Muttering angrily to himself, old Joe pottered off to a barrel in therear of his hut where he kept a plentiful provision of fish for thedogs. Presently he reappeared, and began throwing it among them,cracking his big black-snake whip in a regular fusillade as the dogsfought and snarled furiously over their food.
"Ah, Pierre! mauvais chien! Allez! Hey, Victoire! Wha' for you bite olePete, hey! Boosh! Take your time!"
But the old man's cries as he darted here and there among them had noeffect on the dogs, who finished their meal with frenzied snappings andone or two fights which had to be broken up by main force.
"Now, I go get few teengs an' we start," said old Joe, when the animalshad lain down in the snow to digest their not over-plentiful meal.
"Boosh! We geev that feller warm reception when we find him, I bet you."
When old Joe reappeared from the hut, he carried with him a long,wicked-looking old squirrel gun. Its barrel was almost six feet long andit was of a dark, well-worn brown color.
"What are you going to do with that?" asked Tom, as the old man tenderlyfumbled with the lock.
"Maybe have use heem. Boosh! No can tell," he replied oracularly.
"Jiminy!" whispered Jack to Tom, as with their new ally they set outonce more along the trail, "old Santa Claus can look positivelyferocious when he wants to, can't he?"
"Yes, but I've got a notion that he carries that funny old shooting ironmore for effect than anything else. Still, I'm glad we have him along;he may prove a valuable ally," surmised Tom.
"Well, with Santa Claus on our side we ought to have better luck alongthe trouble trail," agreed Jack.
The dogs sprang forward, and Tom and Jack sped after themon rapidly moving snow-shoes.]
Crack! crack! went the dog whip.
"Boosh!" cried the old man, with whom the exclamation appeared to serveall purposes.
The dogs sprang forward, and Tom and Jack, relieved of their burdenswhich now lay on the sled, sped after them on rapidly moving snowshoes.Their chase of the unknown thief now began to look like business.
CHAPTER XI--THE NEW-FOUND FRIEND.
Old Joe Picquet came to an abrupt halt. All that morning they hadfollowed the trail of the thief and had now arrived at a small lake,Dead Rabbit Lake.
"Boosh!" exclaimed the old man angrily, "I am one fool. Someteeng I jus'see I nevaire notice before."
He pointed down at the trail of the man they were pursuing.
"You look! You see something funny 'bout dat snowshoe?" he asked.
Both Tom and Jack examined the footmarks without seeing anything odd inthem. It was then that Joe gave them an exhibition of his skill intrailing.
"His toe turn oop," he said. "Dese snowshoes mooch broader, too, thandose we wear here. Dese shoes made in some factory. See! They no good."
"Like the man that wears them," sniffed Jack. "Then you think, Joe, thathe must be a stranger up here?"
"I not know," rejoined Joe with a shrug, "no can tell. But dosesnowshoes no made oop here. Come from south, maybe. Boosh!"
"If he is a stranger, he is a good traveler anyhow," was Tom's comment.
Not long after, they came upon a spot where the man had halted and builta fire. Joe Picquet felt the ashes, running them slowly through hisgnarled fingers.
"Boosh! He still long way in front of us," he said disgustedly. "Disfire been cold long time. He keel his dogs, he no look out. Boosh!Allez, Pete! Hey, Dubois!"
On they went again on the monotonous grind of the chase. They passedsmall lakes, sections of muskegs, swamps, rocky hillsides and deepvalleys. But all lay deep under snow and ice. The sun beat down, and theglare from the snow began to affect Jack's eyes.
"I soon feex that," said old Joe.
"How?" asked Jack, winking and blinking, for everything looked blurredand distorted.
"I get you pair of snow-glasses. Boosh."
"Snow-glasses. Have you got some with you?" asked Tom.
Old Joe shook his head.
"Non. But I get some vitement. Very quickly."
"Are we near to a store, then?" asked Jack.
"No, Otter Creek is twenty miles away."
"Then I don't see----"
"One second, mon ami. You shall see. Old Joe live long in the woods. Hecan do many teeng. You watch."
Near the trail they were still following with the same pertinacity stooda white birch clump. Old Joe called a halt, and with his knife strippedoff a big slice of bark from one of them. This he fashioned into a kindof mask. But instead of cutting the eye-holes all round, he left part tostick out like shelves under the orifices. These were to prevent thelight being reflected from the snow directly into Jack's eyes. A bit ofbeaver skin from the load formed a string to tie the odd-lookingcontrivance on, and from that moment Jack was not bothered with hiseyes.
"In wilderness men do widout many teengs; except what dey make fordemself," quoth old Joe, as they took up the trail once more.
Soon after noon they stopped to eat. It was a hasty meal, for they feltthat they could ill afford to waste any of the daylight. Then on againthey went, old Joe urging his dogs along remorselessly.
"They look pretty tired," suggested Tom once.
Old Joe gave one of his shrugs and took his pipe from his mouth.
"Dey what you call beeg bluff," said he. "All time dey play tired.Boosh! Dey no can fool me. Allez!"
Crack went the whip, and the cavalcade moved on as briskly as before.
It was twilight when, on rounding a turn in the trail in a deep valley,they suddenly heard the barking of dogs. Those of their own teamanswered vociferously, old man Picquet yelling frantically at them abovethe din.
The cause of the noise ahead of them was soon apparent. From the midstof a clump of second growth Jack-pine proceeded a glow of firelight. Itwas a camp. They soon saw that it consisted of one tepee. From theopening in the roof of this, sparks were pouring and smoke rolling outat a great rate, telling of a good fire within.
The barking dogs rushed at them savagely, and old Joe had all he coulddo to keep his own from attacking the strangers. In the melee that wouldhave been sure to follow such an attack, the sled would certainly havebeen upset even if one or two of the dogs had not been killed; for whenmamelukes fight, they fight to the death.
In the midst of the uproar, the flap of the tepee was thrust aside and afigure came toward them. It was an Indian. He called to his dogs, whoinstantly crept back toward the tent, growling and snarling and castingbackward glances at the invaders.
"Boosh!" exclaimed old Joe as he saw the Indian coming toward them, "datIndian my fren' long time! Bon jour, Pegic. How you do to-day?" Thenfollowed some words in the Indian dialect which, of course, the boys didnot understand.
The Indian invited them into his tepee. He was camping alone and hadkilled a small deer that morning. The meat hung in the tepee, and assoon as his guests were seated, he set about cutting steaks and fryingthem over the fire.
Then, on tin plates, he handed each of the boys and old Joe a portion,accompanied by a hunk of baking powder bread. The long day's journey inthe cold, nipping air had made them ravenously hungry. They fell to withwolfish appetites on Pegic's fare. The Indian, his jaws workingstolidly, watched them eat. He was a small man and ratherintelligent-looking.
After the meal, the dogs were fed and old Joe told the boys that theywould stay with Pegic for the night. As both lads were just about tiredout, this arrangement suited them down to the ground, and in the glow ofPegic's fire they lay down and were soon asleep.
Then old Joe began to ask the Indian questions. Indians must be dealtwith calmly and above all slowly, and in a roundabout way. Haste orundue curiosity upsets them. To ask an Indian a brief question is in allprobability to have it unanswered. Hence old Joe proceeded with caution.The conversation was carried on in Pegic's dialect, which the oldFrench-Canadian understood perfectly.
First of all he asked the Indian how long he had been camped there.
"Two da
ys," was the reply.
"To-day a man passed here?"
The Indian nodded gravely, staring into the fire.
"It is even so. Just as you say, my friend."
CHAPTER XII--THE FRIENDLY INDIAN.
"I am teenking dat perhaps he stopped at your tepee. Is dat so?"inquired old Joe, wise in the way of Indians.
Pegic nodded gravely.
"It is even so, my white brother."
"Bon. And he was a small man and gray?"
"He was."
"And carried skins on his sled?"
"Yes. Many skins and one he showed to me. It was the skin of a blackfox. Truly a fine pelt, my brother. You are wise in the ways oftrapping, but your eyes would have glittered and your fingers itched hadyou beheld it."
Old Joe nodded his satisfaction. Clearly, then, they were on the righttrail and the man had the skin with him.
"So de man showed you de skins? Yes?"
"He did. He was swollen with pride. But to Pegic he looked like a manwho is sick."
"Seeck?"
"Yes, my brother. His eyes were overbright and his skin was flushed. Hewas sick."
"Boosh! He'll be seecker yet when we find him, myself and de twogarcons. Pegic, dose skins were stolen!"
"Stolen, do you say, my brother?"
"Yes, Pegic, it is even so. And how long ago was he here?"
"About two hours before the dropping of the sun. I urged him to stay,but he would not. He said he was in much haste, and truly his dogsshowed signs of being hard pressed."
Old Joe chuckled grimly.
"Bon, so we close up the gap. Boosh! Mon ami, we shall meet before verylong. Voila!"
"It was while I was cutting up the deer," volunteered Pegic, his reservenow thawed by old Joe's skillful way of leading him on. "I sat on myblanket--so. My dogs barked, and, going to the door of the tepee, I sawthis white man coming. He wished food for himself and his dogs. I gaveto him, and then he asked the way to the nearest trading post. I toldhim, and then he inquired for the one even beyond that."
"For which he had good reason," muttered old Joe. "He wished to gain onus a good distance before he traded in his furs--bien!"
"His talk was smooth and without stoppage, like a deep stream," went onthe Indian, "but he would ever and anon arise and go to the door of thetepee and look back along his trail. Then I wondered much at this, butnow I know why this was so. Then he left, after pressing some silverupon me which I would not have taken but for owing Jumping Rabbit muchmoney, which I lost when we did last play at 'chuckstones.' After he hadleft I lay on my blankets, thinking of many things. But chiefly of howmy brother, Walking Deer, was killed at Old Squaw Rapids when his paddledid break and left him to the mercy of the waters. If you like, I willtell the tale to you. I am thinking that it is a story that woulddelight you much."
But old Joe, who well knew how an Indian can drag out a story tointerminable lengths, diplomatically pleaded fatigue and sought hisblankets. Long after he slept the Indian sat motionless, squatting onhis haunches, smoking without ceasing and gazing into the fire. Then he,too, curled himself up, and the firelight in the tepee glowed upon fourslumberers.
Bright and early the next morning they took up the trail. Old Joe was inhigh spirits. He flourished his aged rifle vindictively. He belaboredhis dogs without mercy.
"Courage, mes camarades!" he kept crying to the boys. "Before long wecatch up by dis robber, for he is seeck and his dogs are weary. Bien.Before long, we shall have a reckoning."
At noon they stopped and ate a hasty lunch. A few miles back they hadpassed the ashes of a cooking fire. Old Joe declared that the emberswere not more than a few hours cold. They were gaining on the man. Theboys began to feel the excitement of the chase gripping them more andmore every instant. The meal was eaten almost in silence. Then--onagain.
The day died out; but allowing only a halt for supper and to rest thedogs, old Joe insisted on pressing on. It was a brilliant, starry night,and onward over the creaking snow under the twinkling luminaries of thesky the relentless pursuers of the man with the black fox skin pressedsteadily on. Had their excitement been less, or their frames more unusedto hardship and long "treks," the boys might have felt the pace. As itwas, they hardly noticed the fatigue that was slowly but surely creepingover them till it was almost midnight.
Old Joe was quick to notice the first signs of flagging. He called ahalt.
"Mes enfants, you are tres fatigue," he exclaimed, "we must rest andsleep."
"We're all right," protested Tom, but his objections were feeble andwere not seconded by Jack, who, now that they had actually stopped, feltabout ready to drop in his tracks.
"Non, we will stop and camp here and you must get some sleep," insistedold Joe. "Let me see. We are now near end of Spoon Island. Bien! Justbelow is Hawk Island. Many times have I camped dere, and dere I have apetit cache in a tree. We will go on as far as dat and den rest andeat."
Two or three miles below the end of Spoon Island lay Hawk Island. Theytook to the frozen surface of the river and soon reached it. It was asmall, rocky speck of land thickly wooded with balsam, spruce andpoplar.
"Long time ago many t'ous'and hare live here," said Joe, "now not sogood. But I like camp here. Boosh! So now we will stop."
While the old voyageur unharnessed his ravenous dogs and fed them, theboys looked about them. Sticking up from the snow they could see theends of some poles set in a quadrangular form. This marked the site ofone of Joe's former camps. Having unharnessed the dogs and left them tofight and snarl over their supper, old Joe next set about making a camp.
The boys watched him with interest. It was the first camp of the kindthey had ever seen.
"Come help me dig," admonished the old trapper. "Do like I do. Soon wehave fine camp. Warm and snug--bien!"
He set to work digging with a snowshoe, and the boys followed hisexample, working under his directions. Before long they had excavated asquare hole some four feet deep in the snow. By the time they had bankedand patted it smooth they stood in a pit which reached about to theirshoulders.
This done, old Joe wetted his finger and held it up. The side to thewind immediately grew cold and indicated to him from which direction thelight breeze came.
"Bien!" he exclaimed, when he had done this, "now four poles from dosetrees, mes amis, and we are snug lak zee bug in zee rug,--n'est-ce pas?"
CHAPTER XIII--THE INDIAN'S PREDICTION.
When the four poles had been obtained, old Joe erected them in the snowto windward of the excavation. Then from his sled he got an oblong ofcanvas which he stretched over them.
"Boosh! So now we get firewood and start a blaze and den everyteeng isfine," he exclaimed, briskly stepping back to admire his handiwork.Although the boys did not know it, this camp which Joe had just erectedis a favorite form of temporary resting place in the frozen North. Thecanvas stretched above the poles serves a double purpose, to keep outthe wind and to act as a reflector to the fire in front so that thosedown in the pit are kept delightfully snug and warm.
The boys next set about getting wood for the fire. This did not takelong. Then branches stripped from the balsam boughs were thrown into thesnow pit to a depth of several inches, to form a soft, springy mattressfor their blankets. The fire was lighted and plenty of wood heaped nearby to keep it going.
Finally the kettle was filled with snow, which was set by the fire tomelt. From the sled old Joe got some deer meat, by this time frozenhard, which he had obtained from Pegic. While the meat was thawing theboys helped spread their beds in the warm, fire-lighted pit, and thenold Joe cooked supper.
The boys were certainly learning woodcraft from the old French Canadian.They would hardly have thought it possible, an hour before, that such acozy camp could have been made in the snow with such simple means. Butthe wilderness traveler has had to learn by many hard experiences how tomake the best of things, and the experiments of successive travelershave resulted in a score or more of makeshif
t devices for comfort andsafety.
While the party of adventurers ate their supper with hearty appetites,washing it down with big drafts of scalding tea, the dogs outside madetheir own camp in their peculiar fashion. The mamelukes make themselvescomfortable very easily. Having gorged themselves on fish, they burrowedinto the snow and slept the sleep of the faithful sled dog.
In their improvised camp the travelers slept till daylight, which to theboys, at least, seemed to be an interval of not more than five minutes.Breakfast, consisting of the remains of supper and more tea, having beenconsumed, the dogs, which had been routed out and fed, were harnessed uponce more. Then, trail sore and stiff after their sleep, the boysresumed their travels.
They followed the river and, of course, the track of the runners of thethief's sled, which still lay clear and sharp on the snow. About twohours after the start they came upon another of his camps. Clearly hehad allowed his dogs to sleep, for there were the marks of theirburrowings to be observed in the snow.
"Aha, dey are tiring, mes enfants!" cried old Joe. "Not veree long now.Courage! Boosh!"
At the expiration of another period of travel, and not long before noon,on rounding a bend in the river they sighted another party coming towardthem. There were three figures and a dog sled. The figures speedilyresolved themselves into a Black River Indian and two squaws.
"Bien! Now we get news, maybe!" chuckled old Joe.