Читать книгу: «Mooswa & Others of the Boundaries», страница 6

"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."

Even Jay clasped one claw over his nose and flew wildly through the forest, almost knocking out his brains against branches. In ten seconds there was nobody left on the ground but Otter and poor little white-striped Skunk. The collision had sent him rolling over and over down to the ice bottom of the stream. He got up, shook himself, used some very bad animal language, and slunk away to his family, to tell them of the trick Carcajou and Mink had played him.

"That Glutton was afraid I'd win the Pheasant," he confided to Mrs. Sikak; "but I broke up the party, anyway."

Otter was wandering about disconsolately through the woods, declaiming to the trees that his Slide was ruined for all time to come, and he really wished the Trap had ended his days.

THE TRAPPING OF WOLVERINE

When François missed the Beaver trap that had been placed in the dam, and that Umisk had taken for his sons to study, also the two set on Otter's slide, it made him furious. He knew Wolverine must have cached them. Once before he had been forced to give up a good Marten Road because of the relentless ingenuity of this almost human-brained animal; but it would be different this time, the Half-breed declared-he would make a fight of it.

"I keel me dat Carcajou!" he exclaimed emphatically over and over again to The Boy. "Dat Debil ob de Wood he eat my bait, an' cac'e de Trap, an' come an' sit dere by de door an' listen what we talk. I see de track dis mornin'."

The very night François made this boast, Wolverine came and entirely appropriated the remaining hind-quarter of his Caribou from the roof. When the Half-breed discovered this fresh mark of his enemy's energetic attention he became inarticulate with ire.

"Why don't you try the strychnine on him?" asked Roderick.

"Dat no use," declared the enraged Trapper; "when I put poison in de bait, Carcajou come, smell him, den he do some dirty trick on it for make me swear. But I catc' him soor-I put de gun wid pull-string."

He spent the greater part of the next day arranging a muzzle-loading shot gun, with a trade ball in it, for the destruction of the animal who had stolen his venison. François had seen Wolverine's own private little path for coming up the bank of the Pelican, and on this he staked down the gun and put some pine logs on either side, so that Carcajou must take the bait from in front. The gun was left cocked, with a string attached to the trigger; on the string, just at the muzzle, was tied a piece of Caribou meat.

Wolverine chuckled when he saw the arrangement. "Poor old François!" he muttered ironically: "this is really too bad; it's actual robbery to take that Bait-it's so easy."

Now this little wood-dweller had a most decided streak of vanity in his make-up. Like many really smart men, he liked to show off his cunning-that was his weakness. "This is a good chance to give some of the others an object lesson," he said to himself, sitting down to wait for an audience. Presently Blue Wolf and Lynx came in sight, jogging along together. "Eur-r-r-r!" said Wolf, hoarsely; "had any Eating this day, Gulo?"

"No appetite," declared Carcajou, getting up so the half-starved Lynx might see his well-rounded stomach.

"Most wise Lieutenant," smirked Pisew, "what wisdom hast thou originated this day?"

"That's a queer thing, isn't it?" remarked Carcajou, nodding his broad forehead towards the baited gun.

Blue Wolf looked, took a wide detour, and approached it from the side. The others followed in his footsteps.

"Years have given you sagacity, Mister Rof," commended Wolverine. "From the side always, eh? Danger sits on top, and Death waits in front."

"My nose finds a Bait!" answered Wolf.

"It's Meat!" added Pisew, working his mustached upper lip like a cat.

"I smell powder!" declared Carcajou, quietly.

"The evil breath of the Ironstick?" queried Blue Wolf. "Perhaps the White Death-powder makes that peculiar odour," he hazarded.

"No," asserted Carcajou; "François knows better than that: to smell that Bait costs nothing; to bite it makes a heavier price than either of us cares to pay. François knows that we smell first, and bite last; and if our noses detected aught amiss would we pull the string with our teeth?"

"Wise Lieutenant!" murmured Lynx.

"Cunning old Thief!" mused Wolf to himself.

"Do either of you food-hunters want it?" asked Carcajou.

"I'm not very hungry this morning," answered Blue Wolf.

"I discovered seven Deer Mice under a log not two hours ago," lied Pisew; "sweet, long-eared little Chaps they were, and quite fat from eating the seeds of the yellow-lipped Sunflower-most delicious flavour it gives to their flesh. My stomach is at peace for the first time in many days."

"Keep your eye open for the Breed-Man, then," commanded Wolverine; "I think I'd relish that Caribou steak-your Deer-Mice have given me an appetite." He tore the pine logs away from one side of the gun, examined the string critically, cut it with his sharp teeth just behind the bait, and devoured the fresh meat with great gusto, smacking his lips with a tantalizing suggestiveness of good fare.

"In case of accidents I think I'd better break up this Ironstick," he said. Seizing the hammer in his strong jaws, and placing his paws on the barrel and stock, he tore it off and completely demolished the old muzzle-loader.

"Well," yawned Wolf, stretching himself, "you're a match for the Man, I believe. I'm off, for I've got a long run ahead of me-the Pack gathers to-night at Deep Creek."

"What's the run-Stag?" asked Pisew, insinuatingly.

"Whatever it may be it will be all eaten," answered Rof; "so you needn't trail. Good-bye, Lieutenant," he barked, loping with powerful strides through the woods out of sight.

"I'll go with you, most wise Lieutenant," declared Pisew.

"Well, trot along in front," grunted Carcajou; "I want to fix the trail a bit." After they had walked for half an hour Wolverine stopped, and, cocking his eye up a slim pole which seemed to grow from the centre of a high Spruce stump, exclaimed, "Great-Eating! what in the name of Wiesahkechack is that?"

"Meat!" answered Pisew, looking at something which dangled from the top of the pole.

"It's François again," said Carcajou, sniffing at the stump.

"What a splendid cache," cried Lynx, admiringly; "nobody but Squirrel could climb that pole."

"But they might knock it down," declared Carcajou. "I have a notion to try."

"Better leave it alone," advised Pisew. "If it's François, there's something wrong."

"Carcajou doesn't take advice from a cotton-headed Cat," sneered the other. "Easy Killing! but I'm going up to see what it's like. I know that stump-it's hollow; there is no chance for a Trap there." It was about three feet high. Wolverine made a running jump, grabbing the top edge to pull himself up; as he did so something snapped. A howl of enraged surprise came from the little animal as he dangled with hind toes just touching the ground, and his fore-paws in a steel Trap which he had pulled over the side. The cunning Breed had blocked up his Trap on the inside of the hollow shell, where it was invisible from the ground.

"For the Sake of Security! don't make such a noise," pleaded Pisew.

"Fool-talker!" retorted Carcajou; "come and help me out of this fix."

"I can't open the Trap," objected Lynx; "why, it would take the strength of Muskwa to flatten its springs."

"Run to the King and ask for help, as is the law of the Boundaries," ordered Wolverine.

"Gently, Mister Lieutenant, gently; don't get so excited-keep cool."

"Wait till I get out of this," screamed Carcajou; "I'll warm your jacket."

"There, there," returned Lynx, "don't threaten me-don't abuse me, and I'll help you-"

"That's a good Pisew-hurry, please-François may come-"

"On one condition," added Lynx, sitting down on his haunches with deliberate self-possession.

"Hang the conditions!" blustered Carcajou-"talk of conditions with a Fellow's fingers in a steel Trap!"

"All the same, I'll only do it on one condition-when they talked the other day of making me King-"

"'They talked,'" interrupted Carcajou; "nobody talked of making you King."

"You didn't, I know, Lieutenant; but that's just what I want you to promise now, before I help you."

"I'll see you Snared first!" grunted Wolverine, snapping at the Trap chain which was fastened to the pole, until he screamed with pain.

"All right-I'm off! François will soon find you," declared Pisew.

"Come back!" cried the entrapped Animal. "What do you wish?"

"Well, if anything happens Black King, we'll need another ruler-anyway, next year there'll be an election, and I want you to stick up for me as you did for Black Fox. You're so wise and eloquent, dear Carcajou, that the others will do just as you advise. I could make it worth while, too, if there were any charges against you; suppose some one accused you unjustly of having eaten a Cub or a Kit under the Killing Age, why, I could see that nothing happened, you know."

"Sneak! Thief! Murderer!" ejaculated Carcajou disdainfully. "If I could but get out of this fix, I'd eat you."

"What's the row, you Fellows?" piped a bird-voice, as Whisky-Jack swooped down to a small Poplar, and craned his neck in amazement at the sight he beheld. "By my Lonely Life!" he chuckled, "if here isn't the King of all Knaves sitting with his hands in the stocks. Great Rations! but you're a wise one; whose toes hurt now, Mister Mocker? Why doesn't that cat-faced Lynx help you out?"

"I offered to," declared Pisew, "but his temper is so vile I dare not touch him. He threatened to kill me-I'm afraid to go near him."

"Why don't you run to Black King for help, you stupid-you can't open that Trap."

"Wise Bird," almost sobbed Carcajou, in his gratitude, "this scheming rascal took advantage of my misfortune, and tried to make me promise to do something for him, or he would let François catch me."

"Pisew is not to be trusted-he is too much like a Man," asserted Jack. Turning to the Lynx, he exclaimed, angrily: "You go on the back-trail there, and if François comes, lead him off slowly; just keep in his sight-he'll follow you. I will get the Lieutenant out of this. Mind, if you play any tricks, or break the Oath of the Boundaries, the King will command Blue Wolf to break your back-he'll do it too. I'm off for help," he said to the prisoner; "just keep your courage up, old Carey;" and working his fan-like wings with exceeding diligence, he dove through the woods at a great rate toward the King's Burrow.

"I was only joking, dear friend Carcajou," said Lynx, fawningly, for he dreaded the anger of the other animals. "Don't say a word about it to the King; he might think I was in earnest."

"Traitor!" snarled Wolverine; "go back and watch for François."

"Don't say any more about it," pleaded Pisew, "and I'll watch, oh, so carefully, most loyal, true Lieutenant."

Whisky-Jack's shrill call from a tree startled the family of the Red Widow.

"Quick, Royal Son," she cried, "there's a danger signal. Listen: 'Hee-e-e-p, hee-e-ep, he-e-e-ep!' That means some one caught. Where are my Sons? All here but Stripes, Goodness!" She wrung her paws miserably, and in her eagerness rushed to the door. "What is it, Bringer of Evil News? Who's caught-not my Baby Cub?" she asked of Whisky-Jack.

"No, Good Dame. Would you believe it, the cleverest one in all the Boundaries, excepting your Son, is now keeping the jaws of a Trap apart with his own soft paws-it's Carcajou."

"What's to do?" cried Black Fox, joining his Mother.

"Carcajou is caught!" she answered, heaving a sigh of relief that it wasn't Cross-stripes.

Jay Bird explained the situation.

"Nobody but Muskwa can spring a Number Four Trap," asserted the King; "and he is holed up these two days-isn't he, Mother?"

"Yes," she assented. "And asleep by now. You will find him at the big Burrow that is in the fourth cut-bank from here up stream."

"The old Chap must get up, then," cried Black Fox, with emphasis, "for he is not in the deep frost-sleep yet. Here, Jack, run and bring Beaver to cut off the pole Carcajou's Trap is ringed to, and I'll go for Muskwa; if you see Rof, tell him to meet me at Bear's Burrow."

The King had a tremendous time with Muskwa. Bruin was sleepy and cranky. "Quick! wake up, Brother!" Black Fox shouted in his ear. The Bear never moved-simply snored.

The energetic visitor turned tail on, and proceeded to rake Bruin's ribs with his strong hind feet as a dog makes the gravel fly. Muskwa grunted and simply flicked his short, woolly ears. The King jumped on him, set up the long howl of the Kill in his very face, put his sharp teeth through one of the nerveless ears, and generally held a small riot over the sleeper. He never would have managed to wake Bear had not Blue Wolf arrived to help him.

Muskwa was for all the world like a maudlin, drunken old sailor. "All right, you Fellows," he said groggily, his eyes still closed, "I don't want any more Berries-eat 'em yourself."

"Not Berries!" howled Wolf; "Carcajou is in a Trap."

"Go 'way-don't believe it. Carcajou's an old Sweep!"

Blue Wolf's powerful voice rang the Chase Note in Muskwa's ear. It woke the big fellow sufficiently to enable him to take a side-hook sweep at the offender with his disengaged paw. The blow was a sleepy one, else it had cracked his tormentor's skull.

"He's coming all right," remarked the King, critically.

"By the Flavour of Meat, he is!" ejaculated Rof.

In the end they got Muskwa on his feet, with a little understanding in his stupor-clogged brain, and half-pushing, half-leading, conducted him to where Carcajou was sitting in the stocks. In his flight Whisky-Jack had met Mooswa, and he was there also. Beaver was chiselling away at the pole; for once loosened, even if they could not spring the Trap sufficiently to get Carcajou's paws out, between them they might manage to get him away and cached somewhere; anything was better than letting him fall into the Trapper's hands.

"Of all the wood I ever cut this is the worst," panted Umisk, resting for a minute. "It cramps my neck cutting down so close sideways. It is dry Tamarack, the slivers are all sticking in my tongue."

As Black Fox and Rof withdrew their paws from under Muskwa's arms, he keeled over lazily and went sound asleep in two seconds. "Give him a good lift with your hind-foot, Mooswa," commanded the King, sharply. "Of all the heavy-brained Animals I ever saw!"

"If we but had some of Man's fire," opined Jack, "we could wake him up quick enough by singeing a couple of my feathers under his nose."

Mooswa planted both hind-feet, bang! in Bear's ribs; Rof gave a deep bay in his face; Black King once more put his saw-like teeth through an ear; and by these gentle, persuasive methods Muskwa was wakened sufficiently to get on his feet. He swayed drunkenly. "Stop fighting, Cubs!" he growled, under the impression that he was being bothered by some of his own children.

"Get up and squeeze the springs of the Trap-Carcajou is caught! Here they are-put a paw on each-there! squeeze!" yelled Black Fox.

Just then Beaver finished cutting the pole, and it fell with a crash-the noise helped waken Muskwa.

"Slip the ring off the stub, Umisk, that's a good Chap," cried Wolverine. This done, he and the Trap clattered to the ground.

"Come on!" screamed Black Fox to Muskwa, as he and Rof shouldered him to the Trap. "Squeeze now!" the Fox shouted again, placing Bear's powerful paws on the springs.

"I'll squeeze," answered Bruin, petulantly; "but why don't you speak louder-say what you mean. You Fellows have all got colds-I can't hear you."

"Dead Eagles! but François will," remarked Jay.

"There, now, a little harder-use your strength, Muskwa!"

The Bear pressed his great weight on the springs; they slipped down, and the jaws slowly opened like the sides of a travelling-bag. With a cry of delight Carcajou pulled his bruised fingers out, and in gratitude rubbed his short little Coon-like head against Bruin's great cheek. "Good old Muskwa!" he cried joyfully; "I'll never forget this."

"Your fingers will be a long time sore, then," sneered Jay.

"Never-mind-little friend. It's all right; let me go-to sleep now, don't-don't bother;" and he flopped over like a bag of potatoes, sighed wearily once or twice, and started off with a monotonous, bubbling snore. "He's hopeless," moaned the King. "We'll never get him home."

"I saw François just like that once," chirped Whisky-Jack; "he had some medicine in a bottle, and the more of it he took the sleepier he got."

"How in the name of Many Birds shall we ever get him back to his hole?" asked Black Fox, perplexedly.

"I'll carry him," declared the Moose. "Here, you Fellows, roll him up on my horns;" and dropping to his knees Mooswa put the great, chair-like spread of his antlers down to the snow.

"Come, Pisew, give us a hand," commanded the King. Beaver, and Lynx, and Rof, and Black Fox shouldered and pushed at the huge black ball, and Mooswa kept edging his horn-cradle in under the mass, until finally Muskwa lay snugly in the hollow.

"Now all give a mighty push, and help me up!" snuffed the Moose. "All right," he added, staggering to his feet, and pointing his nose skyward, allowing the burdened antlers to lie along his withers.

"Ride with Muskwa, Jack," commanded the King, "and show Mooswa the old Sleeper's house. Branch out, the rest of you, and make the Many-trail; for many trails make few catches." Carcajou was sitting on his haunches, licking his aching paws. "How are you going to get home, Little Comrade?" he asked.

"I'll give him a lift," interposed Blue Wolf. "Clamber up, old Curiosity." They were a funny-looking party-quite like an ambulance train; Muskwa asleep on Mooswa's horns, and Carcajou astraddle of Wolf's strong back.

"Walk in Rof's tracks, Pisew, till you strike a muskeg," ordered the King; "François won't fancy the fun of following a traveller like you through a big swamp."

"I should like to hide that Trap," lamented Carcajou.

"Oh, never mind," interrupted Black Fox. "Get away home, everybody."

"I'll hear some choice French to-night," declared Jack. "When François discovers that somebody has robbed his Trap, he'll jabber himself asleep."

All the way to his home Carcajou swore vengeance on the Man who had made his paws so sore. "You'll do it, Brother," said Rof, "and I don't blame you. Of course we must remember our oath about The Boy."