CHAPTER XII

THE ISLAND DEER

The next morning, after the canoe had been loaded, Hugh said to Fannin: "What's the course of the canoe from here? Are you going to cross over any of those channels, or shall you follow the shore?"

"We'll follow the shore," said Fannin. "If this canoe wasn't so heavy we could carry it across this little point and save ourselves three or four miles of paddling, for you see, we've got to go way east and then come back west again, and follow around the bay that lies just over there."

"That's just what I thought," said Hugh. "Now, suppose instead of my going into the canoe, and helping you fellows to paddle, I take it afoot across this neck, and along the shore; and see if I can't kill something. We need meat and there must be lots of deer here, though we've not seen any yet. There's plenty of sign, though."

"That's a good idea," said Fannin, "and I wish you would do it. You'll have a lot of time to hunt, but keep close to the shore and if you see us coming, get down on the beach and make a fire as a signal for us; otherwise we might overlook and pass you."

"All right," said Hugh, "I'll do so."

"Don't you want to go along, Jack?" asked Mr. Fannin. Secretly Jack did want to go, very much, for he had an idea that Hugh would find some game, and that there would be a chance to kill one of these Island deer; but on the other hand, he thought he should not shirk his share of the paddling, and that one man could kill any deer that was seen just as well as two. So he said: "No, I'll go in the canoe;" and they pushed off and were soon growing smaller in the distance.

Hugh started across the open meadow, which lay between them and the other side of the long point. As he passed along through the grass, he saw many deer beds, and a number of tracks of wild animals among which was one in a muddy place, made by an enormous wolf. He walked slowly and watched the country, and at last came to the shore, followed it and was soon walking under the tall evergreens that grew down to the beach. Turning into the forest, he moved quietly along among the great tree trunks. The ground was free from undergrowth, and moss covered, and here and there little rivulets trickled over the ground, sometimes bridged by fallen tree trunks, over which great bunches of soft green moss hung down to the ground. Here and there, in the moss, were seen the sharply defined tracks of deer, seemingly just made, yet no indication of life was seen, save the occasional shadow of a bird, moving among the tree tops far above him. Hugh had gone perhaps half a mile, keeping nearly parallel to the beach, and back from it about a hundred yards, when without warning, a deer stepped out from behind a group of tree trunks, and stood looking curiously at him. There was no wind, and the animal did not seem in the least alarmed. The shot was an easy one, and it was the work of but a few seconds to fire. The animal fell at once, and stepping up to him, Hugh found that it was dead. It was very small, scarcely larger than a yearling black-tail of the Rocky Mountains, although it was a full grown buck. It resembled the Rocky Mountain black-tail somewhat, but its ears were small and the tail was quite different, being haired below. In a very few moments Hugh had prepared the animal for transportation to the beach, and putting it on his back walked down to the shore. The canoe was not yet in sight, and Hugh considered a little if it would be better to go on farther to see whether he could get another deer, but after thinking a few moments he determined to be satisfied with the one he had secured. So he built his fire as a signal for the canoe, skinned his deer, and for an hour or two sat waiting. At last a black speck was seen on the water close to the shore of the point, and as it crept forward, it grew larger and larger, until Hugh could recognize his fellow travellers.

When they came up to him, they wore broad smiles of satisfaction at his success, and when he had stepped on board the canoe went on again. It was not long after this that they were obliged to run Seymour Narrows, a contracted channel through which the tide boils, making eddies, whirlpools, and tide-rips, and where it was hard to see how a canoe could live. Just before reaching it they passed a cliff on Valdes Island that was full of interest for Jack and Fannin. The dark gray precipice, crannied and creviced from base to summit, was occupied by a multitude of sea birds which were nesting in the holes and fissures in the rocks. Of these, by far the most numerous were the pigeon guillemots, thousands of which were fishing in the waters close to the shore, or flying backward and forward between the water and their secure homes in the rocks. It was a pretty sight to see them diving for food, emerging from the depths with something in their bills, rising from the water, and each one swiftly flying toward some hole in the face of the precipice into which it disappeared without checking its flight; or at the mouth of which it alighted, and, clinging swallow-like to the inequalities of the rock, was met by its mate who took from it the food it had brought. Then the bird would leave its position, fly horizontally over the water for a little distance, and drop vertically into the water, striking it with a great splash. The scene was a busy and noisy one, for the birds were continually chattering and calling among themselves. Gracefully floating on the water, or winnowing their slow way to and fro over its surface, were white-breasted seagulls of several kinds; and fishing and hunting along the shore were ravens and crows, while white-headed eagles rested in the tall trees.

Before attempting the passage of Seymour Narrows, it was necessary to ascertain the stage of the water. To pass the Narrows when the tide was against them was obviously impossible; nor would it do to attempt a passage at half tide, even if it were in their favor, for at that time the tossing waters would prove extremely dangerous to the canoe,--so the Indians told Fannin, and so Fannin reported to the others.

The bowman and two or three of the party landed near the head of the Narrows and climbed high enough on the hillside to see the whole of the sluice-way, and as soon as the Indian had looked at it, he turned about and started back, declaring that it was just at the end of the flood, and they should start without delay. To Jack, the sight of the boiling water, the tossing waves and hurrying tide-rips seemed rather alarming, but there was no time to think of this. They embarked, and a few strokes of the paddle sent the canoe dashing along the rapid current. For the white occupants of the canoe, there was nothing to do but to paddle hard, each in his own place. It was interesting to watch the skill with which the Indians guided the craft. It was of the first importance that steerage way should be kept on the canoe, for there were constant eddies and whirlpools, which must either be avoided or taken advantage of; and yet at the rate at which the craft was being hurried along by the tide, it was not easy to add to her speed. Before long, the run became very exciting. Hats were torn off and thrown into the bottom of the boat, perspiration started from every brow, and the men tore at their paddles as if their lives depended on it. Even Hugh, who was rarely moved, seemed to partake of the general excitement and his eye glowed and his color rose as his white hair and beard flew out in the wind. Hamset, standing erect, in the bow of the canoe, flourished his mighty paddle, and in his own language shouted directions to Jimmie, and in Chinook to the remainder of the crew. At length the channel was reached, and here it became evident that the vessel had been a little late in starting; for, meeting the beginning of the ebb-tide, the canoe was checked, and presently it stood still and for nearly half an hour obstinately refused to move forward. But at length the efforts of the paddlers seemed to overcome the current and the boat started on, very slowly at first but fast enough to encourage the motive power. Redoubling their efforts they rounded a little point, and taking advantage of a favoring eddy, passed out into quieter water and camped half an hour later in a little bay, which Fannin said might fairly be named Fatigue Bay.

That night, after the evening meal had been eaten, there was still an hour or two of daylight; and while Fannin and Charlie got out their lines and prepared to go fishing, Hugh and Jack took their rifles and climbed a thousand feet or so up the hillside to look at the view that lay before them, up and down the channel. During the climb they saw fresh bear-tracks and a number of familiar birds,--the Louisiana tanager, the black-throated green warbler, and some others. Not far away, a ruffed grouse was heard drumming.

While perched on the face of the hillside, Hugh told Jack the simple story of the killing of the deer.

"There was no special hunting to it," he said, "I just went through the timber, quietly, and presently the deer walked out and got shot. I didn't even know that it was there, but I'm glad to have the meat."

They sat there until the sun had set, delighted with the calm beauty of the scene. In the trees above their heads, the little birds moved about uttering soft, faint notes. Up from a ravine on the right came, again and again at short intervals, the vibrating thunder of the ruffed grouse's drumming, low and muttering at first, and finally dying away into the silence.

Twilight was upon the hill before they returned to camp, and as they picked their way down the steep rocks they heard from the direction of the boat a shot, and then another--both from Hamset's rifle, and learned a little later that the Indian had been shooting at a seal. Fannin and Charlie had caught some rock-cod, curious red and black fish with staring eyes, said to live at great depths.

As the cliff rose straight up from the water's-edge, and there was no beach on which the canoe could be drawn, it was necessary that night to anchor it at a distance, and the two Indians slept in it and chanted their plaintive songs until the middle of the night. Around the camp fire the white men sat in silence, watching the strange shadows cast by the dancing flames on the overhanging rocks, or listening to the faintly heard rushing of the waters in the Narrows, which they had just passed; or to the moonlight drumming of the grouse on the mountain side above them. It had been a hard day, and there was little inclination to talk. Charlie, however, who was gratified at the killing of the deer, commented on that, and on deer hunting in distant lands.

"Why," said he, "you ought to see them Pueblo Indians go deer hunting down in Arizona! They start off without anything but a knife, and when they find a deer, they just start to run after him and don't stop until they get him."

"You don't mean," interrupted Jack, "that they run him down?"

"They do," said Charlie; "run him down, catch him and cut his throat. Why, sir, they are the best trailers in the world, and as for travelling, they can kill any horse that was ever foaled. They start after the deer, and when he sees them coming, of course he lights out, and is not seen again for some time. The Indians take his trail, and start off at a dog trot, which they can keep up all day. Every time they start the deer, he lets them get a little closer, and at last he's so tired that he only keeps a few yards ahead of them, but they keep on until he fairly drops, plum give out! I have known them, when the deer got pretty tired, to turn him and drive him right into the camp and kill him there, to save themselves the trouble of packing in the meat--make the game pack itself, you see."

"That's a pretty tough story," said Hugh, "but I guess it's all right. I've heard something about those fellows, though I never saw them. I once walked down an antelope, myself, and I wouldn't have believed it, if I hadn't done it. The antelope was wounded, of course.

"The camp needed meat the worst way, and nobody seemed to be able to kill anything. There were antelope in the country, but very wild. I started on foot one afternoon, to try to get something, and after travelling two or three miles I looked over a little ridge, and saw three buck antelope feeding up a ravine toward a table-land above the valley where I was hunting. I could easily get around to the head of the ravine up which they were going, and if I could get there before they reached it, I would be sure to kill one of them. I started running as hard as I could, and had got within a quarter of a mile of the ravine, when, on taking a look, I saw that they had nearly reached the top. I was still about a hundred and fifty yards away when I saw the horns of one of them, as he walked up on the mesa. I dropped, and, when I had a fair shot, fired. I ought to have killed of course, but whether it was because I was so anxious to get him, or because I had been running hard and my hand was unsteady, I only broke the buck's hind leg just above the hock. All three started off, but the wounded one soon tailed out and then turned down a broad valley which led into the one up which I had come, but several miles farther from camp. Well, I started after that buck, and after a long walk found him lying down in the valley. He saw me and ran off down the valley, long before I was able to shoot. I followed as fast as I could, running till my wind gave out, and then walking till I got it again. Whenever I could get near enough, I fired a shot, just to keep him going. At last he grew so tired that he would let me get pretty close up to him before starting, and finally he lay down behind a bank, where I could creep up and kill him. I carried the meat into camp that evening, but when I got there I was so thirsty that I could not speak. My throat was swollen and my tongue was half as big as my fist."

"Well," said Jack, "the antelope is a tough beast and will take a lot of killing, and of course you know better than I do, Hugh, that the plains Indians always speak of it as the swiftest and most long winded of animals."

"Yes," said Hugh. "A man often ties an antelope's horn round his horse's neck by a string, to make the horse swift and long winded."

"I saw a few antelope," said Fannin, "when we crossed the plains, but not many, and I never killed one. They are mighty interesting animals, and what always seemed to me the most extraordinary thing about them is that they shed their horns."

"Yes," said Hugh, "that's so, of course, all mountain men have always known that, but I heard only a few years ago that them professors that claim to know everything about all animals only found it out within the last fifteen or twenty years. Something strange about that."

"Yes," said Fannin, "but I suppose, maybe, these professors never had a chance to see many antelopes or know much about them."

"Yes, likely," said Hugh.

"Well," he added, "it's getting late, and I expect we're all ready for bed. Let's turn in;" and they did so.

The next morning an early start and a full day's paddling carried the travellers to a point known as Struggle Cove, which they reached several hours before sundown. The country here looked better for hunting than any Jack had seen, and he determined to start out to see if he could not find a deer. The woods were open, the ground carpeted, and the trees draped with a luxuriant growth of bright green moss, on which the foot fell as noiselessly as on a cushion. Higher up on the mountain side there was the usual tangle of underbrush, but a little valley that skirted its base was comparatively open. As soon as dinner had been eaten Jack set out. He had not gone far from camp when he came on to fresh deer tracks, which, after a little, turned up the hill and into the thick brush, where it seemed useless to follow. Two or three other tracks were seen, all of which led into the same thick place; but at length he saw one that kept up the valley, and as it had been made but a short time before, he had strong hopes that he should see the deer. He followed the track very slowly and carefully, and as it grew more and more fresh, his caution became greater. He entered a low growth of hemlock, going very slowly, and, just as he was passing out, on the other side, he heard a deer jump, not fifty yards away, and in a moment saw it bound off up the mountain side. He threw up his gun and was just about to press the trigger when the animal stopped and looked back, giving him a certain shot. With the sound of the rifle the deer sank and rolled part way down the hill.

This was very satisfactory. They had now two deer--enough to keep them in fresh meat quite a long time, for the weather was so cool that meat would not spoil.

The deer taken was a buck, whose horns, still in the velvet, as did also his teeth, showed that he was full grown. Yet, compared with the Rocky Mountain deer that Jack had seen, he was quite a small animal.

Jack was doubtful about his ability to carry the carcase to camp, which was quite distant. But after dressing the deer and removing the head and shanks, he got it on his shoulders and slowly staggered toward the camp. It was a heavy load, and he was often obliged to stop and rest. Before he got half way to his destination he was rejoiced to see Hugh striding toward him.

"Well," said Hugh, as he came up to where Jack was sitting, "I had half a notion that you had killed something, and knew that if you had you would find your meat a pretty heavy load, so I came up to spell you in carrying it in. Pretty heavy, isn't it?"

"Yes," said Jack, "it weighs something, and the hardest part about it is to get it upon my back again after I've dropped it off to rest."

"Well," said Hugh, "I'll smoke a pipe, and then take it the rest of the way. I guess I'm something more used to big loads, to say nothing about being some bigger and stronger."

After Hugh had finished his pipe he swung the deer on his shoulders with hardly an effort, and Jack could not help envying him the splendid strength that he displayed. The advent of the second deer in camp was greeted with rejoicing. The Indians grinned at the prospect of unlimited meat; Charlie was delighted because he knew that the party would rather eat deer than bacon; and Fannin and Hugh realized that the provisions would hold out just so much longer for this reinforcement of food.

It was at this camp that a slight modification of the manner of propelling the canoe was proposed and carried out. When the party had left Nanaimo a couple of long, heavy, rough oars of Indian manufacture had been thrown into the boat; and during the many days of paddling that had elapsed, the idea had occurred to Fannin that if these oars could be used, more power could be applied to them than to two paddles. He therefore consulted with Hamset on the question of rigging some rowlocks for the canoe, and this was easily arranged. The Indians chose a couple of cedar saplings, each of which had two small branches growing from it on the same side, at right angles to the stem and three or four inches apart. He cut off about six inches of the main stem, trimmed down the side branches to within three inches of their point of outgrowth, and then split the main stem lengthwise so as to leave the branches standing up, looking like two thole pins. With a large awl he punched several holes in the side of the canoe just below the gunwale, and, taking some cedar twigs, warmed them in the ashes of the fire, and when they had become hot and pliable he sewed the piece of wood holding the thole pins firmly to the gunwale, afterward driving wedges beneath it so as to make it tight. This formed a capital rowlock. This was done on both sides of the boat, and thereafter Fannin and Charlie handled the oars, and their influence was felt at once in the increased speed of the canoe.

Rowing was much harder work than paddling, but it was also much more effective.

The next day, however, the oars were not needed; the wind blew fair, the sail was hoisted, and the party ran through Cardero Channel and up Loughborough Inlet to its head, camping late in the afternoon.

The scenery was very beautiful, with rounded or dome-shaped mountains timbered to their summits, and occasionally a sharp granite peak which ran up much higher and was covered with snow. The hills stood back at some distance from the water, and thus looked lower than they really were.

It was not easy to find a good place to camp here. The meadow at the head of the inlet looked as if it might shelter many mosquitoes, but a little farther down the inlet was a flat, grass-grown but dangerously near to high-water mark. Fannin shook his head doubtfully when he looked it over, for on the grass were a few fragments of seaweed; though the fresh meadow grass seemed to show that the flat was seldom covered by the tide. Camp was made, and after supper Fannin and both of the Indians started off to look for game. Jack and Hugh were keeping camp, when suddenly Jack observed that the water was rising higher than had been expected, and it was soon evident that a few inches more would cover the flat. They waited for a little while, in the hope that it would recede, but presently all hands had to rush about to keep things from getting wet. It took but a short time to roll up the bedding and carry it into the forest, to pull down the tent and to lift the provisions and mess kit up on drift logs. Half an hour later camp had been remade in the forest, and six inches of water covered the flat where they had expected to sleep.