basil now perceived that itproceeded from above him. The creature from which it came was certainlynot upon the ground, but high up among the tops of the trees. He lookedup, and there, in the fork of one of the pines, he perceived a singularand hideous-looking animal--such as he had never before seen. It was ofa brown colour, about the size of a terrier-dog, with thick shaggy hair,and clumped up in the fork of the tree--so that its head and feet werescarcely distinguishable. Its odd appearance, as well as the peculiarcry which it had uttered, would have alarmed many a one of less couragethan our young hunter, and Basil was at first, as he afterwardsconfessed, "slightly flurried;" but a moment's reflection told him whatthe animal was--one of the most innocent and inoffensive of God'screatures--the Canada porcupine. It was this, then, that had barked thescrub-pines--for they are its favourite food; and it was its track--which in reality very much resembles that of a child--that Basil hadseen in the sand.
The first thought of the young hunter was to throw up his rifle, andsend a bullet through the ungainly animal; which, instead of making anyeffort to escape, remained almost motionless, uttering, at intervals,its child-like screams. Basil, however, reflected that the report ofhis rifle would frighten any large game that might chance to be near;and as the porcupine was hardly worth a shot, he concluded, uponreflection, it would be better to leave it alone. He knew--for he hadheard Lucien say so--that he would find the porcupine at any time, wereit a week, or even a month after--for these creatures remain sometimes awhole winter in the same grove. He resolved, therefore, should no othergame turn up, to return for it; and, shouldering his rifle again, hecontinued his course through the woods.
As he proceeded, the timber became thinner. The scrub-pines gave placeto poplar-trees, with here and there an undergrowth of willows. Thetrees stood far apart, and the willows grew only in clumps or "islands,"so that the view was nearly open for many hundred yards around. Basilwalked on with all the silence and watchfulness of a true "still"hunter--for, among backwoodsmen, this species of hunting is so called.He ascended a low hill, and keeping a tree in front of him, lookedcautiously over its crest. Before him, and stretching from the bottomof the hill, was a level tract of considerable extent. It was boundedon one side by the edge of the lake, and on all the others by thinwoods, similar to those through which the hunter had been for some timetravelling. Here and there, over the plain, there stood trees, farapart from each other, and in nowise intercepting the view for a mile ormore. The ground was clear of underwood, except along the immediateedge of the lake, which was fringed by a thicket of willows.
As Basil looked over the hill, he espied a small group of animals nearthe interior border of the willows. He had never seen animals of thesame species before, but the genus was easily told. The tall antleredhorns, that rose upon the
head of one of them, showed that they weredeer of some kind; and the immense size of the creature that bore them,together with his ungainly form, his long legs, and ass-like ears, hishuge head with its overhanging lip, his short neck with its standingmane, and, above all, the broad palmation of the horns themselves, leftBasil without any doubt upon his mind that the animals before him weremoose-deer--the largest, and perhaps the most awkward, of all the deerkind. The one with the antlers was the male or bull-moose. The otherswere the female and her two calves of the preceding year. The latterwere still but half-grown, and, like the female, were without the"branching horns" that adorned the head of the old bull. They were allof a dark-brown colour--looking blackish in the distance--but the largeone was darker than any of the others.
Basil's heart beat high, for he had often heard of the great moose, butnow saw it for the first time. In his own country it is not found, asit is peculiarly a creature of the cold regions, and ranges no fartherto the south than the northern edge of the United States territory. Tothe north it is met with as far as timber grows--even to the shores ofthe Polar Sea! Naturalists are not certain, whether or not it be thesame animal with the elk (_Cervus alces_) of Europe. Certainly the twoare but little, if anything, different; but the name "elk" has beengiven in America to quite another and smaller species of deer--thewapiti (_Cervus Canadensis_). The moose takes its name from its Indianappellation, "moosoa," or "wood-eater;" and this name is veryappropriate, as the animal lives mostly upon the leaves and twigs oftrees. In fact, its structure--like that of the camelopard--is suchthat it finds great difficulty in reaching grass, or any other herbage,except where the latter chances to be very tall, or grows upon thedeclivity of a very steep hill. When it wishes to feed upon grass, themoose usually seeks it in such situations; and it may often be seenbrowsing up the side of a hill, with its legs spread widely on bothsides of its neck. But its favourite food is found at a more convenientheight, and consists of the young shoots of many species of trees. Itprefers those of the poplar, the birch-tree, and willows, and one kindof these last, the red willow, is its particular favourite. The"striped" maple (_Acer striatum_) is also much relished by the moose--hence the name "moose-wood," by which this tree is known among thehunters. It loves also the common water-lilies (_Nympha_); and insummer it may be seen wading out into lakes, and plucking up theirsucculent leaves. It takes to the water also for other purposes--tocool its body, and rid itself of several species of gnats and mosquitoesthat at this season torment it exceedingly. At such times it is moreeasily approached; and the Indians hunt it in their canoes, and kill itin the water, both with spears and arrows. They never find the moose,however, in large numbers--for it is a solitary animal, and onlyassociates in pairs during one part of the year, and in families atanother season--as Basil now found it. In winter the Indians track itthrough the snow, following it upon snow-shoes. These give them theadvantage of skimming along the surface, while the moose plunges throughthe deep drift, and is therefore impeded in its flight.Notwithstanding, it will frequently escape from the hunter, after a_chase of several days' duration_! Sometimes, in deep snow, a dozen ormore of these animals will be found in one place, where they have gotaccidentally together. The snow will be trodden down until the placeappears as if enclosed by a wall. This the hunters term a"moose-pound," and when found in such situations the moose are easilyapproached and surrounded--when a general _battue_ takes place, in whichfew or none of the animals are allowed to escape.
I have said that Basil's heart beat high at the sight of the moose. Hewas very desirous of killing one--partly on account of the novelty ofthe thing, and partly because he and his companions at the camp wereanxious for a change of diet. Moose-meat was the very thing; and heknew that if he could return to camp with a few pieces of this strungover his gun, he would receive a double welcome. He was well aware thatthe flesh of the moose was of the most savoury and delicate kind, andthat the long pendulous upper lip is one of the "tit-bits" of the furcountries. Moreover, the fine hide would be an acceptable addition totheir stock, as it is the best of all deerskins for mocassins, as wellas snow-shoes--articles which Basil knew would soon be needed. Forthese reasons he was unusually desirous of killing one of the moose.
He knew it would be difficult to approach them. He had heard that theywere shyest at that very season--the beginning of winter--and indeedsuch is the case. No deer is so difficult to get a shot at as a moosein early winter. In summer it is not so--as then the mosquitoes tormentthese animals to such a degree that they pay less heed to other enemies,and the hunter can more easily approach them. In winter they are alwayson the alert. Their sense of smell--as well as of sight and hearing--isacute to an extreme degree, and they are cunning besides. They canscent an enemy a long distance off--if the wind be in their favour--andthe snapping of a twig, or the slightest rustle of the leaves, issufficient to start them off. In their journeyings through the snow,when they wish to rest themselves, they make a sort of _detour_, and,coming back, lie down near the track which they have already passedover. This gives them an opportunity of hearing any enemy that may befollowing upon their trail, and also of making off in a side-direction,while the latter will be looking steadfastly ahead for them.
Basil had heard of all these tricks of the moose--for many an oldmoose-hunter had poured his tale into Basil's ear. He proceeded,therefore, with all due caution. He first buried his hand in hisgame-bag, and after a little groping brought out a downy feather whichhad chanced to be there. This he placed lightly upon the muzzle of hisrifle, and having gently elevated the piece above his head, watched thefeather. After a moment, the breeze carried it off, and Basil noted thedirection it took. This is called, in hunter phrase, "tossing thefeather," and gave Basil the exact direction of the wind--an importantknowledge in the present case. To Basil's gratification he saw that itwas blowing down the lake, and nearly towards himself. He was notexactly to leeward of the moose; but, what was better still, the willowsthat fringed the lake were, for he could see them bending from the deer,as the breeze blew freshly. He knew he could easily get among thewillows; and as they were not yet quite leafless, and, moreover, wereinterspersed with tall reed-grass, they formed a tolerable cover underwhich he might make his approach.
Without losing time, then, he made for the willows, and placing thembetween himself and the game, commenced "approaching" along the shore ofthe lake.
He had a full half-hour's creeping--at one time upon his hands andknees--at another, crawling flat upon his breast like a gigantic lizard,and now and then, at favourable spots, walking in a bent attitude. Afull half-hour was he, and much pain and patience did it cost him,before getting within shot. But Basil was a hunter, and knew both howto endure the pain and practise the patience--virtues that, in huntingas well as in many other occupations, usually meet with their reward.And Basil was likely to meet with his, for on parting the leaves, andlooking cautiously through, he saw that he had arrived at the rightspot. Within fifty yards of him he saw the high shoulders of thebull-moose and his great flat antlers towering over the tops of thewillows, among the leaves of which the snout of the animal was buried.He also caught a glimpse of parts of the other three beyond; but hethought only of the bull, and it was upon him that he kept his eyesfixed. Basil did not think of the quality of the meat, else he wouldhave selected either the cow or one of the calves. Had it beenbuffaloes he would certainly have done so; but as he had never killed amoose, he was determined to slay the leader of the herd.
Indeed, had he wished to shoot one of the others, it might not have beenso easy, as they were farther off, and he could only see the tops oftheir shoulders over the willows. Neither did the bull offer a fairmark. He stood face to face with the hunter, and Basil fancied that ashot on the frontal bone might not kill him. He knew it would not killa buffalo. There was only one other part at which he could aim--thefore-shoulder; and after waiting some moments for the animal to give hima fairer chance, he took aim at this and f
ired. He heard a loudcracking of hoofs, as the cow and calves shambled off over the plain,but he saw that the bull was not with them. He was down behind thewillows. No doubt he was dead.