Indian Jake suddenly paused in his work to listen. He had but a moment to wait, when there broke forth startlingly near a heart-rending howl.

It rose and fell in mournful cadence, dying finally in a long-drawn "Woo-oo-oo," so near that it sent the blood tingling in shivering waves up the spines of the boys.

VIII

ANDY'S BEAR HUNT

"Wolves!" said Indian Jake, resuming his cooking with unconcern. "They must be the other side of the little river, or they'd smell our smoke.

The wind's blowin' up from that way."

"Are they like t' trouble us?" asked Andy anxiously.

"They'll keep clear of _us_, never fear," declared David stoutly. "I'd like t' get a shot at un once."

"They're likely under cover o' th' woods," said Indian Jake. "But you might have a look and see."

David took his rifle and went cautiously out of the door, but presently returned to report that the wolves, which were still crying, were, as Indian Jake had supposed, hidden in the woods on the opposite side of the river.

"They won't bother us," said Indian Jake. "Wolves are mostly too much afraid of the man smell to be troublesome. We might go after 'em, but they're hard t' get at, and we wouldn't stand much chance of seein'

'em."

"Will they be like t' come at us on th' trails?" asked Andy.

"Not much fear of that," reiterated Indian Jake. "Mostly they follows the caribou, and keeps clear of men. Slice some pork, Davy; and Andy, you put the tea over. The water's boilin'."

"I'm wonderin', now, how many of un there is," said Andy as he made the tea.

"Two was all that sounded," explained Indian Jake. "One was a good piece off, and called lonesome, like he wanted company, and the other that answered was handy by. They'll likely be gettin' together."

When dinner was eaten, Indian Jake lighted his pipe with a shaving which he whittled and ignited at the vent in the stove door, and while David and Andy washed the dishes, busied himself with an examination of the stretching boards which Thomas had used the previous year.

These were of different sizes, and properly shaped to fit the pelts of martens, foxes and other animals hunted along the trails.

Hunters remove the skins from the animals whole and draw them tightly over the board with the fleshy side of the pelt on the outside. It is then sc.r.a.ped with a knife until all adhesions of flesh and fat are removed, and the board, with the skin still upon it, is hung from the ceiling until the pelt is thoroughly dried. When properly cured and in condition for packing, it is removed from the board and placed with other pelts, as they acc.u.mulate, in a clean bag, which is usually suspended from a rafter, where neither moisture nor animals can attack it.

Pelts dry quickly, and therefore comparatively few boards, a.s.sorted to suit the size and form of the various animals, are sufficient for the hunter's purpose.

It was discovered that Thomas had left in the tilt an ample supply for his own use, but now both Indian Jake and David must be equipped.

"We'll be needin' a few more," said Indian Jake, "and we better make 'em while we has time. I'll cut two or three dry b.u.t.ts, and split 'em, and whenever we have time we can work 'em down."

"I'll go along and help," David volunteered, for he and Andy had finished their dish-washing, "but there'll be no need o' your comin', Andy. You can 'bide here in th' tilt and rest up."

"I'm rested," declared Andy, resenting the imputation that he was in greater need of rest than David. "I'll take my gun and see if there's any pa'tridges around. They'll go fine for supper, now, an' I finds any."

"They will that," a.s.sented Indian Jake. "And see, now, that you bring some back."

"I'll do my best," said Andy, proudly taking down his gun, and slinging his ammunition bag over his shoulder. "We'll have pa'tridges for supper, _what_ever."

Andy had hunted partridges and rabbits, and such small game as could be found in the woods near The Jug, since he was nine years old and strong enough to hold a gun to his shoulder. His father gave him an old trade gun--a muzzle-loading piece--when he was ten years of age.

It was a gun which had been cut down because of a defect near the muzzle, and with its shortened barrel was quite light enough for him to aim with ease. Later on Thomas had permitted him to use the rifle which he now carried, and he had become an excellent rifle shot. The lads of The Labrador begin early to learn their trade, and to love it, too.

It was no new experience, therefore, for Andy to be alone in the woods, and as he stole quietly through the trees he felt a deal of confidence in his ability as a hunter and that he should make good his boast to bag enough partridges for supper.

A little distance from the tilt he turned down to the lake sh.o.r.e, lined here by scrubby willow brush, in the hope of finding willow ptarmigans, white grouse of the North, feeding upon the tender ends of the willows. But unrewarded he finally turned back again into the deeper spruce woods, and had gone but a little way when a small flock of spruce grouse rose from the ground and, unconscious of danger and quite fearless, took refuge in a tree. At easy range Andy had no difficulty in clipping the heads from five of the birds with his rifle bullets before the remaining ones took flight.

"I knew I'd get un!" exclaimed Andy exultantly, gathering up the game. "Now we'll have a fine supper."

He drew a stout buckskin thong from his pocket, and at intervals of about two inches made five slip nooses. Through each of these he pa.s.sed the legs of a bird, and drawing tight the ends of the thong, made them secure. Tying the thong firmly around his waist, his game thus carried made no burden, and left his hands free.

"Now," said he, "I'll see what Seal Lake looks like."

A little to the right of where Andy had killed the partridges rose a naked, rocky hill, and turning toward it he quickly began ascending. A hundred feet up its side he pa.s.sed the last scrubby spruce tree. On the central plateau of Labrador the tree line seldom rises far above the base of the hills. It was a steep, rocky climb, but Andy was accustomed to scrambling over rocks, and in a few minutes he had gained the summit.

Turning toward the lake he discovered its far-reaching waters extending a full half-hundred miles to the westward. Its extreme end was hidden in the boundless forest which, punctured by rocky, snow-clad hills, rolled away as far as his eye could reach. For a considerable distance to the northward he could trace, like a silver thread, the sparkling waters of the Nascaupee. To the southeast lay piled in ma.s.sive grandeur an array of great white mountains. On the sides of some of them high mica cliffs reflected the sun like disks of burnished silver.

Near by, to the south, a curl of smoke rose above the forest green, and this he knew to be the tilt. Eastward from the tilt splotches of water could be discerned, where the little river ran down to join Seal Lake.

Andy was used to wild nature, but this provided an element of romance new to him. Here at his feet, in all its silent and magnificent grandeur, stretched the great primordial wilderness which had been the scene of his father's exploits. This, too, was the scene of strange, weird tales of stirring adventures to which he had listened so often.

Here men had fought wild beasts. Here men had starved, and here had been enacted heroic deeds, the narrative of which never failed to thrill him. Was he destined to take part in like adventures, and like deeds of heroism?

He was awed by the immensity of the solitudes. A lump came into his throat and tears into his eyes, as he looked away over the vast silence to the horizon. This was G.o.d's land, just as G.o.d had made it.

No man lived here, or had ever lived here. There was no human habitation within the limitless boundaries of these rolling miles of forest and mountain, save the little tilt from which the curl of smoke was rising, and no other human beings than himself and David and Indian Jake.

Then there came upon Andy a realization of his own smallness and insignificance, and a wave of fear swept over his heart. Here in this boundless wilderness he was to face the rigors of a long, sub-arctic winter, with all its privations and hardships, cut off from all communication with the greater world outside. For many, many months he would have no word from his father or Margaret or Jamie or Doctor Joe, or know how they fared, or whether the mist in Jamie's eyes was thickening or no. It was not strange then if Andy experienced a sudden longing for home and a touch of homesickness.

But Andy was brave and full of courage, and presently throwing back his head, he laughed, to drive away the fear and the loneliness.

"Huh!" he said, "there's nothin' to be scared of. Pop says th' Lard'll take care of us, and we does our best t' take care of ourselves.

There's fur here, and Davy and I must get un, t' cure Jamie's eyes, and we _will_ get un, _what_ever. I'll have plenty o' grit, and a stout heart like a man's, and 'twon't be so long when we goes home again."

With this he set out down the hill. His descent was on the opposite side from that which he had ascended, and he came upon steep, rocky cliffs that he must needs circ.u.mvent; and so he was picking his way, looking only to his steps and giving too little heed to other matters, when suddenly, as he rounded the last high ledge above the timber line, he was startled by a savage growl. And there, in the edge of the woods, and so near that Andy barely escaped colliding with it, was a great black bear. The animal, no less surprised at Andy's sudden appearance around the ledge than was Andy at meeting the bear, rose upon its haunches, a.s.suming a distinctly belligerent att.i.tude.

Instinctively Andy sprang aside, and under cover of the trees. The bear, content to be unmolested, made no attempt to follow. Black bears attack only when protecting their young, when wounded, or when driven to bay. Under other conditions they are overwilling to seek safety in retreat.

This bear was no exception to the rule. He had, as yet, no quarrel with Andy. His sole object in displaying teeth and claws was self-protection. So long as Andy evinced no intention of injuring him, he was well content to let Andy go his way, while he went his own.

Perceiving that the bear was not following him, Andy quickly turned about to discover that it had also turned about, and was slowly, and with dignity, retreating.

Then it occurred to Andy that he could never return to the tilt and tell David and Indian Jake that he had encountered a bear and permitted it to escape without ever firing a shot. Indian Jake would gibe him and David would think him a coward, and he _would_ be a coward! He would never be able to face the world again without an inner sense of shame at his cowardice, if he permitted fear to overcome his duty as a hunter! But he was not afraid! He had simply been surprised and startled! At this season the bear would be in prime condition. Its meat was good to eat and its skin was valuable, and no valuable skin must escape.

These thoughts flashed through Andy's mind in the instant that he realized that the bear had turned about and was pa.s.sing out of range, and without further hesitation he raised his rifle and fired.

The bullet, not well directed, struck the animal in the flank. With a growl it swung around and began biting at the wound. A second bullet grazed its ear, and Andy, in excitement, permitted the third to go wide of its mark.

The bear, now thoroughly aroused and angered, charged directly at Andy. There were two cartridges remaining in the rifle, and Andy was immediately aware that those two cartridges must be effectively placed. He must kill the bear, or the bear would kill him, for there is no middle ground of compromise with a wounded bear.