The Young Woodsman; Or, Life in the Forests of Canada

by J. Macdonald Oxley

  CHAPTER X.

  A HUNTING-TRIP.

  The hold of winter had begun to relax ere Johnston was able fully toresume his work, and a good deal of time having been lost through hisaccident, every effort had to be exerted to make it up ere the warmsunshine should put an end to the winter's work. Frank was lookingforward eagerly to the day when they should break camp, for, to tell thetruth, he felt that he had had quite enough of it for one season, and hewas longing to be back in Calumet and enjoying the comforts of home oncemore. He was not exactly homesick. You would have very much offended himby hinting at that. He was simply tired of the monotony of camp fare andcamp life, and anxious to return to civilization. So he counted the daysthat must pass before the order to break camp would come, and felt verylight of heart when the sun shone warm, and correspondingly downcast whenthe thermometer sank below zero, as it was still liable to do.

  "Striving" was the order of the day at the lumber camp--that is, thedifferent gangs of choppers and sawyers and teamsters vied with eachother as to which could chop, saw, and haul the most logs in a day. Theamount of work they could accomplish when thus striving might astonishMr. Gladstone himself, from eighty to one hundred logs felled and trimmedbeing the day's work of two men. Frank was deeply interested in thiscompetition, and enjoying the fullest confidence of the men, he wasunanimously appointed scorer, keeping each gang's "tally" in a book, andreporting the results to the foreman, who heartily encouraged the rivalryamong his men; for the harder they worked the better would be the showingfor the season, and he was anxious not to lose the reputation he had wonof turning out more logs at his shanty than did any other foreman on theKippewa.

  As the weeks passed and March gave way to April, and April drew towardits close, the lumbermen's work grew more and more arduous; but they keptat it bravely until at last, near the end of April, the snow became sosoft in the woods and the roads so bad that no more hauling could bedone, and the whole attention of the camp was then given to getting thelogs that had been gathering at the river-side all through the winter outupon the ice, so that they might be sure to be carried off by the springfloods. This work did not require all hands, and Johnston now saw the wayclear to giving Frank a treat that he had long had in mind for him, buthad said nothing about. They were having their usual chat together beforegoing to bed, when the foreman said,--

  "Is there anything you would like to do before we break up camp?"

  Frank did not at first see the drift of the question, and looking atJohnston with a puzzled sort of expression, replied, questioningly,--

  "I don't know. I've had a very good time here."

  "Well, but can you think of anything you would like to do before you goback to Calumet?" persisted the foreman. "I'm asking you because there'llnot be enough work to go round next week, and you can have a bit ofholiday. Now, isn't there something you would like to have a taste ofwhile you have the chance?" And as he spoke his eyes were directed towardthe wall at the head of his bed, where hung his rifle, powder-flask, andhunting knife. Frank caught his meaning at once.

  "Oh, I see what you are driving at now!" he exclaimed. "You want to knowif I wouldn't like to go out hunting."

  "Right you are," said Johnston. "Would you?"

  "Would I?" cried Frank. "Would a duck swim? Just try me, that's all."

  "Well, I do intend to try you," returned Johnston. "The firm have somelimits over there near the foot of the mountain that they want me toprospect before I go back, and pick out the best place for a camp. I'vebeen trying to make out to go over there all winter, but getting hurtupset my plans, and I've not had a chance until now. So I'm thinking ofmaking a start to-morrow. There's nothing much else to do except tofinish getting the logs on the ice, and I can trust the men to see tothat; and, no odds what kind of weather we have, the ice can't start fora week at least. So if you'd like to come along with me and take yourrifle, you may get a chance to have a shot at something before we getback. Does that suit you?"

  This proposition suited Frank admirably. A week in the woods inJohnston's company could not fail to be a week of delight, and he thankedthe foreman in his warmest words for offering to take him on hisprospecting tour.

  The following morning they set off, the party consisting of four--namely,the foreman, Frank, Laberge, who accompanied them as cook, and anotherman named Booth as a sort of assistant. The snow still lay deep enough torender snow-shoes necessary, and while Johnston and Frank carried theirrifles, Laberge and Booth drew behind them a toboggan, upon which waspacked a small tent and an abundant supply of provisions. Their route ledstraight into the heart of the vast and so far little-explored forest,and away from the river beside whose bank they had been living allwinter. It was Johnston's purpose to penetrate to the foot of themountain range that rose into sight nearly thirty miles away, and thenwork backward by a different route, noting carefully the lie of the land,the course of the streams, and the best bunches of timber, so as to makesure of selecting a site for the future camp in the very best locality.

  He was evidently in excellent spirits himself at the prospect of a week'sholiday, for such it would really be, and all trace of his injury havingentirely disappeared, there was no drawback to the energy with which heled his little expedition into the forest where they would be buried forthe rest of the week.

  The weather was as fine as heart could wish. All day the sun shonebrightly, and even at night the temperature never got anywhere near zero,so that with a buffalo-robe under you and a couple of good blankets overyou it was possible to sleep quite comfortably in a canvas tent.

  "I can't promise you much in the way of game, Frank," said Johnston, asthe two tramped along side by side. "It is too late in the season. Butthe bears must be out of their dens by this time, and if we see one we'lldo our best to get his skin for you to take home."

  The idea of bringing a big bear-skin home as a trophy of his first realhunting expedition pleased Frank mightily, and his eyes flashed as hegrasped his rifle in a way that would in itself have been sufficientwarning to bruin, could he only have seen it, to keep well out of the wayof so doughty an assailant.

  "I'd like immensely to have a shot at a bear, sir," he replied. "So I dohope we shall see one."

  "You must be precious careful, though, Frank," said Johnston, "forthey're generally in mighty bad humour at this time of year, and you needto get your work in quick, or they may make short work of you."

  Various kinds of game were seen during the next day or two, and Frank hadmany a shot. But Johnston seldom fired, preferring to let Frank have allthe fun, as he said. One afternoon, just before they went into camp, thekeen eyes of Laberge detected something among the branches of a pine alittle distance to the right of their path which caused his face to glowwith excitement as he pointed eagerly to it, and exclaimed,--

  "_Voila_! A lucifee--shoot him, quick!"

  They all turned in the direction he pointed out, and there, sure enough,was a dark mass in the fork of the tree that, as they hastened toward it,resolved itself into a fierce-looking creature, full four times the sizeof an ordinary cat, which, instead of showing any fear at their approach,bristled up its back and uttered a deep, angry snarl that spoke volumesfor its courage.

  "Now, then, Frank," said Johnston, "take first shot, and see if you canfetch the brute down."

  Trembling with excitement, Frank threw up his rifle, did his best tosteady himself, took aim at the bewhiskered muzzle of the lynx, andpulled the trigger. The sharp crack of the rifle was followed by anear-piercing shriek of mingled pain and rage, and the next instant thewounded creature launched forth into the air toward the hunters. Frank'snervousness, natural enough under the circumstances, had caused him tomiss his mark a little, and the bullet, instead of piercing the"lucifee's" brain, had only stung him sorely in the shoulder.

  But quick as was its movements, Johnston was still quicker, and themoment its feet touched the snow, ere it could gather itself for anotherspring, his rifle cracked and a bullet put an end to its caree
r.

  "Just as well you weren't by yourself, Frank; hey?" said he, with a smileof satisfaction at the accuracy of his shot. "This chap would have beenan ugly customer at close quarters, and," turning the body over to findwhere the first bullet had hit, "you see you hardly winged him."

  Frank blushed furiously and looked very much ashamed of himself for notbeing a better marksman; but the foreman cheered him up by assuring himthat he had really done very well in hitting the animal at all at thatdistance.

  "You only want a little practice, my boy," said he. "You have plenty ofpluck; there's no mistake about that."

  The lynx had a fine skin, which Laberge deftly removed, and it was givento Frank because he had fired the first shot at it, so that he would notgo back to Calumet without at least one hunting trophy on the strength ofwhich he might do a little boasting.

  Further and further into the forest the little party pierced their way,not following any direct line, but making detours to right and left, inorder that the country might be thoroughly inspected. As they neared themountains the trees diminished in size and the streams shrank until, atthe end of their journey, the first were too small to pay for cutting,and the second too shallow to be any good for floating. With no littledifficulty they ascended a shoulder of the mountain range, in order toget a look over all the adjoining country, and then, Johnston having madeup his mind as to the location of the best bunches of timber and the mostconvenient site for the projected lumber camp, the object of theexpedition was accomplished, and they were at liberty to return to theshanty. But before they could do this they were destined to have anadventure that came perilously near taking away from them the youngest oftheir number.

  It was the afternoon before they struck camp on the return journey. Theforeman was sitting by the tent mending one of his snow-shoes, which hadbeen damaged tramping through the bush, Booth was busy cutting firewood,and Laberge making preparations for the evening meal. Having nothing elseto do, Frank picked up his rifle and sauntered off toward the mountainside, with no very clear idea as to anything more than to kill a littletime. Whistling cheerfully one of the many sacred melodies he knew andloved, he made his way over the snow, being soon lost to sight from thecamp, Johnston calling after him just before he disappeared,--

  "Take care of yourself, my boy, and don't go too far."

  To which Frank responded with a smiling, "All right, sir."

  At the distance of about a quarter of a mile from the camp he noticed asort of rift in the mountain, where the rocks were bare and exposed, andat the end of this rift a dark aperture was visible, which at onceattracted his attention.

  The boy that could come across a cave without being filled with a burningcuriosity to take a peep in and, if possible, explore its interior, wouldhave to be a very dull fellow, and Frank certainly was not of that kind.This dark aperture was no doubt the mouth of a cave of some sort, and hedetermined to inspect it. When he got within about fifteen yards, henoticed what he had not seen before, that there was a well-defined trackleading from the cave to the underbrush to the right, which had evidentlybeen made by some large animal; and with somewhat of a start Frankimmediately thought of a bear.

  Now, of course, under the circumstances, there was but one thing for himto do if he wished to illustrate his common sense, and that was to hurryback to the tent as fast as possible for reinforcements. Ordinarily, hewould have done so at once, but this time he was still smarting a bit athis poor marksmanship in the case of the "lucifee," and the sight of thetrack in the snow suggested the idea of winning a reputation for himselfby killing a bear without any assistance from the others. It was a rashand foolish notion; but then boys will be boys.

  Moving forward cautiously, he approached within ten yards of the cave andthen halted again, bringing his rifle forward so as to be ready to fireat a moment's notice. Bending down until his eyes were on a level withthe opening, he tried hard to peer into its depths; but the darkness wastoo deep to pierce, and he could not make out anything. Then he bethoughthim of another expedient. Picking up a lump of snow, he pressed it into aball and threw it into the cave, at the same time shouting out, "Hallothere! Anybody inside?" A proceeding that capped the climax of hisrashness and produced quite as sensational a result as he could possiblyhave desired, for the next moment a deep angry roar issued from the rockyretreat and a fiery pair of eyes gleamed out from its shadows. Thecritical moment had come, and taking aim a little below the shining orbs,so as to make sure of hitting, Frank pulled the trigger. The report ofthe rifle and the roar of the bear followed close upon one another,awaking the echoes of the adjoining heights. Then came a moment'ssilence, broken the next instant by a cry of alarm from Frank; for thebear, instead of writhing in the agonies of death, was charging down uponhim with open mouth! Once more he had missed his mark and only woundedwhen he should have killed.

  There was but one thing for him to do--to flee for his life; and utteringa shout of "Help! help!" with all the strength of his lungs, he threwdown his rifle and started for the tent at the top of his speed.

  It was well for him that the snow still lay deep upon the ground, andthat he was so expert in the use of his snow-shoes; for while the bearwallowed heavily in the drifts, he flew lightly over them, so that for atime the furious creature lost ground rather than gained upon him. For ahundred yards the boy and bear raced through the forest, Frank continuinghis cries for help while he ran. Looking back for an instant, he saw thatthe bear bad not yet drawn any nearer, and, terrified as he was, thethought flashed into his mind that if the brute followed him all the wayto the camp he would soon be despatched by the men, and then he, Frank,would be entitled to some credit for thus bringing him to execution.

  On sped the two in their race for life, the boy skimming swiftly over thesoft snow, the bear ploughing his way madly through it, until more thanhalf the distance to the camp had been accomplished. If Johnston hadheard the report of the rifle and Frank's wild cries for help, he shouldbe coming into sight now, and with intense anxiety Frank looked ahead inhopes of seeing him emerge from the trees which clustered thickly in thatdirection. But there was no sign of him yet; and shouting again as loudlyas he could, the boy pressed strenuously forward. There was greater needfor exertion than ever, for he had reached a spot where the snow was notvery deep and had been firmly packed by the wind, so that the bear'sbroad feet sank but little in it, and his rate of speed ominouslyincreased. So close was the fierce creature coming that Frank could hearhis paws pattering on the snow and his deep panting breath.

  Oh why did not Johnston appear? Surely he must have heard Frank's cries.Ah, there he was, just bursting through the trees into the opening, withLaberge and Booth close at his heels. Frank's heart bounded with joy, andhe was tempted to take a glance back to see how close the bear had got.It was not a wise thing to do, and he came near paying dearly for doingit; for at the same instant his snowshoes caught in each other, andbefore he could recover himself he fell headlong in the snow with thebear right upon him.