Part 6

The guide doubled up with laughter, for at sound and sight of the bear his companions had bolted and fled for the canoe. In their frantic haste to escape, the boys lost their footing at the top of the bank and went rolling down to the water’s edge. It was a funny sight.

“The bear was ’most as frightened as you were,” chuckled Ben. “Too bad you didn’t have your rifle, Ed, you might have had a nice shot.”

“I don’t believe I would have stayed to shoot,” Ed confessed. “But we won’t run next time--will we, George?”

“Not on your life!”

They paddled to the mouth of the brook, which flowed sluggishly into the deep, silent woods. Ben turned the canoe into it, and they were soon skimming along between rows of willows and birches which lined the shores. The stream brought them to a wide marsh, where the guide hoped to see a moose on their return toward evening.

From beneath some bushes which overhung the water a flock of ducks rose compactly bunched. George, who was in the bow with the shotgun across his knees, quickly brought it to his shoulder and fired two shots in rapid succession. Two plump ducks came tumbling down to float lifeless on the water. Another dropped slightly farther on; but it was only wounded, and it at once began flapping its way awkwardly toward shore.

“Quick, George; give him another charge, or he’ll get away!” warned Ben, swinging the canoe broadside of the stream.

Even while George hurriedly pushed the shells into the breech of his gun the rifle cracked, and Ed had severed the head of the duck from its body.

“Good boy!” cried Ben, enthusiastically. “That’s shooting.”

Ed called it a good-luck shot, but his comrades called it skill. They gathered the ducks and started for the beaver lodges and dam, which were still some distance away.

The brook widened and became deeper. They saw a muskrat house, and one of the small, brown inmates swimming close by. Ben said that these little creatures were near cousins to the beavers. He restrained the lads from shooting, since the fur was not yet prime, and promised that there would be plenty of opportunity to hunt and trap the “rats” later.

The stream at length led into what appeared to be a mill-pond. In the center they saw a large, dome-shaped mass of mud and sticks raised above the water. This was the beaver house or lodge. Ben pointed to the long, curving dam across the head of the pond. He explained how, when the current of a brook was strong, the beavers curved their dam upstream to withstand the surge of the water.

They paddled to the house, and the boys were astonished to find it so large. Near it was a pile of short, green logs and sticks, a supply of winter food. They observed that the smaller end of each stick was thrust into the mud to prevent it from floating away.

They were puzzled at not finding any doorway in the house; but Ben explained that the entrance was under water, and he told them how the beavers traveled about beneath the ice. The muskrats, he added, built their houses in much the same way, except that instead of small logs and large sticks they made use of grasses and weed-stalks.

Then he paddled to the shore, and they alighted. Here they saw the round, blunt-pointed stumps and tree-butts chiseled by the beavers’ sharp teeth, and Ben explained how they cut the trees. He said, when beavers find a suitable tree they sit up on their haunches and gnaw away the bark, working slowly about the trunk in a circle. Then they go around again and chisel out pieces of the wood itself. This they continue to do until they penetrate to the heart of the tree, and presently it falls. Then they gnaw off the smaller limbs and branches, which are collected and floated to the dam or lodge.

Ben added, some people claim that the beavers always cut a tree so that it will fall in any desired direction. But he said he did not believe this, for he had seen hundreds of trees which the beavers had felled in the most inconvenient places, and others that, through careless cutting, had lodged against adjacent trunks and failed to come to the ground at all.

Then the guide led the boys to the dam. They walked along the top, where the sticks were all pointed lengthwise of the stream. There was more beaver talk from Ben, who surprised the boys by telling them that the beaver’s tail, properly prepared, made delicious soup.

Anxious to get a glimpse of the clever creatures, Ben decided to wait close to the dam. However, he was not hopeful, for, he said, the beavers usually worked after dark, or between daylight and sunrise; but, he added, they were occasionally seen abroad in the daytime, and on the chance the boys were eager to wait.

They returned to the canoe, and presently there was a crackling fire, and appetizing smells soon drifted off through the woods. When they had finished eating they went into hiding behind some willows at the edge of the pond, and Ben told them that when an old bachelor beaver became quarrelsome the beavers drove him from the village and compelled him to live alone; also, when the beavers were obliged to go some distance into the forest for the trees they required, they sometimes dug regular little canals down which they floated the sticks and logs to their pond.

Suddenly a loud whack came from the water, and, cautioning his companions to keep still, the guide peeped between the branches. Quietly he pointed toward the lodge, and the boys saw a dark-brown animal swimming leisurely along near the foot of the dam. Ben whispered that the noise had been made by the beaver striking the water with its tail.

The animal soon reached the base of the dam and crawled from the water. It walked carefully along the whole length of the dam, apparently on a tour of inspection. At one place a stick had become dislodged, and the beaver skilfully put it back.

Then it entered the pond and, to their delight, started directly toward their place of concealment. Ben warned them to remain absolutely motionless, and Ed stealthily placed his camera within reach, in the hope of getting a snap-shot.

The beaver swam to a log within fifteen feet of them, and there emerged and sat up in plain view. Ed hastily focused the camera and pressed the bulb, with an involuntary exclamation of delight. At the sound the beaver dove beneath the water.

“Well, my boy, you’re certainly in luck,” laughed Ben, as Ed wound off the film. “I guess he just came over to have his picture taken.”

“That will make a fine enlargement!” cried George.

“It’s better than shooting him,” Ben declared. “Anybody can wait around and get a pot-shot, but it’s not every one that can get close enough to take a good picture. Of course, he helped considerable by saving us the trouble of sneaking up on him; but nobody knows that,” he added, mischievously.

Ed took several pictures of the dam and the gnawed stumps. Then they entered the canoe and paddled upstream toward the lake. The weather was becoming colder, and a raw, piercing wind had come down out of the north. Ben thought it might snow before many hours, and the boys, eager for their first experience with snowshoes, hoped it would.

When they turned from the stream the shadows of early twilight had crept through the woods, and were reaching over the water. Ben paddled rapidly, and they were soon at the end of the lake, where the dim trail led away toward the little cabin.

Ben had lifted the canoe on his shoulders and was starting along the trail when an alarming sound came over the water from the swamp.

The guide instantly set the canoe down and straightened to listen, and the boys instinctively moved closer to his side. As they stood there the wild call was repeated. It echoed weirdly over the water, and consisted of a deep, cow-like bellow followed by several low, rumbling grunts.

“That’s a bull moose calling,” declared Ben. Then he lifted the canoe and continued into the black woods.

The lads followed closely, unable to keep from glancing over their shoulders apprehensively each time the cry was repeated. They asked Ben about the noise, and they were quite excited to learn that with a roll of birch-bark he could imitate the sound and call a moose. He promised to do this for them, and they determined to hold him to his promise.

As they stumbled along in the wake of the guide, Ed and George several times heard animals running away through the dark. They thought it wonderful that Ben was able to find and follow the trail in such darkness, and finally asked him how he did it. He laughed and declared he just followed his feet.

It was late when they eventually reached the cabin. Ben cooked a splendid supper, and they ate with the appetite of the woods. Then came the comfort of their blankets and sound sleep.

VIII A BULL MOOSE AND A NARROW ESCAPE

Next morning the bushes about the edge of the shore were silvered with frost, and a thin, crinkling scum of ice covered the little pools in the marsh. The air was sharp and crisp, and it nipped viciously at the boys’ fingers and ears. Before it was light they left the cabin and took their stand beside Ben in the timber at the border of the swamp.

For some time they stood there shivering from cold and excitement. Then, as the first gray hint of approaching day came from the east, Ben raised a cone-shaped roll of birch-bark to his lips and blew the wild, sonorous challenge of the bull moose. It rose and fell on the frosty air until all the woods resounded, and then died away in the distance.

Somewhere about, within hearing distance he hoped, was the moose they had heard on their return from the beaver-dam. Ben felt sure it would eagerly accept this defiant challenge. If it did, he knew it would soon come crashing noisily toward them, and he hoped to entice it out upon the open marsh.

Having given the call, the guide lowered the birch-bark horn and sat down to wait, while the boys stared eagerly across the marsh.

Time passed, but there was no response. At last Ben rose and sent forth another strange cry. This time he substituted the call of the cow moose. Then he again sat down to wait.

Daylight dawned, and a white, curling mist rose and drifted away above the marsh. Something snapped a twig at the border of the woods. The boys looked expectantly at Ben and shifted their rifles. He smiled and shook his head, and their tense nerves relaxed.

Then the summons was answered, and Ben glanced at them and winked encouragingly. From far to the right came the challenging reply, and the very sound of it set the hearts of the young hunters to thumping, while they thrilled with excitement. What they would do when the moose really made its appearance they did not know, except that they determined to stand their ground manfully.

Ben once more placed the roll of bark to his lips and sent forth another call--a repetition of the first defiant challenge. A minute or so passed, and then the reply came, clearer and more distinct than before.

“We’ve got him coming, boys,” said Ben, confidently. “When he gets close, and you hear him crashing through the woods, you fellows must keep as still as mice, or we’ll lose him. If I can coax him into the center of the marsh, cover him close behind the shoulder; and when you hear me hiss, let him have it.”

“What will he do when he gets here?” asked George.

“Look around for trouble, I guess,” Ben answered.

“And he’ll find it, too!” said Ed.

Again the guide called, and an answer came back immediately. Then, to their great surprise, another call sounded from the opposite side of the swamp. The boys stared at Ben in wide-eyed astonishment.

“Well, I’ll be blamed!” he chuckled. “We’ve got two of them coming; and, unless I’m mistaken, we’re going to see something mighty interesting. I wouldn’t wonder but what there’s likely to be the liveliest kind of a scrap around here before long.”

For some minutes they were kept in a high state of excitement and suspense, as the calls and challenges of the rival bulls sounded back and forth across the marsh.

“There’s no use calling any more,” said Ben, laying aside the birch roll. “They’ll call each other, and meet right here in front of us.”

At last they heard the moose which had answered first crashing his way through the undergrowth. At the same time they heard the second one approaching from the opposite side.

“Don’t shoot till I tell you,” whispered Ben, as they crouched behind the bushes.

Both bulls had become suspicious, and they were using every precaution before exposing themselves. The boys could see the tops of small trees shake as the moose lunged savagely at them with their antlers. The enraged beasts were evidently pawing and stamping, for there was a constant snapping and crackling of dried twigs. Then silence reigned supreme while the animals stood listening for a warning of danger.

At last, after what seemed a very long time to the impatient watchers, one of the great beasts, the one they had heard first, left the timber and strode defiantly out upon the marsh. The hair on his neck was raised in anger as he stood with his massive antlers held high, endeavoring to obtain some sign or scent of his rival.

The boys raised their rifles and took accurate aim. Their hearts thumped wildly, and their breath came hard and fast. Much to their disgust, however, Ben motioned for them to lower the weapons. He pointed mysteriously in the direction from whence he expected the second bull. The one they had so eagerly covered was not as large a specimen as the guide had expected to see. He was prudently holding the impatient lads in check, in the hope that the second moose would prove to be a finer animal.

Then there was a savage grunt, and with lowered head the expected arrival charged into the open and drove straight at its enemy. The latter, although surprised by the suddenness of the attack, instantly wheeled and braced himself to withstand the charge.

There was a terrific crash as the two sets of antlers met. Then began a battle the like of which none of the spellbound onlookers would probably ever see again. Head against head, the two big brutes pushed and shoved each other about the marsh. Great pieces of mossy turf were torn loose and flung high in air by their sharp hoofs; bushes were broken and trampled down as the combatants struggled through them; and the noise of hoarse breathing, as the bulls strained and labored against each other, could be distinctly heard.

The last arrival was the larger and heavier animal of the two. In spite of this, its younger and smaller adversary was giving a splendid account of himself. Twice he sent his larger antagonist to its knees by the force of his rushes, and he speedily won the sympathy of his unseen audience by his courage. Several times, when he had gained a temporary advantage, the boys were on the point of cheering. In their struggle the infuriated animals approached close to the hiding-place of the hunters, and the latter could see the fierce eyes blazing with the light of battle.

Finally the strength of the heavier animal began to assert itself, and the younger moose, gashed and gored, began to give way. Slowly it retreated before the furious onslaughts of its aggressive antagonist. Then, finding itself unable to stop them, it turned in panic and fled with its conqueror in triumphant pursuit.

As the bulls galloped across the marsh Ben called to the boys to shoot. Nothing could have tempted them to fire at the smaller animal, which had so completely won their hearts by its gallant conduct. They had no such consideration for its rival, however, and they quickly brought their rifles up and fired at his retreating form.

When the shots rang out the rear moose fell to its knees, but was up in an instant and into the woods.

“Well, you hit him,” said Ben, as he rose to his feet. “Why didn’t you each pick one of them?”

“We couldn’t kill the smaller one after seeing the fight he made,” declared Ed. “At least, that was the way I felt about it.”

“Same here,” George seconded.

Ben laughed, but did not reply. He led them over the marsh to where the moose had fallen. They closely examined the small bushes in the immediate vicinity. A few splashes showed on some of the leaves, and the guide declared the moose was only slightly wounded.

“Of course, I may be wrong,” he added, noting the look of disappointment on their faces. “Anyhow, we’ll have to follow him up. Nobody but a rank ‘tenderfoot’ or a quitter would leave a wounded animal to suffer and die in misery.”

They started at once to follow the moose.

“Will he be apt to go far?” Ed inquired.

“Judging by the sign, he’ll go a long ways,” Ben prophesied, “unless he’s bleeding inside.”

The boys wished they had not shot, for the idea of the wounded moose, perhaps in mortal agony, fleeing before them caused severe pangs of conscience. They determined, therefore, to follow on the trail until they found their victim and mercifully ended his sufferings.

Headed by the guide, whose keen eyes never for an instant lost the indistinct trail, they toiled through the wilderness for several hours. Twice they were obliged to ford streams, and the icy water chilled their legs. They flushed grouse, which, as usual at such times, flew stupidly into trees and offered all sorts of easy shots. But Ben, fully determined to kill the moose, forbade them to use the rifles on anything except the wounded bull. They had an excellent chance at a buck which leaped from cover beside them and bounded up an exposed hillside. Even then the lads dutifully obeyed instructions and refrained from shooting.

While they were crossing a dangerous strip of floating bog George lagged behind to lace his moccasins. Then, in his eagerness to overtake his companions, he started recklessly across the treacherous swamp, stepped upon a piece of floating bog, and disappeared into a deep water-hole.

When his head reappeared above the surface, George grasped desperately at the moss and bushes fringing the edge of the pool. He was dismayed to find that the bog all around him was afloat. He called to his comrades for help. But they, supposing he had followed them, had disappeared into the timber.

The water was several feet over his depth, and George was compelled to “tread,” a trick he had learned in the school swimming-tank, in order to keep his head above the surface. He realized that he could not continue it very long before he would become exhausted. Already the icy water was cramping his legs and sending sharp, stinging pains through his body. Again and again he clutched at the edge of the floating marsh and tried to drag himself upon it. Each time it sank with his weight and sent him diving beneath the water. He clung valiantly to his rifle, and at last decided to fire it in the hope of attracting the attention of his companions. Then he thought of the moose, and refrained.

Finally his legs stiffened and refused to work, and, feeling himself sinking, George clutched frantically at a bush and held to it with a grip of despair. It was anchored to a large piece of floating bog. Although the insecure platform would not support him, it kept the lad from sinking into the depths of the pool.

For what seemed hours George hung suspended in the water-hole. His calls brought no response, and he determined to fire the danger-signal.

He listened fearfully as the reports thundered across the marsh, for he believed he had spoiled all chance of getting the moose. But, as the wind blew from the wrong direction to carry the sound to his friends, George doubted if either they or the moose had heard his desperate appeal.

Then the alarming possibility that perhaps Ben and Ed had also fallen into the bog presented itself. The mere suggestion of such a catastrophe sickened him. He realized that unless help came soon it would be too late. The water was benumbing his entire body, and it was with the greatest difficulty that he retained his death-like hold on the saving bush. With all the power of his lungs he gave a last despairing cry. Then he felt himself slowly sinking into the icy water.

But suddenly there was an answering yell from Ben, and, rousing himself, George saw the guide leaping over the marsh with a long pole on his shoulder. Behind him came Ed, also carrying a pole.

When he arrived at the edge of the treacherous bog, Ben reached forward with the extended pole, while he held fast to the other pole which Ed, his feet braced against a tree, clung to with all his might. The end of the sapling just came within reach, and George grasped it with stiffened fingers and endeavored to aid Ben, who was struggling desperately to drag him from the water. The guide put all of his strength into the effort, and George rose slowly from the hole and was dragged over, under, and through the wet mass beneath him to firm ground.

His rescuers at once set to work rubbing and kneading his cramped muscles, until they had partially restored circulation. Then they led him rapidly over the marsh and into the shelter of the woods. Ben quickly kindled a fire, and compelled George to sit near it until he was well dried and thoroughly warmed.

When the lad had fully recovered, the guide congratulated him on his narrow escape, and commended him for his presence of mind in keeping possession of his rifle.

George apologized for having fired the shots, and said he supposed he had ruined all chances of getting the moose.

Ben and Ed looked at each other, and laughed heartily. Then they rose and asked him to follow them into the woods. There before him was the body of the moose. George, delighted, looked from one to the other for an explanation. Ben told him that both bullets had taken deadly effect, and the bull had succumbed to internal wounds.

The boys helped him skin the carcass and cut out the choice parts of the meat. Then they left the head and horns until later, made convenient packs, and started for the canoe. They were careful to go around the swamp instead of crossing it again.

Once they had reached the canoe, they started directly for the cabin. The first real touch of winter was in the air, and as they paddled along Ben told them if the wind went down at dark they could expect to find ice in the morning.

When they reached the cabin he prepared a cup of hot ginger tea, which he made George drink to offset any ill effects from his exposure in the marsh. Then he cooked a delicious stew from the game they had procured in the past few days, and, as they were all extremely hungry, they ate supper early.

As Ben had prophesied, the wind died down with the sun, and a keen, biting frost descended over the wilderness. They made a roaring fire in the little stove, and drew their stools close up to it while Ben told several stories before they climbed into their bunks.

IX FISHING THROUGH THE ICE

For a week the cold weather continued, and the lakes and ponds became covered with smooth, glistening sheets of ice. The boys, who had brought their skates, enjoyed great sport. Never before had they seen such excellent skating, and Ben advised them to make the most of it before the snow came and spoiled their fun.

One day they spied a fox crossing the lake, and they promptly skated after it. The fleet-footed animal was unable to make speed on the ice, and the boys gained rapidly. The panic-stricken fox slid about and fell constantly in its efforts to dodge its pursuers. Once it ran directly in front of Ed, and sent him sprawling--much to the delight of Ben and George. The guide, who watched the sport from shore, cautioned them against catching the animal with their hands. Therefore they were obliged to content themselves with chasing it to the edge of the woods, where, finding firm footing at last, it jumped into the bushes and sped away in safety.