CHAPTER XXIV
"IN MEMORY"
Up in the mountains, about two miles northwest of Moose Lake, was a holewhich old Mother Nature had carelessly left there, and afterwardsthoughtfully filled with water. The water was blue--probably inimitation of the near-by sky--so the place was called Blue Lake.
At Moose Lake there was a cabin and a canoe, as you may remember, and toInjun and Whitey that had seemed too civilized for a pioneer huntingtrip. So they had fished the canoe out of the lake, and had made aportage with it. The canoe was light, and a boy could carry it over hishead for quite a distance before he got tired or fell over a rock.
Blue Lake was an ideal place for a wild camp. It was almost circular andnearly a mile in diameter. To the north its shore blended with theheights that led to the peaks; heights clad with a rugged growth ofpines and firs that extended toward the timber line. There was nothinggentle or park-like about the Blue Lake.
Its chilly depths were spring-fed, and sheltered trout that were farfrom logy. They would put up an awful fight for life, and as the boyswere using back-to-nature poles, made from the branches of trees, thefish tried the patience even of Injun.
When not tied to a tree Sitting Bull's part in the hunting was tointerfere with matters as much as possible. As a hunting dog he had onlyone advantage; he didn't bark. But he deserved no credit for that. Itwasn't his nature to bark. As Bull tore enthusiastically about, Whiteywould watch him with a rueful smile, and say, "The only way he couldhelp would be by going home, and of course he can't do that."
"In early October a crisp morning found Injun and Whitey leaving camp tobegin what for them was a special day's hunting. They were going fordeer. The deer loved the secluded shores of the lake, and some distancefrom the camp a run led to a spot where the animals came down to drink.This morning the camp was down the wind from that spot; so it was ideal.The boys planned to go in the canoe, and Sitting Bull was securely tiedto a tree to await their return. But Bull looked so longing, so lonely,there was so much entreaty in his eyes, that Whitey allowed his heart tooverrule his head.
"He can't raise much of a row in the canoe, and he won't bark," Whiteysaid rather shamefacedly. "Let's take him along."
Injun said nothing, as usual, but he didn't look disapproving. So theygot into their canoe and paddled up the wind until near the run, wherethey found a low, overhanging branch and ran the canoe under it. Somasked they waited for Mr. Deer to come and drink.
In about an hour he came and with him was Mrs. Deer, or maybe it was hisdaughter, and not his wife, for she looked so young and timid one hardlycould picture her as the mate of Mr. Deer. He was a big fellow who wouldweigh about four hundred pounds, and had fourteen points--littlebranches shooting off his horns.
It was Injun's turn to shoot first, and he pulled back his bowstring andbraced himself to let go. Right here it may be said that at thirty yardsan arrow propelled by an Indian-made bow is just as deadly as a bullet,if it hits its mark. But Injun shot a little high and caught the buck inthe shoulder. He threw up his head and let out a roar of battle, lookingevery inch the magnificent creature that he was, and just churned thewaters of the lake, which he was in up to his knees.
He didn't have very long to bellow his defiance, for Whitey'sSpringfield rifle spoke. Now Mr. Deer turned almost completely over fromthe shock, but again the hit was not in a vital spot. The canoe wasrocking a little, and Mr. Deer was not exactly posing to be shot at. Andthere was another excuse that I have mentioned before--buck fever: thedisease that comes when a big buck deer jumps up from nowhere, andcauses the hunter to lose his head and do the wrong thing.
You would think that Injun and Whitey would have been over that? Well,perhaps they should have been immune, but you will remember that ourmighty hunters were just boys, and even frontier boys can be excused fora sudden attack of a complaint that grownups have. And the grownup whosays that he never has had it, at some time in his life, that Mr.Grownup has not done any deer hunting, or that Mr. Grownup lies. Andwhat's more, some grownups never get over it.
Perhaps Sitting Bull had given the fever to Injun, for the dog wastrembling so that he shook the canoe; each particular hair stood on end,and if any one had stroked Bull, he probably would have got the electricshock of his life. Anyway, Injun sure had buck fever for the first timein his young life, for in bracing himself for his next shot he sat toofar back on his left leg, and when he let go his arrow, over went thecanoe. All hopes for a successful issue of that battle would have endedright there had not Injun's arrow by a lucky shot gone straight into Mr.Deer's heart. With one mighty lunge in the air he fell back in the watertoward the shore, where his horns and part of his body remained abovethe surface. When the canoe went over, Whitey held his rifle high overhis head, so it was still dry and ready for use--a needless precautionin this case.
I hate to write this part of the story. The deer's daughter--she musthave been his daughter--had lots and lots of chances to run away, butshe didn't do it. She just stood there like the poor, timid, scaredthing she was, with every quiver of her graceful body, every look of herbig, brown, childlike eyes saying, "Please, why did you kill my father,who was my only protector? And please, please don't hurt me!"
Did you, Mr. or Miss Reader, ever have a helpless animal look at you inthat way? If you did, you know it's awful--awful to remember!
Whitey fired. He couldn't miss at that distance. And he ran forward toforce Miss Deer to fall on the bank, clear of the water, which she did.She looked at Whitey while he was shoving her over, Whitey nor no oneelse can ever describe that look, and Whitey, boy as he was, turned awayhis head as she fell. Injun stood by dripping, silent, his face a maskfor his feelings. And Sitting Bull was shivering, but not with cold orexcitement; he had caught the dying look of the doe. And Bull's uglyface reflected the feelings of his heart, that was both brave andgentle, for actually, yes, actually! there were tears in Bull's eyes.
The canoe was brought to shore, the water was dumped out of it, thepaddles were recovered. Then a rope was fastened to Mr. Deer, and bymeans of a log lever he was hauled out of the lake and dressed. ButInjun didn't talk and Whitey didn't talk. And Bull didn't wander aroundas usual and smell the scents that gave him so much excitement anddelight, and that the boys couldn't smell at all. The deer's head, hide,and some of the meat were put into the canoe. The rest of the meat wastied high in trees, safe from marauding animals. The boys didn't touchMiss Deer. They got into the canoe with Bull and paddled away. Theydidn't look back.
The rest of the day and evening were spent in a constrained silence.Sitting Bull felt the constraint. He lay on the ground, his great headbetween his paws, and moodily watched the boys. Several hours hadpassed; it was night, at the camp-fire; still no words had been spoken.Finally Whitey stopped looking into the fire and stood up straight.
"Injun, where's the spade?" he asked. "I've got something to do."
Injun answered Whitey's question, but asked none of his own. "Me gohelp," he said.
With Sitting Bull as a passenger, they paddled the canoe back over themoonlit lake until they came to the run. And the two boys dug a gravefor Miss Deer, and laid her in that grave just as she fell, and coveredit with a pile of stones so the coyotes couldn't touch her. And when themorning sun came up over the hills, Injun and Whitey were in a new campmiles away.
Injun said nothing to Whitey and Whitey said nothing to Injun, but tothe day of his death Injun never shot at a Miss Deer again. And althoughWhitey is now a middle-aged man, to this day he has never again shot ata Miss Deer. Nor has he ever forgotten the look in the eyes of that MissDeer which those boys buried on the bank of Blue Lake, twenty-six yearsago.
THE END
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Injun and Whitey to the Rescue Page 25