"What you give?" was the request of the old fellow.

"O, indeed, that is what you are after; well, what do you want?"

At first his demands were very unreasonable, but after some d.i.c.kering it was decided that if he stood the ordeal he was to get an agreed amount of flour, tea, sugar, and tobacco. It was also settled that the ordeal should come off the next day. The conjurer said that he would spend the night with his medicine drum and sacred medicine bag, to call back his familiar spirit, who might be away hunting. The boys discussed very much the coming contest, and, of course, were profoundly interested.

They had learned much since their coming into the country about these strange, wild, fearsome people, and this with what they had read in other days filled them with great curiosity to see what would be the outcome.

With Mr Ross and the family the matter was well talked over, and it was determined--as Mr Ross considered the conjurer who was to go through the ordeal an unmitigated fraud--that he should be taught a lesson that he and his cronies would never forget.

When the morning arrived the old fellows were there in good time, and the ordeal, which was to-day to be by bullet, was decided upon.

The conjurer selected for the ordeal had not proceeded far in his talk before he asked to see laid down at his wife's feet his pay. This was brought out and measured to his satisfaction, with the understanding that it was not to be his unless he succeeded.

His preparations were soon completed. Aided by his comrades, a small conjuring tent was made by sticking some long green limber poles in the ground, and bending them over like bows until the other ends were also made fast in the earth. Then over these poles a skin tent, made by sewing a number of dressed deerskins together, was thrown. Taking his medicine bag and magic drum into this tent, the conjurer disappeared.

Soon the monotonous drumming began. In addition there were heard the barks and howls and cries of nearly all the animals of the forest and prairies. The sounds were like that proceeding from a wild beast show when all the animals are let louse and are uttering their discordant notes. The tent quivered as though in a cyclone. Thus, for a time it went on--the drum beating, the beasts howling, the tent quivering--until it seemed utterly inexplicable how one man, could create such a din.

Among the boys, Sam was most excited at these strange proceedings. Much to the amus.e.m.e.nt of those around, he said:

"I'm thinking the safest place would be on the top of the house, if all those reptiles should break loose."

The conjurer now began crying out in his own language: "To help me he is coming, my own familiar spirit. Soon the bullet cannot pierce me; soon waters cannot drown me; soon fires cannot burn me. To help me he is coming! coming! coming!"

Thus on he went, while the drumming and howlings were almost incessant.

Mr Ross, who had resolved that there should be no nonsense, had asked one of his servants, who was an unerring shot, to do the firing. In the meantime one of the conjurer's a.s.sociates had asked to see the gun that was to be used, and kindly offered to load it. The suspicions of Mr Ross were at once aroused by this request, but wishing to see through the man's trick he did not oppose his request. Soon after a good gun was sent for, and also some powder and bullets. Full measure of powder was poured into the gun, and the usual wadding was well driven down upon it. When Mr Ross selected a bullet the friend of the conjurer, with a great pretence of awe, asked to see it, and holding it in his hand said, "This is the bullet that the familiar spirit will turn aside."

Mr Ross let him look at it, and saw him handling it with much apparent reverence, but he also saw him quickly and deftly change it for another bullet.

"That's your game, is it?" said Mr Ross but not out loud. After a little more humb.u.g.g.e.ry the bullet was handed back to be dropped into the muzzle of the gun.

If Mr Ross's thoughts could have been heard they would have been something like this:

"I have seen through that little trick, and will show you that two can play at that game."

And so without exciting the suspicion of the Indian, whose trick he had detected, he changed the bullet for another, and dropped it into the gun. When the wadding was driven in and placed upon it, the confederate of the conjurer asked for the privilege of being allowed also to help ram it down. Mr Ross saw his meaning and cheerfully granted it. The weapon was now loaded and ready for use. All this time the drumming and the conjuring had continued with all their accompaniments of howls and shrieks.

In a short time a shrill, low whistle, like the call of some bird, was heard, and Mr Ross observed that it was from the lips of the old Indian who had pretended to examine the bullet with such awe, but who had in reality exchanged it for a perfectly harmless one. He and the conjurer were a.s.sociates in their trickery. The bullet had been made in this way: A pair of bullet moulds had been heated quite hot, and then some bear's fat, which is like lard, had been put inside of them. Holding the moulds shut, and placing them in very cold water, they kept turning them around until the melted fat had hardened into a thin sh.e.l.l exactly the size of a bullet. Then a small puncture was made through this thin casing of fat, and the interior carefully filled up with fine sand. It was not difficult then to stop up the orifice with a little fat. It was then carefully coloured like a bullet, and at a distance could hardly be distinguished from one. When put in a gun and well pounded with a ramrod, of course, it would break all to pieces, and when fired at anything like an ordinary distance for ball firing would be perfectly harmless.

But Mr Ross's cleverness had been too much for the rogues, and so he had changed the bogus affair for a genuine bullet of lead. To his servant, who was to fire, he explained exactly how matters were, and had said to him:

"Do not kill the rascal, but give him a wound that will forever stop his boastings, and break his power over the poor deluded hundreds, who firmly believe he can do what he has so boastfully declared."

The low, shrill whistle call had made a great change upon the conjurer in the tent. He was now all boastfulness, and his cries were like the shouts of triumph:

"Waters cannot drown me; bullets cannot pierce me; fires cannot burn me."

"Are you sure you are ready?" said Mr Ross.

Shouting his defiance, the conjurer came out from the tent, and walking to a place where he knew the fine sand in the bullet of bear's grease would not hurt him, he boldly stood up, and stretching out his hands defied the shooter to do his best.

"You are sure, are you, that bullets will not hurt you?" said Mr Ross.

Very haughty was the conjurer's reply. Then said Mr Ross again; "If you are hurt, no one will be to blame."

"No, indeed," was the conjurer's reply, "for I have given the challenge, and my familiar spirit has told me that the bullets cannot pierce me."

"If you are struck, then you will give up your conjuring, and go and hunt for your own living, like other people?"

He hesitated for a moment, but the low, shrill whistle was once more heard, and so he fairly shouted out:

"If bullets can pierce me I will forever give up my conjuring, and destroy my magic drum and medicine bag."

"All right," said Mr Ross; then, turning to his servant, he said, "Now, Baptiste, fire!"

Taking deliberate aim, the man fired, and, as the report rang out, from one of the uplifted hands of the conjurer who was standing about fifty yards away--there fell a finger, as neatly cut off by the bullet as though a surgeon's knife had done the work.

With a howl of rage and pain most decidedly un-Indian-like, the conjurer began dancing about, much to the amus.e.m.e.nt of the boys, who a moment before were pale with pent-up excitement; for it is rather trying to look on and see in the hands of a skillful marksman a gun loaded with ball and pointed at this boastful man, who was willing to put his magic against the skill of the finest shot of the country.

Much to the surprise of all but Mr Ross and one or two others who saw through the trick, the old fellow, with his wounded hand still profusely bleeding, rushed over to his confederate and began abusing him most thoroughly for having deceived him. This attack the man resented, and a first-cla.s.s quarrel was the result. Around them gathered numbers of Indians, and in the mutual recriminations of these two the truth came out, and the people saw that they had long been deluded by a pair of impostors. From that, day they were discredited men, and never after regained any power or influence.

That evening Mr Ross explained to the boys the whole affair. He showed them the bogus bullet, and explained to them how it was made. The boys admitted that it was a clever trick, and were not satisfied until they had made several of them in the manner described.

Thus ended their first and last experience with Indian conjurers, and it thoroughly convinced them that they are only cunning impostors.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

OUTING--ALEC AND MUSTAGAN'S SHOOTING CONTEST, OR GUN VERSUS BOW AND ARROW-SHOOTING THE SWANS--WAS SAM CROSS-EYED?--THE RETURN TRIP--THE ESCAPE OF THE DOE AND FAWN FROM THE WOLF.

As Mr Ross had quite recovered, it was resolved to go again on an extended trip to the country in the region of Montreal Point, and have some hunting in that section of country. Some Indian hunters had come in from that place, and reported the entire absence of wolves. This was not to be wondered at, on account of the number that had been shot in the fierce conflict which there took place. It is also a fact well- known to wolf hunters that when a pack has been severely defeated the survivors at once retreat to some distant regions.

As the weather was very fine, Mrs Ross and the younger members of the family accompanied them as far as to the Old Fort. They travelled in a large and roomy canoe especially made for them. It was manned by four Indians, who were very proud of their charge. Frank and Sam, with an Indian hunter, occupied another canoe, while Mr Ross had with him Alec and Mustagan.

As the ducks and other gamy birds were numerous, they had some good shooting from their canoes as they paddled along. At times they were able to fire into large flocks, then again they tried their skill on a single bird as it rapidly flew by.

Said Mustagan to Alec: "You take gun, I take bow and arrow, and we see who shoot best."

"All right," said Alec, "I'll try."

So it was decided that when the next duck flew over them Alec was to try first. If he missed, Mustagan was to shoot, and thus they would alternately fire--first Alec, and then Mustagan; then Mustagan first, and then Alec. The one who killed five ducks or other game first was to be considered victor. Mr Ross, who entered heartily into the spirit of the contest, took the steering paddle while the white lad and the old Indian tried their skill. It was a contest between gun and powder _versus_ bow and arrow.

Soon a fine mallard duck came flying along. Alec let drive at it, and missed. Quick as a flash Mustagan's bow was up and his arrow sighted and sent after it with such accuracy that it caught it fairly under one of the wings, killing it instantly.

"The best shot I ever saw!" shouted Alec, in genuine admiration.

The head of Mustagan's arrow was the thigh bone of the wild swan, which is about solid, and makes a capital arrow head for duck shooting, as it is heavy, and can be made so sharp as to easily pierce the body of the game.

The next object was a solitary beaver sitting on a bank quite unconcerned. Mr Ross said afterward that in all probability it was an old, sullen fellow that had been driven away by the others from some distant beaver house, and had come and dug a burrow somewhere in that bank and was there living alone.