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D Coloured covers/ Couverture da coulaur r~n Covers damaged/ Couverture endommagie □ Covers restored and/or laminated/ Couverture restaurie et/ou pellicula □ Cover title mi) signifia "A SUIVRE", la symbols ▼ signifia "FIN". IVIaps, piatas. charts, ate, may ba filmad at diffarant raduction ratios. Thoaa too larga to ba antlraly includad in ona axpoaura ara filmad baglnning in tha uppar iaft hand comar, laft to right and top to bottom, as many framas as raquirad. Tha following diagrams lllustrata tha mathod: Laa cartas, pianchas, tablaaux, ate. pAuvant *tra fllm4s i das taux da rMuction diff Arants. Lorsqua la documant ast trop grand pour Atra raproduit an un saul clich*. II ast film* A partir da I'angla sup4rlaur gaucha, da gaucha k droita, at da haut an bas, an pranant la nombra d'Imagas nicassalra. Laa diagrammas sulvants illustrant la m4thoda. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 '4 i i * r. I, J' J.*. V -l.',. / r-, , Af> THE YOUNG VOYAGEURS. . ! m w^^ m& mmmmm 1. 1 !f- I'l By the mme Author^ THE BOY HUNTERS; OB, ADVENTUKES IN SEARCH OF A WHITE BUFFALO. THIRD EDITION. " The Book is just such a one as we would make a Christmas present of to a &vourite youthful Mend." — Obterver. " Such as deeply to interest boys." — Eliza CooV» Jonmal. " Beveals, on the part of its author, the keenest observation of nature, and a really ddightM vivacity of imagination."— ^m. THE DESERT HOME; oa, ENGLISH FAMILY ROBINSON. THIRD EDITION. " Cannot &il to be the most popular book with boys after ' Robinson Crusoe.' " — Britannia. " The author is personally fioniliar with the scenes he describes, and is thus able to give them an air of truthfldness which in other circimi- stanoes can only be attained by the rarest genius." — Chambers' Journal. " It is not easy to lay the book down after beginning it ; and the knowledge the author possesses of the habits of the animals, msikes it well worth reading." — Guardian. " This is a volume in which young gentlemen between the ages of twelve and twenty yriJ} greatly r^oice. An interesting story, expressly framed to introduce the youthful reader to an extensive acquaintance with natural history."— CWtic. u 'I '■'■^■'■'t ."'-•-■ f 4 u ^•^'^^i^''''mimirjm!miSKBmiKi 'r ^-"^^^'tsfei^ ~'ii|, ly; i^ TlIK CARIBOU AND THE WOLVES. — PoffC 4C0. k ij-- ■f' i m r HE Xaim .V0YAG'i:UR8 ^ ■'H an •m IIFNTEHS ^t TRE KOKTH. I A ■ "^ »'ia. ^nnr -mi^iXK ii.i.i.'t' '^^-^^e^M^wr, . ?^r OAVID: f'^'r c^lREET. z^ ■\:^ ■: V :X .M- U' t ¥,:9t:i- ^-.; r ^;^!?|:i' - r •> ^ ^" % f'' ,'•* f^' <"» ,* > '■it <)>'■ ' i A, •• ■*. *■>. ■Wf^/l.; ■ r^ 1^. %. •'X '.^ iiii-ft- 8^* Nv ■ ■^ ;..0. r^N THE YOUNG VOYAGEURS, OB THE BOY HUNTERS IN THE NOETH. BT CAPTAIN MAYNE REID, Author or "The Boy Hunters," "The Desert Home," etc. WITH TWELVE ILLUSTRATIONS BY W. HARVEY. LONDON : DAVID BOGUE, FLEET STREET. M.DOOO.LrV. [TranBlation reserved.} ir SZl^- 1^7(f /^? LONDON: Printed by G. Barclay, Castle St. Leicester Sq. % KIND FATHEB, GENTLE AND AFFECTIONATE MOTHEK, ACCEPT THIS TRIBUTE OP A SON 8 GRATITUDE. r^\ MAYNE EEID. I0lll071_ .^K PREFACE. In the " Boy Hunters " the Author endeavoured to illustrate ihe fauna of the temperate zone of the American Continent. In doing this, however, many animals, and particularly that interesting class known as the " fur-bearing animals," could not be introduced withoai " bringing the mountain to Mahomet." To avoid this, the " Boy Hunters " — under the name of the " Young Voyagems " — have made a grand journey through the " fur countries," where, as will be seen, they have met with nearly all the wild creatures that inhabit that cold and desolate region. The Author begs leave here to repeat that he is " not conscious of having taken any liberty, for the sake of effect, with the laws of Nature — ^with its fauna or its flora. Neither plant nor tree, bird nor mammal, has been pressed into service beyond tlie limits of its geographical range; although, in illustrating the habits or history of God's wild creatures, he has often selected only their more peculiar characteristics." If the " Young Voyageurs " receive only as much applause in their new character, as they did in that of the " Boy Hunters," the Author will have no reason to complain of his " boy pubUc." LoNDOX, November 1853. sisa CONTENTS. CHAP. I. THE FUR COUNTRIES II. THE YOUNG VOYAGEURS III. THE TRUMPETER SWAN AND BALD EAGLE 29 IV. THE SWANS OF AMERICA V. A SWAN-HUNT BY TORCHLIGHT VI. " CAST away" . VII. A BRIDGE OF BUCKSKIN VIII. DECOYING THE " GOATS " IX. A •' PARTRIDGE DANCE " X. BASIL AND THE BISON-BULL . XI. THREE CURIOUS TREES XII. HOW TO BUILD A BARK CANOE XIII. THE CHAIN OF LAKES . XIV. WAPITI, WOLVES, A^D WOLVERENE XV. A. PAIR OF DEEP DIVERS XVI. A GRAND SUNDAY DINNER XVII. THE MARMOTS OF AMEriCA . PAGE 1 11 47 58 ?3 81 98 109 119 128 145 154 163 182 195 211 Vlll CONTENTS. 1^ CHAP. PAOK XVIII. THE BIAIREAU, TA>VNIES, AND LEOPARDS 226 ^ XIX. AN ODD SORT OF DECOY-DUCK . . 237 XX. THE DUCKS OF AMERICA . . .254 XXI. THE SHRIKE AND THE HUMUIXG-BIRDS . 266 XXII. THE FISH-HAWK . . . .274 XXIII. THE OSPREY AND HIS TYRANT . . 284 XXIV. THE VOYAGE INTERRUPTED . .297 XXV. FISHING UNDER THE ICE . . . 306 XXVI. AN ODD ALARM 316 XXVII. ENCOUNTER WITH A MOOSE . . .331 XXVIII. LIFE IN A LOG-HUT . . . .342 XXIX. TRAVELLING ON SNOW-SHOES . . 364 XXX. THE BARREN GROUNDS . . .365 XXXI. THE ROCK-TRIPE , . . .378 XXXII. THE POLAR HARE AND GREAT SNOWY OWL 388 XXXIII. THE JUMPING MOUSE AND THE ERMINE . 403 XXXIV. THE ARCTIC FOX AND WHITE WOLF . 410 XXXV. THE JERFALCON AND THE WHITE GROUSE 423 XXXVI. THE HARE, LYNX, AND GOLDEN EAGLE . 431 XXXVII. THE "ALARM BIRD " AND THE CARIBOU . 440 XXXVIII. A BATTLE WITH WOLVES . . . 462 XXXIX. END OF THE " VOYAGE . 466 h\2__ THE YOUNG VOYAGEURS. CHAPTER I. THE FUR COUNTRIES. Boy reader, you have hoard of the Hudson's Bay Company ? Ten to one, you have worn a piece of fur, which it has provided for you ; if not, your pretty little sister has — in her muff, or her boa, or as a trimming for her winter dress. "Would you like to know sometliing of the country whence come these furs ? — of the animals whose backs have been stripped to obtain them ? As I feel certain that you and I are old friends, I make bold to ansAver for you — yes. Come, then ! let us journey together to the "Fur Countries;" let us cross them from south to north. A vast journey it will be. It will cost us many thousand miles of travel. We shall find neither B / / Hft*^TigmH.,H)^|i>.tj!i^yyi'{lF^iwii"-f.'|'»'w»«!iy^> J Jg,'U||'»'.w.iiM>^^ii"Wij'i'H<' 'ut.j)|y;'i»iiJi*jy|jiMij.^tuu<'BiM'.wtiiujwiii.pi pjiji«inupii!Vfii««imiip«qiipiimiPiippq^^ i ,'■ t 16 THE YOUNG V0TAGEUR8. the modt beautiful bird of its tribe. By the other strap was suspended a large crescent-shaped horn taken from the head of an Opelousas bull, and carved with various ornamental devices. Other smaller implements hung from the belts, attached by leathern thongs : there was a picker, a wiper, and a steel for striking fire with. A third belt — a broad stout one of alligator leather — encircled the youth's waist. To this was fastened a holster, and the shining butt of a pistol could be seen protruding* out ; a hunting -knife of the kind denominated "bowie" hanging over the left hip, completed his " arms and accoutrements." The second of the youths was dressed, as already stated, in a somewhat simiilar manner, though his accoutrements were not of so warlike a character, Like the other, he had a powder-horn and pouch, but instead of knife and pistol, a canvass bag or haversack hung from his shoulder ; and had you looked into it, you would have seen that it was half filled with shells, pieces of rock, and rare plants, gathered during the day — the diurnal store- house of the geo)ogist, the palaeontologist, and botanist — to be emptied for study and examination by the night camp-fire. Instead of the 'coon-skin K THE YOUNG VOYAGEURS. 17 r cap he wore a white felt hat with broad leaf ; and for leggings and mocassins he had trousers of blue cottonade and laced buskins of tanned leather. The youngest of the three was dressed and accoutred much like the eldest, except that his cap was of blue cloth — somewhat after the fashion of the military forage cap. All three wore shirts of coloured cotton, the best for journeying in these uninhabited regions, where soap is scarce, and a laundress not to be had at any price. Though very unlike one another, these three youths were brothers. I knew them well. I had seen them before — about two years before — and though each had grown several inches taller since that time, I had no difficulty in recognising them. Even though they were now two thousand miles from where I had formerly encountered them, I could not be mistaken as to their identity. Beyond a doubt they were the same brave young adven- turers whom I had met in the swamps of Louisiana, and whose exploits I had witnessed upon the prairies of Texas. They were the " Boy Hunters," — Basil, Lucien, Fran9ois ! I was right glad to renew acquaintance with them. Boy reader, do you share my joy ? I— „,.,,j,.,„,M, II ii|p(i Mu^i^iiii 1 1 i>wMiKVH«ijin^^pi|ip9qp^p«i||pqH r i Kt ill., 18 THE YOUNG VOTAGEURS. But whither go they now ? They are full two thousand miles from their home in Louisiana. The Bed River upon which their canoe floats is not that Red River, whose blood-like waters sweep through the swamps of the hot South — the home of the alli- gator and the gar. No, it is a stream of a far different character, though also one of great magni- tude. Upon the banks of the former ripens the rice- plant, and the sugar-cane waves its golden tassels high in the air. There, too, flourishes the giant reed {Arundo giganted), th 3 fan-palm ( Chamcerops)^ and the broad-leafed magnolia, with its huge snow- white flowers. There the aspect is Southern, and the heat tropical for most part of the year. All this is reversed on the Red River of the North. It is true that on its banks sugar is also produced ; but it is no longer from a plant but a lordly tree — the great sugar-maple (^Acer sac- charinum). There is rice too, — vast fields of rice upon its marshy borders ; but it is not the pearly grain of the South. It is the wild rice, " the water oats" {Zizania aquatica\ the food of millions of wing' 'reatures, and thousands of human beings as well. > ..ore for three-fourths of the year the sun is feeble, and the aspect that of winter. For months THE YOUNG VOTAGEURS. I# n the cold waters are bound up in an icy embrace. The earth is covered with thick snow, over which rise the needle-leafed conifercB — the pines, the cedars, the spruce, and the hemlock. Very unlike each other are the countries watered by the two streams, the Red River of the South and its name- sake of the North. But whither go our Boy Hunters in their birch- bark canoe ? The river upon which they are voy- aging runs duo northward into the great lake Winnipeg. They are floating with its current, and consequently ' increasing the distance from their home. Whither go they ? The answer leads us to some sad reflections. Our joy on again beholding them is to be mingled with grief. When we last saw them they had a father, but no mother. Now they have neither one nor the other. The old Colonel, their father — the French emigre, the hunter-naturalist — is dead. He who had taught them all they knew ; who had taught them " to ride, to swim, to dive deep rivers, to fling the lasso, to climb tall trees, and scale steep cliflEs, to bring down birds upon the wing or beasts upon the run, with the arrow and the unerring rifle; who had trained them to sleep in the open air, in the dark THE YOUNG VOYAGEURS. forest, on the unsheltered prairie, along the white' snow-wreath — anywhere — with but a blanket or a buffalo robe for their bed; who had taught them to live on the simplest food, and had imparted to one of them a knowledge of science, of botany in particu- lar, that enabled them, in case of need, to draw sustenance from plants and trees, from roots and fruits, to find resources where ignorant men would starve ; had taught them to kindle a fire without flint, steel, or detonating powder ; to discover their direction ]svithout a compass, from the rocks and the trees and the signs of the heavens; and in addition to all, had taught them, as far as was then known, the geography of that vast wilderness that stretches from the Mississippi to the shores of the Pacific Ocean, and northward to the icy borders of the Arctic Sea" — he who had taught them all this, their father, was no more; and his three sons, the "boy men," of whom he was so proud, and of whose accomplishments he was wont to boast, were now orphans upon the wide world. But little more than a year after their return from their grand expedition to the Texan prairies, the "old Colonel" had died. It was one of the worst years of that scourge of the South — the ,>!,7 K THE YOUNG VOTAGEUHS. 21 yellow fever — and to this dread pestilence he had fallen a victim. Hugot, the ex-ckasseur and attached domestic, who was accustomed to follow his master like a shadow, had also followed him into the next world. It was not grief that killed Hugot, though he bore the loss of his kind master sadly enough. But it was not grief that killed Hugot. He was laid low by the same disease of which his master had died — the yellow fever. A week had scarcely passed after the death of the latter, before Hugot caught the disease, and in a few days he was carried to the tomb and laid by the side of his " old Colonel.** The Boy Hunters — Basil, Lucien, Fran9ois — became orphans. They knew of but one relation in the whole world, with whom their father had kept up any correspondence. This relation was an uncle, and, strange as it may seem, a Scotchman — a Highlander, who had strayed to Corsica in early lixe, and had there married the Colonel's sister. That uncle had afterwards emigrated to Canada, and had become extensively engaged in the fur trade. He was now a superintendent or "factor " of the Hud- son's Bay Company, stationed at one of their most remote posts near the shores of the Arctic Sea ! f ' THE YOUNG VOYAGEURS. There is a romance in the history of some men^ , wilder than any fiction that could be imagined. I have not yet answered the question as to where our Boy Hunters were journeying in their birch- bark canoe. By this time you will have divined the answer. Certainly, you will say, they were on their way to join their uncle in his remote home. For no other object could they be travelling through the wild regions of the Red River. That suppo- sition is correct. To visit this Scotch uncle (they had not seen him for years) was the object ot their long, toilsome, and perilous journey. After their father's death he had sent for them. He had heard of their exploits upon the prairies ; and, being him- self of an adventurous disposition, he was filled with admiration for his young kinsmen, and de- sired very much to have them come and live with him. Being now their guardian, he might com- mand as much, but it needed not any exercise of authority on his part to induce all three of them to obey his summons. They had travelled through the mighty forests of the Mississippi, and upon the summer prairies of the South. These great features of the earth's surface were to them familiar things, and they were no longer curious about them. But ILW... THE YOUNG VOYAGEUHS. 23 there remained a vast country which they longed eagerly to explore. They longed to look upon its shining lakes and crystal rivers ; upon its snow-clad hills and ice-bound streams ; upon its huge mam- malia — its moose and its musk-oxen, its wapiti and its monster bears. This was the very country to which they were now invited by their kinsman, and cheerfully did they accept his invitation. Al- ready had they made one-half the journey, though by far the easier half. They had travelled up the Mississippi, by steamboat as far as the mouth of the St. Peter's. There they had commenced their canoe voyage — in other words became " voyageurs" — for such is the name given to those who travel by canoes through these wild territories. Their favourite horses and the mule "Jeannette" had been left behind. This was a necessity, as these creatures, however useful upon the dry prairies of the South, where there are few or no lakes, and where rivers only occur at long intervals, would be of little service to the traveller in the Northern re- gions. Here the route is crossed and intercepted by numerous rivers ; and lakes of all sizes, with tracts of inundated marsh, succeed one another con- tinually. Such, in fact, are the highways of the m THE YOUNG VOYAGEURS. V I I * i country, and the canoe the travelling carriage ; so* that a journey from one point of the Hudson's Bay territory to another is often a canoe voyage of thousands of miles — equal to a "trip" across the Atlantic I Following the usual custom, therefore, our Boy Hunters had become voyageurs — " Young Voy- ageurs.^^ They had navigated the St. Peter's in safety, almost to its head-waters. These interlock with the sources of the Red River. By a "portage" of a few miles they had crossed to the latter stream; and, having launched their canoe upon its waters, were now floating downward and northward with its current. But they had yet a long journey before them — nearly two thousand miles ! Many a river to be " run," many a rapid to be " shot," many a lake to be crossed, and many a " portage " to be passed, ere they could reach the end of that great voyage. Come, boy reader, shall we accompany them? Yes. The strange scenes and wild adventures through which we must pass, may lighten the toils, and perhaps repay us for the perils, of the journey. Think not of the toils. Roses grow only upon thorns. From toil we learn to enjoy leisure. Re- gard not the perils. " From the nettle danger MlhM«*MlMMIa«MI THE rOUNO VOYAOEURS. 25 we pluck the flower safety." Security often springs from peril. From such hard experiences great men have arisen. Come, then, my young friend ! mind neither toil nor peril, but with me to the great wilderness of the North I Stay ! We are to have another " compagnon du voi/age." There is a fourth in the boat, a fourth " young voyageur." Who is he ? In ap- pearance he is as old as Basil, full as tall, and not unlike him in " build." But he is altogether of a different colour. He is fair-haired; but his hair (unlike that of Lucien, which is also light- coloured) is strong, crisp, and curly. It does not droop, but stands out over his cheeks in a profusion of handsome ringlets. His complexion is of that kind known as "fresh," and the weather, to which it has evidently been much exposed, has bronzed and rather enriched the colour. The eyes are dark blue, and, strange to say, with black brows and lashes ! This is not common, though sometimes observed ; and, in the case of the youth we are describing, arose from a difference of complexion on the part of his parents. He looked through the eyes of his mother, while in other respects he was K 26 THE YOUNG VOYAGEURS. more like his father, who was fair-haired and of a "fresh" colour. The youth, himself, might be termed handsome. Perliaps he did not possess the youthful beauty of rran9ois, nor the bolder kind that characterized the face of Basil. Perhaps he was of a coarser "make" than any of his three companions. His intellect had been less cultivated by education, and education adds to the beauty of the face. His life had been a harder one — he had toiled more with his hands, and had seen less of civilized society. Still many would have pronounced him a handsome youth. His features were regular, and of clean outline. His lips expressed good-nature as well as firmness. His eye beamed- with native intelligence, and his whole face bespoke a heart of true and determined honesty — that made it beautiful. Perhaps a close scrutinizer of countenances might have detected some resemblance — a family one— between him and his three companions. If such there was, it was very slight ; but there might have been, from the relationship that existed between them and him. ' He was their cousin — their full cousin — the only son of that uncle they were now \- K tired and of a ed handsome, ithful beauty characterized of a coarser anions. His ducation, and ice. His life d more with ized society. I a handsome and of clean re as well as intelligence, of true and tiful. lances might imily one— as. If such might have ed between — their full Y were now r I' !l : i i> It ii TiiK voL'.NU \o\\ui:viis. — r<(!/c 21, u t k\\m^^ PS>f ^^ AV _ _ .,?s V!©; -S ,, THE YOUNG VOYAGEURS. 27 on their way to visit, and the messenger who had been sert to bring them. Such was the fourth of " the young voyageurs." His dress was not u.like that worn by Basil ; but as he was seated on the bow, and acting as pilot, and therefore m^re likely to feel the cold, he wore over his hunting-skirt a Canadian capote of white woollen clotli; w\. ts hood hanging down upon his shoulders. But there was still another " voyageur," an old acquaintance, whom you, boy reader, will no doubt remember. This was an animal, a quadruped, who lay along the bottom of the canoe upon a buffalo's hide. "From his size and colour — which was a tawny red — you might luive mistaken him for a panther — a cougar. His 2«" ::g black muzzle and broad hanging ears g' v ^ Ilia quite a different aspect, however, and declai .. i hiiu to be a hound. He was one — a bloodhound, with the cross of a mastiff — a powerful animal. It was the dog ' Marengo.' " You remember Marengo ? In the canoe there were other objects of interest. There were blavkets n ic buffalo robes ; there was a small canva tent i/ile-i up; there were bags of provisions, and some cooking utensils; there 28 THE YOUNG VOTAGEURS. vs was a spade and an axe ; there were rifles — three of them — and a double-barrelled shot-gun; besides a fish-net, and many other articles, the necessary- equipments for such a journey. Loaded almost to the gunwale was that little canoe, yet lightly did it float down the waters of the Red River of the North. i :■/ t/ THE TRUMPETER SWAN AND THE BALD EAGLE. 29 CHAPTER III. THE TRUMPETER SWAN AND THE BALD EAGLE. It was the spring season, though late. The snow had entirely disappeared from the hills, and the ice from the water, and the melting of both had swollen the river, and rendered its current more rapid than usual. Our young voyageurs needed not therefore to ply their oars, except now and then to guide the canoe ; for t\ese little vessels have no rudder, but are steered by the paddles. The skilful voyageurs can shoot them to any point they please, simply by their dexterous handling of the oars ; and Basil, Lucien, and rran9oi8, had had sufficient practice both with " skiffs " and " dug-outs" to make good oarsmen of all three. They had made many a canoe trip upon the lower Mississippi and the bayous of Louisiana ; besides their journey up the St. Peter's had rendered them .'.!n^-w^T,'r j^ j:^""-'.^ .7^/;^'." 30 THE TRUMPETER SWAN AND tv. (.1 11 '*< familiar with the management of their birchen craft. An occasional stroke of the paddle kept them in their course, and they floated on without effort. Norman — such was the name of their Canadian or Highland cousin — sat in the bow and directed their course. Tliis is the post of honour in a canoe ; and as he had more experience than any of them in this sort of navigation, he was allowed habitually to occupy this post. Lucien sat in the stern. He held in his hands a book and pencil ; and as the canoe glided onward, he was noting down his memoranda. The trees upon the banks were in leaf — many of them in blossom — and as the little craft verged near the shore, his keen eye followed the configuration of the leaves, to discover any new speci'^'^ that might appear. There is a rich vege- tation upon the banks of the Red River ; but the Jlora is far different from that which appears upon the low alluvion of Louisiana. It is Northern, but not Arctic. Oaks, elms, and poplars, are seen mingling with birches, willows, and aspens. Seve- ral species of indigenous fruit trees were observed by Lucien, among which were crab-applo, raspberry, strawberry, and currant. There was also seen the fruit called by the voyageurs " le poire," but which h'f 7' r THE BALD EAGLE. 31 in English phraseology is known as the " service- berry" (Amelanchier ovalis). It grows upon a small bush or shrub of six or eight feet high, with smooth pinnate leaves. These pretty red berries are much esteemed and eaten both by Indians and whites, who preserve them by drying, and cook them in various ways. There was still another bush that fixed the attention of our young botanist, as it ap- peared all along the banks, and was a characteristic of the vegetation of the country. It was not over eight feet in height, with spreading branches of a grey colour. Its leaves were three inches wide, and somewhat lobed liked those of the oak. Of course, at this early season, the fruit was not ripe upon it ; but Lucien knew the fruit well. When ripe it resembles very much a red cherry, or, still more, a cranberry, having both the appearance and acrid taste of the latter. Indeed, it is sometimes used as a substitute for cranberries in the making of pies and tarts ; and in many parts it is called the "bush cranberry." The name, however, by which it is known among the Indians of Red River is " anepeminan" from " nepen^'* summer, and " minan^'' berry. This has been corrupted by the fur-traders and voyageurs into " Pembina ;" hence, W'v ■K 32 THE TRUMPETER SWAN AND ■■ " the name of a river which runs into the Red, and also the name of the celebrated but unsuccessful settlement of " Pembina," formed by Lord Selkirk many years ago. Both took their names from this berry that grows in abundance in the neighbour- hood. The botanical appellation of this curious shrub is Viburnum oxycoccos ; but there is an- other species of the viburnum, which is also styled " oxycoccos." The common " snowball bush" of our gardens is a plant of the same genus, and very like the " Pembina" both in leaf and flower. In fact, In a wild state they might be regarded as the same j but it is well known that the flowers of the snowball are sterile, and do not produce the beautiful bright crimson berries of the " Pembina." Lucien lectured upon these points to his compa- nions as they floated along. Norman listened with astonishment to his philosophic cousin, who, al- though he had never been in this region before, knew more of its plants and trees than he did him- - self. Basil also was interested in the explanations given by his brother. On the contrary, Francois, who cared but little for botanical studies, or studies of any sort, was occupied differently. He sat near the middle of the canoe, double-barrel in hand, THE BALD EAGLE. 33 iglibour- curious ) is an- io styled 1 bush" tius, and I flower. irded as 3wers of uce the tnbina." compa- d with ho, al- )efore, d him- lations in9ois, tudies near hand, eagerly watching for a shot. Many species of water-fowl were upon the river, for it was now [late in the spring, and the wild geese and ducks had all arrived, and were passing northward upon [their annual migration. During the day Francois lad got several shots, and had "bagged" three rild geese, all of different kinds, for there are lany species of wild geese in America. He had ilso shot some ducks. But this did not satisfy lim. There was a bird upon the river that could lot be approached. No matter how the canoe was lancEuvred, this shy creature always took flight 3fore Francois could get within range. For days le had been endeavouring to kill one. Even upon le St. Peter's many of them had been seen, some- times in pairs, at other times in small flocks of six )r seven, but always shy and wary. The very dif- iculty of getting a shot at them, along with the splendid character of the birds themselves, had rendered Fran9ois eager to obtain one. The bird itself was no other than the great wild swan — the [king of aquatic birds. " Come, brother ! " said Fran9ois, addressing Lu- [cien, " bother your viburnums and your oxycocks I Tell us something about these swans. See I there rr^ niii ysl .11 >■! I (I 1 }/ 34 THE TRUMPETER SWAN AND goes another of them ! What a splendid fellow he is ! I'd give something to have him within range of buck-shot." As Fran9oi8 spoke he pointed down-stream to a great white bird that was seen moving out from the bank. It was a swan, and one of the very largest kind — a "trumpeter" (^Cygnus buccinator). It had been feeding in a sedge of the wild rice (Zizania aquatica\ and no doubt the sight of the canoe or the plash of the guiding oar had dis- turbed, arid given it the alarm. It shot out from the reeds with head erect and wings slightly raised, offering to the eyes of the voyagejirs a spectacle of graceful and majestic bearing, that, among the fea- thered race at least, is quite inimitable. A few strokes of its broad feet propelled it iiito the open water near the middle of the stream, when, making a half wheel, it turned head down the river, and swam with the current. At the point where it turned it was not two hundred yards ahead of the canoe. Its apparent boldness in permitting them to come so near with- out taking wing, led Fran9ois to hope that they might get still nearer ; and, begging his companions to ply^the paddles, he seized hold of his double- K 4 THE BALD EAGLE. BS r-iTw. barrel, and leaned forward in the canoe. Basil also conceived a hope that a shot was to be had, for he took up his rifle, and looked to the cock and cap. The others went steadily and quietly to work at the oars. In a few moments the canoe cleft the current at the rate of a galloping horse, and one would have supposed that the swan must either at once take wing or be overtaken. Not so, however. The "trumpeter" knew his [game better than that. He had full confidence both in his strength and speed upon the water. [He was not going to undergo the trouble of a fly, mtil the necessity arose for so doing ; and, as it ras, he seemed to be satisfied that that necessity lad not yet arrived. The swim cost him much less muscular exertion than flying would have lone, and he judged that the current, here very swift, would carry him out of reach of his pursuers. It soon began to appear that he judged rightly ; land the voyageurs, to their chagrin, saw that, [instead of gaining upon him, as they had expected, jvery moment widened the distance between him [and the canoe. The bird had an advantage over [his pursuers. Three distinct powers propelled him, while they had cftily two to rely upon. He had the ;,?«*■-*■'.'■: r^ \ 36 THE TUUMPETER SWAN AND i !' i '(./ current in his favour — so had they. He had oars or paddles — his feet ; they had oars as well. He " carried sail," while they spread not a " rag." The wind chanced to blow directly down-stream, and the broad wings of the bird, held out from his body, and half extended, caught the very pith of the breeze on their double concave surfaces, and carried him through the water with the velocity of an arrow. Do you think that he was not aware of this advantage when he started in the race ? Do you suppose that these birds do not think ? I for one am satisfied they do, and look upon every one who prates about the instinct of these creatures as a philosopher of a very old school indeed. Not only does the great swan think, but so does your parrot, and your piping bullfinch, and the little canary that hops on your thumb. All think, and reason^ sind. judge. Should it ever be your fortune to witness the performance of those marvellous birds, exhibited by the graceful Mdlle. Vander- meersch in the fashionable salons of Paris and London, you will agree with me in the belief that the smallest of them has a mind like yourself. Most certainly the swan, which our voyageurs were pursuing, thought, and reasoned, and judged, THE BALD EAGLE. 37 and calculated his distance, and resolved to keep on " the even tenor of his way," without putting himself to extra trouble by beating the air with his wings, and lifting his heavy body — thirty pounds at least — up into the heavens. Ilis judg- ment proved sound ; for, in less than ten minutes from the commencement of the chase, he had gained a clear hundred yards upon his pursuers, «nd continued to widen the distance. At intervals he raised his beak higher than usual, and uttered his loud boom note, which fell upor the ears of the voyageurs as though it had been sent back in mockery and defiance. They would have given up the pursuit, had they not noticed that a few hundred yards farther down the river made a sharp turn to the right. The swan, on leaching this, would no longer have the wind in his favour. This inspired them with fresh hopes. They thought they would be able to over- take him after passing the bend, and then, either get a shot at him, or force him into the air. The latter was the more likely ; and, although it would be no great gratification to see him fly off, yet they had become so interested in this singular chase that they desired to terminate it by putting the trum- T' 38 THE TRUMPETER SWAN AND f peter to some trouble. They bent, therefore, with fresh energy to their oars, and pulled onward in the pursuit. First the swan, and after him the canoe, swung round the bend, and entered the new " reach" of the river. The voyageurs at once perceived that the bird now swam more slowly. He no longer " carried sail," as the wind was no longer in his favour. His wings lay closely folded to his body, and he moved only by t>"? aid of his webbed feet and the current, which last happened to be sluggish, as the river at this part spread over a wide expanse of level land. The canoe was evi- dently catching up, and each stroke was bringing the parc"cr° "fearer to the pursued. After a few minutes' brisk pulling, the trumpeter had lost so much ground that he was not two hundred yards in the advance, and " dead ahead." His body was no longer carried with the same gracefulness, and the majestic curving of his neck had disappeared. His bill protruded forward, and his thighs began to drag the water in his wake. He was evidently on the threshold of flight. Both Fran9ois and Basil saw this, as they utood with their guns crossed and ready. At this moment a shrill cry sounded over the water. THE BALD EAGLE. 89 It was the scream of some wild creature, ending in a strange laugh, like the laugh of a maniac ! On both sides of the river there was a thick forest of tall trees of the cotton-wood species (Populus angustifolid). From this forest the strange cry had proceeded, and from the right bank. Its echoes had hardly ceased, when it was answered by a similar cry from the trees upon the left. So like were the two, that it seemed as if some one of God's wild creatures was mocking another. These cries were hideous enough to frighten any one not used to them. They had not that effect upon our voyageurs, who knew their import. One and all of them were ftimiliar with the voice of the ivhite-headed eagle! The trumpeter knew it as well as any of them, but on him it produced a far different effect. His terror was apparent, and his intention was all at once changed. Instead of rising into the air, as he had premeditated, he suddenly lowered his head, and disappeared under the water! Again was heard the wild scream and the maniac laugh; and the next moment an eagle swept out from the timber, and, after a few strokes of its broad wing, poised itself over the spot where the fPP?liP»PIIWPI^WIiPI**"W»-"«?15|l| 40 THE TRUMPETER SWAN AND .0 \ ' < trumpeter had gone down. The other, i:s mate, was seen crossing at the same time /rom the opposite side. Presently the swan rose to the surface, but his head was hardly out of the water when the eagle once more uttered its wild note, and, half folding its wings, darted down from above. The swan seemed to have expected this, for before the eagle could reach the surface, he had gone under a second time, and the latter, though passing with the velocity of an arrow, plunged his talons in the water to no purpose. With a cry of disappoint- ment the eagle mounted back into the air, and com- menced wheeling in circles over the spot. It was now joined by its mate, and both kept round and round watciiing for the reappearance of their intended victim. Again the sran came to the surface, but before either of the eagles could swoop upon him he had for the third time disappeared. The swan is but an indifferent diver ; but under such circumstances he was likely to do his best at it. But what could it avail him ? He must soon rise to the surface to take breath — each time at shorter intervals. He would soon become fatigued and unable to dive •aii.b THE BALD EAGLE. 41 with suflficient celerity, and then his cruel enemies would be down upon him with their terrible talons. Such is the usual result, unless the swan takes to the air, which he sometimes does. In the present case he had built his hopes upon a different means of escape. He contemplated being able to conceal himself in a heavy sedge of bulrushes {Scirpus lacustris) that grew along the edge v.f the river, and towards these he was evidently directing his course under the water. At each emersion he ap- peared some yards nearei them, until at length he rose within a few feet of their margin, and diving again was seen no more ! He had crept in among the sedge, and no doubt was lying with only his head, or part of it, above the water, his body con- cealed by the broad leaves of the Hymphce^ while the head itself could not be distinguished among the white flowers that lay thickly along the surface. The efigles now wheeled over the sedge, flap- ping tlie tops of the bulrushes with their broad wings, and screaming with disappointed rage. Keen as were their eyes they could not discover the hiding-place of their victim. No doubt they would have searched for it a long while, but the canoe— which they now appeared to notice for the ^"Pl •/^.*.; ^ 42 THE TRUMPETFR SWAN AND N if 1 1. I ill' ^; i first time — ^had floated near : and, becoming aware of tlieir own danger, both mounted into the air again, and with a farewell scream flew off, and alighted at some distance down the river. " V swan for supper ! " shouted Francois, as he poisea his gun for the expected shot. The cfHioe was headed for the bulrushes near the point where the trumpeter had been last seen ; and a few strokes of the paddles brought the little craft with a whizzing sound among the sedge. But the culms of the rushes were so tall, and grew so closely together, that the canoe-men, after entering, found to their chagrin they could not see six feet around them. They dared not stand up, for this is exceedingly dangerous in a birch canoe, where the greatest caution is necessary to keep the vessel from careening over. Moreover, the sedge was so thick, that it was with difficulty they could use their oars. They remained stationary for a time, surrounded by a wall of green bulrush. They soon perceived that that would never do, and resolved to push back into the open water. Meanwhile Marengo had been sent into the sedge, and was now heard plunging and sweltering about in search of the game. Marengo was not much THE BALD EAGLE. 43 of a water-dog by nature, but he had been trained to almost every kind of hunting, and his expe- rience among the s\, amps of Louisiana had long since relieved him of all dread for the water. His masters therefore had no fear but that Marengo would "put up" the trumpeter. Marengo had been let loose a little too soon. Before the canoe could be cleared of the entangling sedge, the dog was heard to utter one of his loud growls, then followed a heavy plunge, there was a confused fluttering of wings, and the great white bird rose majestically into the air ! Before either of the gunners could direct their aim, he was beyond the range of shot, and both prudently reserved their fire. Marengo having performed his part, swam back to the canoe, and was lifted over the gunwale. The swan, after clearing the sedge, rose almost vertically into the air. These birds usually fly at a great elevation — sometimes entirely beyond the reach of sight. Unlike the w^ild geese and ducks, they never alight upon land, but always upon the bosom of the water. It was evidently the inten- tion of this one to go far from the scene of his late dangers, perhaps to the great lake Winnipeg itself After attaining a height of several hundred ■':i: ; ?:• i. ' THE TRUMPETER SWAN AND yards, he flew forward in a horizontal course, and followed the direction of the stream. His flight was now regular, and his trumpet-note could be heard at intervals, as, with outstretched neck, he glided along the heavens. He seemed to feel the pleasant sensations that every creature has after an escape from danger, and no doubt he fancied himself secure. But in this fancy he deceived himself. Better for him had he risen a few hundred yards higher, or else had uttered his self-gratulation in a more subdued tone ; for it was heard and answered, and that response was the maniac laugh of the white-headed eagle. At the same instant two of these birds — those already introduced — were seen mounting into the air. They did not fly up verti- cally, as the swan had done, but in spiral curves, wheeling and crossing each other as they ascended. They were making for a point that would intersect the flight of tha swan should he keep on in his horizontal course. This, however, he did not do. With an eye as quick as theirs, he saw that he was "headed;" and, stretching his long neck upward, he again pursued an almost vertical line. But he had to carry thirty pounds of flesh and bones, while the largest of the eagles — the female bird — I THE BALD EAGLE. 45 with a still broader spread of wing, was a " light weight" of only seven. The result of this differ- ence was soon apparent. Before the trumpeter had got two huiidred yards higher, the female of the eagles was seen wheeling around him on the same level. The swan was now observed to double, fly downward, and then upward again, while his mournful note echoed back to the earth. But his eflforts were in vain. After a series of contortions and manoeuvres, the eagle darted forward, with a quick toss threw herself back-downward, and, strik- ing upward, planted her talons in the under part of the wing of her victim. The lacerated shaft fell uselessly down ; and the great white bird, no longer capable of flight, came whistling through the air. But it was not allowed to drop directly to the earth; it would have fallen on the bosom of the broad river, and that the eagles did not wish, as it would have given them some trouble to get the heavy carcass ashore. As soon as the male — who vas lower in the air— saw that his partner had struck the bird, he discontinued his upward flight, and, poising himself on his sp-^au tail, waited its descent. A single instant was sufficient. The white object passed him still fluttering ; but the moment it was 46 THE TRUMPETER SWAN AND THE BALD EAGLE. T below his level he shot after it like an arrow, and, clutching it in his talons, with an outward stroke sent it whizzing in a diagonal direction. The next moment a crashing was heard among the twigs, and a dull sound announced that the swan had fallen upon the earth. The eagles were now seen sailing downward, and soon disappeared among the tops of the trees. The canoe soon reached the bank ; and Fran9ois, accompanied by Basil and Marengo, leaped ashore, and went in search of the birds. They found the swan quite dead and lying upon its back as the eagles had turned it. Its breast was torn open, and the crimson blood, with which they had been gorging themselves, was spread in broad flakes over its snowy plumage. The eagles themselves, scared by the dog Marengo, had taken flight before the boys could get within shot of them. As it was just the hour for a " noon halt" and a luncheon, the swan was carried to the bank of the river, where a crackling fire was soon kindled to roast him; and while this operation was going on the "naturalist" was requested by his companions to give them an account of the " swans of America." i •»;/ !iH9iege-Hij.uujji. l«*v.%.^ ^a^t '^^■^'*^? s.-^ :'■*•!;' .-' '\ Of%- ■lllli TULJU'LTKll SWAN AM) TUr. IIAI.I) .:AG1,K.— PrtiT*' 4G. i^ '',( (I I, i u 11 r \ n /• I THE SWANS OP AMERICA. ' i 47 r^ CHAPTER IV. THE SWANS OF AMERICA. "Very well, then," said Lucien, agreeing to the request. " I shall tell you all I know of the swans ; and, indeed, that is not much, as the natural history of these birds in their wild state is but little under- stood. On account of their shy habits, there is not much opportunity of observing them ; and as they annually migrate and breed in those desolate re- gions within the Arctic circle, where civilized men do not live, but little information has been col- lected about them. Some of the species, however, breed in the temperate zones, and the habits of these are better known. " For a long time it was fancied there was but one species of swan. It is now known that there are several, distinguished from each other in form, colour, voice, and habits. * White as a swan,' is a .ik 48 THE SWANS OF AMERICA. i i simile as old, perhaps, as language itself. This, I fancy, would sound strangely to the ears of a native Australian, who is accustomed to look upon swans as being of the very opposite colour, for the black swan is a native of that country. "According to the naturalist Brehm, who has given much attention to this subject, there are four distinct species of swans in Europe. They .are all white, though some of the species have a reddish orange tinge about the head and neck. Two of them are 'gibbous,' that is, with a knob or protu- berance upon the upper part of the bill. One of these Brehm terms the 'white-headed gibbous swan ' ( Cygnus gibbus). The other is the ' yellow- headed ' ( C. olor) ; and this last also is known as the mute or tame swan, because it is that species most commonly seen in a tame state upon the orna- mental lakes and ponds of England. The other two European species Brehm has designated 'singing swans,' as both of them utter a note that may be heard to a considerable distance. " The black swan of Australia ( C. niger) has been naturalized in Europe, and breeds freely in Eng- land, where, from its great size and peculiar mark- ings, it is one of the most ornamental of water- I / ■■■M- IBE SWANS OF AMERICA. 49 n fowls. It is, moreover, a great tyrant, and will not permit other birds to approach its haunt, but drives them off, striking them furiously with its strong broad wings. " Until a late period the swans of America were I supposed to be all of one kind. This is not the case. There are now known to be three distinct species inhabiting the fur countries, and migrat- ing annually to the South. That which is best jknown is the 'whistler,' or 'hooper' (C Ameri' "Mnus), because it is the species that abounds in the old States upon the AtV-intic, and was there- fore more observed by naturalists. It is believed ko be identical with one of the European * singing ' ^wans (C.ferus), but this is not certain; and for ly part, I believe they are different, as the eggs of the American swan are greenish, while those of Its European congener are brownish, with white )lotclies. " The ' hooper ' is four and a half feet in length, Ithough there are ma' js still krger, some of them Imeasuring five feet. Its colour is white, except ppon the head and back part of the neck, where there is a coppery tinge. The bill and feet are [black. From the angle of the mouth to the eye E 50 THE SWANS OP AMERICA. there is a small naked * cere,' of a bright yellow colour. These swans, like others of the genus, do not care much for the salt water. They are rarely seer, upon the sea, except near its shores, where they may find the aquatic plants upon which they feed. Nor do they go out upon the large lakes. When found upon these, it is generally close in to the land. This is accounted for by ihe fact that the swans do not ' dive ' for their food, but stretch down for it with their long necks, which Nature has peculiarly adapted to this very purpose. Their favourite food consists of the roots of aquatic plants, which are often farinaceous. As these grow best in the shallow small lakes and along the margins of riverSj such places are the usual resort of the swans. Although their diet is a vegetable one, it is not exclusively so, as they will eat frogs, worms, and small fish. Unlike the ducks and geese, tiicy rarely feed upon land, but while floating upon the surface of the water. They walk but awkwardly on land, and are at home only on water or in the air. In the air they are quite at home, and fly so swiftly that it is no easy matter to shoot them, especially when going before the wind. At such times they are supposed to fly at the rate of one hundred miles THE SWANS OF AMERICA. 61 an hcrar. When moulting, and unable to rise into the air, it is no easy matter to foilow them even with a canoe. By means of their broad feet and strong wings, they can flutter so quickly over the water, now and then diving, that the hunter cannot overtake them in his boat, but is obliged to use his gun in the pursuit. "The 'hoopers' are migratory, — that is, they pass to the north every spring, and southward again in the autumn. Why they make these annual migrations, remain f: one of the mysteries of na- ture. Some believe they migrate to the north, because they there find those desolate uninhitbitel regions where they can bring forth their young in security. But this explanation cannot be the true one, as there are also uninhabited regions in the south, even under the equator, where they may be equally free from the presence of man. Another explanation might be offered. In hot and tropical countries most of the small lakes and swamps, where these birds lovt to dwell, dry up during the summer months : hence the necessity of a migration to colder and moister regions. But this would only hold good of the wading and water ' rhiMjpj'K ^en^.'' 62 THE SWANS OP AMERICA. birds ; it '.vould not account for the migration of the many other bird* of passage. " A better explanation may be this : The north and the cold zones are the natural habitat of most migratory birds. It is there that they bring forth their young, and there they are at home. In tropical regions they are only sojourners for a season, forced tl\ither, some of them, by a cold which they do not relish ; but others, such as the water fowl, by the frost, which, binding up the lakes, rivers, and swamps, hinders them from pro- curing their food. They are thus compelled to make an annual migration to the open waters of the South, but as soon as the ice has given way before the genial breath of spring, they all return rejoicing to their favourite home in the North, when their season of love commences. " The ' hoopers ' follow this general law, and migrate to the northward every spring. They breed upon islets in the nunerous lakes that stud the whole northern part of tho American continent. Eminences in swamps are also ' hoson for breeding places, and the ends of promontories that jut out into the water. The spot selected is always such iH '{ THE SWANS OP AMERICA. 5Z that the swan, when seated upon her nest, can have a view of the surrounding country, and detect any enemy long before it can approach her. The top of the dome-shaped dwellings of the musk-rat, or musquash {Fiber zibethicus), is often selected by the swan for her nest. These curious little houses are usually in the midst of impenetrable swamps : they are only occupied by their builders during the winter ; and as they f^re deserted by them in early spring, they are therefore quite at the service of the swan for the ' balance of the season.' The bird makes a large cavity in the top, and lines it vith such reeds and grass as may be found near the spot. " The hooper lays from six to eight eggs, and sits upon them for a period of six weeks, when the cygnets come forth covered with a thick down of a bluish-grey colour. While sitting upon her eggs, the swan is exceedingly watchful and shy. She * faces ' towards the point whence she most appre- hends danger. When the weather is severe, and the wind cold and keen, she changes into that posi- tion which is most comfortable. If her nest be upon a promontory instead of an island, she usually sits with her head to the land, as she feels secure that no enemy will reach her from the waterside. From r-fi-W^furt, ■ ^im^r'sr^'- 54 THE SWANS OF AMERICA. the land she has not only man to 'look out' for, but the wolverene ( Gulo luscus), the lynx {Felis Cana- densis), foxes, and wolves. " The Indians often snare the swan npon her nest, or course the snare — a running noose made from the jiitestines of the deer — is set in her absence. It is placed upon the side by which she enters, as these birds enter and leave the nest upon opposite sides. The snare must be arranged with great care, and with clean hands ; and the Indians al- ways take the precaution to wash tb^ir hands before setting it, else, the swans, whose sense of smell is very acute, will perceive the presence of danger, and will not only keep away for a time, but sometimes desert the eggs altogether. There are many other birds that have a similar habit. " So much for the ' hooper,' " continued Lucien ; " now for the ' trumpeter.' This is the largest of the American swans, being found to measure seventy inches in length. Its specific name ' trum- peter' (C buccinator) is given to it on account of its note, which resembles the sound of a French horn, or trumpet, played at a distance. The bird is white, with black bill and feet, and has also a red- dish orange or copper tinge upon the crown and I !\ THE SWANS OF AMERICA. 55 Jt' for, but elis Cana- n her nest, nade from r absence, enters, as 1 opposite ^ith great idians al- 'ir hands sense of esenee of ' a time. There habit. Lucien ; irgpst of measure * *trum- Jount of French bird is > a red- ivn and "01 neck ; but it wants the yellow spot between the split of the mandibles and the eye. It is easily distinguished from the hooper, both by its louder note and larger body. Its habit?, however, are very similar, except that it seems to be more gregarious, — small flocks of six or eight often ap- pearing together, while the hooper is seen only in pairs, and sometimes solitary. Another distinction is, that the trumpeter arrives much earlier in its migrations to the North, being the earliest bird that appears except the eagles. It breeds as far South as latitude 61°, but most generally within the Arctic circle. Its nest is constructed similarly to those of the hooper, but its eggs are much larger, one of them being a meal for a moderate eater, without bread or any other addition. The trumpeter fre- quently arrives in the North before the lakes or rivers are thawed. It is then obliged to find sus- tenance at the rapids and waterfalls, where the Indians can approach under cover, and many are shot at such times by these people. At all other times, as you, Fran9ois, have observed, it is a bird most difficult of approach ; and the Indian hunters only attempt it when they have a long-range gun loaded with ball. '.'C7.; ,.-M'r .'■■. 56 THE SWANS OP AMERICA. I " The third species of American swans is that known as Bewick's swan (C Bewickii), called after the naturalist of that name. It is the smallest of the three, rarely measuring over fifty- two inches in length, and weighing only fourteen pounds, while the hooper is over twenty pounds in weight, and the trumpeter i3 often obtained of the enormous weight of thirty I " Bewick's swan is also said to be identical with one of Brehm's singing swans. Its colour is almost similar to that of the hooper, and the two are often mistaken for each other. The size and the tail- feathers of all three of the American swans form a sufficiently specific distinction. In the trumpeter these are twenty-four in number, in the hooper twenty, while the small species has only eighteen. " Of the three, the last-mentioned is the latest on its annual journey, but it breeds farther North than either of the others. Its nest is found upon the islands of the Arctic Sea ; it is usually built of peat- moss, and is of gigantic dimensions, being six feet long by five in width, and nearly two feet high. In the top of this pile is the nest itself, forming a large round cavity nearly two feet in diameter. The eggs are of a brownish white, with clouds of darker tint. THE SWANS OF AMERICA. 57 m. " I have remarked," continued Lucien, " a sin- gularity in the geographical distribution of these three species. Upon the Pacific coast the smallest kind and the hooper only are met with, and the small ones outnumber the others in the ratio of five to one. In the interior parts of the continent only the hoopers and trumpeters appear ; and the trum- peters are by far the most numerous, while upon the eastern coasts of America the hoopers are the sort best known. " The swans are eagerly hunted both by the Indians and white hunters. Their skins, with the quills and down, form a source of profit to the natives of the fur countries, who dispose of them to the Hudson's Bay Company. In some years as many as ten thousand skins have been exported, and sold at the rate of six or seven shillings each. Most of the skins thus sold were those of the trumpeter swans, which are the most numerous. " Now," said Lucien, in conclusion, "you know as much about the swans as I do ; so I shall drop the subject, and recommend to all of you a piece of roast swan, which is now just done to a turn, and which I doubt not will be found less dry than my lecture." . '7fTr^''"~; '■''^Tv ■ -T**.-' ,.^1 /•I 58 A SWAN-HUNT BY TORCHLIGHT. \l CHAPTER V. A SWAN-HUNT BY TORCHLIGHT. A FEW days brought our travellers to the settle- ment of Red River, where they made but a very short stay ; and, having procured a few articles which they stood in need of, they resumed their journey, and floated on towards Lake Winnipeg. The swans were seen in greater numbers than ever. They were not less shy however, and Fran9ois, as before, in vain tried to get a shot at one. He was very desirous of bringing down one of these noble birds, partly because the taste he had had of their flesh had given him a liking for it; and partly because their shyness had greatly tantalized him. One is always more eager to kill shy game, both on account of the rarity of the thing, and the credit one gets for his expertness. But the voyageurs had now got within less than twenty miles of Lake A SWAN-HUNT BY TORCHLIGHT. 59 --i-> Winnipeg, and Fran9ois had not as yet shot a single swan. It was not at all likely the eagles would help him to another. So there would be no more roast swan for supper. Norman, seeing how eager Fran9ois was to shoot one of these birds, resolved to aid him by his advice. " Cousin Frank," said he, one evening as they floated along, " you wish very much to get a shot at the swans ? " " I do," replied Fran9ois, — " I do ; and if you can tell me how to accomplish that business, I'll make you a present of this knife." Here Francois held up a very handsome clasp-knife that he carried in his pouch. A knife in the fur countries is no insignificant affair. With a knife you may sometimes buy a horse, or a tent, or a whole carcass of beef, or, what is stranger still, a wife ! To the hunter in these wild regions — perhaps a thousand miles from where knives are sold — such a thing is of very great value indeed ; but the knife which Fran9ois offered to his cousin was a particularly fine one, and the latter had once expressed a wish to become '.^.x^^'. 60 A SWAN-HUNT BY TORCHLIGHT. 1!^ the owner of it. Ho was not slow, therefore, in accepting the conditions. " Well," rejoined he, " you must consent to travel a few miles by night, and I think I can promise you a shot at the trumpeters — perhaps several." "What say you, brothers?" asked Fran9ois, appealing to Basil and Lucien ; " shall we have the sport ? Say yes." " Oh ! I have no objection," said Lucien. " Nor I," added Basil. " On the contrary, I should like it above all things. I wish very much to know what plan our cousin shall adopt. I never heard of any mode of approaching these birds." " Very well, then," answered Norman, " I shall have the pleasure of instructing you in a way that is in use in these parts among the Indians, who hunt the swan for its skin and quills, which they trade to us at the post. We can manage it to- night, I think," continued he, looking up at the sky : " there is no moon, and the sky is thick. Yes, it will be dark enough." " Is it necessary the night should be a dark one?" asked Fran9ois. " The darker the better," replied Norman. " To- A SWAN-HUNT BY TORCHLIGHT. 61 / ■ ,' refore, in ; to travel promise eral." Fran9ois, have the itrary, I ry much I never Js." ' I shaU ^ny that IS, who eh they 3 it to- at the thick. I dark "To- / night, if I am not mistaken, will be as black is pitch. But we need to make some preparations. It is near sundown, and we shall have just time to get ready for the business. Let us get ashore, then, as quickly as possible." " Oh ! certainly — ^let us land," replied all tlu"ce at once. The canoe was now turned to the shore ; and when it had arrived within a few feet of the land it was brought to a stop. Its keel was not allowed to touch the bottom of the river, as that would have injured the little craft. The greatest pre- caution is always observed both in landing and embarking these vessels. The voyageurs first get out and Avade to the shoi r , one or two remaining to hold the canoe in its place. The cargo, whatever it be, is then taken out and landed ; and after that the canoe itself is lifted out of the water, and carried ashore, where it is set, bottom upward, to dry. The birch-bark canoe is so frail a structure, that, were it brought rudely in contact c-fher with the bottom or the bank, it would be very much damaged, or might go to pieces altogether. Hence the care with which it is handled. It is dan- gerous, also, to stand upright in it, as it is so i' ^•1 62 A SWAN-HUNT BY TOUCnLIOnT. , > ! I . ,M i' 1 1 I II i "crank" that it would easily turn over, and spill both canoo-mon and cargo into the water. The voyageurs, therefore, when once they have got in, remain seated during the whole passage, shifting about as little as they can help. When landed for the night, the canoe is always taken out of the Welter as described. The bark is of a somewhat spongy nature ; and if left in the water for a length of time, would become soaked and heavy, and would not run so well. When kept all night, bot- tom upward, it drips and becomes dryer and lighter. In the morning, at the conmienccment of the day's journey, it sits higher upon the Avater than in the afternoon and evening, and is at that time more easily paddled along. Our voyageurs, having got on shore, first kindled a fire to cook their supper. This they intended to despatch earlier than usual, so as to give them the early part of the night for their swan-hunt, which they expected to finish before midnight. Lucien did the cooking, while Norman, assisted by Basil and Fran9ois, made his preparations for the hunt. Fran9ois, who was more interested in the result than any of them, watched every movement of his cousin. Nothing escaped him. A SWAN-HUNT BY TORCHLIGHT. 63 Norman proceeded as follows : — Ho walked off into the woods, accompanied by Fran9ois. After going about an hundred yards or so, he stopped at the foot of a certain tree. The tree was a birch — easily distinguished by its smooth, silvery bark. By means of his sharp hunting-knife lie " girdled " this tree near the ground, and then higher up, so that the length between the two "girdlings," or circular cuttings, was about four feet. He then made a longitudinal jncision by drawing the point of his knife from one circle to the other. This done he inserted the blade under the bark, and peeled it off, as he would have taken the skin from a buffalo. The tree was a foot in diameter, consequently the bark, when stripped off and spread flat, was about three feet in width ; for you must remember that the circumference of a circle or a cylinder is always about three times the length of its diameter, and therefore a tree is three times as much " round " as it is " through." They now returned to the camp-fire, taking along with them the piece of bark that had been cut off. This was spread out, though not quite flat, still leaving it somewhat curved. The convex side, that which had lain towards the tree, was now blackened i F-P ; ^1 H ?'■ 1 -(!■ 1 /^ i^ i: I 'n I' ii 64 A SWAN -HUNT BY TORCHLIGHT. with pulverized charcoal, which Norman had directed Basil to prepare for the purpose ; and to the bark at one end was fastened a stake or shaft. Nothing more remained but to fix this stake in the canoe, in an upright position near the bow, and in such a way that the bottom of the piece of bark would be upon a level with the seats, with its hollow side looking forward. It would thus form a screen, and prevent those in the canoe from being seen by any creature that nii^it be ahead. When all this had been arranged, Norman shouldered the axe, and again walked off into the woods. This time Ms object was to obtain a quantity of " kno«fS ^ of the pctcii-pine {^Pimis rigidd), which he kjoew would ai«Mt likely be found in such a situation. Tlit- ~.Ttv -w^m soon discovered, and pointed out to Fiancoio, wa*) accompanied him as before. Francois saw timt it wjafe a tree of about fifty f^et in height, and a iioot in diameter at its base. Its bark was thick, very oark in lie colour, and full of cracks or fissures, ifc leaves, or " needles," were about three inches loii^ and grew in threes, each three forming a little bunch, bound together at its base by a brownish sheath. These bunches, in botanical language, are termed "fasciles." ?:| ^^ It , A SWAN-HUXT BY TORCHLIGHT. 6^ »rman had: )se : and to le or shaft, itake in the )ow, and in ce of bark i, with its ;hus form a from being d. [, Norman )ff into the obtain a ne (Pinus be found iscovered, )amed him a tree of iamcter at k in liie leaves, or and grew ch, bound 1. These ■'fasciles." ^J The cones were somewhat shorter than the leaves, nearly of the shape of eggs, and clustered together in threes and fours. Francois noticed that the tree was thickly branched, and therefore there are many knots in the wood. For this reason it is not of much use as timber ; but on account of the resin which it contains, it is the best species for lire- wood ; and for that purpose it is used in all parts of tlie United States, where it grows. Most of the pin ^ -wood sold for fuel m the large cities of America is the wood of this species. Fran(;ois supposed that his companion was about to fell one of the trees. He was mistaken, how- ever ; Norman had no such intention ; he had only stopped before one to examine it, and make sure that it was the species he was in search of. He was soon satisfied of this, and moved on, directing his eyes along the ground. Again he stopped ; but this time it was by a tree that had already fallen — blown down, perhaps, by the wind. It was half decayed ; but Francois could see that it was one of the same species — the pitch-pine. This vv^as the very thing Norman wanted, and plying his axe, he soon knocked out a large quan- '.|l,l|JI»Il|P^ ^ 1.0 I.I .5 ■^ I2ii |22 2.0 lU |i-25 III 1.4 I M r. ^ 4^^ y » 77 entered with in- ispended hin the ion. It I, num- -a sight, igly rare e swan, ogether, lup was vn gun, >ar, and a very ht have Jr that, earn, it rere. jar the sitting 1 won- their strange note was not known, for the "sough" of the waterfall still echoed in the ears of the canoe- men, and they could not hear aught else. Basil and Norman fired first, and simultaneously ; but the louder detonations of Fran9ois* double- barrel, and even the tiny crack of Lucien's rifle, were heard almost the instant after. Three of the birds were killed by the volley, while a fourth, evidently "winged," was seen to dive, and flutter down-stream. The others mounted into the air, and disappeared in the darkness. During the time occupied in this manoeuvre, the canoe, no longer guided by Lucien's oar, had been caught by some eddy in the current, and swept round stern-foremost. In this position the light no longer shone upon the river a-head, but was thrown up-stream. All in a downward direction was buried in deep darkness. Before the voyageurs could bring the canoe back to its proper direction, a new sound fell upon their ears that caused some of them to utter a cry of terror. It was the noise of rushing water, but not that which they had already heard and passed. It was before them in the river itself. Perhaps it was a cataract, and they were sweeping rapidly to its brink! 1 ^mmmmm ■-.} 78 " CAST AWAY.** ( The voice of Norman was heard exclaiming, " Hold wHh your oars ! — the rapids ! — the rapids !" At the same time he himself was seen rising up and stretching forward for an oar. All was now consternation ; and the movements of the party naturally consequent upon such a sudden panic shook the little craft until her gunwales lipped the water. At the same time she had swung round, until the light again showed the stream a-head, and a horrid sight it was. Far as the eye could see was a reabh of foaming rapids. Dark points of rocks, and huge black boulders, thickly scattered in the channel, jutted above the surface ; and around and against these, the water frothed and hissed furi- ously. There was no cataract, it is true — there is none such in Red River — but for all purposes of destruction the rapids before them were equally dangerous and terrible to the eyes of our voya- geurs. They no longer thought of the swans. The dead were permitted to float down unheeded, the wounded to make its escape. Their only thought was to stop the canoe before it should be carried upon the rapids. With this intent all had taken to the oars, but in spite of every exertion they soon found that the " CAST AWAY." 79 light craft had got within the influence of the strong current, and was sucked downward more rapidly than ever. Their backward strokes were to no purpose. In a few seconds the canoe had passed over the first stage of the rapids, and shot down with the velocity '»f an arrow. A huge boulder lay directly in the middle of the channel, and against this the current broke with fury, laving its sides in foaming masses. The canoe was hurried to this point; and as the light was again turned up-stream, none of the voyageurs could see this dangerous rock. But they could not have shunned it then. The boat had escaped from their control, and spun round at will. The rock once more came under the light, but just as the canoe, with a heavy crash, was driven against it. For some moments the vessel, pressed by the current against the rock, remained motionless, but her sides were stove in, and the water was rushing through. The quick eye of Basil — cool in all crises of extreme danger — perceived this at a glance. He saw that the canoe was a wreck, and nothing remained but to save themselves as they best might. Dropping the oar, and seizing his rifle, he wmmmmmmm^mmm^^i^^immrigrimi^f^glggmff^fmfi ISC r \ I5ai!553j ■X I \ I ii u s ii ! 80 " CAST AWAY.** . caUed to his companions to leap to the rock ; and all together immediately sprang over the gunwale. The dog Marengo followed after. The canoe, thus lightened, heeled round into the *r current, and swept on. The next moment she struck another rock, and was carried over on her beams. The water then rushed in — the white bodies of the swans, with the robes, blankets, and implements, rose on the wave; the blazing knots were spilled from the pan, and fell with a hissing sound ; and a few seconds after they were extinguished, and all was darkness ! / i 'ock; and gunwale. I into the oaent she r on her le white blankets, blazing with a lejr were ! 8. ii mmm^mm^mt HH"B*E^"'^T ^Bsm :'-* i*> riiK I'.scAPi: I'lioM iiiv, wnrxM.—Pfigc hi. ' (■ ' rJJ i>Si-l \<: i f ! A BRIDGE OF BUCKSKIN. 81 CHAPTER VII. A BRIDGE OP BUCKSKIN. The canoe was lost, and all it had contained, or nearly all. The voyagcurs had saved only their guns, knives, and the powder-horns and pouches, that had been attached to their persons. One other thing had been saved — an axe which Basil had flung upon the rock as he stepped out of the sinking vessel. All the rest — robes, blankets, swans, cooking utensils, bags of provisions, such as coffee, flour, and dried meat — were lost — irrecoverably lost. These had either drifted off* upon the sur- face, or been carried under water and hidden among the loose stones at the bottom. No matter where, they were lost ; and our voyageurs now stood on a small naked rock in the middle of the stream, with nothing left but the clothes upon .- ,»■ I* 82 A BRIDGE OF BUCKSKIN. i: -/ ' 1 1 1 1 f I their backs, and the arms in their hands. Such was their condition. There was something so sudden and awful in the mishap that had befallen them, that for some minutes they stood upon the spot where they had settled without moving or addressing a word to one another. They gazed after the canoe. They knew that it was wrecked, although they could see nothing either of it or its contents. Thick darkness enveloped them, rendered more intei^se from the sudden extinction of the torch- light. They saw nothing but the foam flickering along the river ; like the ghosts of the swans they had killed, and they heard only the roaring of the water, that sounded in their ears with a hoarse and melancholy wail. For a long time they stood impressed with the lamentable condition into which the accident had plunged them ; and a lamentable condition it was, sure enough. They were on a small rock in the midst of a rapid river. They were in the midst of a great wilderness too, many long miles from a settlement. The nearest could only be reached by travelling through pathless forests, and over nu- merous and deep rivers. Impassable swamps, and \ /» A BBIDOE OF BUCKSKIN. 83 j>- is. Such awful in ; for some here they ig a word he canoe. >ugh they contents. ;red more the torch- flickering wans they ing of the oarse and with the dent had n it was, k in the le midst s from a ached by )ver nu- nps, and t lakes with marshy shores, lay on the route, and barred the direct course, and all this journey would have to be made on foot. But none of our young voyageurs were of that stamp to yield themselves to despair. One and all of them had experienced perils before — greater even than that in which they now stood. As soon, therefore, as they became fully satisfied that their little vessel was wrecked, and all its contents scattered, instead of despairing, their first thoughts were how to make the best of their situation. For that night, at least, they were helpless. They could not leave the rock. It was surrounded by rapids. Sharp, jagged points peeped out of the water, and between these the current rushed with impetuosity. In the darkness no human being could have crossed to either shore in safety. To attempt it would have been madness, and our voyageurs soon came to this conclusion. They had no other choice than to remain where they were until the morning; so, seating themselves upon the rock, they prepared to pass the night. They sat huddled close together. They could not lie down — there was not room enough for that. They kept awake most of the night, one or other }*■ f ' I ,1 •I : I It t 1 84 A BRIDGE OF BUCKSKIN. of thom, overcome by fatigue, occasionally nodding over in a sort of half-sleep, but awaking again after a few minutes' uncomfortable dreaming. They talked but little, as the noise of the rushing rapids rendered conversation painful. To be heard, they were under the necessity of shouting to one another, like passengers in an omnibus. It was cold, too. None of them had been much wetted in escaping from the canoe j but they had saved neither overcoat, blanket, nor buffalo-robe : and, although it was now late in the spring, the nights near Lake Winnipeg, even at that stsason, are chilly. They were above the latitude of 50*^ ; and although in England, which is on that parallel, it is not very cold of a spring night, it must be remembered that the line of equal temperature — in the language of meteorologists the " isothermal line" — is of a much lower latitude in America than in Europe. Another fact worth remembering is, that upon the eastern or Atlantic coast of the American Continent it is much colder in the same latitude than on the western or Pacific side. The Pacific "sea-board" in its climate is more like the western edge of the old continent. This would seem to indicate that the climate of a coast country is wmsmmmmmm mm A BRIDGE OP BUCKSKIN. 85 much influenced by the side upon which the ocean lies, whether east or west. This in reality is the case, for you may observe on your map that the western coasts of both the "old world" and the "new" are somewhat similarly placed in regard to their oceans, and hence the similarity of their climates. There are many other causes connected with this ; such as the direction of winds, and the dif- ferent effects produced by them on the atmosphere when they have passed over water or over land. It was, and is still by many people believed, that the winds are produced by the air becoming heated in a particular place, and then ascending, and leaving a "vacuum" into which the colder air rushes from all sides around. TMs " rushing," it was supposed, made the wind. To some extent this theory is true, but there are several other causes that operate in producing wind. Electricity — an agent hitherto but little known, but one of the most im- portant elements of our Earth — has much to do with the winds ; and the revolution of the Earth on its own axis has also an influence upon them. Indeed it is to be wondered at, that mankind should have so long remained satisfied with the very unsatis- r> V 86 A BRroGE OP BUCKSKIN. i I ) factory theory of the heated air. But it is not to be wondered at either, when we consider how little mankind has had to do with these things — when we consider that as yet nearly every country upon the face of the globe is despotic ; that the whole time of the great body of the people is occupied in a struggle for life— occupied in toiling for a few, who by the most cunning devices rob them of the fruits of their toils — rob them so skilfully that the poor blinded masses have grown to consider eternal toil as the natural state of man — nay more, are ready to persecute him who would elevate them, and worship him who would sink them deeper in baseness and bondage ; — when we reflect on this almost hopeless darkness of soul that has marked the history of the past, and is too much the character of the present, we need not wonder that so few have had either leisure or inclination to yield themselves to the acquirement or prosecution of scientific knowledge. " The winds have blown where they listed, and we have heard the sound thereof," but men absorbed in the hard struggle of life have found but little time to inquire " whence they come or whither they go." The people of the United States are yet but i\ ' /•' V A BRIDGE OF BUCKSKIN. 87 it is not to r how little ngs — when untry upon the whole s occupied J for a few, hem of the Ifully that o consider nan — nay aid elevate ?ink them we reflect that has much the er that so n to yield cution of ^e blown le sound ruggle of whence yet but partially free. They still inherit, from customs and prejudices, the fruits of an ancestral op- pression, and a bondage of centuries of duration. But even their partial freedom has already shown its good effects. At this moment knowledge is progressing faster among these people than any other on the face of the earth. Meteorology begins to assume the palpable shape of an exact science. The winds are being traced in their currents, and followed through all their windings, by Maury and other men of talent ; and if you live twenty years longer (and I hope you may live three times as mpny years), you will no doubt be able to tell " whence the wind cometh and whither it goeth." Well, we began this politico-scientific discussion by observing that it was very cold in the latitude of Lake Winnipeg, even in late spring. Only at night though ; the days are sometimes so hot there that you might fancy yourself in the tropics. These extremes are characteristic of the climate of all American countries, and particularly those that lie at a distance from the sea-coast. Our voyageurs were chilled to the very bones, and of course glad to see the daylight glimmering ■.^> iifpj^wysifsf 5^?^ • /• ! 88 A. BRIDGE OF BUCKSKIN. I—/ s; ''i I t through the tops of the trees that grew upon the banks of the river. As soon as day broke, they began to consider how they would reach those trees. Although swimming a river of that width would have been to any of the four a mere baga- telle, they saw that it was not to be so easy an affair. Had they been upon cither bank, they could have crossed to the other without difficulty — as they would have chosen a place where the water was com-, paratively still. On the rock they had no choice, as the rapids extended on both sides above and below it. Between the boulders the current rushed so impetuously, that had they attempted to swim to either bank, they would have been carried down- ward, and perhaps dashed with violence against one or other of the sharp stones. As soon as it was light, they saw all this; not without feelings of apprehension and uneasiness. Their whole attention was now occupied with the one object — how they should get to the bank of the river. The right bank was the more distant ; but the passage in that direction ajipeared the easier one. The current was not so swift, nor yet did it seem so deep. They thought they might ford it, and Basil At ; k mm^m A BRIDGE OP BUCKSKIN. 89 upon the )ke, they ch those lat width re baga- an affair, aid have py would as com-. ) choice, ove and t rushed swim to 1 down- Inst one s; not isiness. th the of the ut the p one. em so Basil made the attempt; but he soon got beyond his depth; and was obliged, after being carried off his feet, to swim up under the lee of the rock again. From the rock to the right bank was about an hundred yards' distance. Here and there, at irre- gular intervals, sharp, jagged stones rose above the surface, some of them projecting three feet or more out of the water, and looking very much like upright tombstones. Lucien had noticed these, and expressed the opinion that if they only had a rope, they might fling it ovor one of these stones, and then, holding it fast at the other end, might pass by that means from one to the other. The suggestion was a good one, but where was the rope to come from ? All their ropes, and cords — lassoes and all — had been swept away in the wreck. Not a string remained, except those that fastened their horns, flasks, and other accoutre- ments ; and these were only small thongs, and would be of no use for such a purpose. It would require a rope strong enough to carry the weight of a man impelled by a rapid current — in fact, a weight equal to that of several men. They all set to thinking how this was to be obtained. Each looked at the other, and scanned the straps and r ! ^•*% 90 A BKID6E OF BUCKSKIN. ' f. 1 i thongs that were around their bodies. They we^ satisfied at a glance that these would not be suffi- cient to make such a rope as was wanted. They did not give up the hope of being able to obtain one. They were all of them accustomed to resort to strange expedients, and a sufficiently strange one now suggested itself. Basil and Norman seemed to have thought of it at the same time, for both at once unbuckled their straps, and commenced pulling off their buckskin hunting-shirts. The others said nothing, as they knew well what they were going to do T^ith them — they knew they intended cutting them into strips, and then twisting a rope out of them. All foux set to work together. Lucien and Francois held the shirts tpui, while Basil and Norman handled the knives, and in a few minutes the rock was covered with strips of buckskin about two inches wide, by a yard or so in length. These were next joined and plaited together in such a manner that a rope was formed nearly forty feet long. An eye was made at one end, and through this the other end was reeved — so that a running noose was obtained, in the same manner as the Mexicans and Indians make their lassoes. The ,'■ t .'(■/, • » A BBIDGB OF BUCKSKIN. r-lt>- rope was now ready for use, and Basil was the very hand to use it ; for Basil knew how to fling a lasso as well as either Mexican or Indian. He had practised it often, and had lassoed many a long- homed bull upon the prairies of Opelousas and the Attakapas. To Basil, therefore, the rope was given. He placed himself on the highest part of the rock, having first coiled the new-made lasso, and hung the coil lightly over his left arm. He then took the noose-end in his right hand, and commenced winding it around his head. His com- panions had laid themselves flat, so as not to be in the way of the noose as it circled about. After a few tu*" «s the rope was launched forth, and a loud " hur. jh ! " from Fran9ois announced that the throw was successful. It was so in fact, as the noose was seen settling smoothly over the jutting-stone, taking full hold upon it. A pull from Basil flxed it ; and in a few minutes it was made quite fast, without the slightest danger of its slipping off". The other end was then carried round a projecting point of the rock on which they stood, and knotted firmly, so that the rope was quite taut, and stretched in a nearly horizontal direction, about a foot above the surface of the water. if I 92 A BRIDGE OF BUCKSKIN. \l The voyageurs now prepared to cross over. Their guns, pouclies, and flasks were carefully secured, so that the water could not damage them. Then each took a piece of the buckskin thong, and fastened it round his waist, leaving enough to form a running loop. This loop was intended to embrace the rope, and run along it, as they drew themselves forward by their hands. Basil passed over first. He was the oldest, and, as he asserted, it was but right he should run the risk in testing the new-fashioned bridge, of which he was the architect. It worked ad- mirably, and sustained the weight of his body, with the whole force of the current acting upon it. Of course he was swept far dowii, and the rope was stretched to its full tension, but he succeeded in handing himself along, until he was able to touch the second rock, and clamber upon it in safety. During the passage across he was watched by his companions with emotions of no ordinary character, but as soon as he had reached the opposite end of the rope all three uttered a loud and simultaneous cheer. Lucien passed over next, and after him Francois. Notwithstanding his danger, Francois laughed loudly all the time he r^ ;>' ■■ i A BRIDOE OP BUCKSKIN. 98 was in the water, while his brothers were not without some fears for his safety. Marengo was next attached to the rope, and pulled safely over, j Norman was the last to cross upon the buck- skin bridge, but, like the others, he landed in safety ; and the four, with the dog, now stood upon the little isolated boulder, where there was just room enough to give them all a footing. A difl&culty now presented itself, which they had not hitherto thought of. Another reach of rapid current was to be crossed, before they could safely trust themselves to enter the water. This they knew before, but they had also noticed that there was another jutting rock, upon which they might fling their rope. But the rope itself was now the difficulty. It was fast at both ends, and how were they to release it from the rock they had left ? One of them could easily cross over again and untie it, but how was he to get back to the others ? Here was a dilemma which had not pre- sented itself before, and they now saw themselves no better off than ever. The rapid that remained to be crossed, was as dangerous as the one they had succeeded in passing. There was no hope that they could swim it in safety. They would cer- mmm mF 94 A BRIDGE OF BUCKSKIN. • t tainly be swept with violence against the rocKs below. There was no chance, then, of their going an inch farther — unless by some means similar to that they had just used, and the rope was no longer at their service. , For some time they all stood silent, each con- sidering the matter in his own way. How could they free the rope ? " It cannot be done," said one. " Impossible," rejoined another. " We must make a second rope. Fran9oi8*s shirt still remains, and our leggings — we can use them." This was the mode suggested by Francois and Norman, and Lucien seemed to assent to it. They had already commenced untying their leggings, when Basil uttered the ejaculation — "Stop!" "Well, what is it, brother?" asked Lucien. " I think I can free the rope at the other end. At all events, let me try. It will not cost much^ either in time or trouble." " How do you mean to do it, brother?" " Sit close, all of you. Give me room — you shall see presently." As direeted by Basil, they all cowered closely I< \l A BRIDGE OF BUCKSKIN. 95 down, 80 as to occupy as little space as possible. Basil, having uncovered the lock of his rifle — which had been carefully bound up in a piece of deer's bladder — placed himself in a firm position, and appeared as if about to fire. Such was his intention — for in a few moments he was seen to raise the gun to his shoulder, and take aim. None of his companions uttered a word. They had already guessed the object of this movement, and sat silently awaiting the result. On the rock which they had left, the rope still bound fast passed around one of the angles, in such a way that, from the point where Basil stood, it offered a fair mark. It was at this Basil was aiming. His object was to cut the thong with his bullet. He could not do it with a single shot, as the thong was broader than. the bullet, but he had calculated that he might effect his purpose with several. If he did not succeed in cutting it clean through, the ball flattening upon the rock would, perhaps, tear the rope in such a manner that, by pulling by the other end, they might detach it. Such were the calculations and hopes of Basil. A moment more and the crack of his rifle was heard. At the same instant the dust rose up from mmm^^ ^wr'wi^ppwvi'w'w'ipwwpiipipi^ii^iiiipi^^ II y 96 A BRIDGE OF BUCKSKIN. ! the point at which he had aimed, and several smt^U fragments flew off into the water. Again was heard Fran9oi8*s " hurrah," for Fran9ois, as well as the others, had seen that the rope had been hit at the right place, and now exhibited a mangled appearance. While Basil was reloading, Norman took aim and fired. Norman was a good shot, though perhaps not so good a one as Basil, for that was no easy matter, • as there were few such marksmen to be found any- where, ^ not even among the professional trappers and hunters themselves. But Norman was a fair shot, and this time hit his mark. The thong was evidently better than half divided by the two; bullets. Seeing this, Fran9ois took hold of the other end, and gave it a strong jerk or two, but it was still too much for him, and he ceased pulling, and waited the effect of Basil's second shot. The latter had now reloaded, and, taking de- liberate aim again, fired. The rope was still held taut upon the rock, for part of it dragged in the current, the force of which kept pressing it hard downward. Scarcely was the report heard, when the farther end of the thong flew from its fastening, A BRIDGB OF BUCKSKIX. 97 I r^s^ and, swept by the running water, was seen falling into the lee of the boulder on which the party now stood. A third time was heard the voice of Francois uttering one of his customary " hurrahs." The rope was now dragged up, and made ready for further use. Basil again took hold of it ; and, after coiling it as before, succeeded in throwing the noose over the third rock, where it settled and held fast. The other end was tied as before, and all passed safely to the new station. Here, however, their labour ended. They found that from this point to the shore the river was shallow, and fordable ; and, leaving the rope where it was, all four took the water, and waded safely to the bank. n wtrmf^ii^um'mmwtrt^nr "■ nil ■'"^WPP H DECOYING THE " G0AT8.** ^ , • i" '; ''] CHAPTER VIII. DECOYING THE "GOATS." For the present, then, our voyageurs had escaped. They were safe upon the river's bank ; but when we consider the circumstances in which they were placed, we shall perceive that they were far from being pleasant ones. They were in the midst of a wilderness, without either horse or boat to carry them out of it. They had lost everything but their arms and their axe. The hunting-shirts of some of them, as we have seen, were destroyed, and they would now suffer from the severe cold that even in summer, as we have said, often reigns in these latitudes. Not a vessel was left them for cooking with, and not a morsel of meat or anything was left to be cooked. For their future subsistence they would have to depend upon their guns, which, . * i I I DECOYING THE " GOATS.** ' 99 with their ammunition, they had fortunately pre- served. After reaching the shore, their first thoughts v/ere about procuring something to eat. They had now been a long time without food, and all four were hungry enough. As if by one impulse, all cast theii" eyes around, and looked upward ivmong the branches of the trees, to see if any animal could be discovered that might serve them for a meal. "Pird or quadruped, it mattered not, so that it was , rge enough to give the four a breakfast. But neither one nor the other was to be seen, although the woods around had a promising appearance. The trees were lar;^**, and as there was much under- wood, consisting of berry -bushes and plants with edible roots, our voyageurs did not doubt that there would be found game in abundance. It was agreed, then, that Lucien and Fran9ois should remain on the spot and kindle a fire, while Basil and Norman went off in search of something to be cooked upon it. In less than an hour the latter returned, carrying an animal upon his shoulders, which both the boys recognised as an old acquaintance, — the prong- homed antelope {Antilppe furcifer), so called from ^1 K 100 DECOYING THE " GOATS." the single fork or prong upon its horns. Norman called it " a goat," and stated that this was its name among the fur-traders, while the Canadian voyageurs give it the title of " cabree." Lucien, however, knew the animal well. He knew it was not of the goat kind, but a true antelope, and the only animal of that genus found in North America. Its habitat is the prairie country, and at the pre- sent time it is not found farther east than the prairies extend, nor farther norvh either, as it is not a creature that can bear extreme cold. In earl^ times, however — that is, nearly two centuries ago — it must have ranged nearly to the Atlantic shores, as Father Hennepin in his Travels speaks of "goats" being killed in the neighbourhood of Niagara, meaning no other than the prong-horned antelopes. The true wild goat of America is a very different animal, and is only found in the remote regions of the Rocky Mountains. What Norman had shot, then, was an antelope ; and the reason why it is called "cabree" by the voyageurs, and " goat" by the fur-traders, is partly from its colour resembling that of the common goat, but more from the fact, that along the upper part of its neck there is a standing mane, which r I k n DECOYING THE " GOATS.** 101 • Norman lis was its 3 Canadian Lucien, new it was pe, and the ti America. It the pre- than the r, as it is cold. In ) centuries e Atlantic ^Is speaks urhood of g-horned srica is a d in the antelope ; " by the is partly common le upper 3, which does in truth give it som .rhat the appearance of the Earopean goat. Another point of resemblance lies in the fact, that the "prong-horns" emit the same disagreeable odour, which is a well-known characteristic of the goat species. This proceeds from two small glandular openings that lie at the angles of the jaws, and appear spots of a blackish brown colour. Both Lucien and Fran9ois had shot antelopes. They had decoyed them within range in their former expedition on the prairies, and had seen wolves do the same. The Indians ui^ually hunt them in this manner, by holding up some bright- coloured flag, or other curious object, which rarely fails to bring them within shot ; but Norman in- formed his cousins that the Indians of the Hudson's Bay Company care little about the antelope, and rarely think it worth hunting. Its skin is of little value to them, and they consider its flesh but in- different eating. But the chief reason why they take so little notice of it is, because it is found in the same range with the buffalo, the moose, and the elk ; and, as all these animals are more valuable to the Indian hunter, he allows the antelope to go unmolested, unless when he is hard pressed r I S 1 i 102 DECOYING THE " OOATS." ,/ W with hunger, and none of the others are tQ be had. While skinning the antelope for breakfast, Norman amused his companions by relating how he had killed it. He said that he had got near enough to shoot it by practising a " dodge." After travelling through the woods for some half-mile or so, he had come out into a country of " openings," and saw that there was a large prairie beyond. He saw that the woods extended no farther than about a mile from the banks of the river, and that the whole country beyond was without timber, except in scattered clumps. This is, in fact, true of the Red River country, particularly of its western part, frc«n which the great prairies stretch westward, even to the "foot-hills" {piedmont) of the Rocky Mountains. "Well, then, after arriving at the openings, Norman espied a small herd of antelopes, about ten or a dozen in all. He would rather they had been some- thing else, as elk or deer ; for, like the Indians, he did not much relish the " goat's " meat. He was too hungry, ho\»'ever, to be nice, and so he set about trying to get within shot of the herd. There was no cover, and he knew he could not approach near enough without using some stratagem. He t DECOYING THE " GOATS." 103 therefore laid himself flat upon his back, and raised his heels as high as he could into the air. These he kicked about in such a manner, as soon to attract the attention of the antelopes, that, curious to make out what it was, commenced running round and round in circles, of which Norman himself was the centre. The circles gradually became smaller and smaller, until the hunter saw that his game was within range ; when, slyly rolling himself round on one shoulder, he took aim at a buck, and fired. The buck fell, and the rest of the herd bounded off like the wind. Norman feeling hungry himself, and knowing that his companions were suffering from the same cause, lost no time in looking for other game; but shouldering the " goat," carried it into camp. By this time Lucien and Francois had a fire kindled — a roaring fire of " pine -knots" — and both were standing by it, smoking all over in their wet leggings. They had got nearly dry when Norman returned, and they proceeded to assist in butcher- ing the antelope. The skin was whipped off in a trice ; and the venison, cut into steaks and ribs, was soon spitted and sputtering cheerily in the blaze of the pine-knots. Everything looked pleasant and iO- 104 DECOYING THE " GOATS." 1' il ij promising, and it only wanted the presence of Basil to make them all feel quite happy again. Basil, how- ever, did not make his appearance; and as they were aU as hungry as wolves, they could not wait for him, but set upon the antelope-venison, and made each of them a hearty meal from it. As yet they had no apprehensions about Basil. They supposed he had not met with any game, and was still travelling about in search of it. Should he succeed in killing any, he would bring it in; and should he not, he would return in proper time withckit it. It was still early in the day. But several hours passed over, and he did not come. It was an unusual length of time for him to be absent, especially in strange woods of which he knew nothing; moreover, he was in his shirt sleeves, and the rest of his clothing had been dripping wet when he set out. Under these circumstances would he remain so long, unless something unpleasant had happened to him? This question the three began to ask one another. They began to grow uneasy about their absent com- panion; and as the hours passed on without his appearing, their uneasiness increased to serious alarm. They at length resolved to go in search of DECOYIKG THE " GOATS." 105 him. They took different directions, so that there would be a better chance of finding him. Norman struck out into the woods, while Lucien and Francois, followed hj the dog Marengo, kept down the bank — thinking that if Basil had got lost, he would make for the river to guide him, as night approached. All were to return to the camp at night-fall whether successful or not. After several hours spent in traversing the woods and openings, Norman came back. He had been una? \e to find any traces of their missing companion. The others had got back before him. They heard his story with sorrowing hearts, for neither had they fallen in with the track of living creature. Basil was lost, beyond a doubt. He would never have stayed so long, had not some accident happened to him. Perhaps he was dead — killed by some wild animal — a panther or a bear. Perhaps he had met with Indians, who had carried him off, or put him to death on the spot. Such were the painful conjectures of his com- panions. It was now night. All three sat mournfully over the fire, their looks and gestures betokening the deep dejection they felt. Although in need of 106 DECOYING THE " GOATS." repose, none of them attempted to go tj s^eep. At intervals they discussed the probability of his return, and then they would remain silent. Nothing could be done that night. They could only await the morning light, when they would renew their search, and scour the country in every direction. It was near midnight, and they were sitting silently around the fire, when Marengo started to his feet, and uttered three or four loud barl^s. The echoes of these had hardly died among the trees when a shrill whistle was heard at some distahce oflf in the woods. "Hurrah!" shouted Fran9ois, leaping to his feet at the instant; "that's Basil's whistle, I'll be bound. I'd know it a mile off. Hurrah!" Fran9ois' "hurrah!" rang through the woods, and the next moment came back a loud "Hilloa!" which all recognised as the voice of Basil. "Hilloa!" shouted the three by the fire. "Hilloa, my boys! all right!" replied the voice; and a few seconds after, the tall upright form of Basil himself was seen advancing, under the glare of l^e pine -knots. A shout of congratulation w-' again raised; and all the party, preceded by Marengo, rushed out to meet the new-comer. DECOYING THE " GOATS." 107 ^-u> They soon returned, bringing Basil up to the fire, when it was seen that he had not returned empty-handed. In one hand he carried a bag of grouse, or "prairie hens," while from the muzzle of his shouldered rifle there hung some- thing that was at once recognised as a brace of buffalo tongues. " Voild !^^ cried Basil, flinging down the bag, "how are you off for supper? And here," con- tinued he, pointing to the tongues, " here's a pair of tit-bits that'll make you lick your lips. Come ! let us lose no time in the cooking, for I'm hungry enough to eat either of them raw." Basil's request was instantly complied with. The fire was raked up, spits were speedily pro- cured, a tongue and one of the grouse were roasted ; and although Lucien, Francois, and Nor- man, had already supped on the "goat's meat," they set to upon the new viands with fresh appe- tites. Basil was hungrier than any, for he had been all the while fasting. It was not because he was without meat, but because he knew that his comrades would be uneasy about him, and he would not stop to cook it. Of meat he had enough, since he had slain the two buffaloes to which the '• I I) « * * \ t /■ ' 108 DECOTING THE " GOATS. i» tongues had belonged; and these same buffaloes, he now informed them, had been the cause of his long absence. Of course, all were eager to know how the buffaloes could have delayed him; and therefore, while they were discussing their savoury supper, Basil narrated the details of his day*s adven- ture. ! ' \. ^1 ?■-•'' f ' A. " TASTBIDQE DANCE." CHAPTER IX. A " PARTRIDGE DANCE." ■MP 109 ^sp* " After leaving here," said Basil, " I struck off through the woods in a line that led from the river, in a diagonal direction. I had n*t walked more than three hundred yards, when I heard a drumming sound, which I at first took to be thunder ; but, after listening a while, I knew it was not that, but the drumming of the ruffed grouse. As soon as I could ascertain the direction of the sound, I hurried on in that way; but for a long time I appeared to get no nearer it, so greatly does this sound deceive one. I should think I walked a full mile before I arrived at the place where the birds were, for there were many of them. I then had a full view of them, as they went through their singular performances. " There were, in all, about a score. They had *, .'.', .•♦ ■7 [{;■ no A " FARTBIDQE DANCE." selected a piece of open and level ground, , and over this they were running in a circle, about twenty feet in diameter. They did not all run in the same direction, but met and crossed each other, although they never deviated much from the cir- cumference of the circle, around which the grass was worn quite bare, and a ring upon the turf looked baked and black. When I first got near, they heard my foot among the leaves, and I saw that one and all of them stopped running, and squatted close down. I halted, and hid myself behind a tree. 'After remaining quiet a minute or so, the birds began to stretch up their necks, and then all rose together to their feet, and commenced running round the ring as before. I knew they were performing what is called the 'Partridge Dance;' and as I had never witnessed it I held back awhile, and looked on. Even hungry as I was, and as I knew all of you to be, so odd were the movements of these creatures, that I could not resist watching them a while, before I sent my unwelcome messenger into their 'ball- room.' Now and then an old cock would separate from the pack, and running out to some distance, would leap upon a rock that was there; then, wr^^'i^^mfmmmfum A " PARTRIDGE DANCE.** Ill after dropping his wings, flirting with his spread tail, erecting the ruff upon his neck, and throwing back his head, he would swell and strut upon the rock, exhibiting himself like a diminutive turkey-cock. After manoeuvring in this way for a few moments, he would commence flapping his wings in short quick strokes, which grew more rapid as he proceeded, until a 'booming' sound was produced, more like the rumble of distant thunder than anything I can think of. " This appeared to be a challenge to the others; and then a second would come out, and, after replying to it by putting himself through a similar series of attitudes, the two would attack each other, and fight with all the fury of a pair of game-cocks. " I could have watched their manoeuvres much longer," continued Basil, "but hunger got the better of me, and I made ready to fire. Those that were * dancing' moved so quickly round the ring that I could not sight one of them. If I had had a shot gun, I might have covered several, but with the rifle I could not hope for more than a single bird; so, wanting to make sure of that, I waited until an old cock mounted the rock, and got to * drumming.* Then I sighted wmmmn^ RPiP^VPIV >■ I 112 A " PARTRIDGE DANCE.** t I/? i5 -' • *' t ' [i [ I t i' )\\ 1 ; /■ ; ^iv i i ; '■ »■ '.' t t r* him, and sent mj bullet through his crop^ I heard the loud whirr of the pack as they rose up from the ring ; and, marking them, I saw that they all alighted only a couple of hundred yards off, upon a large spruce-tree. Hoping they would sit there until I could get another shot, I loaded as quickly as possible, and stepped forward. The course I took brought me past the one I had killed, which I picked up, and thrust hastily into my bag. Beyond this I had to pass over some logs that lay along the ground, with level spaces between them! What was my surprise in getting among these, to see two of the cocks down upon the grass, and fighting so desperately that they took no notice of my approach ! At first I threw up my rifle, intending to fire, but seeing that the birds were within a few feet of me, I thought they might let me lay hold of them, which they, in fact, did; for the next moment I had * grabbed* both of them, and cooled their bellicose spirit..* by wringing their heads off. " I now proceeded to the pack, that still kept the tree. When near enough, I sheltered myself behind another tree ; and taking aim at one, I brought him tumbling to the ground. The others sat still. Of A " PARTRIDGE DANCE." 113 course, I shot the one upon the lowest branch : I knew that, so long as I did this, the others would sit until I might get the whole of them ; but that if I shot one of the upper ones, its fluttering down through the branches would alarm the rest, and cause them to fly off". I loaded and fired, and loaded and fired, until half-a-dozen of the birds lay around the root of the tree. I believe I could have killed the whole pack, but it just then occurred to me that I was wasting our pre- cious ammunition, and that, considering the value of powder and shot to us just now, the birds were hardly worth a load a-picce ; so I left off" cracking at them. As I stepped forward to gather what I had killed, the rest whirred away into the woods. On reaching the tree where they had perched, I was very much surprised to find a raw-hide rope neatly coiled up, and hanging from one of the lower branches. I knew that somebody must have placed it there, and I looked round to see what *sign' there was besides. My eye fell upon the cinders of an old fire near the foot of the tree; and I could tell that some Indians had made their camp by it. It must have been hmm^ V ; ii H ii: 114 A " PARTRIDGE DANCE." a good while ago, as the ashes were beaten into the ground by the rain, and, moreover, some young plants were springing up through them. I concluded, therefore, that whoever had camped there had hung the rope upon the tree, and on leaving the place had forgotten it. I took the rope down to examine it : it was no other than a lasso, full fifty feet long, with an iron ring neatly whipped into the loop-end ; and, on trying it with a pull, I saw it was in the best condition. Of course, I was not likely to leave such a prize behind me. I had grown, as you may all conceive, to have a very great regard for a rope, considering that one had just saved all our lives ; so I resolved on bringing the lasso with me. In order to carry it the more conveniently, I coiled it, and then hung the coil across my shoulders like a belt. I next packed my game into the bag, which they filled chock up to the mouth, and was turning to come back to camp, when my eye fell upon an object that caused me suddenly to change my intention. " I was near the edge of the woods, and through the trunks I could see a large open space beyond, where there were no trees, or only one here and there. In the middle of this opening there was a H )n into , some lem. I camped and on ;he rope a lasso, ivhipped I pull, I e, I was , rhad 1 a very I one had aringing he more the coil eked my ock up back to t caused through beyond, tere and was a A " PARTRIDGE DANCE." 115 cloud of dust, and in the thick of it I could see two great dark animals in motion. They were runiiing about, and now and then coming together with a sudden rush ; and every time they did so, I could hear a loud thump, like the stroke of a sledge- hammet. The sun was shining upon the yellow dust-cloud, and the animals appeared from this cir- cumstance to be of immense size — much larger than ■ they really were. Had I not known what kind of creatures were before me, I should liave believed that the mammoths Avere still in existence. But I knew well what they were : I had seen many before, carrying on just such a game. I knew they were buffalo bulls, ei gaged in one of their terrible battles." Here Basil's narrative was interrupted by a sin- gular incident. Indeed, it had been interrupted more than once by strange noises that were heard at some distance off in the woods. These noises were not all alike : at one time they resembled the barking of a cur dog ; at another, they might have been mistaken for the gurglings of a person who was being hanged ; and then would follow a shriek so dreadful that for some time the woods would echo with its dismal sound! After the shriek a liWJWL-iiu r3C»cEamr-- st J U-Ju-^iW i'« w— ^i F ^, ' ,. .'i.tjw«.jii.jtj— Jw k 116 A " PARTRIDGE DANCE." IJj ;&. 'H laugh \vould be heard, but a miserable " haw-haw- haw !" unlike the laugh of a sane person. All tiic?e strange voices were calculated to in- spire terror, and so have they many a time, with travellers not accustomed to the solitary woods of America. But our young voyageurs were not at all alarmed by them. They knew from what sort of a creature they proceeded ; they knew they were the varying notes of the great horned-owl ( Strix Virginiafia) ; and as they had seen and heatd many a one before, they paid no heed to this individual. While Basil was going on with his relation, the bird had been several times seen to glide past, and circle around upon his noiseless pinions. So easy was his flight, that the slightest inclining of his spread tail, or the bending of his broad wing, se'n d sr. f cient to turn and carry liim in any dIrecLi' • . Nothing could be more graceful than his flight, which was not unlike that of the eagle, while he was but little inferior in size to one of these noble birds. What interrupted Basil was, that the owl had alighted upon a branch not twenty feet from where they were all sitting round the fire, by the blaze \n A " PARTRIDGE DANCE." 117 w-liaw- l to in- le, with woods rere not m what ew they rned-owl iecn and a to this .tion, the past, and So easy rr of his d wing, in any ful than le eagle, 10 one of owl had |m where le blaze of which they now had a full view of this singular creature. The moment it alighted, it commenced uttering its hideous and unmusical cries, at the same time going through such a variety of contortions, botii with its head and body, as to cause the whole party a, fit of laughter. It was, in fact, an odd and interesting ^ight to witness its grotesque move- ments, s', vned first its body, and then its head around, wthout moving the shoulders, while its great honey-coloured eyes glared in the light ot tbe fire. At the end of every attitude and utterance, it would snap its bill with such violence, that the cracking of the mandibles upon each other might have been heard to the distance of several hundred yards. This was too ravh ]• fo^ Francois' patience to bear, and he immedial u - . i\;|). to his gun. He had got hold of the piece, ais ' .ocked it ; but, just as he was about to ta,ke aim, the owl dropped silently down from the branch, and, gliding gently forward, thrust out its feathered leg, and lifted one of the grouse in its talons. The latter had been lying upon the top of a falhn tree i. r six feet from the fire ! The owl, after c; .thing j > , ; cse ;nto the air ; and the next moment would have been lost in darkness, but the tMMmsmmmmm . r \ k 118 A " PARTRroGE DANCE." !/ ( crack of Fran9ois' rifle put a sudden stop td itn flight, and with the grouse still clinging to its claws it fell fluttering to the earth. Marengo jumped forward to seize it ; but Marengo little knew the sort of creature he had to deal with. It happened to be only " winged," and as soon as the dog came near, it thres '"^T upon its back, and struck at him with its talons o. \ ickedly, that he was fain to approach it with more caution. It cost Marengo a considerable fight before he succeeded in getting his jaws over it. During the contest it continually snapped its bill, while its great goggle eyes kept alternately and quickly opening and closing, and the feathers being erected all over its body, gave it the appearance of being twice its real size. Marengo at length succeeded in " crunching" it — although not until he was well scratched about the snout — and its useless carcass having been thrown upon the ground, the dog continued to worry and chew at it, while Basil went on with his narration. BASIL AND THE BISON-BULL. 119 CHAPTER X. BASIL AND THE BISON-BULL. " As soon as I saw the buffaloes," continued Basil, " my first thought was to get near, and have a shot at them. They were worth a charge of powder and lead, and I reflected that if I could kill but one of them, it would ensure us against hunger for a couple of weeks to come. So I hung my game-bag to the branch of a tree, and set about approaching them. I saw that the wind was in my favour, and there was no danger of their scenting me. But there was no cover near them — the ground was as level as a table, and there was not a score of trees upon as many acres. It was no use crawling up, and I did not attempt it, but walked straight forward, treading lightly as I went. In five minutes, I found my- self within good shooting range. Neither of the bulls had noticed me. They wero too busy with wm—m 120 BASIL AND THE BISON-BULL* one another, and in all my life I never saw two creatures fighting in such earnest. They were foaming at the mouth, and the steam poured out of their nostrils incessantly. At times, they would back from each other like a pair of rams, and then rush together head-foremost, until their skulls cracked with the terrible collision. One would have fancied that they would break them at every fresh encounter, but I knew the thickness of a buf- falo's skull before that time. I remember having fired (a musket at one that stood fronting me not more than six feet distant, when, to my surprise, the bullet flattened and fell to the ground before the nose of the buffalo ! The creature was not less astonished than myself, as up to that time it had lAOt seen me. " Well," continued Basil after a pause, " I did not stop long to watch the battle of the bison-bulls. I was not curious about that. I had seen such many a time. I was thinking about the meat ; and I paused just long enough to select the one that appeared to have the most fat upon his flanks, when I drew up my rifle and fired. I aimed for the heart, and my aim was a true one, for the animal came to its knees along with the crack. BASIL AND THE BISON-BULL. 121 Just at that moment the other was charging upon it, and, to my surprise, it continued to run on, until striking the wounded one full butt upon the fore- head, it knocked the latter right over upon its side ; where, after giving half-a-dozen kicks, it lay quite dead. " The remaining bull had dashed some paces beyond tlie spot, and now turned round again to renew his attack. On seeing his antagonist stretched out and motionless, he seemed to be as much asto- nished as I was. At first, no doubt, he fancied himself the author of a grand coup, for it was plain that up to this time he had neither noticed my pre- sence, nor the report of the rifle. The bellowing noise that both were making had drowned the latter; and the dust, together with the long shaggy tufts that hung over his eyes, had prevented him from seeing anything more than his rival, with whom he was engaged. Now that the other was no longer able to stand before him, and thinking it was himself that had done the deed, he tossed up his head and snorted in triumph. At this mo- ment, the matted hair was thrown back from his eyes, and the dust having somewhat settled away, he sighted me, where I stood reloading my gun. I r 1 122 BASIL AND THE BISON-BULL. *,! i fancied he would take off before I could finish, and I made all the haste in my power — so much so that I dropped the box of caps at my feet. I had taken one out, however, and hurriedly adjusted it, think- ing to myself, as I did so, that the box might lie where it was until I had finished the job. I brought the piece to my shoulder, when, to my surprise, the bull, instead of running away, as I had expected, set his head, and uttering one of his terrible bel- lows, came rushing towards me. I fired, but the shot was a random one, and though it hit him in the snout, it did not in the least disable him. In- stead of keeping him off, it only seemed to irritate him the more, and his fury was now at its height. " I had no time to load again. He was within a few feet of me when I fired, and it was with difficulty that, by leaping to one side, I avoided his horns ; but I did so, and he passed me with such violence that I felt the ground shake under his heavy tread. "He wheeled immediately, and made at me a second time. I knew that if he once touched me I was gone. His horns were set, and his eyes glared with a terrible earnestness. I rushed to- wards the body of the buffalo that lay near, hoping 's tttmiumtimi^ r I -/- "^ ,■.■!■ f^y^f■■f^^•r.^r^ > y d fiirish, and nuch so that I had taken ed it, think- K might lie I brought urprise, the d expected, errible bel- ed, but the hit him in ' him. In- \ to irritate ts height, i^as within was with avoided his with such under his at me a 5 touched his eyes ushed to- ir, hoping T^ ^fpppwwwi r t i : i'i BASIL AND THK BISON BVLL — TagC 123. BASIL AND THE BISON-BULL. 123 that this might assist me in avoiding the onset. It did so, for, as he dashed forward over it, ho became entangled among the limbs, and again charged without striking me. He turned, however, as quick as thought, and again rushed bellowing upon me. There was a tree near at hand. I had noticed it before, but I could not tell whether I should have time to reach it. I was now somewhat nearer it, and, feaiing that I might not be able to dodge the furious brute any longer upon the ground, I struck out for the tree. You may be sure I did my best at running. I heard the bull coming after, but before he could overtake me, I had got to the root of the tree. It was my intention, at first, only to take shelter behind the trunk ; but when I had got there, I noticed that there were some low branches, and catching one of these I swung myself up among them. " The bull passed under me with a rush — almost touching my feet as I hung by the branch — ^but I was soon safely lodged in a fork, and out of his reach. " My next thought was to load my gun, and fire at him from my perch, and, with this intention, I commenced loading. I had no fear but that he '/ 124 BASIL AN') THE BISON-BULL. t I would give mo an opportunity, for he kept round the tree, and at times attacked the trunk, butting and goring it with his horns, and all the while bellowing furiously. The tree was a small one, and it shook so, that I began to fear it might break down. I therefore made all the haste I could to get in the load, expecting soon to put an end to his attacks. I succeeded at length in ramming down the bullet, and was just turn- ing the gun to put on a cap, when I recollected that i^e cap-box was still lying on the ground where it had fallen ! The sudden attack of the animal had prevented me from taking it up. My caps were all within that box, and my gun, loaded though it was, was as useless in my hands as a bar of iron. To get at the caps would be quite im- possible. I dared not descend from the tree. The infuriated bull still kept pacing under it, now going round and round, and occasionally stopping for a moment and looking angrily up. " My situation was anything but a pleasant one. I began to fear that I might not be permitted to escape at all. The bull seemed to be most perti- nacious in his vengeance. I could have shot him in the back, or the neck, or where I liked, if I had , ■ { ' ». BASIL AND THE BISON-BULL. 125 only had ono cap. Ho was within three feet of the muzzle of my rifle ; but what of that when I could not get the gun to go off? After a while I thought of making some tinder paper, and then trying to ' touch off* the piece with it, but a far better plan at that moment came into my head. While I was fumbling about my bullet-pouch to get at my flint and steel, of course my fingers came into contact with the lasso which was still hanging around my shoulders. It was this that suggested my plan, which was no Ot^ than to lasso the bull, and tie him to the " I lost no time in carrying it into execution. I uncoiled the rope, and first made one end fast to the trunk. The other was the loop-end, and reeving it through the ring, I held it in my right hand while I leaned over and watched my opportunity. It was not long before a good one oflferod. The bull still continued his angry demonstrations below, and passed round and round. It was no new thing for me to fling a lasso, and at the first pitch I had the satisfaction of seeing thg noose pass over the bison's head, and settle in a proper position behind his horns. I then gave it a twitch, so as to tighten it, and after that I ran the rope over a IW ^mmm ■■pw"wipn*in9i^pwnpiiiP7 lire, so [lis pur- ees, and IS hung bluze. luntil it rageurs a con- ke. At first they thought of going back to the Red River settlement, and obtaining another canoe, as well as a fresh stock of provisions and implements. But they all believed that getting back would be a toilsome and difficult matter. There was a large lake and several extensive marshes on the route, and these would have to be got round, making the journey a very long o^^iC indeed. It would take them days to perform it on foot, and nothing is more discouraging on a journey than to be forced by some accident to what is called " taking the back-track." All of them acknowledged this, but what else could they do ? It is true there was a post of the Hudson's Bay Company at the northern end of Lake Winnipeg. This post was called Norway House. How Avere they to reach that afoot ? To walk around the borders of the lake would be a distance of more than four hundred miles. There would be numerous rivers to cross, as well as swamps and pathless forests to be threaded. Such a journey would occupy a month or more, and at Norway House they would still be as it were only at the beginning of the great journey on which they had set out. Moreover, Norway House lay entirely out of their way. Cumberland House — Li M li* > I i^ L^"..'iiWj^r.'.':iViiii"?B ii ■\ \^ ;# i^. 130 THKEE CURIOUS TREES. another trading-post upon the River Saskatchewah — was the next point where they had intsnded to rest themselves, after leaving the Red River set- lements. To reach Cumberland House afoot would be equally difficult, as it, too, lay at the distance of hundreds of miles, with lakes, and rivers, and marshes, intervening. What, thcii, could they do ? " Let us not go back," cried Francois, ever ready Avith a bold advice ; " let us make a boat, and keep on, say I." " Ha ! Fran9ois," rejoined Basil, " it's easy to say ' make a boat ;' how is that to be done, I pray ?" " Why, what's to hinder us to hew a log, and make a dug-out ? We have still got the axe, and two hatchets left." Norman asked what Fran9ois meant by a dug- out. The phrase was new to him. " A canoe," replied Fran9ois, " hollowed out of a tree. They are sometimes called * dug-outs' on the Mississippi, especially when they are roughly made. One of them, I think, would carry all four of us vvell enough. Don't you think so. Luce ? " " Why, yes," answered the student ; " a large one might : but I fear there are no trees about here of sufficient size. We are not among the great wfA.m I THBEE CUKIOUS TREES. 131 wah — led to Br set- would ance of rs, and Ley do ? r ready- ad keep pray og, a ixe, and log, and a dug- out of louts' on roughly all four Ice?" a large »s about Ihe great timber of the Mississippi bottom, you must re- member." " Ho ' large a tree would it require ?" asked Norman, who knew but little of this kind of craft. " Three feet in diameter, at least," replied Lucien ; " and it should be of that thickness for a length of nearly twenty feet. A less one would not carry four of us." " Then I am sure enough," responded Norman, " that we won't find such timber here. I have seen no tree of that size either yesterday, or while we v/ere out this morning." " Nor I," added Basil. " I don't believe there's one," said Lucien. " If we were in Louisiana," rejoined Fran9oi8, " I could find fifty canoe-trees by walking as many yards. Why, I never saw such insignificant timber as this here." " You'll see smaller timber than this, Cousin Frank, before we reach the end of our voyage." This remark was made by Norman, who knew that, as they proceeded northward, the trees would be found decreasing in size until they w«)uld appear like garden shrubbery. / ' , . 8 I '^1. 132 THREE CURIOUS TREES. ' " But come," continued he, "if we can't build a craft to carry us from one tree, perhaps we can do it out of three." " With three ! " echoed Fran9ois. " I should like to see a canoe made from three trees ! Is it a raft you mean. Cousin Norman ?" " No," responded the other ; " a canoe, and one that will serve us for the rest of our voyage." All three — Basil, Lucien, and Fran9ois — looked to their cousin for an explanation. "'You would rather not go back up the river ?" he inquired, glancing from one to the other. " We wish to go on — all of us," answered Basil, speaking for his brothers as well. " Very well," assented the young fur-trader ; " I think it is better as you wish it. Out of these trees I can build a boat that will ,carry us. It will t{*-ke us some days to do it, and some timo to find the timber, but I am tolerably cer- tain it is to be found in these woods. To do the job properly I want three kinds ; two of them I can see from where I sit ; the third I expect will be got in the hills we saw this morning," As Normp.n spoke he pointed to two trees that grew among many others not far from the spot. THREE CURIOUS TREES. 133 yage. —looked river ?" n her. \ \ ed Basil, •-trader ; :; Out of carry us. 1 nd some 1 bly cer- To do ■^•: of them i. ; These trees were of very different kinds, as was easily told by their leaves and bark. The nearer and more conspicuous of them at once excited the curiosity of the three Southerners. Lucien recognised it from its botanical description. Even Basil and Fran9ois, though they had never seen it, as it is not to be found in the hot clime of Louisiana, knew it from the accounts given of it by travellers. The tree was the celebrated " canoe- birch," or, as Lucien named it, "paper-birch" {Betula papyracea\ celebrated as the tree out of whose bark those beautiful canoes are made that carry thousands of Indians over the interior lakes and rivers of North America ; o it of whose bark whole tribes of these people fashion their bowls, their pails, and their baskets ; with which they cover their tents, and from which they even make their soup-kettles and boiling-pots ! This, then, was the canoe birch-tree, so much talked of, and so valuable to the poor Indians who inhabit the cold regions where it grows. Our young Southerners contemplated the tree with ff^^^l.igs of interest and curiosity. They saw that it was about sixty feet high, and somewhat more than a foot in diameter. Its leaves were ssxs 134 THREE CURIOUS TREES. |: 1,1 I it ,; 1: S;:J^ 1^ nearly cordate, or heart-shaped, and of a very dark-green colour ; but that which rendered it most conspicuous among the other trees of the forest was the shining white or silver-coloured bark that covered its trunk, and its numerous slender branches. This bark is only white ex- ternally. When you have cut through the epidermis you find it of a reddish tinge, very thick, and capable of being divided into several layers. The wood of the tree makes excellent fuel, and is also* often used for articles of furniture. It has a close, shining grain, and is strong enough for ordinary implements ; but if exposed to the weather will decay rapidly. The "canoe-birch" is not the only species of these trees found in North America. The genus Betula (so called from the Celtic word batu^ which means birch) has at least half-a-dozen other known representatives in these parts. There is the " white birch" (J5. populifolia\ a worthless tree of some twenty feet in height, and less than six inches diameter. The bark of this species is useless, and its wood, which is soft and white, is unfit even for fuel. It grows, however, in the poorest soil. Next tliere is a species called the " cherry-birch " fH THREE CURIOUS TREES. 136 {B. lento) f so named from the resemblance of its bark to the common cherry-tree. It is also called "sweet birch," because its young twigs, when crushed, give out a pleasant aromatic odour. Sometimes the name of " black birch " is given to this species. It is a tree of fifty or sixty feet in height, and its wood is much used in cabinet-work, as it is close-grained, of a beautiful reddish colour, and susceptible of a high polish. The "yellow birch" is a tree of the same size, and is so called from the colour of its epidermis. It is likewise used in cabinet-work, though it is not considered equal in quality to the cherry-birch. Its leaves and twigs have also an aromatic smell when bruised, not so strong, however, as the last mentioned. The wood makes excellent fuel, and is much used for that purpose in some of the large cities of America. The bark, too, is excellent for tanning — almost equal to that of the oak. The "red birch" is still another species, which takes its name from the reddish hue of its bark. This is equal in size to the canoe-birch, often growing seventy feet high, with a trunk of nearly three feet diameter. Its branches are long, slender, and pendulous ; and it is from the twigs of this V >ij ii\i n i \il ( ^ 136 THREE CURIOUS TREES. species that most of the "birch-brooms" used in America are made. Still another species of American birches is the "dwarf birch" {Betula nana), so called from its diminutive size, which is that of a shrub, only eighteen inches or two feet in height. It usually grows in very cold or mountainous regions, and is the smallest of these interesting trees. This information regarding the birches of America was given by Lucien to his brothers, not at that time, but shortly afterward, when the three were engaged in felling one of these trees. Just then other matters occupied them, and they had only glanced, first at the canoe -birch and then at the other tree which Norman had pointed out. The latter was of a different genus. It belonged to the order Coniferce, or cone-bearing trees, as was evi- dent from the cone-shaped fruits that hung upon its branches, as well as from its needle-like evergreen leaves. The cone-bearing trees of America are divided by botanists into three great sub-orders — the Pines, the Cypresses, and the Yews. Each of these includes several genera. By the "pine tribe" is meant all those trees known commonly by THREE CURIOUS TREES. 137 the names pine, spruce, fir, and larch ; while the Cupressinee, or cypress tribe, are the cypress proper, the cedars, the arbor-vitae, and the junipers. The yew tribe has fewer genera or species ; bnt the trees in America known as yews and hemlocks — of which there are several varieties — belong to it. Of the pine tribe a great number of species exist throughout the North American Continent. The late explorations on the western slope of the Rocky Mountains, and in the countries bordering on the Pacific, have brought to light a score of species hitherto unknown to the botanist. Many of these are trees of a singular and valuable kind. Several species found in the mountains of North Mexico, and throughout those desert regions where harcly any other vegetation exists, have edible seeds upon which whole tribes of Indians subsist for many months in the year. The Spanish Americans call them pihon trees, but there are several species of them in different districts. The Indians parch the seeds, and sometimes pound them into a coarse meal, from which they bake a very palatable bread. This bread is often rendered more savoury by mix- ing the meal with dried " prairie crickets," a species of coleopterous insects — that is, insects with a K 138 THREE CURIOUS TREES. ^' u rJ i I crustaceous or shell-like covering over their wings — which are common in the desert wilds where these Indians dwell. Some prairie travellers have pro- nounced thia singular mixture equal to the "best pound-cake." Tlie "Lambert p^-o," so called from the botanist of that name, is found in Oregon and California, and may be justly considered one of the wonders of the world. Three hundred feet is not an uncommon height for this vegetable giant ; and its cones have been seen of eighteen inches in length, hanging like sugar-loaves from its high branches I The won- derful " palo Colorado " of California is another giant of the pine tribe. It also grows above three hundred feet high, with a diameter of sixteen feet ! Then there is the " red pine," of eighty feet high, much used for the decks and masts of ships ; the " pitch-pine " {Pinus rigida), a smaller tree, es- teemed for its fuel, and furnishing most of the fire- wood used in some of the American cities. From this species the strong burning " knots " are ob- tained. There is the " white pine " {Pinus strobtis), valuable for its timber. This is one of the largest; and best known of the pines. It often attains a height of an hundred and fifty feet, and a large proportion of those planks so well known to the I. THREE CURIOUS TREES. 139 carpenter are sawed from its trunk. In the State of New York alone no less than 700,000,000 f;?ct of timber are annually obtained from trees of this species, which, by calculation, must exhaust every year the enormous amount of 70,000 acres of forest ! Of course, at this rate the pine-forests of New York State must soon be entirely destroyed. In addition, there is the "yellow pine," a tree of sixty feet high, much used in flooring houses ; and the beautifal "balsam fir," used as an ornamental evergreen both in Europe and America, and from which is .»btrined the well-known medicine — the " Canada balsam." This tree, in favourable situa- tions, attains the height of sixty feet ; while upon the cold summits of mountains it is often seen rising only a few inches from the surface. The " hemlock spruce" {P. Canadensis), is another species, the bark of which is used in tanning. It is inferior to the oak, though the leather made by it is of excel- lent quality. The " black " or " double spruce " (P. nigra), is that species from the twigs of which is extracted the essence that gives its peculiar flavour to the well-known " spruce heer^"* Besides these, at least a dozen new species have lately been discovered on the interior mou.itains of Mexico — 1) 1 1 1! I ) mi HO THREE CURIOUS TREES. all of them more or less possessing valuabie pro- perties. The pines cannot be termed trees of the tropics, yet do they grow in southern and warm countries. In the Carolinas, tar and turpentine, products of the pine, are two staple articles of exportation ; and even under the equator itself, the high moun- tains are covered with pine-forests. But the pine is more especially the tree of a northern sv/lva. As you approach the Arctic circle, it becomes the characteristic tree. There it appears in extensive forests, lending their picturesque sheltcir to the snowy desolation of the earth. One species of pine is i-h*^. very last tree that disappears as the traveller, in approaching the pole, takes his leave of the- limits of vegetation. This species is the " white spruce" {Pinus alba), the very one which, along with the birch-tree, had been pointed qui by Norman to his companions. It was a tree not over thirty or forty feet high, with a trunk of less than a foot in thickness, and of a brownish colour. Its leaves or " needles" were about an inch in length, very slender and acute, and of a bluish green tint. The cones upon it, which at that season were young, were of a pale THREE CURIOUS TREES. 141 able pro- e tropics, countries, oducts of lortation ; fh moun- the pine rn m/lva. .'omes the extensive r to the pecies of rs as the liis leave 8 is the le which, OUT by et high, less, and needles " der and lea upon of a pale green. When ripe, however, they beoome rusty- brown, and are nearly t;vo inches in length. What use Norman would make of this tree in building his canoe, neither Basil nor Fran9ois knew. Lucien only guessed at it. Francois asked the question, by saying that he supposed the " timbers " were to come out of it. " No," said Norman, " for that I want still another sort. If I can't find that sort, however, I can manage to do without it, but not so well." "What other sort?" demanded Francois. " I want some cedar-wood," replied the other. " Ah ! that's for the timbers," said Fran9ois ; " I am sure of it. The cedar-wood is lighter than any other, and, I dare say, would answer admirably for ribs and other timbers." " You are right this time, Frank — it is con sidered the best for that purpose." " You think there are ceuar-trees on the hills we saw this morning ? " said Francois, addressing his Canadian cousin. " I think so. I noticed something like them." " And I, too, observed a dark foliage," said Lucien, " which looked like the cedar. If any- where in this neighbourhood, wc shall find them I ! I ,v. k i 'i\ i ii 142 THREE CURIOUS TREES. there. They usually grow upon rocky, sterile hills, such as those appear to be — that is their proper situation." " The question," remarked Basil, " ought to be settled at once. We have made up our mind to the building of a canoe, and I think we should lose no time in getting ready the materials. Sup- pose wo all set out for the hills." " Agreed — agreed ! " shouted the others with one voice ; and then shouldering their guns, and taking the axe along, all four set out for the hills. On reaching these, the object of their search was at once discovered. The tops of all the hills — dry, barren ridges they were — were covered with a thick grove of the red cedar {Juniperus viginiana). The trees were easily distinguished by the numerous branches spreading horizontally, and thickly covered with short dark green needles, giving them that sombre, shady appearance, that makes them the favourite haunt of many species of owls. Their beauti- ful reddish wood was well known to all the party, as it is to almost eveiy one in the civilized world. Everybody who has seen or used a black-lead pencil must know what the wood of the red cedar is like — for it is in this the black- H K THREE CURIOUS TREES. 143 ?rile hills, ir proper jht to be mind to re should Is. Sup- 5 with one nd taking lills. On IS at once y, barren ick grove he trees branches ed with sombre, avourite beauti- all the ivilized used a ood of usually :ased. In all parts of America, where ■ n .\ t Pi V) 148 HOW TO BUILD the gunwale. The bottom was the most difficult part of all. For that a solid plank was required, and they had no saw. The axe and the hatchet, however, were called into requisition, and a log was soon hewn and thinned down to the proper dimensions. It was sharpened off at the ends, so as to run to a very acute angle, both at the stem and stern. When the bottom was considered suffi- ciently polished, and modelled to the right shape, the most difficult part of the undertaking was supposed to be accomplished. A few long poles were cut and trimmed flat. These were to be laid longitudinally between the ribs and the bark, somewhat after the fashion of laths in the roofing of a house. Their use was to prevent the bark from splitting. The materials were now all ob- tained complete, and, with a few days' smoking and drying, would be ready for putting together. While waiting for the timbers to dry, paddles were made, and Norman, with the help of the others, prepared what he jokingly called his " dock," and also his " ship-yard." This was neither more nor less than a long mound of earth — not unlike a new-made grave, only three times the length of one, or even longer. It was flat upon A BABK CANOE. 149 the top, and graded with earth so as to be quite level and free from inequalities. At length all the materials were considered quite ready for use, and Norman went to work to put them together. Ilis first operation was to untie the bundle of timbers, and separate them. They were found to have taken the exact form into which they had been bent, and the thongs being no longer neces- sary to keep them in place, were removed. The timbers themselves were next placed upon the bottom or kelson, those with the widest bottoms being nearer to " midships," while those with the narrower bend were set towards the narrower ends of the plank. Thus placed, they were all firmly lashed with strong cords of watap, by means of holes pierced in the bottom plank. Fortunately Lucien happened to have a pocket-knife, in which there was a good awl or piercer, that enabled them to make these holes — else the matter would have been a much more difficult one, as an awl is one of the most essential tools in the construction of a bark canoe. Of course it took Norman a consi- derable time to set all the ribs in their proper places, and fasten them securely j but he was ably 'W^f'»j»lH,iL"li»WI*»(;_»pii"^L ir •■'•^"-77- I' f i I 1. 1 f 150 HOW TO BUILD assisted by Francois, who waited upon him with much diligence, handing him now the awl, and then the watap, whenever he required them. Norman's next operation was the laying of his kelson " in dock." The timbers being attached to it, it was lifted up on the earthen mound, where it reached quite from end to end. Half-a-dozen large heavy stones were then placed upon it, so that, pressed down by these upon the even surface of the mould, it was rendered quite firm; and, moreover, was of such a height from the ground that the young shipwright could work upon it without too much bending and kneeling. The gunwale, already prepared, was next placed so as to touch the ends of the ribs all round, and these ends were adjusted to it with great nicety, and firmly joined. Strong cross-pieces were fixed, which were designed, not only to keep the gunwale from spreading or contracting, but afterwards to serve as seats. Of course the gunwale formed the complete mouth, or upper edge of the canoe. It was several feet longer than the bottom plank, and, when in place, projected beyond the ribs at both ends. From each end of the bottom plank, therefore, to A BARK CANOE. 151 the corresponding end of the gurwale, a straight piece of wood was stretcht 1, and fastened. One of these pieces would form the stem or cutwater, while the other would become the stern of the craft. The long poles were next laid longitudi- nally upon the ribs outside, and lashed in their places ; and this done, the skeleton was completed, ready for the bark. The latter had been already cut to the proper dimensions and shape. It consisted of oblong pieces — each piece being a regular parallelogram, as it had been stripped from the tree. These were laid upon the ribs longitudinally, and then sewed to the edge of the bottom plank, and also to the gun- wale. The bark itself was in such broad pieces that two of thr-m were sufficient to cover half a side, so that but one seam was required lengthwise, in addition to the fastenings at the top and bottom. Two lengths of the bark also reached cleverly from stern to stern, and thus required only one transverse seam on each side. There was an advantage in this arrangement, for where the birch-bark can only be obtained in small flakes, a great number of seams is a necessary consequence, and then it is extremely difficult to keep the canoe from leaking. 152 HOW TO BUILD Thanks to the fine birch-trees, that grew in abun- dance around, our boat-builders had procured the very best bark. The canoe was now completed all but the " pay- ing," and that would not take long to do. The gum of the epinctte had to be boiled, and mixed with a little grease, so as to form a species of wax. For this the fat already obtained from the buffaloes was the very thing j and a small tin cup which Basil had saved from the wreck (it had been strung to his bullet-pouch), enabled them to melt the gum, and apply it hot. In less than an hour the thing was done. Every crack and awl-hole was payed, and the canoe was pronounced "watertight," and, as Fran9ois added, with a laugh, "seaworthy." A small pond was near, at the bottom of the hill : Francois espied it. " Come, boys," cried he, " a launch! a launch!" This was agreed to by all. The great stones were taken out. Basil and Norman, going one to the stem the other to the stern, lifted the canoe from the " dock," and, raising it upon their shoulders, carried it down to the pond. The next moment it was pushed into the water, where it n * A BAKK CANOE. 153 floated like a cork. A loud cheer was given, in which even Marengo joined ; and a salute v/as then fired — a full broadside — from the four guns. Fran9ois, to complete the thing, seized one of the paddles, and leaping into the canoe, shot the little craft out upon the bosom of the pond, cheering all the while like one frantic. After amusing himself for some minutes, lie paddled back to the shore, when they all looked eagerly into the canoe, and perceived to their gratification that not as much as a drop of water had leaked during the "trip." Thanks and congratulations now greeted Norman from every side; and, taking their vessel from the water, the young voyageurs re- turned to their camp, to regale themselves with a grand dinner, which Lucien had cooked for the occasion. m^v^f i.Mli ijpi ■^■1. [(Uljppi! H' I < 154 THE CHAIN OF LAKES. CHAPTER XIII. THE CHAIN OF LAKES. i'l I Ut I Our younfT vojageuir^ now prepared to resume their journfj. While Norman was engaged in building hip «ttii»e, witm his assistant, Framcois, the others kadi not ibeen idle. Basil was, of course, the huiracer of "fe party; and, in addition to the small gaxne, saA as hares, gee?*e, and grouse, he haid killed duRe caribou, of the large variety known as "wooxHaiid caribou.^ These are a species of the reiimdeer ' Cervus tarandus)y of which I have more tr) say kereafter. Lucien had attended to the drying ac their flesh ; and there was enough of it still left, as our voyageurs believed, to supply their wants until they should reach Cumberland House, where they would, of THE CHAIN OF LAKES. 155 3 resume course, procure a fresh stock of provisions. The skins of the caribou had also been scraped and dressed by Lucien — who understood the process well — r.nd these, with the skin of the antelope, were sufficient to make a pair of hunting-shirts for Ba^il and Norman, who, it will be remembered, had lost theirs by cutting them up. Next mornin . 160 THE CHAIN OF LAKES. had travelled over in company with his father, and of others he had heard the accounts given by the voyageurs, traders, and trappers. Norman knew that Lake Winnipeg was muddy, — he did not care to inquire the cause. Ho knew that there was a hilly country on its eastern and a low level land on its western shores, but it never occurred to him to speculate on this geological difference. It was the naturalist Lucien who threw omt some hints on this part of the subject, .ind further added his opinion, that the lake came to be there in consequence of the wearing away of the rocks at the junction of the stratified with the primitive formation, thus creating an excavation in the surface, which in time became filled with water and formed the lake. This cause he also assigned for the existence of a remarkable " chain of lakes" that extends almost from the Arctic Sea to the frontiers of Canada. The most noted of these arc Martin, Great Slave, Athabasca, Wollas- ton. Deer, Lake Winnipeg, and the Lake of the Woods. Lucien further informed his companions, that where primitive rocks form the surface of a country, that surface will be found to exhibit great diversity of aspect. There will be numerous lakes and swamps, rugged steep hills with deep valleys mmt ftmmm THE CHAIN OF LAKES. 161 between, short streams with many falls and rapids. These are the characteristics of a primitive surface. On the other hand, where secondary rocks prevail the surface is usually a series of plains, often high, dry, and treeless, as is the case upon the great American prairies. Upon such topics did Lucien instruct his com- panions, as they paddled their canoe around the edge of the lake. They had turned the head of their little vessel westward — as it was their design to keep along the western border of the lake until they should reach the mouth of the Saskatchewan. They kept at a short distance from the shore, usu- ally steering from point to point, and in this way making their route as direct as possible. It would have been still more direct had they struck out into the open lake, and kept up its middle ; but this would have been a dangerous cour3e to pursue. There are often high winds upon Lake Winnipeg, that spring up suddenly ; and at such times the waves, if not mountains high, at least arrive at the height of houses. Among such billows the little craft would have been in danger of being swamped, and our voyageurs of going to the bottom. They, therefore, wisely resolved not to risk such an acci- .'ft T ,i if i ' •^•^^mmm 162 THE CHAIN OP LAKES. dent, but to " hug the shore," though it made their voyage longer. Each night they would land at some convenient place, kindle their fire, cook their supper, and dry their canoe for the next day's journey. According to this arrangement^ a little before sunset of the first day they came to land and made their camp. The canoe was unloaded, carefully lifted out of the water, and then set bottom upward to drip and dry. A fire was kindled, so^ o of the dry meat cooked, and all four sat down and began to eat, as only hungry travellers can. I i M. WAPITI, WOLVES, AND WOLVERENE. 163 CHAPTER XIV. WAPITI, WOLVES, AND WOLVERENE. The spot where our voyageurs had landed was at the bottom of a small bay. The country back from the lake was level and clear of timber. Here and there, nearer the shore, however, its surface was prettily interspersed with small clumps of willows, that formed little copse-like thickets of deep green. Beside one of these thickets, within a hundred yards of the beach, the fire had been kindled, on a spot of ground that commanded a view of the plain for miles back. " Look yonder ! " cried Francois, who had finished eating, and risen to his feet. " What are these, cap- tain?" Fran9ois pointed to some objects that ap- peared at a great distance off upon the plain. The " captain " rose up, placed his hand V 164 WAPITI, WOLVES, SO as to shade his eyes from the sun, and, after looking for a second or two in the direction indi- cated, replied to the other's question by simply saying,— « Wapiti." " I'm no wiser than before I asked the question," said Fran9ois. " Pray, enlighten me as to what a wapiti may be ! " " Why, red deer ; or elk, if you like." " Oh ! elk — now I understand you. I thought they were elk, but they're so far off I wasn't sure. Lucien at this moment rose up, and looking through a small telescope, which he carried, con- firmed the statement of the "captain," and pro- nounced it to be a herd of elk. " Come, Luce," demanded Fran9ois, " tell us what you know of the elk. It will pass the time. Norman says it's no use going after them out there in the open ground, as they'd shy off before one could get within shot. You see there is not a bush within half-a-mile of them." " If we wait," interrupted Norman, " I should not wonder but we may have them among the bushes before long. They appear to be grazing AND WOLVERENE. 165 this way. I warrant you, they'll come to the lake to drink before nightfall." " Very well then : the philosopher can tell us all about them before that." Lucien, thus appealed to, began : — " There are few animals that have so many names as this. Ii is called in different districts, or by different authors, elky round-horned elky American elk, stag, red deer, grey moose, le biche, wapiti, and wewaskish. Naturalists have given not a few of their designations, as Cervus Canadensis, C. major, C. alces, C. strongylocerus, S^c. " You may ask. Why so many names ? I shall tell you. It is called * elk ' because it was supposed by the early colonists to be the same as the elk of Europe. Its name of 'grey moose' is a hunter appellation, to distinguish it from the real moose, which the same hunters know as the ' black moose.' * Round-horned elk' is also a hunter name. * We- waskish,' or * waskesse,' is an Indian name for the animal. ' Stag' comes from the European deer so called, because this species somewhat resembles the stag ; and 'red deer' is a name used by the Hudson Bay traders. 'Le biche' is another synonyme of French authors. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I li^lM |2.5 ■^ i^ 12.2 I US IX lAO 2.0 m 1.25 ||U ^ < 6" — ► w ■^V--' Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 145S0 (716) 872-4503 # ■,-^- iV ^\ - ^ 6^ K %^ Z. K^ f (i: l\ [ D * I '* I ■. It ii 166 WAPiTr, wolves; ' " Of all these names I think that of * wapiti,* which our cousin has given, the best. The names of *elk,* *stag,* and * red deer,' lead to confusion, as there are other species to which they properly belong, all of which are entirely different from the wapiti. I believe that this last name is now used by the best-informed naturalists. " In my opinion," continued Lucien, " the wapiti is the noblest of all the deer kind. It possesses the fine form of the European stag, while it is nearly a third larger and stronger. It has all the grace of limb and motion that belongs to the common deer, while its towering horns give it a most majestic and imposing appearance. Its colour during the summer is of a reddish brown, hence the name red deer ; but, indeed, the reddish tint upon the wapiti is deeper and richer than that of its European cousin. The wapiti, like other deer, brings forth its fawns in the spring. They are usually a male and female, for two is the number it produces. The males only have horns ; and they must be several years old before the antlers become full and branch- ing. They fall every year, but not until February or March, and then the new ones grow out in a month or six weeks. During the sjummer the horns remain \ AND WOLVERENE. ler ,TI«.- soft and tender to the touch. They are covered at this time with a soft membrane that looks like greyish velvet, and they are then said to be * in the velvet.' There are nerves and blood-vessels run- ning through this membrane, and a blow upon the horns at this season gives great pain to the animal. When the autumn arrives the velvet peels off, and they become as hard as bone. They would need to be, for this is the 'rutting' season, and the bucks fight furious battles with each other, clashing their horns together, as if they would break them to pieces. Very often a pair of bucks, while thus contending, *lock' their antlers, and bemg unable to draw them apart, remain head to head, until both die with hunger, or fall a prey to the prowling wolves. This is true not only of the elk, but also of the rein-deer, the moose, and many other species of deer. Hundreds of pairs of horns have been found thus * locked,' and the solitary hunter has often surprised the deer in this unpleasant predicament. " The wapiti utters a whistling sound, that can be heard far off, and often guides the hunter to the right spot. In the rutting season the bucks make other noises, which somewhat resemble the MMMM mmsmsosassamm r I 168 WAPITI, WOLVES, I •: brajing of an ass, and are equally disagreeable to listen to. ■ ^ " rhe wapiti travel about in small herds, rarely exceeding fifty, but often of only six or seven. Where they are not much hunted they are easily approached, but otherwise they are shy enough. The bucks, when wounded and brought to bay, become dangerous assailants ; much more so than those of the common deer. Hunters have sometimes escaped with difficulty from their horns and hoofs, wi^h the latter of which they can inflict very severe blows. They are hunted in the same way as other deer; but the Indians capture many of them in the water, when they discover them crossing lakes or rivers. They are excellent swim- mers, and can make their way over the arm of a lake or across the widest river. "They feed upon grass, and sometimes on the young shoots of willows and poplar trees. They are especially fond of a species of wild rose {Rosa blanda)y which grows in the countries they frequent. " The wapiti at one time ranged over a large part of the continent of North America. Its range is now restricted by the spread of the settle- Ain> WOLVERENE. 169 ments. It is still found in most of the Northern parts of the United States, but only in remote mountainous districts, and even there it is a rare animal. In Canada it is more common ; and it roams across the continent to the shr