Grit A-Plenty

This was in mid-December, and in accordance with the suggestion the boys brought the furs to the Narrows tilt the following Friday. Indian Jake examined them with eagerness. He was interested for their sake in their success, the boys were sure, and this pleased them. In spite of his periods of sullenness, and his reticence, the boys liked him and had faith in him.

“It is a fine catch of fur,” declared Indian Jake, when he had carefully inspected each pelt. “Your father’ll be proud of you! With what more you’ll get before we strike up th’ traps in th’ spring, there’ll be plenty to pay for th’ little lad’s cure.”

“Do you think so, now?” asked David eagerly.

“I’m sure of it,” declared Indian Jake. “You lads have made a fine hunt. ’Twould be a fine hunt for any man, and an old hunter, too.”

“And we’re like t’ get as many more, whatever, ain’t we?” asked Andy enthusiastically.

“Yes,” said Indian Jake, “and they’ll be prime for some time yet, and bring th’ top price.”

The boys were made happy indeed by Indian Jake’s commendation and valuation of their furs. Indian Jake had a keen eye for furs. He was an acknowledged judge, and his valuation could be relied upon. They never questioned this. It imbued them with new fervor and ambition for their work. It made the toil of it appear less formidable. Thus it is always in life. A word of praise and commendation will often lighten another’s burden beyond measure. And success breeds desire for greater success. The higher one climbs, the higher one wishes to climb.

The survey of the pelts placed Indian Jake in a most amiable mood that evening. It was one of the occasions when he threw off his too frequent attitude of sullen silence. He chatted with the boys and told them tales of personal adventure and experiences, while he smoked. Indeed he had never been so companionable.

“Well, lads,” said he at length, “it’s time t’ turn in. I’m thinkin’ I’ll try for some fish tomorrow. I’m gettin’ hungry for fish, and they’s plenty of ’em in th’ lake. We may’s well have some.”

“Can we get un through th’ ice?” asked David eagerly.

“We can make a try for it,” said Indian Jake, knocking the ashes from his pipe and filling the stove with wood, preparatory to “turning in.”

Accordingly, the following morning after they had eaten breakfast, Indian Jake produced some fish hooks and a cod line from his personal kit, and while David and Andy washed dishes he cut the cod line into three lengths of about thirty feet. To each of these he attached a hook, and just above the hook a leaden snicker. Then, winding the lines separately and neatly upon sticks, he detached several small strips of rind from a piece of pork and baited the hooks. The additional strips of rind he wrapped in a piece of cloth, and thrust them into his pocket.

“There’s the fishing outfit all ready; one for each of us,” he announced, laying them aside. “There’s no use goin’, though, till light. They’s plenty of time.”

“Will we get trout?” asked David.

“No,” said Indian Jake. “Whitefish, maybe. Namaycush, maybe. Maybe nothin’ but pike. And maybe nothin’ at all.”

“Oh!” exclaimed Andy expectantly. “I’ve heard Pop tell about gettin’ wonderful big namaycush out’n th’ lakes!”

“I’ve seen ’em,” said Indian Jake, “that would go upwards of forty pound. And I’ve heard of ’em running close to sixty pound.”

“Did you ever get any in Seal Lake like that?” asked David excitedly.

“No; not in Seal Lake,” admitted Indian Jake. “But they’re here, and we’re like t’ get ’em. I’ve been thinkin’ that tomorrow week will be Christmas, and if we could get some fish ’twould make a fine change for Christmas dinner from pa’tridges and rabbits.”

“’Twould that!” enthused David. “I’m wonderful hungry for fish, too. But I was forgettin’ about Christmas. Up here on th’ trails I never thinks of un at all.”

“We’ll have t’ fix up a good feed for Christmas,” declared Indian Jake, “and we’ll make it out somehow. Even if ’tis only fish.”

As soon as it was light, and long before sunrise, the three with their improvised fishing tackle, and each carrying his ax, set forth upon Seal Lake. Indian Jake led the way to a point a half mile from the tilt, and directly above the Narrows.

“We’ll cut our holes here,” he announced. “Spread out a little and don’t cut ’em too near together.”

It was no small task. A coating of hard-packed snow was first removed. Then came the ice, which was now over three feet in thickness. The holes when finished were three feet in diameter at the top, tapering down to a foot and a half at the bottom like a funnel.

“Now,” said Indian Jake when all was ready, “we’ll see whether we’re goin’t’ get any fish.”

David’s baited hook had hardly sunk below the surface of the water when he felt a tug, and an instant later he drew out a whitefish that he was quite sure weighed four pounds at the very least. A little later Indian Jake drew out another, and almost at the same moment Andy gave a shout as he landed still another.

“Looks like we’re goin’ t’ get whitefish, whatever,” said Indian Jake.

Standing still upon the open ice soon became cold and disagreeable work. The lines quickly became encrusted with a thick coating of ice, and it was necessary to keep them moving up and down in the hole, else the water would freeze at once. Even then they must clear away the accumulated ice frequently.

With the rising sun a breeze sprang up from the west to add to the discomfort, and presently Indian Jake, unhooking a whitefish, asked:

“How many fish you got, lads?”

“I’ve got four fine ones,” David announced.

“I’ve got three,” said Andy.

“I’ve got three, and that makes ten,” calculated Indian Jake. “That’s all we’ll use this week and next week and th’ week after. They’s no need standin’ here and freezin’, and we might as well go back t’ th’ tilt. Pull in, boys, and we’ll go.”

Indian Jake and David drew in their lines, and proceeded to clear them of ice, but Andy, with his still in the water hole, was making no preparation to leave.

“Come, Andy,” David shouted. “Jake and me are ’most ready to go.”

“I can’t,” answered Andy. “My hook’s snagged on something, and I can’t pull un in.”

“Let me try her,” said Indian Jake, who had wound his line, and was picking up the frozen fish and dropping them into an empty flour bag he had brought for the purpose.

“Here, try un,” and Andy surrendered the line to Indian Jake, just as the line gave a mighty tug.

“Why, you’ve got a fish on there!” exclaimed Indian Jake. “He’s as big as a porpoise, too, whatever he is!”

Vastly excited, the lads watched Indian Jake manipulate the line, drawing the fish nearer and nearer the hole.

“He’s most t’ th’ hole!” cried David, no less excited than Andy. “Watch out now! Watch, now! You’re gettin’ he, Jake!”

“There he is!” shouted Andy, when, a moment later, the head of an immense fish appeared at the end of the line in the water hole.

“Here!” directed Jake. “You lads take th’ line and hold steady! Don’t jerk; just keep a steady pull! Don’t let it slip back any!”

David and Andy seized the line as directed, and held tight. Indian Jake, regardless of the cold, threw off his right mitten, drew his sheath knife from his belt, and leaning far over the hole drove it with a hard, quick blow into the top of the fish’s head. Then flinging the knife out upon the ice, he plunged his hand into the water, slipped his fingers under the gills of the fish, and drew it out upon the ice. Then without a moment’s delay he thrust his hand under his adiky to dry it, and prevent its freezing.

“That’s one of ’em,” he said coolly. “That’s a namaycush, and a forty pounder if he’s anything.”

Of course Andy was proud, though he did not claim all the credit of catching the big namaycush. The glory of such a fish was quite enough, in his estimation, to be distributed among the three.

“Now we’ll have fish for half th’ winter, whatever!” he declared.

“That we will, now!” said David.

“And good eatin’, too,” said Indian Jake, recovering his mitten. “There’s no better eatin’ than namaycush.”

With his sheath knife Indian Jake severed the head, cut open the fish, and cleaned it.

“Now ’twon’t be so heavy to carry,” he explained.

Already it was stiffening with the cold, and Indian Jake, lifting it to his shoulder, set out for the tilt, while David and Andy with the bag of whitefish, followed.

They were nearing the tilt when suddenly Indian Jake paused and peered intently up the lake shore. David and Andy followed his gaze and saw something, close in the edge of the trees, move.

“Deer!” exclaimed Indian Jake.

The three ran for their rifles.

XVI

CHRISTMAS EVE ON THE FUR TRAILS

INDIAN Jake flung the big namaycush into the snow at the tilt door. David and Andy dropped the bag of whitefish by its side, and all, rushing into the tilt, seized their rifles and cartridge bags.

“You lads go up through th’ woods and look for ’em on that side,” directed Indian Jake. “I’ll go up along th’ shore. We’ll be sure to get ’em one side or the other.”

Without a word David and Andy, at a run, but with as little noise as possible, took the direction indicated. Indian Jake, running where he was hidden by brush, stooping low where there was danger that the caribou might see him, followed the ice close to the shore where overhanging brush offered cover to his movements, but where there was firm footing, and he could travel at good speed.

As they neared the place where the caribou had last been seen, the boys moved more cautiously. They stole through the trees without a sound. Their rifles were held ready for instant use.

Suddenly a shot rang out. At the same instant came a sound of crashing bushes, and three caribou burst through the willow brush that lined the lake, and dashed into the forest. David and Andy threw their rifles to their shoulders and fired simultaneously, but with one fleeting glimpse the animals were lost among the thick foliage of the spruce trees.

“They’re gone!” exclaimed David in great disappointment. “We missed un, and we won’t get any of un now!”

“Jake got in one shot,” consoled Andy. “Maybe he knocked one of un down whatever.”

“Let’s have a look where they went through,” suggested David, leading the way.

“What’s that? Did you hear that?” asked Andy, as the sound of a movement came to their ears.

“It’s a deer!” shouted David excitedly, running in the direction the caribou had taken. “We hit un! We knocked one down! See un?”

They had indeed wounded a big caribou. Hidden by the trees it had run for a score of yards before it fell, and had been out of their line of vision until they reached a point where they had a clear view of the trail the fleeing caribou had made in the snow. The caribou was now vainly struggling to regain its feet, and a bullet from David’s rifle was sent to end its suffering.

“A good shot!” said Indian Jake, who had heard the firing and now overtook the boys.

“Did you knock one down too?” asked Andy excitedly.

“No, I made a clean miss of ’em,” Indian Jake confessed. “They got a sniff of us and took fright, and I just took a chance shot. You lads made good shootin’ t’ catch ’em running!”

“We never thought we touched un,” said David “We never has time t’ take fair aim. We just pulls up and lets go.”

“’Twas quick shootin’,” declared Andy. “I wonder which of us hit un—you or me—Davy?”

But they were never to know that, and it mattered little. They had secured fresh meat, which was needed, and that was the chief consideration.

“He’s good and fat,” said David, prodding the carcass with his toe. “He’s like t’ have four fingers o’ fat on his back.”

“And we’ll have deer’s meat for Christmas!” exclaimed Andy.

“We’d better skin him right away, before he freezes,” said Indian Jake, drawing his sheath knife.

With David’s assistance Indian Jake deftly and quickly removed the skin, while Andy hurried to the tilt to fetch an ax and a toboggan. Then they dressed the carcass, cut the meat into convenient pieces, and in less than half an hour were returning to the tilt with an abundant supply of fresh meat, and very well satisfied with the result of their morning’s work.

The meat of the bear which Andy had killed at the time of their arrival had long since been consumed. Of late they had relied upon rabbits and partridges, and, save for a limited stock of pork, were without fat, which is a necessity in the severe climate of the North. As David had said, the caribou was fat, and in splendid condition, and yielded them an abundant store for several weeks.

They were as hungry as wolves when they drew the toboggan load of meat before the tilt door. David kindled a fire at once, while Andy put over the kettle and Indian Jake cut some luscious steaks to fry, and their dinner became a feast.

“Now,” said Andy, “we’ll have meat and fish both for Christmas, but I’ll be missin’ th’ plum duff. I wish we’d brought some currants and then we could have the duff, and as fine a Christmas dinner as ever we has at home.”

“You’re wishin’ for a lot, seems to me,” remarked Indian Jake.

In the afternoon a platform was erected outside, upon which to store the meat and fish. Here the reserve supply would remain frozen until required, and at the same time be safe from the attack of animals. And when they set out upon the trails on Monday morning both Indian Jake and the boys placed liberal pieces of venison upon their toboggans, with which to stock their other tilts.

The following Friday evening David and Andy reached the Narrows tilt in advance of Indian Jake. They had hurried, for this was Christmas eve, and they wished a long evening to talk of those at home. It was to be the first Christmas they had ever spent from home, and all day a picture of the snug, warm cabin at The Jug had been before them as they trudged through the silent, snow-clad wilderness.

It was cold. Their adikys were thickly coated with hoar frost. The fur of the hoods, encircling their faces, was heavy with ice, accumulated moisture from the breath.

Twilight was deepening, and the snow-covered tilt within was dark. David lighted a candle, and the boys picked the ice from their eyelashes—always a painful operation. A handful of birch bark and some split wood had been left ready prepared, and David thrust them into the stove and applied a match. A moment later the fire was roaring cheerfully.

Then they unpacked their toboggan, stowed the things in the tilt, and Andy took his ax and the kettle to their water hole while David with his ax went out to the elevated platform and secured a generous portion of the frozen namaycush. And when presently Andy returned with the kettle of water and David with the fish, the tilt was as warm and comfortable as any one could wish.

“Now,” said David as they removed their adikys, and after shaking the frost from them hung them upon pegs, “we’ll have a fine rest till Monday. We can sleep till daybreak if we wants. There’ll be no workin’ on Christmas, whatever.”

“And we’ll have a fine dinner tomorrow,” Andy appended enthusiastically, “and have all day t’ talk and do as we please.”

“That we will,” said David.

“I wish, now, we had some currants t’ make th’ plum duff like Margaret always makes on Christmas,” said Andy wistfully. “We’ll have a good dinner, but ’twill be no different from what we has every day.”

“We’ve only been havin’ th’ deer’s meat this week, and we never tires of un, and we’ve got plenty t’ eat, whatever,” said David.

“That we has, and ’tis wonderful good!” agreed Andy. “We has a fine snug place t’ rest in, and as fine grub as any one could want, and enough t’ be thankful for. I were just wishin’ for plum duff so’s t’ have somethin’ different on Christmas. But we’re hunters now, and we can’t expect all the fine things we has at home.”

“Plum duff!” the exclamation came from Indian Jake, who had come so silently that the boys had not heard him until at that moment he opened the door. “Plum duff in a huntin’ camp! Ain’t you forgot about plum duff yet? You’ll be wantin’ sweets next!”

“I was just wishin’,” explained Andy.

“They’s no use wishin’ for things can’t be had,” said Indian Jake, pushing back the hood of his adiky and warming his fingers for a moment before going out of doors to unpack his toboggan.

Indian Jake was, to all appearances, in no very good humor. The boys fell silent, while David proceeded to fry a pan of fish. Presently the half-breed returned with his belongings, and stowing them under his bunk he remarked:

“Don’t meddle with un, now.”

After he had hung up his adiky he lighted his pipe and smoked silently, speaking never a word, and seemingly forgetful of the boys’ presence, until David announced:

“Grub’s ready, Jake.”

This was an appealing announcement. The half-breed knocked the ashes from his pipe, helped himself liberally, and at once became more sociable.

“What fur this week?” he asked expectantly, as he ate.

“One marten and one red,” announced David. “How’d you make out, Jake?”

“Not so bad,” said Indian Jake. “Did you fetch th’ marten and red down?”

“Yes, you can see un after supper if you likes,” offered David.

“This is fine fish,” remarked Indian Jake, after a little. “’Twas a fine catch, Andy.”

“Aye, ’twere that!” admitted Andy. “But I never could have got he without you and David helpin’.”

Indian Jake was silent again, and scarcely spoke another word during the whole evening. He examined the marten and fox skins, when David produced them, with an eye of critical appraisement and evident appreciation, but offered no comments. Once or twice, as the boys chatted of home and made an effort to draw him into the conversation, he merely grunted the briefest reply. Indeed it seemed to be his wish to be left to his pipe and his thoughts, undisturbed, and they said no more to him nor he to them.

XVII

INDIAN JAKE’S SURPRISE

DAVID and Andy had agreed to sleep later on Christmas morning. This was to be a day of rest and recreation. Sleeping late meant, to them, until break of day. But Indian Jake arose at the usual early hour, and his movements aroused the boys, and through force of habit they sat up in their bunk.

“No need of you fellers gettin’ up yet unless you want to,” said Indian Jake cheerfully. “I had some things I wanted t’ do, so I got up t’ get un done before breakfast. I’ll call you when breakfast is ready. This is Christmas, you know.”

“Thank you, Jake,” yawned David, snuggling back into his sleeping bag. “I’m thinkin’ I’ll take another snooze, then. Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas to both of you!” broke in Andy, who, following David’s example, settled down again into his bag. “I’m thinkin’ I’ll snooze some more, too.”

“The same to you, lads! I’ll call you when I’m through fussin’ around.” The half-breed spoke with unusual heartiness and good nature. It was evident that his mood of silence and sullen indifference of the previous evening had passed, and that he was in an excellent frame of mind.

Indian Jake proceeded at once to put flour into the mixing pan, and to knead a quantity of dough. Then, assuring himself by their heavy breathing that the boys were soundly sleeping, he cautiously drew from beneath his bunk a two-quart covered pail that served him, when on the trail, as a cooking kettle. Lifting the cover, he examined the contents.

“They’re all right,” he said. “They’ll do. They’ve been froze ever since I picked ’em in September.”

He now lay down, side by side, two of the boards used for stretching fox pelts, and cutting a piece of dough from the mass in the mixing pan, he placed it upon the boards, and proceeded to roll it thin with the end of a round, dry stick. This done to his satisfaction, he turned up the edges of the dough on all sides, and poured upon it the contents of the pail, which proved to be cranberries. These he spread evenly over the dough, and rolling it up, placed it in a small bag of cotton cloth which he produced from his kit bag. The bag containing dough and berries, was now deposited in the tin pail, the cover replaced, and the pail set behind the stove.

“The lads’ll never look into that,” he observed, “and she’ll be safe enough there, and won’t get chilled till I wants her.”

He again reached under his bunk and drew forth a package which he had deposited there with the kettle and other personal belongings upon his arrival the previous evening. Looking furtively, to make certain the boys were not awake and observing him, he undid this, and there appeared a big fat goose, all picked and cleaned. He proceeded at once to cut this into sections, which he dropped into the large cooking kettle which was one of the furnishings of the tilt.

“There,” he said, after covering the goose with cold water, putting the lid on the kettle and placing it beside the other, behind the stove, “she’s froze pretty hard, but that’ll draw th’ frost out, and I can set her on when I’m ready, and cook her in the same water.”

Turning then to the dough remaining in the pan, he began to mould it into cakes, and fry it after the usual fashion.

“Plum duff!” he muttered to himself as he placed the frying pan on the stove. “If we’re goin’ t’ keep Christmas we may’s well keep her right, and surprisin’ is a part of keepin’ her. ’Twon’t do any harm t’ surprise ’em, and make ’em feel good. They’ll like me better for it. They like me pretty well now. They brought the fur down, and I didn’t have t’ show ’em what I had. I wonder how much they’d like me if they knew what I’m plannin’ t’ do when we goes out in th’ spring!”

When Indian Jake had finished bread baking it was broad daylight, and when presently he called the boys several loaves of the hot bread were ranged upon a board by the stove, tea was made and caribou steaks were frying, and the tilt was filled with the pleasant odor of cooking.

“Oh, but it smells good!” exclaimed Andy, springing out of his bunk.

“I feel like I could eat a whole deer!” declared David.

“Well, get washed up, then!” grinned Indian Jake “Breakfast is ready and waitin’.”

A storm had sprung up in the night. As they ate they could hear the wind howling around the tilt, and dashing snow in spiteful gusts against the door. But with the cheerful, crackling fire in the stove they were as warm and cozy as any one could wish, and after breakfast, when Indian Jake lighted his pipe and the boys snuggled down in vast and luxurious contentment, Andy remarked:

“’Tis fine t’ feel we can ’bide inside, and don’t have t’ go out in th’ snow t’ cut wood or anything. ’Tis a fine day for Christmas.”

They discussed the furs they had accumulated, and what they were likely to get before the season closed, and the price the furs would bring, and the boys were made vastly happy by Indian Jake’s reassurance that they already had, he was quite certain, enough to pay the expenses of Jamie’s operation. Then it was quite natural they should be deeply concerned about their father’s broken leg, and whether it was healing, and whether or not the mist in Jamie’s eyes was continuing to thicken. Indian Jake was wholly optimistic.

“Your father’s up and about before this,” he cheered. “He’s feedin’ th’ dogs and ’tendin’ t’ things, and like as not doin’ some huntin’ close by Th’ Jug. There’s no need worryin’ about Jamie’s eyes, either. Doctor Joe’s lookin’ out for them. He’ll see to ’em and take care of ’em. He’ll never let th’ lad go blind.” Indian Jake’s positive manner lent this assurance the character of certainty. It seemed to remove from the day the last cloud, and they fell to speculating upon what the folk were doing at The Jug, and how they were enjoying the Christmas day.

And thus they talked of this and that until at length Indian Jake announced that it was time to “think of dinner,” and reaching behind the stove brought forth the big kettle containing the goose, and set it upon the fire, after taking a surreptitious peek under the cover.

“What’ll we have for dinner?” asked David. “I’m gettin’ hungry already.”

“Meat and other things. They’s no knowin’ what all,” answered Indian Jake cautiously.

“What’ll there be t’ have besides meat?” asked Andy curiously.

“Whitefish, maybe—and other things. But I don’t want any questions asked,” warned Indian Jake. “I’m gettin’ dinner. You’ll see what we have when th’ time comes.”