University of Virginia Library

12. CHAPTER XII.

The day agreed on, by the trappers, for starting on their
expedition into the unbroken wilds around and beyond the
upper lakes to the extreme reservoirs of the lordly Androscoggin,
had at length arrived. All the married men belonging to
the company, not having sons of their own old enough, had
engaged those of their neighbors to come and remain with their
families during their absence from home, which, it was thought
probable, would be prolonged to nearly December. Steel-traps
and rifles had been put in order, ammunition plentifully
provided, and supplies of such provisions as could not be generally
procured by the rifle and fish-hook in the woods and its
waters, carefully laid in; and all were packed up the night
previous, and in readiness for a start the next morning.

It had been agreed that the company should rendezvous on
the lake-shore, at the spot which we have already often mentioned,
and which, by common consent, was now beginning to
be called Elwood's Landing. And, accordingly, early on the
appointed morning, Mark Elwood and his son Claud, having
dispatched their breakfast, which Mrs. Elwood had been careful
to make an unusually good and plentiful one, shouldered
their large hunting packs, with their blankets neatly folded and
strapped outside; and, having bid that anxious and thoughtful
wife and mother a tender farewell, left the house and proceeded
with a lively step to the border of the lake. On reaching their
canoe at the landing, they glanced inquiringly around them for

some indications of the presence or coming of their expected
companions. But not a living object met their strained gaze,
and not the semblance of a sound greeted their listening ears.
A light sheeted fog, of varying thickness and density in the
different portions of the wide expanse, — here thin and spray-like,
as if formed of the breath of some marine monster, and
there thickening to the appearance of the stratiform cloud, — lay
low stretched, in long, slow-creeping undulations, over the
bosom of the waveless lake.

“The first on the ground, after all,” exclaimed Mr. Elwood,
on peering out sharply through the partially-obstructing fog
in the direction of the outlet of the lake, up through which
most of the company, who lived on the rivers below, were
expected to come. “That is smart, after so much cautioning to
us to be here in season. But they cannot be very far off, can
they, Claud?”

“One would suppose not,” replied the latter; “but sounds, in
this dense and quiet state of the atmosphere, could be distinguished
at a great distance, and, with all that my best faculties
can do, I cannot hear a single sound from any quarter. — But
stay, what was that?”

“What did you think you heard, Claud?” asked Mr.
Elwood, after waiting a moment for the other to proceed or
explain.

“Why, I can hardly tell, myself,” was the musing reply;
“but it was some shrill, long-drawn sound, that seemed to come
from a great distance in the woods off here to the south-east, or
on the lake beyond.”

“Perhaps it was a loon somewhere up the lake,” suggested
Mr. Elwood.

“It may be so, possibly,” rejoined Claud, doubtfully; “but,
if there were any inhabitants near enough in that direction, I
should think it must be — hark, there it is again! and, as I
thought, the crowing of a rooster.”

“A rooster! then it must be the echo of one, that has somehow

struck across from Phillips' barn; but how could that be?
Ah, I have just thought: your rooster must be Codman coming
down the lake. You know how curiously he imitated that creature
at the logging bee, don't you?”

“No; I happened to be in a noisy bustle in the house, just at
the time of those queer performances of his, and heard them
imperfectly. But, if the sound I heard was not that of a veritable
rooster, I never was so deceived in my life respecting the
character of a sound.”

“Well, I think you will find I am right, but we will wait,
listen, and see.”

The event soon proved the truth of Mr. Elwood's conjecture.
Suddenly a canoe, rounding a woody point a half-mile to the
right, shot into view, and the old loud and shrill Kuk-kuk-ke-o-ho
of Comical Codman rang far and wide over the waters to the
echoing hills beyond. But, before Claud had sufficiently recovered
from his surprise to respond to the triumphant “I told
you so” of his father, the strange salute was answered by a
merry, responsive shout of voices in the opposite direction;
and presently two canoes, each containing two men, emerged
into view from the fog hanging over the outlet, and, joining in
a contest of speed, to which they seemed to perceive the single
boatman was, by his movements, challenging them, rapidly made
their way towards the understood goal of the landing.

exclaimed the trapper, in his usual cheery tone and inimitable
air of mock gravity, as he drew up his oar, to let the impulse of
his last stroke send his canoe in to the shore of the landing, as
it did, while the foremost of his competitors in the friendly race
was yet fifty yards distant. “Mighty smart fellows, you!” he
resumed, waggishly cocking his eye towards the hunter, who
had charge of the boat most in advance. “What bright and

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early chaps, living only from two to five miles off, to let one who
has ten miles to come be in first at the rendezvous!”

“Well, Codman, I suppose we must give in,” responded the
hunter. “But, to do all this, you must have risen long before
day; how did you contrive to wake up?”

“Why, crowed like the house a-fire, and waked myself up, to
be sure!” replied Codman, promptly. “How did you suppose
I did it? But let that all go; I want to look you over a little.
You have brought some new faces with you, this time, haven't
you, Mr. Hunter?”

“Yes, here is one,” answered Phillips, pointing to a tall,
sandy-complexioned, but good-looking man of about thirty, who,
having occupied the forward seat of the canoe, now quietly
stepped ashore; “yes, gentlemen,” added the hunter, addressing
himself to the Elwoods, standing on the bank, as well as to the
trapper, “I make you acquainted with Mr. Carvil, — a man, if
I ain't a good deal out in my reckoning, who might be relied on
in most any circumstances.”

The customary salututions were then exchanged with the
stranger; when the hunter, instinctively understanding that often
violated rule of true politeness which requires of the introducer
some accompanying remark, giving a clue to the position and
character of the introduced, so as to gratify the natural curiosity
felt on such occasions, and to impart more freedom to the conversation,
quickly resumed:

“Mr. Carvil is a Green Mountain boy, who loves hunting,
partly for the health it gives, and partly for the fun of it. His
old range has usually been round the Great Megantic, the other
side of the highlands, in Canada, where I have heard of him
through the St. Francis Indians. But, having a mind to see
and try this side, he came on a few days ago, inquired me out,
and turned in with me. We from below have invited him to
join our company; are you all here agreed to that?”

“Certainly,” said Mark Elwood, in his usual off-hand
manner.

“Certainly,” added Claud, more specifically, “I think we
ought to be gratified in such an acquisition to our company.”

“And you, Codman?” said the hunter, turning inquiringly to
the trapper. “It is your turn to speak. But don't show the
gentleman so many of your bad streaks, to begin with, as to put
him out of conceit of you before he has time to find out your
good ones.”

“Well, I don't see but I must run the risk, then,” said the
trapper; “my streaks always come out as they come up, I never
pick any of them out as samples for strangers. But to the
question, — well, let's run him over once, if he won't be mad:
high cheek bones, showing him enough of the Indian make to
be a good hunter; a crank, steady eye, indicating honest motives,
and a good resolution, that won't allow a man to rest easy
till his object is carried out; and lastly, a well-put-together,
wiry frame, to bear fatigues, and do the work which so large a
head must often lay out for it. Yes, he passes muster with me
bravely: let him in, with a welcome.”

Carvil rewarded these good-natured running commentaries
on his person and supposed qualities, with a complacent bow;
when the trapper turned to the other canoe, which, with Gaut
Gurley and the young Indian described in a preceding chapter
on board, now came within speaking distance, and sang out:

“Hil-lo! there, you, captain, who made the big logs fly so
like the de-i-vel, the other day, whether the old chap had any hand
in it or not, what red genius is that you have brought along
with you?”

“It's Tomah, the young red man from the Connecticut-river
region, who hunted some in this section last fall, I understand.
I supposed you had met him before,” replied Gaut.

“O, ah, well, yes,” responded Codman; “I bethink me, now,
it is the young Indian that went to college, but couldn't be kept
there long enough to make any thing else, though long enough,
may be, to spoil him for a hunter.”

“May be not, too,” retorted Tomah, with a miffed air, which

showed he did not so readily appreciate the half-serious, half-sportive
manner of the trapper as the other stranger had done.
“May be, when you out with me catching beaver, one, two
month, you no crow so loud.”

“That's right,” interposed the hunter; “the Indian gives you
what you deserve for your nonsense, Codman. But a truce to
jokes. Let us all aboard, strike out, and be on our way over
the lake.”

In compliance with this suggestion, those not already in the
boats took to their seats, handled their oars, pushed off, and,
headed by the hunter and his boat companion, and falling, one
after another, into a line, rowed steadily on across the broadest
part of the lake, taking a lofty pine, whose attenuated top looked
like a reed rising over the fog in the distance, as a guide and
landmark to the great inlet, where the most arduous task of
their expedition was to be encountered, — the surmounting of
the long line of rapids leading to the great lakes above. But that
task, after a pleasant rowing of a couple of hours had brought
them to it, was, by dint of hard struggles against the current,
with oars as long as oars could be made to prevail; with setting-poles
when oars ceased to serve the purpose; and with
ropes attached to the boats and drawn from point to point or
rock to rock, when neither oars nor poles were of any avail;
together with the carrying both boats and baggage by land
round the last and most difficult ascent, — that task was at
length accomplished, and, before one o'clock in the afternoon,
all the boats, with their loading, were safely launched on the
broad bosom of the wild and picturesque Molechunk-a-munk.

Here, however, the company decided on taking their midday's
lunch, and an hour's rest, before proceeding on their
voyage. But, not deeming it expedient to incur the trouble and
delay which the building of fires and the new cooking of provisions
would require, they drew out only their bread and cold
meats, for the occasion; and these, as the company were seated
in an irregular circle on the rocks, were discussed and dispatched

with that keen relish which abstinence and a toil-earned
appetite alone could have brought them.

After they had finished their repast, they, at the suggestion
of Phillips and Codman, the only persons of the company who
were familiar with the lakes and country above, took up a
question which they had before discussed, without settling, but
which, they were told by the persons just named, must now,
before proceeding any farther, be definitely settled and understood.
This question was that of the expediency of establishing
a general head-quarters for the season, by building a large,
storm-proof camp, and locating it at some central point on the
shore of one of the two great lakes opening still above the one
on which they were now about to embark. The object of this
was to insure the company comfortable quarters, to which they
could resort in case of falling sick, or encountering long storms,
at which their furs could be collected and more safely kept,
their more cumbrous stores left, and from which their provisions
could be distributed, with the least trouble and travel, to
the smaller and more temporary camps that each of the company,
or any two of them, might make at the nearest terminations,
on the neighboring waters, of the different ranges of
woods they should select for their respective fields of operations.
The main part of the question, that of the necessity of establishing
general head-quarters, was at once, and unanimously,
decided in the affirmative. The remaining part, that of the
most eligible location for these quarters, was then fully discussed,
and finally settled by fixing the point of location about midway
of the eastern side of the Mooseeluk-maguntic, the next great
lake above, and, counting from the south, the third in this
unique chain of secluded lakes and widely clustering lakelets,
through which the far-spanning Androscoggin pours its vast
volume of wild waters to the distant bosom of the welcoming
ocean.

“Wisely arranged,” remarked the hunter, at the close of
the discussion. “The next object in view, then, is to reach

there this evening, in season to work up something in the shape
of a camp, that will serve for the night, and until the good one
we propose to build can be completed.”

“That can be done easily enough,” said Codman, “that is,
if we will tax our marrow-bones a little extra in pulling at the
oars. The distance over this lake, up the narrows, or river,
and across the end of the Maguntic to the mouth of that second
stream we have talked of, can't be much more than a
dozen miles, and all smooth sailing. Lord, yes! if we put in
like decent oarsmen, I warrant we make fetch come, so as to
be there by the sun an hour high, which will give time to build a
comfortable camp, and for cooking up the jolly good supper
I'm thinking to have, to pay us for all these sweats and hard
pulls up these confounded rapids and over these never-ending
lakes.”

“Well, let us put in, then, boys,” responded Gaut Gurley.
“I am as much for the go-ahead principle as the best of you.
Let us try the motion, and earn the good supper, whether we
get it or not. But, to make the supper quite the thing for the
occasion, it strikes me we ought to have something a little
fresher than our salt junk.”

“True, O King, and Great Mogul of the lubber-lifts,” rejoined
the trapper; “thou talkest like one not altogether without
knowledge of the good living of the woods. That something
fresher we will have, if it be only a mess of fish, which
I think I can take out of that stream in a short time after we
get there.”

“That could be done as we go along, if these lakes are as
well stocked with large trout as they are reputed,” observed
Carvil, in the calm, deliberate manner which characterized him
on all occasions.

“But we mustn't stop for that,” said the trapper.

“There is no need of stopping,” quietly replied the former.

“That's a queer idea,” said the trapper, evidently at fault.

“How are we to put in and wait for bites, without stopping, I
would like to know?”

“Perhaps I may be able to demonstrate the matter, as we
proceed on our way. At all events, since the question is
raised, I will try,” replied Carvil, drawing from his pocket a
roll of small silk cord, to which a fish-hook, without any sinker,
was attached. “Can any of you handily get at your pork, so
as to cut off and throw me a small bit? There, that will do,”
he continued, taking the proffered bit of meat, and baiting his
hook with it. “Now, the experiment I propose to try is what
in my region we call `troulling,' which consists of throwing out
a baited hook and paying out, as the boat moves on, a hundred
feet, or so, of line, that is left to trail, floating on the surface of
the water behind; when most large fish, like bass, or trout,
especially if you make a sharp tack, occasionally, so as to draw
the line across an undisturbed portion of the water, will see,
and, darting up, sieze it, and hook themselves. And, if you
have many large trout here, and they are any related to those
I have found in the Great Maguntic, and other large bodies of
fresh water, they will some of them stand a pretty good chance
to be found adding to our supper to-night.”

“Sorry to hear it,” said the trapper, “for I have always
considered the trout a sensible fish, and I should be sorry to
lose my respect for them. But, if they will do that, they are
bigger fools than I took them to be. But you 'll find they just
won't.”

“Well, I don't know about that, now. I am not so sure but
there may be something in it,” remarked the hunter, who
had been listening to Carvil with evident interest. “Though
we have never tried that method in this region, to my knowledge,
yet my experience rather goes to confirm the notion. I
remember to have caught several fine trout, when I had laid
down my pole, and was moving off with my boat, but had left
my line trailing behind. Those great fellows are not very
bashful about seizing any thing they think they can eat, which

they can see on the surface. I have known them do a stranger
thing than to come up and seize a piece of pork.”

“What was that?” asked the trapper.

“Well, I don't know as you will believe the story,” answered
the other, “but it will be equally true, if you don't. Some
years ago I was out on the Umbagog, for a mess of trout, but
couldn't get a bite; and, seeing a flock of black ducks in a
neighboring cove, I hauled in my line, and rowed off towards
them, thinking I might get a shot, and so have something to
carry home, by way of mending my luck at fishing. But,
before I got near enough to count with much certainty on
the effect of a shot, if I fired, they all flew up, but one,
which, though it seemed to be trying hard enough, could not
raise its body out of the water. As my canoe drifted in nearer,
I once or twice raised my rifle to fire at it; but it acted so
strangely, flapping the water with its wings, and tugging away
at swimming, without appearing to gain scarce a single foot,
that I soon laid down my piece and concluded I would try to
take it alive, supposing it must have got fast tangled with
something, but with what, I was wholly unable to conceive.
So, taking up my oar, and gunning my canoe, so as to send it
by within reach of the bird, I gave two or three strong pulls,
threw down the oar, put out my hand, and sat ready for the
grab, which the next moment I made, seizing the panting and
now sinking duck by one of its outspread wings, and pulling it
in, with a big trout fastened to its foot and leg so tight by the
teeth that the hold did not give way till the greedy fish was
brought slapping over the side, and landed safely in the bottom
of the canoe. That trout, when I got home, weighed just seven
pounds and nine ounces.”

“Wheugh! whiz! kak! ke-o-ho!” exclaimed, whistled, and
crowed Comical Codman.

“I do not doubt it in the least,” said Carvil.

“Nor can I, of course, on Mr. Phillips' statement,” added
Mark Elwood; “but, if I had not known his scrupulousness in

matters of fact, I should not have believed that so strange a
circumstance had ever happened in the world.”

“So the story is voted gospel, is it?” rejoined the trapper.
“Well, then, I propose we commission its author to cruise
along the coves this afternoon, so that he may bring into camp
to-night trout enough caught in that way to make up what
Mr. Carvil may miss taking by his method, together with a
brace or two of nice ducks, which would be a still further fine
addition to our supper.”

“Yes, ducks or some other kind of flesh, to go with the fish,
we may now safely count on being secured, by some of the
various proposed methods,” here interposed Claud Elwood,
seriously. And I second the motion of such a cruise along
the shores, by Mr. Phillips, who so seldom fails of killing something.
And if he, Mr. Carvil, and father, will agree to an
exchange of boat companions for the afternoon, I should like to
go with him. I have chosen him my schoolmaster in hunting,
and I should have a chance for another lesson before we go
into the separate fields of our approaching operations.”

Gaut Gurley started at the suggestion, and cast a few quick,
searching glances at Claud and the hunter, as if suspecting a
concert of action between them, for some purpose affecting his
secret plans; but, appearing to read nothing in either of their
countenances to confirm such suspicions, and seeing all the rest
of the company readily falling in with the proposal, he held
his peace, and joined the others in handling the oars for their
immediate departure; which was now in a few minutes taken,
the main part of the company striking in a direct line across
the middle of the lake for their destination, leaving the hunter
and Claud moving off obliquely to the right, for a different and
farther route among the intervening islands, and along the
indented shores beyond, — where it will best comport with the
objects of our story, we think, to accompany them in their
solitary excursion.

“Where away, as the sailors have it?” said Claud, after the

two, each with a single oar, had rowed on a while in silence;
“where away, Mr. Phillips, or in the line of what object in
sight would you lay your course?”

“Why, I had proposed, in my own mind,” replied the hunter,
“to steer direct across, so as to graze the east side of the great
island you see yonder in the distance; but, as we shall pass
so near the cove which lies snuggled away between two
sharp, woody points here, a little ahead to the right, we might
as well, perhaps, haul in and take a squint round it.”

“What shall we find there?”

“Perhaps nothing. It is the place, however, where I found
that deer which I killed when we were here before.”

“Well, if you can count on another, we should turn in there
now.”

“We will; but a hunter, young man, must never talk of
certainties when going to any particular spot in search of such
roving things as the animals of the forest. He must learn to
bear disappointment, and be prepared to find nothing where
he or others had before found every thing. He must have
patience. Loss of patience is very apt to be fatal to success
in almost any business, but especially so in hunting. You
spoke of taking lessons of me in the craft: this is the very first
grand lesson I would impress on your mind. But we are now
close upon the point of land, which we are only to round to be
in the cove. If you are disposed to row the boat alone, now,
keep in or out, stop or move on, as I from to time give the
word, I will down on my knees in the bow of the boat, with
cocked rifle in hand, ready for what may be seen.”

Readily complying, Claud carefully rowed round the point
and entered the dark and deep indenture constituting the cove,
whose few acres of surface were thrown almost wholly into
the shade, even at sunny noonday, by the thickly-clustered
groups of tall, princely pines, which, like giant warriors in
council, stood nodding their green plumes around the closely-encircling
shores. Closely hugging the banks, now stopping

behind some projecting clump of bushes, now in some rock-formed
nook, and now in the covert of some low-bending tree-top,
to give the keen-eyed hunter a chance to peer round or
through these screening objects into the open spaces along the
shore beyond, he slowly pushed along the canoe till the whole
line of the cove was explored, and they reached the point corresponding
to the one at which they commenced their look-out
for game, and all without seeing a living creature.

“Pshaw! this is dull business,” exclaimed Claud, as they
came out into the open lake, where he was left free to speak
aloud. “This was so fine a looking place for game that I
felt sure we should see something worth taking; and I am quite
disappointed in the result.”

“So that, then, is the best fruit you can show of my first
lesson in hunting, is it, young man?” responded the hunter,
with a significant smile.

Claud felt the implied rebuke, and promised better behavior
for the future; when both seated themselves at the oars, and,
as men naturally do, after an interval of suppressed action,
plied themselves with a vigor that sent their craft swiftly surging
over the waters in the line of their original destination.

They now soon reached, and shot along the shore of, a
beautifully-wooded island, nearly a half-mile in extent, about
midway of which the hunter rested on his oars, and, after Claud,
on his motion, had done the same, observed, pointing through a
partial opening among the trees, along a visible path that led
up a gentle slope into the interior of the island:

“There! do you catch a glimpse of a house-like looking
structure, in an open and light spot in the woods, a little beyond
where you cease to trace the path?”

“Yes, quite distinctly. What is it?”

“That belongs to the chief, and might properly enough be
called his summer-house, as he generally comes here with his
family to spend the hot months. He raises fine crops of corn
in his clearing on there beyond the house, and saves it all, because

the bears, coons, and squirrels, that trouble him elsewhere,
are so completely fenced out by the surrounding water.”

“Are the family there, now?”

“No; they have moved back to his principal residence, a
mile or two distant, on a point of land over against the opposite
side of this island, and not far out of our course.”

“Indeed! what say you, then, to giving them a call as we
pass by?”

“We shall not have time, which is a good reason for not
calling now, if there were not still stronger ones.”

“What stronger reasons, or what other reasons at all?”

“Well, perhaps there are none. But, supposing two of the
company we left behind, who might happen to conceive they
have some secret interest at stake, should ever suspect that
your leading object in leaving them was to make the very visit
you are now proposing, would you not prefer that we should
have it in our power to set their minds at rest, when we join
them to-night, by telling them all the places we did touch at?”

“It is possible I should, in such a case,” replied Claud, looking
surprised and puzzled; “but, `suspected,' did you say?
Why should they suspect? and what if they do?”

“Three questions in a heap, when one is more than I could
wisely attempt to answer,” evasively answered the cautious
hunter.

“But you must have some reasons for what you said,” persisted
the other.

“Reasons founded upon guesses are poor things to build a
statement on,” rejoined the hunter. “Half the mischief and
ill-feeling in the world comes from statements so made. And,
guessing aloud is often no better. I rather think, all things
considered, we had better not stop at the chief's, this time. I
can show you where he lives, as we pass; and, if that will do,
we will now handle oars, and be on our way.”

Much wondering at the enigmatical words of the other, Claud,
without further remark, put in his oar and thoughtfully rowed

on, till they had passed round the head of the island; when,
on the indication of the hunter, they stretched away towards a
distant promontory, on the northeastern shore of the lake. A
steady and vigorous rowing of half an hour brought them within
a few hundred yards of the headland, for which they had
been steering; when the hunter lifted his oar, and said:

“There! let the canoe run on alone, a while, and give me
your attention. Now, you see,” he continued, pointing in shore
to the right, “you see that opening in the woods, yonder, on the
southern slope extending down near the lake, eighty rods or
such a matter off, don't you? Well, that, and divers other
openings, where the timber has been cut down and burnt over,
for planting corn, scattered about in the woods in different
places, as well as a large tract of the surrounding forest-land,
are the possessions of the chief.”

“But where is their house?”

“Down near the lake, among the trees. You can't see
much of it, but it is a smart, comfortable house, like one of our
houses, and built by a carpenter; for the chief used formerly
to handle considerable money, got by the furs caught by himself,
and by the profits on the furs he bought of the St. Francis
Indians, who came over this way to hunt. But stay: there
are some of the family at his boat-landing. I think it must be
Fluella and her Indian half-brother. She is waving a handkerchief
towards us. Let us wait and see what she wants.”

The female, whose trim figure, English-fashioned dress, and
graceful motions went to confirm the hunter's conjectures, now
appeared to turn and give some directions to the boy, who immediately
disappeared, but in a few minutes came back, entered
a canoe, and put off towards the spot where our two
voyagers were resting on their oars. In a short time the canoe
came up, rowed by an ordinary Indian boy of about fourteen,
who, pulling alongside, held up a neatly-made, new, wampum-trimmed
hunting pouch, and said:

“The chief send this Mr. Claud Elwood, — gift. Fluella
say, wish Mr. Phillips and Mr. Claud Elwood good time.”

And so saying, and tossing the article to Claud, he wheeled
his canoe around, and, without turning his head or appearing
to hear the compliments and thanks that both the hunter and
Claud told him to take to the chief and his daughter, sped his
way back to the landing.

“There, young man!” exclaimed the obviously gratified
hunter, “that is a present, with a meaning. I would rather
have it, coming as it does from an Indian, and that Indian
such a man as the chief, — I would rather have it, as a pledge
of watchfulness over your interests in the settlement, whether
you are present there or absent, — than a white man's bond for
a hundred dollars; and I would also rather have it, as a token
of faith, given when you are roaming this northern wilderness,
than a passport from the king of England. The chief's Totem,
the bald eagle, is woven in, I see, among the ornaments. Every
Indian found anywhere from the great river of Canada to the
sea eastward will know and respect it, and know, likewise, how
to treat the man to whom it was given.”

“But how,” asked Claud, “could stranger Indians, whom I
encountered, know to whom it was given, or that I did not find,
buy, or steal the article?”

“Let an Indian alone for that. You have but three fingers
on your left hand, I have noticed.”

“True, the little finger was accidentally cut clean off by an
axe, when I was a child; but what has that to do with the
question?”

“Enough to settle it. Do you notice something protruding
as if from under the protecting wing of the eagle of the Totem,
there?”

“Yes; and surely enough it resembles a human hand, with
only three fingers.”

“That is it; and you may yet, in your experiences in these

rough and sometimes dangerous wilds, know the value of that
gift.”

“At any rate, I feel gratified at this mark of the chief's good
will; the more because I was so little expecting it, especially
at this time. How could they have possibly made out
who I, or indeed either of us, was, at such a distance?”

“A very natural inquiry, but answered when I tell you that
Fluella has a good spy-glass, that a year or two ago she brought,
among other curious trinkets, from her other home in the old
settlement. And she makes it often serve a good purpose, too.
She has spied out, for her father's killing, many a moose or
deer that had come down to the edge or into the water of the
lake round the shores to drink, eat wild-grass, or cool themselves,
as well as many a flock of wild geese, lighting here on
their fall or spring passages. She knew, I think, about the day
we were to start, and, being on the lookout, saw the rest of our
company passing off here to the west, an hour or two ago, and,
not seeing us among them, expected us to be along somewhere
in this direction. Now, is all explained?”

“Yes, curiously but satisfactorily.”

“Then, only one word more on the subject: let me advise
you not to show that hunting-pouch when we join the company,
nor wear it till we are off on our separate ranges. I have my
reasons, but mustn't be asked to give them.”

“All this is odd, Mr. Phillips; but, taking it for granted that
your reasons are good ones, I will comply with your advice.”

“Very well. The whole matter being now disposed of, let
us move on round the point, and into the large cove we shall
find round there. We mustn't give up about game so. No
knowing what may yet be done in that line.”

Having risen to his feet, raised his hunting-cap, and bowed
his adieu to the still lingering maiden on shore, Claud now
joined his companion at the oars; when they rapidly passed
round the headland, and soon entered the bay-like recess of
water, which, sweeping round in a large wood-fringed circle,

opened upon the view immediately beyond. After skirting
along the sometimes bold and rocky, and sometimes low and
swampy, thickly-wooded shore, with a sharp lookout for whatever
might come within range of the eye, but without stopping
for any special examination till they had reached the most secluded
part of the cove, the hunter suspended his oar, and signified
his intention of landing. Accordingly, running in their
canoe by the side of an old treetop extending into the water,
and, throwing their mooring-line around one of its bare limbs,
they stepped noiselessly ashore, and ascended the bank, when
the hunter, pausing and pointing inward, said, in a low, suppressed
tone:

“There, within a short distance from us, commences one of
the thickest windfall jungles in these parts, and extends up
nearly to the chief's outermost cornfield, about half a mile off.
I have been threatening to come here some time; and if, as I
will propose, we go into the tangle, and get through, or half
through, without encounter of some kind, I confess I shall be
uncommonly disappointed. But, before entering, let us sit
down on this old log a few minutes, and, while looking to our
flints and priming, keep our ears open for such sounds as may
reach them.”

And, bending low his head, with closed eyes, and an ear
turned towards the thicket, the hunter listened long and intently
in motionless silence, after which he quickly rose, and, while
glancing at his gun-flint and priming, said:

“There are no distinct sounds, but the air is disturbed in the
kind of way that I have frequently noticed when animals of
some size were in the vicinity. Let us forward into the
thicket, spreading out some ten rods apart, and worming ourselves
among the windfalls, with a stop and a thorough look
every few rods of our progress. Should you start up a panther,
which ain't very likely, you had better whistle for me,
before firing; but, if any thing else, blaze away at it.”

Nodding his assent, and starting off in a course diverging to

the right of the one he perceived his companion to be taking,
Claud slowly, and as he best could, made his way forward,
sometimes crawling under, and sometimes clambering over the
tangled masses of fallen trees, which, with a thick upshooting
second growth, lay piled and crossed in all conceivable shapes
and directions before him. After proceeding in this manner
thirty or forty rods, he paused, for the third or fourth time, to
look and listen; but lastly quite as much for his companion
as for game, for, with all his powers, he could detect no sound
indicating that the latter could be anywhere in the vicinity.
While thus engaged, he heard a small, shrill, plaintive sort of
cry, as of a little child, coming from somewhere above him;
when, casting up his eyes, he beheld a large raccoon sidling
round a limb, and seemingly winking and nodding down towards
him. With the suppressed exclamation of “Far better
than nothing,” he brought his piece to his face and fired; when
the glimpse of a straight-falling body, and the heavy thump on
the ground that followed, told him that the object of his aim
was a “dead coon.” But his half-uttered shout of exultation
was cut short by the startling report of a rifle, a little distance
to the rear, on his left. And the next moment a huge old
bear, followed by a smaller one, came smashing and tearing
through the brush and tree-tops directly towards him. And
with such headlong speed did the frightened brutes advance
upon him, that he had scarce time to draw his clubbed rifle
before the old one had broke into the little open space where
he stood, and thrown herself on her haunches, in an attitude of
angry defiance. Recoiling a step in the only way he could
move, and expecting the next moment to find himself within
the fatal grasp of the bear, if he did not disable her, Claud
aimed and struck with all his might a blow at her head. But,
before the swiftly-descending implement reached its mark, it was
struck by the fending paw of the enraged brute, with a force
that sent its tightly-grasping owner spinning and floundering
into the entangled brushwood, till he landed prostrate on the
ground. And, ere he had time to turn himself, the desperate
animal had rushed and trampled over him, and disappeared
through a breach effected in one of the treetops that had
hemmed him in and prevented his retreat from such a doubtful,
hand-to-hand encounter. As the discomfited young huntsman
was rising to his feet, his eyes fell upon Phillips, hurrying forward,
with looks of lively concern; which, however, as he
leaped into the small open space comprising the battle-ground,
and saw how matters stood, at first gave place to a ludicrous
smile, and then to a merry peal of laughter.

“I can't say I blame you much for your merriment,” said
Claud, joining, though rather feebly, in the laugh, as he brushed
himself and picked up his rifle; “for, to be upset and run over
by a bear would have been about the last thing I should have
dreamed of myself.”

“O well,” said the other, checking his risibles, “it had better
turn out a laughing than a crying matter, as it might have done
if you had kept your footing; for, if you had not been over-thrown
and run over, you would have probably, in this cramped-up
place, stood up to be hugged and scratched in a way not so
very agreeable; and I rather guess, under the circumstances,
you may as well call yourself satisfied to quit so; for the bears
have left you with a whole skin and unbroken ribs, though
they have escaped themselves where, with our time, it will be
useless to follow them. But, if you had not fired just as you
did, we would have had all three of them.”

“What! have you killed one?” asked Claud, in surprise.

“To be sure I have,” answered the hunter. “Then you
supposed it was one of your rough visitors I fired at, and
missed? No, no. I had got one of the black youngsters in
range, and was waiting for a chance at the old one, knowing if
I killed her first the young ones would take to the trees, where
they could easily be brought down. Seeing them, however, on
the point of running at the report of your rifle, I let drive at
the only one I was sure of; when the two others, they being

nearly between us, tacked about and ran towards you. But go
get your 'coon, and come along this way, to look at my black
beauty.”

“How did you know I had killed a 'coon?” inquired the
other.

“Heard him squall before you fired, then strike the ground
afterwards with a force that I thought must have killed him,
whether your bullet had or not,” replied the hunter, moving off
for his bear, with which, tugging it along by a hind leg, he
soon joined Claud, who was threading his way out with his
mottled trophy swung over his shoulder.

“Why, a much larger one than I supposed,” exclaimed the
latter, turning and looking at the cub; “really, a fine one!”

“Ain't he, now?” complacently said the hunter. “There,
heft him; must weigh over half a hundred, and as fat as butter,
— for which he is doubtless indebted to the chief's cornfield.
And I presume we may say the same of that streaked squaller
of yours, which I see is an uncommonly large, plump fellow.
Well,” continued the speaker, shouldering the cub, “we may
now as well call our hunt over, for to-day, — out of this plaguey
hole as soon as we can, and over the lakes to camp, as fast as
strong arms and good oars can send us.”

On, after reaching and pushing off their now well-freighted
canoe, on, — along the extended coast-line of this wild lake,
westward to the great inlet, up the gently inflowing waters of
that broad, cypress-lined stream, to the Maguntic, and then,
tacking eastward, around the borders of that still wilder and
more secluded lake, — on, on, they sped for hours, until the
ringing of the axe-fall, and the lively echo of human voices in
the woods, apprised them of their near approach to the spot
which their companions had selected, both for their night's rest
and permanent head-quarters for the season.