Part 10 (2/2)
”How far is it from here?” asked the boy.
”Not over a hundred an' fifty miles at the outside, an' if you'll wait around a couple of days, there'll be some of the Bear Lake Indians in with some fish from the Fisheries. They're due now. You can hire them for guides. They'll be bringin' down a couple of tons of fish, so they'll have plenty sled room so you can make it in one trip.”
And so it was decided that Connie and 'Merican Joe should winter somewhere on the south sh.o.r.e of Great Bear Lake, and for a certain band of Indians that had established their camp upon the river that flows from Lake Ste. Therese into the extreme point of McVicker Bay, it was well they did.
The Bear Lake Indians appeared the following day, delivered their fish at the post, and Connie employed two of them with their dog teams to make the trip. The journey was uneventful enough, with only one storm to break the monotony of steady trailing with the thermometer at forty and even fifty below--for the strong cold had settled upon the Northland in earnest.
Upon the sixth day 'Merican Joe halted the outfit upon the sh.o.r.e of a little lake which lay some five miles from the south sh.o.r.e of Keith Bay.
”Build camp here,” he said, indicating a low knoll covered with a dense growth of spruce. Connie paid off the guides with an order on the Hudson's Bay Company, and hardly had they disappeared before he and 'Merican Joe were busy clearing away the snow and setting up the tent that was to serve as temporary quarters until the tiny cabin that would be their winter home could be completed.
The extra sled provided by the Indians, and the fact that they were to go only a comparatively short distance from the post, had induced Connie to add to his outfit a few conveniences that would have been entirely out of the question had he insisted in pus.h.i.+ng on to the Coppermine.
There was a real sheet iron stove with several lengths of pipe, a double window--small to be sure, but provided with panes of gla.s.s--and enough planking for a small sized door and door frame. Although the snow all about them showed innumerable tracks of the fur bearers, the two paid no attention to them until the cabin stood finished in its tiny clearing.
And a snug little cabin it was, with its walls banked high with snow, its c.h.i.n.ks all sealed with water-soaked snow that froze hard the moment it was in place, and its roof of small logs completely covered with a thick layer of the same wind-proof covering.
On the morning following the completion of the cabin Connie and 'Merican Joe ate their breakfast by candlelight. Connie glanced toward the pile of steel traps of a.s.sorted sizes that lay in the corner. ”We'll be setting them today, Joe. The fox tracks are thick all along the lake, and yesterday I saw where a big lynx had prowled along the edge of that windfall across the coulee.”
'Merican Joe smiled. ”Firs' we got to git de bait. Dat ain' no good we set de trap wit'out no bait.”
”What kind of bait? And where do we get it?” asked the boy.
”Mos' any kin'--rabbit, bird, caribou, moose. Today we set 'bout wan hondre snare for de rabbit. We tak' de leetle gun 'long, mebbe-so we git de shot at de ptarmigan.”
”Why can't we take a few fox traps with us? We could bait 'em with bacon, or a piece of fish.”
”No, dat ain' no good for ketch de fox. Dat leetle fox she too mooch smart. She hard to trap. She ain' goin' fool wit' bacon an' fish. She stick out de nose an' smell de man-smell on de bacon an' she laugh an'
run away. Same lak de fish--she say: 'De fish b'long in de wataire. How he git t'rough de ice an' sit on de snow, eh?' An' den she run 'way an'
laugh som' mor'. We ain' goin' trap no fox yet annyhow. Novembaire, she mos' gon'. Decembaire we trap de marten an' de _loup cervier_. In Janueer de marten curl up in de stump an' sleep. Den we trap de fox. She ain' so smart den--she too mooch hongre.”
At daylight the two started, 'Merican Joe leading the way to a dense swamp that stretched from the lake sh.o.r.e far inland. Once in the thicket the Indian showed Connie how to set snares along the innumerable runways, or well-beaten paths of the rabbits, and how to secure each snare to the end of a bent sapling, or tossing pole, which, when released by the struggles of the rabbit from the notch that held it down, would spring upright and jerk the little animal high out of reach of the forest prowlers. During the forenoon Connie succeeded in shooting four of the big white snowshoe rabbits, and at the noon camp 'Merican Joe skinned these, being careful to leave the head attached to the skin.
”I didn't know rabbit skins were worth saving,” said Connie, as the Indian placed them together with the carca.s.ses in the pack.
”You wait--by-m-by I show you somet'ing,” answered the Indian. And it was not long after the snare setting had been resumed that Connie learned the value of the rabbit skins. As they worked deeper into the swamp, lynx, or _loup cervier_ tracks became more numerous. Near one of the runways 'Merican Joe paused, drew a skin from his pack, and proceeded to stuff it with brush. When it had gained something the shape of the rabbit, he placed it in a natural position beneath the low-hanging branches of a young spruce and proceeded to set a heavier snare with a larger loop. The setting of this snare was slightly different from the setting of the rabbit snares, for instead of a tossing pole the snare was secured to the middle of a clog, or stout stick about two inches in diameter and four feet long. The ends of this clog were then supported upon two forked sticks in such manner that the snare hung downward where it was secured in position by tying the loop to a light switch thrust into the snow at either side. The snare was set only a foot or two from the stuffed rabbit skin and sticks and brush so arranged that in order to reach the rabbit the lynx must leap straight into the snare. The remaining rabbit skins were similarly used during the afternoon, as were the skins of two ptarmigan that Connie managed to bring down.
”Use de skin for bait de _loup cervier_, an' de meat for bait de marten--dat de bes' way,” explained 'Merican Joe, as they worked their way toward the edge of the swamp after the last snare had been set.
[Ill.u.s.tration: ”The snare was set only a foot or two from the stuffed rabbit skin and sticks and brush so arranged that in order to reach the rabbit the lynx must leap straight into the snare.”
Drawn by Frank E. Schoonover]
The early darkness was already beginning to fall when Connie stopped suddenly and stared down at the snow at the base of a huge ma.s.s of earth and moss that had been thrown upward by the roots of a fallen tree. The thing that caught the boy's attention was a round hole in the snow--a hole hardly larger in diameter than a silver quarter, and edged with a lacy filigree of frost spicules. The boy called to 'Merican Joe who had paused to refasten the thongs of his rackets. At the first glance the Indian's eyes lighted:
”Bear in dere!” he exclaimed. ”We dig um out. We git plenty meat--plenty bait--an' de good skin besides.”
<script>