CHAPTER XXIV.
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. Thelogs were soon cut and notched, and a small cabin was put up, and roofedwith split clap-boards. With the stones that lay near the shore of thelake they built a chimney. It was but a rude structure, but it drewadmirably. Clay was wanted to "chink" the cabin, but that could not behad, as the ground was hard frozen, and it was quite impossible to makeeither clay or mud.
Even hot water poured out would freeze into ice in a few minutes. Thiswas a serious want--for in such a cold climate even the smallest hole inthe walls will keep a house uncomfortable, and to fill the intersticesbetween the logs, so as to make them air-tight, some soft substance wasnecessary. Grass was suggested, and Lucien went off in search of it.After awhile he returned with an armful of half-withered grass, whichall agreed would be the very thing; and a large quantity was sooncollected, as it grew plentifully 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 small quantityof it was flung into the fire it filled the cabin with a fragrance asagreeable as the costliest perfumes. It was the "scented grass," whichgrows in great profusion in many parts of the Hudson's Bay territory,and out of which the Indians often make their beds, burning it also uponthe 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, for weekstogether, the only food which the residents can obtain; and they arequite satisfied when they can get enough of it. The tittameg is not alarge 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. Severalkinds of trout also inhabit the Great Slave Lake, and some of theseattain to the enormous weight of eighty pounds! A few were caught, butnone of so gigantic proportions as this. Pike were also taken in thenet, and a species of burbot. This last is one of the most voracious ofthe finny tribe, and preys upon all others that it is able to swallow.It devours whole quantities of cray-fish, until its stomach becomescrammed to such a degree as to distort the shape of its whole body. Whenthis kind was drawn out, it was treated very rudely by the boys--becauseits flesh was known to be extremely unsavoury, and none of them cared toeat it. Marengo, however, had no such scruples, and he was wont to makeseveral hearty meals each day upon 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 the cabin,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. These trees were not over forty feet inheight, with very thick trunks and long flexible branches. No othertrees grew among them, for it is the nature of this pine--which was the"scrub" or grey pine--to monopolise the ground wherever it grows. AsBasil passed on, he noticed that many of the trees were completely"barked," particularly on the branches; and small pieces of the bark layscattered over the ground, as though it had been peeled off and gnawedby some animal. He was walking quietly on and thinking what creaturecould have made such a wreck, when he came to a place where the groundwas 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 was closer to whatever haduttered it, but Basil now perceived that it proceeded from above him.The creature from which it came was certainly not upon the ground, buthigh up among the tops of the trees. He looked up, and there, in thefork of one of the pines, he perceived a singular and hideous-lookinganimal--such as he had never before seen. It was of a brown colour,about the size of a terrier-dog, with thick shaggy hair, and clumped upin the fork of the tree--so that its head and feet were scarcelydistinguishable.
Its odd appearance, as well as the peculiar cry which it had uttered,would have alarmed many a one of less courage than our young hunter, andBasil was at first, as he afterwards confessed, "slightly flurried;" buta moment's reflection told him what the animal was--one of the mostinnocent and inoffensive of God's creatures--the Canada porcupine. Itwas this, then, that had barked the scrub pines--for they are itsfavourite food; and it was its track--which in reality very muchresembles that of a child--that Basil had seen 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 of hisrifle would frighten any large game that might chance to be near; and asthe porcupine was hardly worth a shot, he concluded, upon reflection, itwould be better to leave it alone. He knew--for he had heard Lucien sayso--that he would find the porcupine at any time, were it a week, oreven a month after--for these creatures remain sometimes a whole winterin the same grove. He resolved, therefore, should no other game turn up,to return for it; and, shouldering his rifle again, he continued hiscourse 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 bottom ofthe hill, was a level tract of considerable extent.
It was bounded on one side by the edge of the lake, and on all theothers by thin woods, similar to those through which the hunter had beenfor some time travelling. Here and there, over the plain, there stoodtrees, far apart from each other, and in nowise intercepting the viewfor a mile or more. The ground was clear of underwood, except along theimmediate edge 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 others were thefemale and her two calves of the preceding year. The latter were stillbut half-grown, and, like the female, were without the "branching horns"that adorned the head of the old bull. They were all of a dark-browncolour--looking blackish in the distance--but the large one was darkerthan 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, as itis peculiarly a creature of the cold regions, and ranges no farther tothe south than the northern edge of the United States territory. To thenorth it is met with as far as timber grows--even to the shores of thePolar Sea! Naturalists are not certain, whether or not it be the sameanimal with the elk of Europe. Certainly the two are but little, ifanything, different; but the name "elk" has been given in America toquite another and smaller species of deer--the wapiti.
The moose takes its name from its Indian appellation, "moosoea," or"wood-eater;" and this name is very appropriate, as the animal livesmostly upon the leaves and twigs of trees. In fact, its structure--likethat of the camelopard--is such that it finds great difficulty inreaching grass, or any other herbage, except where the latter chances tobe very tall, or grows upon the declivity of a very steep hill. When itwishes to feed upon grass, the moose usually seeks it in suchsituations; and it may often be seen browsing up the side of a hill,with its legs spread widely on both sides of its neck. But its favouritefood is found at a more convenient height, and consists of the youngshoots of many species of trees. It prefers those of the poplar, thebirch-tree, and willows, and one kind of these last, the red willow, isits particular favourite.
The "striped" maple is also much relished by the moose--hence the name"moose-wood," by which this tree is known among the hunters. It lovesalso the common water-lilies, and in summer it may be seen wading outinto lakes, and plucking up their succulent leaves. It takes to thewater also for other purposes--to cool its body, and rid itself ofseveral species of gnats and mosquitoes that at this season torment itexceedingly. At such times it is more easily approached; and the Indianshunt it in their canoes, and kill it in the water, both with spears andarrows. They never find the moose, however, in large numbers--for it isa solitary animal, and only associates in pairs during one part of theyear, and in families at another season--as Basil now found it.
In winter the Indians track it through the snow, following it uponsnow-shoes. These give them the advantage of skimming along the surface,while the moose plunges through the deep rift, and is therefore impededin its flight. Notwithstanding, it will frequently escape from thehunter, after a _chase of several days' duration_! Sometimes, in deepsnow, a dozen or more of these animals will be found in one place, wherethey have got accidentally together. The snow will be trodden down untilthe place appears 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 he knewthat if he could return to camp with a few pieces of this strung overhis gun, he would receive a double welcome. He was well aware that theflesh of the moose was of the most savoury and delicate kind, and thatthe 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 deer-skins for mocassins, as wellas snow-shoes--articles which Basil knew would soon be needed. For thesereasons 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 moose inearly winter. In summer it is not so--as then the musquitoes 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 can scentan enemy a long distance off--if the wind be in their favour--and thesnapping of a twig, or the slightest rustle of the leaves, is sufficientto start them off.
In their journeyings through the snow, when they wish to restthemselves, they make a sort of _detour_, and, coming back, lie downnear the track which they have already passed over. This gives them anopportunity of hearing any enemy that may be following upon theirtrail, and also of making off in a side-direction, while the latter willbe 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 it was blowing down the lake, andnearly towards himself. He was not exactly to leeward of the moose; but,what was better still, the willows that fringed the lake were, for hecould see them bending from the deer, as the breeze blew freshly. Heknew he could easily get among the willows; and as they were not quiteleafless, and, moreover, were interspersed with tall reed grass, theyformed a tolerable cover under which 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 how toendure the pain and practise the patience--virtues that, in hunting aswell as in many other occupations usually meet with their reward. AndBasil 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 been buffaloeshe would certainly have done so; but as he had never killed a moose, hewas 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 kill abuffalo. 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 fired. He heard a loud cr
ackingof hoofs, as the cow and calves shambled off over the plain, but he sawthat the bull was not with them. He was down behind the willows. Nodoubt he was dead.