Mooswa & Others of the Boundaries

"Won't he, Little Brother? Man is not so stupid. How do you suppose I breathe? There'll be a little hole right up through the snow, all yellow about the edges, and François will find that; also, if there's frost in the air, see my breath. No; I've got to make another nest now. I should have turned in before the snow fell, then I'd have been all right."

"We'll help you fix a new house," said Black King; "but you had better wait-perhaps this snow will go away; then there will be no tracks to lead Trappers to your nest. It is really too bad to keep you up when you are so sleepy, but it's the only way."

"And to think how I worked over it," lamented Muskwa. "For a week I carried sticks until my arms ached; and scraped up leaves, and spruce boughs, and soft moss, until my hands were sore. It would have been the finest 'hole-up' of any Bear within the Boundaries. Umisk boasts about his old Mud Lodge, with the lower floor all flooded with water-it's enough to give one rheumatism. New Ant Hills! I shouldn't like to live in a cold, cheerless place like that. If I had just pulled all that nice warm covering over me before the snow fell, I should have been as comfortable as little Gopher in his hole. It's too bad!"

"I'll tell you what we will do, Muskwa," said Black King; "we'll ask the Old Lady about this thing. You wouldn't mind a nice dry hole in a cut-bank somewhere, would you-if the snow lasts and you can't make another nest? She knows all the empty houses from Athabasca to Peel River. I am in the same fix myself, for the family are moving to-day-though we have lived in our present quarters for a matter of four years."

"That's a King for you!" cried Whisky-Jack. "He's like a Father to us," concurred Blue Wolf.

"Now we'll go back," ordered Black Fox; "the Man has set all his Traps. See! here's the mark of an empty bag on the snow. If you discover anything new, come to the big dead Cottonwood-the one that was struck by storm-fire-at Two Rapids, and give the Boundary Call. I don't want you making a trail up to our new house for François to follow."

THE OTTER SLIDE

For the next few days François was busy completing his Marten Road, quite unconscious of the undoing that followed him. Fifteen miles out he constructed a small rest-house that would do for a night's camping; thus he could go the round of his Traps nicely in two days. The People of the Boundaries watched him, and where they found a Trap, sprang it and stole the Bait. He fixed up the chimney that had suffered from Carcajou's diabolical curiosity. Winter had properly set in; streams were frozen up, the ground covered with snow, and the days were of scarce more length than a long drawn out forenoon. Affairs were in this state when one morning the Red Widow heard Beaver's plaintive whistle from the Cottonwood.

"Son," she cried to Black Fox, "Umisk calls; something has gone wrong in the Forest." The King turned over, stretched his sinewy legs, and yawned; the sharp-pointed, blood-red tongue curled against the roof of his mouth, and the strong teeth gleamed white against the background of his lacquer coat. It was a full-drawn, lazy protest against being roused from slumber, for a brace of Pin-tail Grouse lying in the corner of his cave gave evidence of much energy during the previous night.

"Bother this being King!" he yapped crabbedly. "To take care of one's own relatives is trouble enough. By the Howl of a Hungry Wolf! I saved Stripes from a Trap yesterday-just in the nick of time to keep him from grabbing the Bait. Now Trowel Tail is after me. This place was bad enough when there were only Animals here-I mean Animals of our own knowing, Mother; now that this other kind of Animal, Man, has come, it's simply awful. They must be a bad lot, these Men. We fear Wolf when he is hungry, and Muskwa when there are no Berries, but Man is always crying, 'E-go, Kil-l-Kil-l!'"

Again Umisk's shrill little treble cut the keen frosty air. "Hurry, Lad!" cried the Widow; "likely his family is in trouble."

Black Fox stuck his head cautiously from the entrance to their Burrow, and peered through the massive drapery of Birch-tree roots which completely veiled that part of the cut-bank. "Mother," he said, "make the Boys use the log-path when they're coming home, or François will hole us up one of these fine days."

"I have told them, Son; your two Brothers were cross-hatching the trail all yesterday afternoon. There are three blind holes within five miles up the stream, and to each one they have made a nice little false trail to amuse this Stealer of Skins."

"That's all right, Mother; we can't be too careful."

He stretched each hind-leg far out, throwing his head high to loosen the neck-muscles and expand his chest, shook the folds of his heavy, black cloak and yawned again. Then stooping low in the cave-mouth, with a powerful spring he alighted upon a log which crossed from one cut-bank to another of the stream. Umisk was whistling a quarter of a mile away down the left bank, but Black Fox started off up the right. As he trotted along he sang: -

"The trail that leads from nowhere to nowhere,Is the track of the King of the Tribe of Beware."

Suddenly he stopped, crept under a big log, and then emerged, tail first, backing up cautiously and putting his feet down carefully in the tracks he had made. "They'll find me asleep in there," he chuckled; and hummed, softly: -

"Under the log the King is asleep;Creep gently, Brother, creep;Under the log is the old Fox nest;Creep, Brother-mind his rest."

Suddenly jumping sideways over a great Spruce lying prone on the ground, he started off again, singing merrily: -

"The track that breaksIs a new track made;For eyes are sharpWhere the nose is dead."

Down the stream, below where Umisk was waiting, Black King crossed, saying to himself: "Now, François, when I go home the trail will be complete, with no little break at my front door-dear François, sweet François."

With Umisk was Carcajou waiting for the King.

"What's up?" asked Black Fox.

"The Man has found us out," squeaked Umisk, despairingly.

"Too bad, too bad!" cried the King, with deep sympathy in his voice. "Anything happened-any one caught?"

"Nothing serious at present. One of the Babes lost a toe-mighty close shave."

"How did the Breed work it? The old game of breaking in your house-the Burglar?"

"No; that's too stupid for François. Muskegs! but he is clever. The thing must have been done last night. He cut a hole in the ice of my pond near the dam, then shoved a nice, beautiful piece of Poplar, with a steel Trap attached, down into the water-one end in the mud, you know, and the other up in the ice. Of course it froze solid there. First-Kit, that's my eldest Son, saw it in the morning, and, thinking one of our bread-sticks had got away, went down to bring it back. Mind you, I didn't know anything about this; he is an ambitious little Chap and wanted to do it all himself. Of course the Poplar was fast-he couldn't budge it; so climbed up to cut it off at the ice, with the result that he sprang the Trap and incidentally lost a toe."

"It's great schooling for the Children, though, isn't it?" remarked Black King, trying to put a good face on affairs.

"It's mighty hard on their toes," whined Beaver. "Hope it wasn't his nippers-forgot to look into that."

"Nothing like bringing them up to take care of themselves," declared Carcajou. "All the same, my Wood-chopper Friend, you just cut off that stick and float it, with the Trap, to one of your air-holes; I'll cache it for François."

"I was thinking of keeping it," added Umisk, "to teach the Youngsters what a Trap is like."

"Well, just as you wish; only I'll go and make a little trail from the spot off into the woods, so our busy Friend will think I've taken it. Hello, Nekik!" he continued, as Otter came sliding through the snow on his belly; "has François been visiting you too?"

"I don't know; there is something the matter with my Slide. It isn't as I left it yesterday."

"Birds of a Feather! Birds of a Feather!" screamed Whisky-Jack, fluttering to a limb over their heads. "What's the caucus about this morning-discussing chances of a breakfast this year of starvation and scarcity of Wapoos? Mild Winter! but I had a big feed. The Boy no more knows the value of food than he knows the depravity of Carcajou's mind."

"Great hand for throwing away hot pork, isn't he, Jack?" asked Wolverine, innocently.

The Jay blinked his round bead-eyes, snapped his beak, and retorted: "They put in their evenings laughing over the roasting you got when you dropped into the fire."

"Where's François, Babbler?" asked the King.

"Gone out to bring in Deer Meat."

"Did he make a Kill?"

"U-h-huh! my crop is full."

"You horrid Beast!" cried Carcajou, disgustedly. "Where is it cached?"

"Not Mooswa?" broke in Black King, with a frightened voice.

"No-Caribou. Such a big shovel to his horn too-must have been of the Knowledge Age. Ugh! should have known better than to let a Man get near him. Of course François stuck the head on a tree to make peace with Manitou, and I'm fixed for a month."

"Cannibal!" again exclaimed Carcajou. "Where did you say your friend, Murderer, had cached the quarters?"

"'Cannibal,' eh? Go and find out, Glutton. Be careful, though-I saw some one handling the White Medicine last night."

"The White Medicine!" ejaculated Black Fox, turning with dismay to the speaker.

"Uh, huh! but I never steal the Bait, like Carcajou, so I don't care. I eat what the Men eat."

"What they leave, you mean, Scavenger-what they throw to the Dogs!" retorted the Lieutenant.

"You'll get enough of Dogs, First-Cousin-to-Ground Hog-François says he is going to have a train of them. They will squeeze your fat back if you come prowling about the Shack to steal food."

"Dogs," growled Blue Wolf, coming into the circle, – "who's got Dogs?"

"You'll have them-on your back, presently," snapped the Jay. "Saw you sniffing around there last night. If your jaws were as long as your scent you would have had that leg off the roof, eh, Rof? Burnt Feathers! but I smell something," he continued; "has any one found a Castoreum Bait, and got it in his pocket? I don't mean you, Beaver, you don't smell very bad. Oh! here you are, Sikak; it's you-I might have known what sweet Forest Flower had cut loose from its stalk. Have you been rolling in the dead Rose leaves this morning, my lover of Perfume?"

The white-striped Skunk pattered with quick, mincing little steps into the group, his back humped up and his terrible tail carried high, ready to resent any insult.

"Smothered anybody this morning, Sikak?" asked the Bird.

A laugh went round the circle at this sally of Jack's; for Skunk's method of fighting did not meet with universal approval. Blue Wolf thought Sikak was a good piece of meat clean thrown away. When hungry he could manage Badger, or even Porcupine; but Skunk! "Ur-r-r, agh!" it turned his stomach to think of the dose he had received once when he tried it.

"Good-morning, Your Majesty!" said Lynx, as he arrived shortly after Skunk.

"How is everybody up your way?" queried Jack. "How are all the young Wapooses?"

Lynx grinned deprecatingly.

"Pisew is not likely to forget the Law of the Seventh Year," remarked Carcajou, with a sinister expression, "so he is not so deeply interested in young Wapoos as he used to be."

"What is the meeting for?" asked Lynx.

"François has been visiting the pond of our little Comrade, Umisk," replied Black King.

"And has been at my Slide, too," declared Otter.

"Well, Comrades, we had better go with Nekik and examine into this thing," commanded the King.

"Oh, of course!" cried Jack; "every community must have Fishery Laws, and have its Fisheries protected."

The Otter slide was exactly like a boy's coasting chute on a hill. A smooth, iced trough ran down the snow-covered bank, a matter of fifteen feet, to the stream's edge, ending in an ice hole that Otter managed to keep open all Winter. Generally speaking, it was Nekik's entrance to his river-home, and in the event of danger demanding a quick disappearance, he could shoot down it into the water like a bullet. It was also a play-ground for Otter's family; their favourite pastime being to glide helter-skelter down the chute and splash into the stream.

"What's wrong with it?" asked Black Fox. "There's a nasty odour of Man about, I admit, but your Slide seems all clear and smooth."

"Something's been changed. I had a little drop put in the centre for the Youngsters, and they liked it-thought it was like falling off a bank, you know; now that part is filled up nearly level, you see. I don't know what is in it-was afraid to look; but expect François has set a Trap there."

"I'll find out," said Carcajou. "These Traps all work from the top-I've discovered that much. If you keep walking about, you're pretty sure to get into one of them; but if you sit down and think, and scrape sideways a bit, you'll get hold of something that won't go off." Talking thus, he dug with his strong claws at the edge of the Slide. "I thought so!" he exclaimed suddenly. "Here's a ring around a stake-I know what that means!"

Feeling cautiously for the chain, he presently pulled out a No. 3 steel Trap. With notched jaws wide open, and tip-plate holding its flat surface up inviting the loosening pressure, it was a vicious-looking affair.

"Let me spring it," said Wolf; "I'm used to them." Grabbing the chain end in his teeth, he threw the Trap over his head as a dog does a bone in play, and when it came down the sides clanged together with hurried fondness.

"Hurrah! hurrah!" whistled Otter. "Something told me not to go down that Slide. I felt it in my bones."

"You'd have felt it on your bones," piped Jay, ironically, "if you had slid your fat belly over that Trap."

"Oh, I'm just dying for a slide and a bath," continued Nekik-"here goes!"

"Wait a bit!" commanded Carcajou, grabbing him by the shoulder, "don't be too eager. That isn't François's Lucky Trap. If he has discovered your front stream, you can just depend upon it his Lucky Trap is laid away somewhere for you-it's got two red bands painted on the springs."

As these words of wisdom fell from Carcajou's lips his Comrades gathered their feet more closely under them, and searched the surrounding territory apprehensively with their eyes.

"Where will it be?" cried Nekik, distressedly.

"In the water!" answered Carcajou, with brief decision.

"Dreadful!" whimpered Otter.

"François is a heartless wretch!" declared Beaver. "He tried to play that trick on me once."

"Where was that, Paddle-tail?" queried Jack, who was always eager for a bit of gossip.

"It was when I lived up on Pembina River. You know the way with us Beavers-we always take a month or two of holiday every Summer, and visit our Friends. It was in June-I remember; I opened the Lodge to let it air, and started down stream with my whole family. Of course we passed many Beaver-roads running to the river, and when we thought they belonged to friends we'd pull out and go up on the bank. Carcajou, you know the little round bowl of mud we Beaver leave on our river-roads for visitors' cards?"

"Yes," replied Wolverine; "they're a rather good idea. You always know just who has passed, don't you?"

"Yes, we can tell, generally. Well, as I was saying, we went up the bank in one of these Roads, and by the odour of the little clay mound I knew that Red Jowl, a cousin of mine, was just inside the Wood-or had been. So the family went among the Poplars to have a bite of bread; and just as we were felling a tree whom should I see but François drifting down the river in his canoe; we kept pretty close, you had better believe."

"Didn't call out to him, Umisk, eh?" asked Jay-"didn't clap each other on the back with your tails and say, 'Here comes a Chum.'"

Umisk proceeded, paying no attention to the flippant Bird. "When the Breed came opposite our Road he stopped his canoe, let it drift gently up to the bank, pulled out a Trap and set it in muddy water just at the foot of the path. He was clever enough not to touch the land even with his paddle, so there was no scent-nothing to warn a poor Beaver of the danger. Then he floated on down. If I had not seen the whole thing this depraved taker of our lives would have caught me sure; for you know how we go into the water, Nekik, just as you do-head and hands first."

"That's an old trick of François's," exclaimed Carcajou; "and you'll find that is just what he has done here. If Mister Nekik will feel cautiously at the foot of his Slide he will find something hard and smooth, not at all like a stick or a stone."

"Fat Fish! but I'm afraid of my fingers," whistled Otter.

"Sure, if you work from the top," retorted Carcajou. "Sideways is the game with the Trap always-or upward."

"You forgot that, Mister Carcajou, when you tackled the Chimney," twittered Jay.

"I didn't burn my tongue, anyway."

"Is Nekik afraid to safeguard his own Slide," sneered Whisky-Jack.

"Shut up, Quarrel Maker!" interposed the King, "you know Otter is one of the pluckiest fighters inside the Boundaries. It's only brainless Animals who tackle things they know nothing about."

"Dive their beaks into hot Pork, your Most Wise Majesty," echoed Lynx, with a fawning smile.

"Here's Sakwasew, he'll find the Trap, he's a water dweller," exclaimed Carcajou, as Mink, attracted by their chatter, came wandering down the stream. "Here, little Black-tail," he continued, "just dip down the hole there and look for evidence of François's deviltry."

"It's against the Law of the Boundaries," pleaded Mink, "for me to use Otter's ice hole. By the Kink in my Tail, I'm not like some of my Comrades, always breaking the laws."

"Aren't you, Mink? Who cut the throats of Gray Hen, the Grouse's, Children, last July, when they were still in their pin-feathers? But I suppose that isn't breaking the Law of the Boundaries," cried Lynx, taking Mink's observation to himself.

"Oh, no," chipped in Whisky-Jack; "certain of you Animals think keeping the Law is not getting caught. My own opinion is, you're as bad as Men. When François puts out the White Death-powder, he thinks he is keeping Man's law if the Red Coats do not catch him; and Sakwasew cuts the throat of Chick-Grouse, and you, Pisew, eat Kit Beaver, and it's all within the Law if there be no witnesses. I don't know what we are coming to."

"Stop wrangling, you Subjects!" commanded Black King; and the silvered fur on his back stood straight up in anger. "I'll order Rof to thrash you soundly, if you don't stop this."

Pisew slunk tremblingly behind a tree, and Carcajou, humping his back, exclaimed: "Brother Nekik, I'll fish out that Trap for you; I'm sure it's there-my good nose lines the track of a Man straight to the hole." In less than two minutes he triumphantly swung a steel-jawed thing up on the bank. "There, what did I tell you!" he boasted proudly. "But the ring is on a stout root or stick-cut it off, Umisk, with your strong chisel-teeth, and Fisher will carry it up that big hollow Poplar and cache it in a hole."

"I will, if you spring the jaws first," agreed Fisher.

Otter was overjoyed. "This is fine!" he cried; "I'll be back in a minute!" and he darted down the Slide as an Indian throws the snake-stick over the snow.

"What fine sport!" remarked Carcajou, when Nekik came up again, shaking the water from his strong, bristled mustache.

"Shall we have some games?" suggested the King. "I'll give a fat Pheasant to the one who slides down Nekik's chute best-that is, of course, barring Nekik himself."

"But the water, Your Majesty!" interposed Pisew.

"I don't want to wet my feet," pleaded Wapistan, the Marten; "if you'll make the race up a tree I will willingly join."

"So will I!" concurred Fisher.

"Or three miles straight over the hill," suggested Blue Wolf.

"Make it a wrestling match!" said Carcajou.

"No, no," declared Black King. "No one need go in the hole, of course. When you come to the bottom, spring over to the ice-that will be part of the game."

After much wrangling and discussion they all agreed to try it. Mink went first, being more familiar with slides, for he had a little one of his own. He did it rather nicely, but forgetting to jump at the bottom, dove into the water.

"That rules you out!" decided the King. "You left the course, you see. Go on, Rof!"

Blue Wolf fixed himself gingerly at the upper end of the Slide, and, at the last minute, decided to take it sitting, riding down on his great haunches. This worked first-rate, until the ice was reached. Rof was going with so much speed by this time, that he couldn't gather for a spring; his hind quarters slipped through the hole, which, being just about his size, caused him to wedge tight. He gave a roar of surprise that made the woods ring, for the stream was icy cold. "Keep your nose above water or you'll drown, old Bow-wow," piped Jay.

It took the combined strength of Beaver and Carcajou to pull the grumbling animal out. "By the White Spot on my Tail," laughed Black King, "but I thought for a time you were going to win. Your turn, Pisew." Lynx made a grimace of dislike, for his cat nature revolted at the thought of water, but he crept on to the slide with nervous steps.

"You won't get in the hole," jeered Jack; "your feet are too big."

Pisew tried it standing up, with arched back, just for all the world like a cat on a garden fence. As he neared the bottom at lightning speed, confusion seized him; he tried to spring, but only succeeded in throwing a half somersault, and plunged head first into the water. The Jay fairly screamed with delight, and hopped about on his perch overhead in a perfect ecstasy of fiendish enjoyment. "Didn't scorch his tongue a bit!" he cried. "Give him the tail feathers of the Pheasant to dry his face with, oh, Your Majesty! Ha, ha, ha! Pe-he-e-e!" Pisew scrambled out filled with morose anger.

"That's another failure," adjudged the King. "Who is next?"

"Carcajou's turn!" instigated Whisky-Jack. "He knows all about sliding up and down chimneys-he'll win, sure!"

"I will try it," grunted the fat, little Chap; "but if you make fun of me, Jack, I'll wring your neck first chance I get."

Wolverine shuffled clumsily to the starting post, studied the Slide critically for a minute with his little snake-like eyes, then deliberately turned over on his back, and prepared for the descent.

"Tuck in your ears!" shouted Whisky Jack. Now this was an insult. Carcajou's ears were so very short that they were generally supposed to have been cut off for stealing. However, Wolverine started, tail first, holding his head up between his fore-paws to judge distances. When he struck the bottom, his powerful hind-feet jammed into the snow, and the speed of his going threw him safely over on the ice, landing him right side up on all-fours.

"Capital! Capital!" yapped Black King, patting his furred hands together in approval. "That will be pretty hard to beat. Skunk, you're a clever little Fellow, see if you can make a tie of it with Carcajou." Sikak moved up to the Slide with a peculiar rocking-horse-like gallop. Taking his cue from Carcajou he decided to go down the same way. Now, in the excitement of the thing the animals had gathered close to the Slide, lining it on both sides.

"Cranky little White-streak!" exclaimed Whisky-Jack; "why don't you make a speech before you start."

Skunk had never travelled in this shape before, and was nervous. During his delay over getting a straight start, Carcajou and Mink, half-way down, got into an altercation about a good seat that each claimed.

"Keep it, then, Glutton!" whined Sakwasew, starting across the chute. As he did so, Skunk got away rather prematurely, coming down with the speed of a snow-slide off a roof. He struck Mink full amidship, and thinking it was a diabolical trick on the part of the others, developed an angry odour that would have put a Lyddite shell to shame.

A wild scramble took place.

"Fat Hens!" shrieked Black King, as he fled through the Forest, his long brush trailing in the snow.

"I'm choking!" screamed Carcajou. "By the power of all Forest Smells, was there ever such a disgraceful Chap on the face of the Earth;" and he scurried away with his short legs, just for all the world like a Bear Cub.

Fisher climbed a tree in hot haste, as did Marten. Mink dove in the Otter's hole and disappeared; but with him he carried the evil thing, for he was full of the blue halo that vibrated from his skunk-smirched coat. "I shall never be able to go home any more," he moaned; "my relatives will kill me."