There was small time for planning his course of action, and Andy made no plans, but permitted instinct to guide him. He sprang behind a convenient tree, and with the a.s.sistance of the tree to steady his aim, sent another bullet at the approaching animal. The shot took effect, but served to r.e.t.a.r.d the bear's advance for only a moment.

Then Andy fired the remaining cartridge. It went wild, and the bear, bellowing with rage, rushed at its enemy and tormentor.

IX

THE STEALTHY MENACE OF THE TRAIL

There were cartridges enough in Andy's bag, but he had no time now to reload, and dropping the rifle he seized the low hanging limb of a tamarack tree, swung himself up, and clambered to a limb above barely in time to escape a stroke of the bear's powerful paw.

Then it was that Andy remembered that bears can climb quite as well as men, and this wounded and blood-bespattered bear proved himself an excellent climber indeed. Up the tree he came, with an agility that was alarming, and Andy, now thoroughly frightened, slid out upon the limb upon which he was perched, to escape the long reach of the great paw.

Andy was cornered. He was certain that death awaited him. In some degree his mind became dulled and paralyzed with the thought. In a disconnected way he wondered whether the bear would tear him badly, or be content to kill him and leave his body for foxes and wolves to devour. In that moment he was not greatly concerned about it. He was little more interested in it than he would have been in tomorrow's weather.

But the instinct of self-preservation never becomes extinct so long as life remains, and acting upon that instinct rather than upon any definite plan Andy slid farther out upon the limb. As the bear followed he continued to slide, when of a sudden the supple ends of the limb bent beneath his weight, he lost his grip, and went tumbling to the ground, leaving the baffled and astounded bear upon the limb.

Andy was on his feet in an instant. With the knowledge that he was at least temporarily out of reach of the creature and its terrible claws, his mind awoke with new hope of escape.

His rifle lay within reach, and seizing it he hurriedly jammed a cartridge into the magazine, threw the lever back, drew it forward again with a click, and was in time to place the muzzle of the rifle almost against the bear's body, over its heart, as it descended, backing down the tree trunk.

There was a report, the bear loosed his hold, and fell in a heap upon the ground. Andy was safe, and realizing the fact, his strength left him, and he stood, trembling, and so weak that for a little he could scarce move.

A half hour later when Andy appeared at the tilt he had nearly regained his usual composure. David and Indian Jake were busy near the door splitting slabs from dry spruce b.u.t.ts, and looking up Indian Jake asked, jocularly:

"Where be th' pa'tridges we're goin' to have for supper? I suppose you got a fine lot of 'em? I never was so hungry for pa'tridges in my life."

"Here they be," replied Andy, lifting the skirts of his adiky and displaying the five birds tied to his belt.

"You did get un, now, didn't you?" said Indian Jake.

"Andy's a rare good pa'tridge hunter," David a.s.serted, resenting Indian Jake's implication that he might not be. "He knows how t' find th' birds when they're about, and he knows how t' shoot un, too."

"And this ain't all th' game I'm gettin'," said Andy, who had stood with fine unconcern, gloating in the surprise he had in store for them. "I killed a bear back here by th' hill. We better go and skin he, an' bring in th' meat, _I'm_ thinkin'!"

"A bear!" exclaimed David and Indian Jake incredulously.

"Aye," said Andy, "and a fine big un, too. He's prime, and has a rare good skin."

There was no doubt that Andy was in earnest, and Indian Jake and David lost no time in securing their rifles and following him as he led them proudly back to the scene of his encounter.

The bear was, as Andy had declared, fine and fat, with a glossy, well-furred pelt. And, while they removed the pelt from the carca.s.s, and dressed and cut the meat into convenient pieces for carrying back to the tilt, Indian Jake and David must needs hear the story of Andy's adventure in detail. And Indian Jake, who took things for granted, and rarely complimented any one, praised Andy's courage, and David declared no one could have done better "in such a tight fix,"

and Andy was quite swelled up with pride, and glad of the adventure, now that it had ended so happily.

Bear steak was a rarer treat than boiled spruce partridge, and Indian Jake quite forgot his earlier longing for a partridge supper. Indian Jake had indeed never been in such good humor. He declared that he had never eaten finer bear's meat, and that no one could wish for a better meal, and the boys quite heartily agreed with him. And when they were through eating, and he had lighted his pipe, Indian Jake told them stories of Indian hunters who had lived and had their adventures in these very forests where they were camped. It was a rare evening, that first evening in the tilt, and one to be remembered.

Geese were not nearly so plentiful as they had hoped. The larger flocks had already pa.s.sed to the southward, for winter was near at hand, and only small, belated flocks of stragglers remained.

Nevertheless, by hard, persistent hunting, seven geese and twelve ducks were bagged during the succeeding week, before the last goose and duck to be seen until spring returned, had disappeared.

The weather was cold enough now to keep the bear's meat and birds well frozen. Thus they would remain sweet and good until needed, and it was pleasant and safe to have an ample supply of fresh meat to draw upon as required.

The trail along which David and Andy were to set their traps extended eastward through the forest, and on the southern side of the small river at the mouth of which the Narrows tilt was situated, to another tilt on the sh.o.r.es of Namaycush Lake, a distance of twenty-five miles.

Midway between the Narrows and Namaycush Lake tilts was another, known to the hunters as the "Halfway tilt." From the Namaycush Lake tilt the trail swung out through the forest, circuited a great open marsh, and returned again to the tilt. From this point it followed westward along the northern bank of the river, turned in at the Halfway tilt, and thence continued westward on the northern side of the river, to return to the Narrows tilt again.

The entire length of the trail was about sixty miles, and the distance from tilt to tilt const.i.tuted a day's work. Thus, setting out from the Narrows tilt on Monday morning, they would stop that night in the Halfway tilt, Tuesday and Wednesday nights in the Namaycush Lake tilt, Thursday night again at the Halfway tilt, and reach the Narrows tilt on Friday night, to remain there until Monday morning. This gave them Sat.u.r.day and Sunday for rest, and to make necessary repairs to clothing and equipment. It also permitted an allowance for delay in case of severe storms.

Indian Jake's trail took a northerly direction from the Narrows tilt, and with tilts at similar intervals made a wide circuit, returning, as did the other trail, to the Narrows tilt. Thus it was arranged that each week Indian Jake and the boys should spend the period from Friday evening until Monday morning together.

It was the middle of October when they awoke one morning to hear the wind howling and shrieking outside. Upon opening the tilt door David was met by a cloud of swirling, drifting snow, and when he went to the river for a kettle of water he found it necessary to use his ax to cut a water hole through the ice. For three days and nights the storm raged over the wilderness, and when at length it pa.s.sed, a new, intense, penetrating cold had settled upon the land. The long Labrador winter had come.

"Now," said Indian Jake, "it's time to get the traps set and the trails shaped up."

Two long Indian toboggans, or "flat sleds," as they called them, were leaning against the tilt. A supply of provisions and their sleeping bags were lashed securely upon these, and in the cold, frosty dawn of a Monday morning Indian Jake, hauling one, set out to the northward, and with David hauling the other, the two boys crossed the little river upon its hard frozen surface and plunged into the forest to the eastward, and the tedious rounds of the long white trail were begun.

The first journey of the season over a trail is always hard, for there is no hope that the next trap may hold a valuable pelt. So it was with David and Andy, though the novelty of the experience kept them to some extent buoyed and interested. But the work was hard, nevertheless. So far as possible they used the stumps that Thomas had used the previous year for their marten traps, but still there was the necessity of cutting and tr.i.m.m.i.n.g new stumps. The snowshoeing, too, was far from good, for in the shelter of the trees the snow was soft, and they sank half way to their knees at every step. Out on the open marshes, however, where the wind had packed the snow firmly, they walked with ease. Here it was, in open, wind-swept regions, that they set their fox traps.

The silence was appalling. Down at The Jug there was always at least the howling and snarling of the dogs to break the quiet, when ice in winter throttled the otherwise unceasing song of Roaring Brook. But here in the wilderness no sound disturbed the monotonous stillness, save the winter wind soughing through the tree tops. It was a new world to the lads, and the world that they had known seemed far, far away.

Withal, that first week was a trying one, and when, late on Friday evening they glimpsed at a distance the Narrows tilt, and saw smoke issuing from the pipe, they welcomed it joyfully, and were glad enough to be back. Upon entering they found Indian Jake busily engaged preparing supper, the tilt cozy and warm, and the kettle boiling merrily. A pot of partridges simmering upon the stove sent forth an appealing odor. Then they realized how very lonely they had been.

"How you making it, lads?" asked Indian Jake cheerily.

"Not so bad," answered David stoutly.

"'Tis wonderful fine t' see you, Jake," exclaimed Andy.

"'Tis that," agreed David.

Indian Jake laughed.

"'Twas--'twas growin' lonesome out there," explained Andy.

"Yes," said Indian Jake, "it is lonesome out there till you get used to it."

"It seems a wonderful long time since we left the Jug," observed Andy, as they ate supper.

"Not so long," said David, a little inclined to brag.

"No only a month yet. But," condescendingly, "'tis like t' seem long the first time. 'Twas so when I was up here with Pop last year. But I'm not mindin' un now."

"You was lonesome enough up at the Namaycush Lake tilt," Andy retorted.

"'Twon't help any t' talk about un," warned Indian Jake. "You'll be gettin' homesick at the start."

But after this the hope that each trap would reward them with a fine pelt kept alive their keen interest in the work. And, too, they were doing exceedingly well. Before the middle of December they had captured fourteen martens, one red, one cross, and two white foxes, which was quite as well, Indian Jake declared, as he had done, and was very well indeed, and they were proud.

"And it's all prime fur except th' first two martens we got," said David.