Chapter 10

THE GUARDIAN OF THE HONEYCOMB

"And we're really goin' ter make a start right now?" questioned Rube, as he watched Kiddie packing their fishing gear on top of the rest of their equipment in the canoe. "We shall not get very far if you're notionin' ter make camp 'fore dark."

"All the better," said Kiddie. "If we find we've forgotten anything, there'll be the less distance for us to come back for it, see?"

"Thar's nothin' as you're liable ter have forgot," observed Rube, confident in Kiddie's forethought. "Seems ter me you must have had a schedule of the things already fixed up in your head. Anyhow, I don't reckon as we shall have any occasion t' come back--unless it's for the big dog. Why ain't we takin' Sheila along of us, Kiddie? Wouldn't she have been useful?"

"In some ways, yes; in others, no," Kiddie answered decisively. "I'm leaving her to mount guard up at the homestead and down at the cabin. She'll be better fed here at home, and she won't be running wild. If we took her along with us, she'd sure be foolin' around among our traps, scarin' the wild critters away from 'em; and I ain't in favour of keepin' her on the chain. Besides, I don't calculate on your havin' a hound ter help you in trackin' and scoutin'. You must learn to do it all on your own. Ready? In you get, then, while I shove her off."

Kiddie himself took the paddle. The water was extremely calm, and as the canoe rippled out from the shore, every tree and bush and boulder was clearly reflected in the glassy surface.

"No," he said, after a long spell of silence, reverting to Rube's remark. "Thar's no advantage in going far this evening. We've made a start; that's the great thing. I ain't greatly in favour of a long-prepared programme, or of doin' things accordin' ter plan, like an ordinary tourist. Guess we'll make camp back of that point that juts out in front of us. But 'fore we land, we got ter catch a fish or two for supper. That's why we packed the rods an' lines on top of the outfit. May as well begin right away. Be careful how you move. Don't stand; crawl."

Rube got the two rods ready, while Kiddie paddled onward for a couple of miles. Here and there the calm surface was dimpled by rising fish.

They drifted slowly into the shadows of the trees. Rube was the first to cast his fly, and the first also to make a strike, but it was a catfish that he caught, and, gently removing the hook, he threw it back.

Kiddie caught a small trout, and then a larger one. Both Rube and he were expert fishers, and between them they soon had enough for a good supper.

They entered a sheltered bay, into which flowed a little creek of pure, sparkling water, overshadowed by great, low-branching cotton-woods and tall, feathery silver spruce trees.

"No use in goin' far up the creek," said Kiddie, letting his paddle drag. "What d'ye say to here?"

"Right," agreed Rube. "Thar's a nice level bit o' ground, middle of them four cotton-woods. We couldn't do better."

They beached the canoe, and while Kiddie began to unload her, Rube went about collecting twigs and fir cones and as much dry wood as he could find to start a cooking fire. He built a fireplace of stones from beside the stream, lined it with dry grass and light twigs, and soon had a crackling blaze going from which to kindle the larger billets of wood broken up with his axe.

By the time he had cleaned the fish a glowing red fire was ready. Like a wise trapper, he put aside the offal to serve as bait for the traps. Thoroughly drying the cleaned trout, he soused them in flour, and laid them gently into the frying-pan of boiling lard. Then he gave himself time to cut bread and brew a dipper of tea.

Kiddie paid no regard to the cooking, excepting occasionally to sniff at the odorous air that came to him from the frying-pan. He knew that supper would be quite ready before he had finished his own work of unloading the canoe and setting up the teepee.

In this latter work he needed no help. There were no tent-pegs to drive into the hard ground. He had only to erect the tall poles in pyramid shape, and then enclose them in the buffalo-skin cover, lacing the latter together down to the door flap.

It looked extremely Indian when it was up, even to the smoke-grime round about the vent and the picture-writing in many colours that decorated the outer surface. The two trappers themselves looked Indian also, in their fur caps, fringed buckskins, and moccasins. Kiddie had even stuck a pair of white eagle feathers in his cap, and his tunic was richly decorated with silk thread-work and coloured beads.

When he moved away from the wigwam, Rube saw him go up to a gnarled old cedar tree and stand looking at it curiously. He seemed to be peculiarly interested in the rugged trunk. Presently he took a piece of white chalk from his belt pouch and made a mark upon the tree.

"Guess you've got some p'ticlar reason fer blazin' that thar old tree," said Rube, as Kiddie strode towards the fire; "I ain't just able ter make it out, unless you're figgerin' t' have the tree cut down for timber. It's your own property, of course. You goin' ter have it felled?"

"No, the tree's not comin' down," explained Kiddie, seating himself on his rolled-up sleeping bag within easy reach of the food. "Go an' have a squint at where I chalked the mark. Guess you'll soon understand."

Rube strode to the tree, walked round it, and then stood for a while, with his thumbs in his belt, opposite the chalk mark.

"Yes," he nodded wisely, when he returned. "We oughter git a considerable store of honey in the mornin' when we smoke them bees out. Thar's a rare procession of 'em goin' in at that little hole. Tree's hollow. Dunno why th' critters don't go in by the big doorway on the far side. Takin' a short cut, I expect. Else they goes in one way an' out th' other."

"That's it," said Kiddie. "Say, these trout are just top-notch. You've cooked 'em to a turn. I haven't tasted better since I was in Russia. They keep 'em alive in big tanks in the hotels in Moscow. You c'n choose your breakfast while it's swimmin' round; so it's served fresh. Keep the scraps all together. We'll bait the traps with 'em, presently, soon's we've washed up an' covered the fire. I notice you've made it in a good place--not too near the trees. But we've still got to be some careful. This yer ground's thick with pine needles and cones, that might easily catch alight if a breeze came along. Best dig a trench round it an' fill it with water."

They washed their pans and plates in the creek, and then got out their snares and traps.

Rube laid the snares in rabbit runs, and set some beaver traps in the creek, while Kiddie, with his greater skill, laid spring traps for the larger animals of prey in places where there were signs that large animals had recently been hunting and killing.

He was particularly attentive to one special steel trap, which he carefully baited with fish and set close beside the gnawed remains of a rabbit, still fresh and blood-stained. He examined the surrounding ground, and discovered the spot where the rabbit had been killed. Light tufts of fur lay about, and in their midst were the deep scratches of large claws, as far apart as a man's expanded finger-tips.

"Guess there's a lynx been prowlin' around here lately," he said to Rube, who was taking a practical lesson in the laying of traps. "That fish bait 'll sure tempt him. Anything more need doin'? What about that trench?"

"I've done it," Rube answered. "Thar ain't nothin' else, except t' get our beds ready."

"Mine's going t' be in the open," Kiddie decided. "Your's 'll be in the teepee. Keep a candle and matches and your moccasins within reach, case you've got ter get up in the dark. May as well plant your six-shooter under your knees, too. Thar's where I allus keep mine. It's a good habit, anyway. Don't reckon you'll need it, unless the coyotes come nosing around. Take a good sleep. No occasion ter get movin' about 'fore six o'clock."

Before they turned in for the night, the moon had risen over the jagged mountain tops, casting a glittering path of silver across the lake. On the farther side of the water they could see the black openings of many cañons and yawning chasms that invited exploration.

The deep murmur of a distant torrent came to them. The hoarse croaking of frogs and the chirping of crickets were mingled with the hooting of owls and the nearer hum of mosquitoes. Bats and moths were flitting on silent wings among the trees, and there was a rustle of dry leaves, as unseen animals of the night moved in the undergrowth.

Rube was up and moving about the camp at sunrise, and he had stirred up the smouldering fire and put a kettle and a dipper of water to boil before Kiddie crawled out of his sleeping bag. Kiddie's first occupation was to launch the canoe.

"Fetch the towels and come along," he said. "We'll get t' the deep water for our swim. You won't be anyways afraid, will you?"

"Not when you're near ter keep an eye on me," returned Rube, with confidence. "Course you'll help me t' git back inter the canoe. 'Tain't the same's mountin' a pony."

"Well, no," smiled Kiddie. "You'll mount over her head or her tail. She'll roll over, sure, if you try ter get astride her by the middle."

Rube paddled out into the lake until he was told to stop. He shipped his paddle, and looked round in time to see Kiddie's beautiful muscular figure poised ready to dive from the high peak.

With an adroit movement, Kiddie leapt into the air and, turning, cut the water as cleanly as an arrow, making very little splash. Rube waited so long for him to reappear that it seemed almost that some accident had happened to him. But at length he came up in a quite unexpected place, swimming back to the canoe at a pace that was astonishing. Thereafter he devoted himself to giving lessons to Rube in swimming and diving and re-entering the frail canoe.

"Quite enough for one morning," he said, before Rube had been in the water nearly as long as he wished. "We'll get back to camp now and have a cracker and a drink of hot tea. Then we'll visit the traps, and you c'n get breakfast ready while I shave. I guess we may's well have eggs and bacon, eh?"

"Might have some o' that thar honey as well," suggested Rube.

"All right," Kiddie agreed. "But you'll be havin' the bees foolin' around while we're at breakfast, if you're not careful. What you goin' ter smoke 'em out with?"

"Sulphur," Rube answered promptly. "I got a chunk in me pocket; been usin' it t' put in my bear cub's drinkin' water."

Rube was in more haste than he need have been to disturb the bees. Kiddie, while waiting for his shaving water to heat, was making a toasting fork of a stick with a forked end for cooking the bacon. He had seen Rube carry away a flat slab of stone with crushed sulphur on it, and had watched Rube lighting the sulphur and shoving the slab within the hollow of the tree, as he might shove a dish into an oven.

Suddenly there was a cry of alarm.

"Kiddie! Kiddie! Quick! Come here!"

Kiddie ran to the tree, still with his knife and the forked stick in his hands.

"Keep back!" Rube cautioned him. "It's a rattler--a huge one--far in among the roots. Listen!"

Kiddie heard the unmistakable crackling sound. He went nearer, holding his pronged stick in front of him. He peeped into the hollow of the tree, and through the blue fumes of the burning sulphur he saw the snake's thick black body with its brown geometrical markings gliding and twisting round the exposed roots.

While he watched, the repulsive head, with its sinister, beady eyes and busily darting tongue, came out, rising slowly as it came. The wide mouth opened, and Kiddie could see the two protruding poison fangs outside the ordinary teeth. He stepped backward as the snake's neck and body began to curve in readiness to strike.

"Seems he don't intend us ter get that honeycomb, Rube," he said calmly.

"Do keep back, Kiddie!" pleaded Rube. "Them fangs 'ld go clean through your moccasins or your buckskins. What you gonner do--shoot him?"

"Ain't got my gun," Kiddie answered. "It's in my belt alongside my tunic. Fetch it, if you like; may as well."

Rube ran back to where Kiddie had slept, and returned with the loaded revolver. He was astonished and alarmed at what he now saw. The rattlesnake had come wholly out from the tree, and Kiddie stood directly over it with his right foot planted across the thicker part of its writhing body, and the toasting fork, held firmly in his left hand, gripping the reptile by the neck. The snake's mouth was wide open--it seemed almost to be snarling angrily; the long body was wriggling, and all the time came the ominous rattling sound from the ringed tail.

"Get round by the back of me, and give me the gun in my right hand," ordered Kiddie. "Don't be scared. I've got him, sure; he ain't goin' ter wriggle away."

Rube passed the revolver and watched. He expected Kiddie to discharge the weapon close to the rattlesnake's head. To his surprise, Kiddie removed his right foot, drew away the forked stick, and stepped back a couple of paces. The snake, now at unhindered liberty, raised its head several inches from the ground and coiled round, with jaws wide open, ready to strike. Kiddie then pressed his trigger, and the bullet, entering between the two poison fangs, came out at the back of the serpent's skull.

"Say, what in thunder did you let it go loose for?" questioned Rube. "It might have escaped! It might have bitten you!"

"Which means that you figure I might have missed my aim?" said Kiddie. "Not very complimentary to my shootin'. Why did I let it go loose? Well, I jest notioned it would be some cowardly ter shoot while I held the brute that way. Beside, I didn't want ter shatter the skull too much. Biggest rattler I've seen--seven feet long if it's an inch, and worth preservin'. Say, those bees look like givin' us trouble. Best hustle through with breakfast, and then get along to the traps. The honey c'n wait. That sulphur of yours is goin' ter do the trick."

They went together to make the round of the traps, first going some way up the creek to the willows where Rube had set his beaver traps in the midst of a colony of these busy animals. Rube was in hope that every trap would be filled; but there were only two beavers--one of them quite young and small, the other, a large male in prime condition.

"Best let it go, as it ain't hurt any," Kiddie advised, liberating the smaller one. "You c'n take the bigger chap and we'll cook the tail. Where did you set your snares?"

"In amongst the scrub, thar," Rube pointed.

There was a fine jack-rabbit in the first snare they came to. Rube gave the animal a sharp knock on the back of the head, killing it instantly.

"Guess we'll have this yer feller for dinner," he said; "stewed with plenty of onions an' some taters."

"You see," observed Kiddie, "we're already beginnin' ter be self-supportin'. Fish, meat, honey--there wasn't any occasion t' bring a butcher's shop along with us. We c'd even make our own bread at a pinch. I'm plannin' ter make a fruit pudding. Thar's a bush 'most breakin' down with its weight of ripe and juicy thimbleberries, back of the old cedar tree. Bees have been at 'em."

The next snare they visited was empty. In another a woodgrouse was caught, and in yet another a fox cub. Kiddie's steel traps were set farther away. He went first to the one about which he had been so particular.

"Gee!" he exclaimed. "It's sprung! Bait's taken. Remains of that rabbit have been eaten, too!"

"Lynx is a cunnin' critter," said Rube. "You gotter wear two pairs o' moccasins t' git level with a lynx."

"I ain't just sure that it was a lynx," mused Kiddie, searching the ground for signs. "You never happened on a jet-black lynx around here, did you, Rube?"

"Nope," Rube answered. "They's allus the same tawny colour. Why d'you ask?"

Kiddie looked down at the tight shut jaws of the gin.

"Thar's a tuft of black fur in the teeth of the trap," he pointed out. "An' look at them claw marks! Guess that critter's some bigger'n a lynx. May's well stay another night in this camp an' try ter git the critter, eh?"

"Dunno 'bout that," Rube demurred. "Might be a whole fam'ly o' rattlers lyin' around. 'Tain't just healthy."

"Guess that rattlesnake we killed had done with family life a long while ago," said Kiddie. "Anyhow, I'm curious to know what critter it was that sprang this trap."

"Mebbe he shoved his nose inter one of the others," suggested Rube.

Kiddie led the way unerringly among the forest trees. His traps had all been visited by wild animals. Two of them had been sprung ineffectually; in others he found a raccoon, a cross-fox, a musk-rat and an otter. One had been dragged away, and was found some hours afterwards with part of a fox's tail between the teeth.

Rube Carter rather prided himself on his skill in cooking, and he was particularly anxious to make a good rabbit stew. Kiddie helped him only so far as to skin and dismember the rabbit and peel the onions. He was himself a capable camp cook, but he did not wish to interfere with Rube's personal satisfaction in doing the work.

"Say, Kiddie," said Rube, when he had fixed the saucepan firmly in the fire; "if we ain't goin' ter quit this yer pitch 'fore ter-morrow, you'd best sleep to-night along o' me in the wigwam. That rattlesnake wasn't many yards away from you, an' if you'd bin bit I dunno what I should ha' done. Thar ain't no good in hangin' around after that lynx, whatever its colour. Why shouldn't we quit?"

"Where would you go, Rube?" Kiddie inquired.

Rube looked out across the lake.

"I got a idea of paddlin' across an' makin' camp in one of them cañons," he said.

"Tut!" objected Kiddie. "You want to do some exploring, eh? Want ter get into some lonesome place where nobody has ever been before? What's the matter with this forest? I reckon we're the first civilized humans that have ever spent a night in it. Prowl around in it; search in whatever direction you like, you'll find no sign of any sort that a human being has been here in front of us to leave his mark on a tree, to drop a button or a chip of crockery, or to lift a stone from the bed of the creek. It's all as Nature meant it to be, centuries and centuries ago. Growth and the weather alone have changed things."

"All right," nodded Rube; "so long's you're satisfied, so am I. Suppose we get at that honey 'fore the bees come back."

The sulphur fumes still lingered in the hollow tree, and scores of bees had fallen stupefied among the roots. Rube, being the smaller, entered the hollow and looked up.

"Thar's pounds an' pounds of honeycomb here, Kiddie," he called out; "but I can't reach it without somethin' ter stand on, an' we shall need that biscuit tin ter hold it."

Kiddie fetched the biscuit tin, and a spar of firewood, and stood by while Rube handed out to him the dripping combs of honey.

"Thar's heaps more, higher up," said Rube, standing on tip-toes and reaching upward.

Then somehow his foot slipped, the decayed substance of the tree crumbled under his weight. He screamed in terror as he fell in a heap at Kiddie's feet, followed by a shower of dust and strange, dry rottenness that was mingled with the syrup from the honeycombs.

"What is it?" cried Kiddie. "What made you scream? Another rattler?"

"No." Rube shivered. "_That!_" And he turned over and pointed with an agitated finger at a human skull and a heap of crumbled bones. "It's a man's skeleton. And you notioned as nobody 'd ever set foot in this forest before!"